"Aha! Leoric! It's been far too long!"
Vorusk bellowed a greeting at the Skeleton King, who was currently sitting across from Bul-Kathos in a state of silent, bony contemplation. In his excitement, the Immortal King had completely forgotten that he was still clutching Thor by the back of his armor. Consequently, the poor Prince of Asgard was being waved around in the air like a tattered battle flag.
"Tch. You are a nuisance, old man," Leoric rasped. His skeletal features remained immobile, but his voice dripped with irritation as he slammed the Mad King's Scepter into the ground. The sudden, violent vibration of the stone beneath them drew a sharp look from Bul-Kathos.
"Leoric. This is Harrogath," Bul-Kathos said, his voice laced with a warning. His hand shifted toward the hilt of his weapon, his patience thinning.
"Right, right. This brat wants to head back to the mortal world. Give him a lift, would you?" Vorusk said, finally remembering to drop Thor onto the snow. He spoke with the casual dismissiveness of a high-born lord ordering a stable boy.
"Let him use a waypoint. Why must I be the one to do it?" Bul-Kathos frowned. He drew Remorseless, the blade shimmering with a lethal light, ready to give Vorusk a piece of his mind.
"I think you've spent quite enough time brooding on this mountain. It isn't time for your retirement just yet," Vorusk replied airily. He shifted his grip on his massive hammer, The Gavel of Judgment, looking like a man ready for a friendly—if world-shattering—brawl.
"Can I come too? I'm just... an ordinary man who can't die, you know? I'm redundant here," Craig piped up. Having been ignored for hours, the "undying man" sounded quite depressed.
His interruption triggered a low, chilling rasp of laughter from Leoric. "An ordinary man who cannot die? There is nothing ordinary about that, boy."
Leoric reached back, taking his royal scepter from the skeletal hands of Mina Harker. As the one responsible for anchoring Leoric's sanity in this world, the Skeleton King had no intention of letting Craig leave empty-handed. Besides, his earlier promise of teaching the boy the ways of the Monks hadn't been a jest.
With terrifying speed, the Mad King's Scepter whistled through the air, aimed directly at Craig's skull. It wasn't just physical force; it carried the numbing, necrotic chill of the grave.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Bul-Kathos intercepted the blow with Remorseless, the clashing of steel and bone ringing out across the peak. He glared at Leoric. He knew the Skeleton King's history—the tragedies he had birthed in Khanduras. Even if Craig claimed to be immortal, Bul-Kathos knew Leoric possessed the power to make an "eternal" existence come to a very permanent, very agonizing end.
The desecration of life itself was Leoric's greatest weapon. To him, life and death were mere states of being; only the existence of the soul mattered.
"A gift," Leoric replied, his voice a hollow echo. "You cannot expect a skeleton to pass on the memories of the Ancients through bloodlines as you do. For me, power can only be understood at the precipice—where life meets the void."
Bul-Kathos searched the blue flames in Leoric's eye sockets. He found no deception.
"Then let the boy choose. Power is not a burden everyone wishes to carry," Bul-Kathos said, exerting more pressure on his blade and forcing Leoric's scepter down.
"This is not the time for a philosophical debate," Vorusk interrupted, crossing his arms and looking bored. "Send the brat back."
"I need to be with my people!" Thor shouted, his voice cracking with urgency. "I am the Prince of Asgard! I must lead them!"
He gripped his weapon tight, shouting at the King of the Nephalem. It was an act of extreme impudence, but Bul-Kathos wasn't petty. He ignored the tone and looked at the desperation in the young man's eyes.
"Vorusk, keep Leoric in line while I'm gone. Harrogath is a place of honor, not a slaughterhouse," Bul-Kathos said. He delivered a swift, heavy kick to Leoric's hip, sending the massive skeleton stumbling back several steps to create a safe distance for Craig.
"Let's go, boy. I want to see what this mess in the mortal world looks like anyway. If it's worth saving, we'll let them serve as a distraction for the Prime Evils," Bul-Kathos muttered.
He ripped open a shimmering blue portal and reached out a hand toward Thor, his gaze steady and sincere.
"I will not forget the kindness of the Barbarians," Thor said, his voice taking on the weight of a King.
Smack!
Vorusk delivered a stinging slap to the back of Thor's head. "Stop talking like a stranger. You have the blood of the mountain in you now. Since when does a tribesman need a 'reason' to help his own?"
Thor rubbed his head, sheepish.
"Go," Bul-Kathos said. "And Vorusk... when I return, I expect you to have made Leoric understand who truly rules this mountain."
With that, Bul-Kathos stepped through the portal, Thor following close behind. They emerged in the sweltering heat of New Mexico, appearing directly inside the Mirror Dimension the Ancient One had cast.
"You're here? I should have just had you bring him yourself," Bul-Kathos grumbled at the Sorcerer Supreme. He hadn't wanted to leave Arreat. The two Prime Evils currently living in his subconscious were already enough of a headache, though they had recently gone quiet out of sheer terror of Leoric. Even Baal, the Lord of Destruction, found a lucid Skeleton King to be a "problematic" variable.
"I've been a bit occupied, my friend," the Ancient One said with a serene smile. "But you seem to be faring well."
Across from them, Tyr froze. His heart hammered against his ribs—not out of brotherly love, but because of the man who had just stepped through the portal.
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