Zoltun Kulle's mocking voice rang out. The raspy, grating sound immediately irritated everyone, especially Tyrael.
"Zoltun Kulle! You've been hiding here this whole time?!" Tyrael gasped at the sight of the amber-colored soul. Even as a ghost, the man who had permanently scarred Itherael was not to be underestimated.
"What, only you winged pests are allowed to be here? Angel, why aren't you calling me a 'mortal' this time? Hahahaha!"
Kulle laughed and streaked into the Black Soulstone. Madawc against Andariel was a sacrifice. But Madawc plus Zoltun Kulle? That was going to be a slaughter.
"Kanai! Use your Cube as a conduit! I don't want to be trapped in that rock forever watching Bul-Kathos do stupid things! Leave me a way out!"
Kulle's voice echoed from within the stone. The Cube in the sky turned into a beam of light and fixed itself to Bul-Kathos's brow. No one understood how to use that artifact better than Kulle.
"Short-sighted! No ambition! I'm not talking about you, Bul-Kathos! I'm talking about Madawc! Hahaha!" Kulle cackled like a manic duck, followed by the soul-piercing screams of Andariel.
"You bastard!" Madawc cursed, but the joy in his voice was unmistakable. He didn't have to die after all. The only one dying in the Soulstone today was Andariel.
The Ancestors on the Holy Mountain began their counterattack. The thundering of the earth was the sound of their collective charge. Barbarians didn't need drums.
"HA!"
"HU!"
"DIABLO, F*** YOUR MOTHER!"
The war cries were deafening. That last insult came from Cassius, who was known for his "pot-mouthed" battle cries. He was out of the main fight, but shouting wasn't technically interfering.
"Baal! Feel the wrath of a thousand years!"
A figure leaped high into the air. Andakulgas used Leap! He landed with such force that a nearby truck was flipped and shattered into pieces.
Andakulgas and his companion were the vanguard. They would pin Baal down and ensure the Lord of Destruction couldn't move an inch. Soon, Qual-Kehk would arrive with the main army. Once the banners of Harrogath flew, Baal would be ground into the dirt by the fury of the Barbarians.
Andakulgas stomped onto Baal, his spectral Oathkeeper blade flashing. This was his legendary creation—it increased the speed of Bash by 50% and doubled the damage. In his hands, he could strike as fast as Korlic at full frenzy.
Metal screeched against metal as he carved into Baal. The demon king, still wounded from Kanai's earlier charge, couldn't mount an effective defense against the burst of speed.
"Andakulgas! Next time use your own materials to have Lazruk build a car!" Mocott roared, swinging his hammer, Merciless, to smash the last of the truck debris as he charged. The hammer glowed with a flickering, angry flame.
"Mocott, keep talking! If Barnar was here, he'd use a knife to fix your stutter!" Andakulgas yelled, his arms moving so fast they were a blur.
CRACK!
Mocott's heavy hammer slammed into Baal's head. The demon king staggered and fell to one knee. His sharp, spider-like legs had already been reduced to splinters by Kanai.
This was the first time Baal had ever knelt before a Barbarian.
"Barbarians... DESTRUCTION!"
Baal's pale face twisted in agony. Shockwaves began to roll off his body. "You will learn the price of humiliating me!"
His roar forcibly interrupted Andakulgas's blade dance. The spectral Oathkeeper shattered.
"ROAR!"
Andakulgas roared back. Why would a Demon King think he could out-shout a Barbarian?
Andakulgas slammed his forehead into Baal's jaw. Teeth and flesh sprayed onto the snow. A massive chunk of skin was torn from Andakulgas's brow, revealing the white bone beneath.
"HYAH!"
Mocott swung Merciless like a golf club, even though he had lost half a foot in Baal's previous attack. With Baal's jaw shattered, Mocott shoved the spiked head of the hammer deep into the demon's throat.
"Barbarian...?"
Leah watched the battle, her heart thumping in a way she hadn't felt in an eternity. The feeling of hot blood pumping through her veins made her realize: she was truly alive.
"Father?"
Her eyes were red as she looked at Bul-Kathos. Ignoring the battle happening inside the Soulstone on his forehead, she threw herself into his embrace.
