Barbarians were human. They weren't killing machines; they felt pain, they felt exhaustion. They just never let it show.
"Joritz, my husband... you have saved my soul." Raekor's body convulsed with silent sobs.
No one had ever seen her cry. Perhaps she had wept on the night Joritz first "died" in battle, but only this stone bed—which could not be warmed by an icy spirit—had witnessed those tears.
"Is that so? Fate is cruel. But at least we can lie together one last time. Though... we have both lost our heartbeats."
Joritz understood her. Raekor was still a slave to fate, a puppet twitching helplessly before its power. Even the act of looking back was forbidden by the threads that bound her. Joritz had saved her soul from the abyss of loneliness and lost love—but not from destiny itself.
"Joritz, hold me. You will hear my heart. Our hearts are connected; you will feel your own heart beating."
Raekor still wouldn't turn around. She spoke softly, and even she wasn't sure who the words were meant for anymore.
"You forgive me, but you cannot..."
Joritz pressed against her back. His breath brushed her nape, a heat capable of melting any shivering heart.
"I forgive you, Joritz! Raekor forgives you. The wife of Joritz, the Barbarian Raekor, forgives her husband."
Raekor finally turned. Her face was calm, but her bloodshot eyes betrayed her.
Her arm, clad in a rough glove and bracer, plunged through Joritz's chest, her fingers closing tightly around his heart.
"But... the Ancestral Spirit Raekor, Chieftain of the Bull Tribe, the Legendary Barbarian Raekor... cannot forgive a corrupted husk."
Raekor leaned her head against Joritz's shoulder, so neither could see the other's face. One beautiful face was drenched in tears, set in an expression of grim resolve. One rugged face wore a smile, though the eyes were filled with agony.
They didn't look at each other. They simply held on, as if trying to memorize each other's warmth in their final moments.
"Raekor... Joritz loves you. He loves the Raekor who swung her weapons on the battlefield, the one who smashed the Samorin with her shoulders... the one with the bear carcass hanging from her greataxe. He loves the Raekor who led our people, who charged into the Samorin camp to save a fallen warrior, covered in blood and viscera. He loves the Raekor who... even as she pierces my chest... still has a hand full of warmth as she holds my heart..."
Joritz whispered peacefully. His heart was in her hand. For the first time in years, he felt it beat within the warmth of her palm. He felt his blood flow once more. He felt his corrupted body beginning to turn pure.
"Farewell, my love."
"Farewell, my only one."
The final goodbye.
Raekor's hand tightened with the utmost gentleness. The heart that had briefly regained its beat dissolved into a pool of burning red blood. Joritz's body began to crumble, vanishing bit by bit.
Finally, a brilliant fragment—carrying the weight of infinite love—glowed with a warm light before plunging into Raekor's body!
Demon blood surged within her! The power of an Archangel erupted from her soul!
Joritz had left his final gift. From within the Black Soulstone, the man who had once burned his soul as Vidal for the sake of Bul-Kathos had left everything to her.
The blood of Azmodan's soul!
The power that had been left in the Black Soulstone to suppress the other half of Bul-Kathos's consciousness—a fusion of the blood of Imperius and Auriel!
Vidal had snatched his lover's soul back from Azmodan's grasp. With the completion of this final trade, her soul was finally free!
The blood of Archangels, the blood of a Demon Lord! A complete soul!
Raekor's tears finally burst forth, shattering against the stone bed that held all their memories. Her aura exploded outward—the power that had once dominated an entire generation surged across Mount Arreat without restraint!
The stone hut dissolved into ash.
"Joritz... even if your title of 'Warrior' was spat upon by glory the moment you were corrupted... you are still my warrior."
Raekor murmured as the transformation took hold. As a legendary Barbarian, she had fulfilled her duty. Now, she had to do something for her husband.
"HAH!"
Raekor's voice was no longer raspy; it was high and piercing!
A warcry rang out, echoing across the entirety of Harrogath! The earth shook, and the High Heavens trembled with it!
In the Burning Hells, the hair on Baal's neck stood on end! Diablo, who was still manipulating Leah's consciousness, felt a chill run down his spine and momentarily loosened his grip on her!
Auriel appeared at the foot of Mount Arreat. Imperius's face contorted into a snarl. Even Itherael, hidden from Dr. Manhattan's sight, looked up!
The Ancestral Spirit, the creator of a legend! Chieftain of the Bull Tribe! The greatest leader of her generation!
Raekor had returned!
She returned with infinite hatred for demons, deep dissatisfaction with the High Heavens, and a tiny sliver of guilt for her beloved—a guilt that, however small, was etched forever into her soul.
"Damn it."
Imperius's face was a mask of horror. In that moment, he finally understood why Vidal had been willing to burn his soul to ash. He understood what Joritz had done!
The seal on the other half of Bul-Kathos's soul was gone! The soul prepared as the final contingency was waking up!
Bul-Kathos was running out of time!
That half of his soul—carrying his vulnerability, his past, and his deepest hopes—was about to be exposed within the Black Soulstone, right in front of Andariel! Unless, at the moment that half was freed, Bul-Kathos became whole again instantly!
Only by becoming whole could Bul-Kathos have a chance to become a god. But a whole soul could not overcome Fear!
Imperius couldn't accept this. When Diablo appeared again, he would be powerful beyond comprehension. Diablo was that kind of being; he became more difficult to deal with after every battle—sometimes through schemes, sometimes through sheer skill.
A series of warcries erupted across Mount Arreat! The other ancestors were responding to Raekor's return! Now, the Barbarians had a second living powerhouse!
Yet, the responding cries were tinged with confusion. Raekor's warcry was... different. It carried a tragic, raw fury that usually belonged only to Bul-Kathos.
"ROAR!"
Bul-Kathos released his own warcry! A sound louder and more ferocious than Raekor's swept across the mountain!
The ancestors didn't know why Bul-Kathos was responding with such a confrontational tone, but he was their King!
"BUL-KATHOS! WATCHES! OVER! ME!"
The Three Ancients before the gates of the Holy Mountain shouted in unison! They slammed their weapons against their chests! They trusted Bul-Kathos far more than Vorusk or Raekor. He was their friend, their reliance through centuries of war, the sturdiest fortress of their people!
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