"Bul-Kathos... my... Father!"
She broke down in tears. Her relief was so profound that Tyrael could only stand there in shadowed silence.
Was I wrong? Tyrael wondered. He could have stopped Diablo from destroying Leoric's kingdom. He could have stopped Adria from taking Leah. He could have fought beside Imperius at the Crystal Arch.
No. I was not wrong! His hesitation lasted only a second.
"Tyrael! You were wrong!"
Auriel's face, full of mercy, now carried a look of blatant disgust. She knew the Archangel of Justice too well. One look was enough to know what he was thinking.
Tyrael was stunned. He had never felt "disgust" from Auriel. Angels didn't usually show such expressions.
"Leah, congratulations," Johanna said, walking forward to hug both Leah and Bul-Kathos. Her Thorns armor had vanished.
"Valor is the anthem, Hope is never far..."
Johanna began to chant. This was the result of her following Bul-Kathos's path. She didn't need to rely on the traditions of Ivgorod like the Monks. She had fused the Laws into one: The Law of Valor and Hope.
The power of the Law radiated to everyone Johanna considered an ally—a subtle, invisible buff.
Andakulgas felt it immediately; his attack speed surged. Mocott let out an excited roar and kicked the handle of his hammer, driving it even deeper into Baal's gullet. Inside the Soulstone, Madawc and Kulle's assault became even more ferocious.
Only Tyrael stood in the cold. The light of the Law did not touch him. Johanna, the Crusader who should have been the most loyal servant of the High Heavens, no longer saw him as an ally.
Tyrael had lost this gamble before it even began.
"Tyrael, you were wrong," Auriel repeated. "You and Imperius plotted this together, didn't you?"
Tyrael tried to keep his voice calm, refusing to look at Leah. He had long ago abandoned true Justice. Without Wisdom to guide it, Justice becomes a weapon for atrocity—a beautiful mask for violence.
Tyrael had the greatest power among the Archangels, but he had never truly controlled it.
"Valor for Hope. Wisdom for Justice. Remember that, Tyrael."
Auriel pushed Tyrael back a step and dug a jar out of the snow where he had been standing.
"I've always wanted to try wine," she said. She broke the seal and poured it into her mouth. "Tastes worse than I thought. It seems to cause nothing but trouble."
As she spoke, the concept of "Hope" began to withdraw from those who sought to drown themselves in drink. A drunkard's trembling hands could not grasp the hem of Hope's robes.
"As for escaping through alcohol? Isn't that Imperius's department?" she muttered, ignoring Tyrael's darkening expression.
"Auriel, this battle is not over!" Tyrael declared. "Justice will prevail!"
Yes, Justice always wins. But "Justice" and the "Archangel of Justice" were no longer the same thing.
"Boring stubbornness," Auriel said, putting the wine jar away.
...
Karga led the charge into the demonic tide, his banner piercing through countless monsters. Elite demons were trampled into meat paste. Trying to stop a thousand charging Barbarians was like standing on the tracks to stop a freight train.
In the center of the formation, Olongus wore a villainous grin. He was a good man—at least, that's how the Barbarian girls described him. Outsiders usually ran away screaming when he smiled. He just happened to look more demonic than the demons when he was happy.
"This battle is ours!" he roared.
"When have we ever lost? Shut up, Olongus!" the others laughed.
The charge didn't stop. Ancestors fell behind in the chaos, but the momentum never wavered. Qual-Kehk had planned this perfectly. The strongest were in the center, and Olongus was the one designated to deliver the killing blow to Baal.
"Let's make a bet!" Barnar yelled, hurlng an axe to split a demon's skull.
"On what?" Olongus asked.
"On which of the heirs will be the best!"
"In this battle?"
"Of course! I don't bet on things that take too long!"
Karga let out a thunderous command: "FASTER! MOVE FASTER!"
The situation was critical. Most of Harrogath's defenders had joined this sortie. If they didn't kill Baal before the city fell, everything would fall apart.
The Barbarians accelerated. Those on the flanks didn't care about their lives anymore, trading wounds for every inch of ground.
Time was everything.
[End of Chapter]
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