"Kanai, you are bearing my burden."
Bul-Kathos closed his eyes, his expression as cold and unyielding as ice.
This was the final chance he would give Kanai to turn back—a final opportunity for regret—even though he knew Kanai was a man who had never once chosen the path of evasion.
"Bul-Kathos."
Kanai simply spoke his name, his gaze steady and unwavering.
"If I have but one wish left, it is to be the very last sacrifice. Now... let me fulfill that wish."
Kanai's voice was soft, a stark contrast to the radiance surrounding him, which began to dim, piece by piece. Baal was not yet dead, and Kanai did not want the younger generation to harbor resentment toward him. Just as Bul-Kathos never sought to twist the will of others, Kanai would never sever the path someone chose for themselves.
"You..."
"I am merely fulfilling the duty of an ancestor protecting his descendants. Let me find my peace now. Bul-Kathos, you shall inherit all that I am—my knowledge, my power, and my will. And I... I shall watch over you."
With a firm finality, Kanai's body dissolved into a swirl of ethereal mist, spiraling toward Bul-Kathos's outstretched hand.
"Bul-Kathos!"
A crisp, clear feminine voice rang out. Bul-Kathos's eyes snapped open. He caught the final, gentle smile on Kanai's face just as it vanished into nothingness.
"Rest in peace, Kanai."
Bul-Kathos did not turn to seek the source of that familiar voice. His eyes were fixed solely on Kanai. A funeral this glorious, this honorable, would not be disrupted by any outside force.
Bul-Kathos slowly opened his palm. The Cube began to expand, swelling like a golden balloon caught in a frigid gale. A metallic cube, shimmering with a divine golden luster, gradually manifested upon the earth.
"Bul-Kathos, won't you even look at me?"
The voice echoed again, its mournful quality enough to melt the hardest of hearts. Bul-Kathos still did not turn. The moment he heard that voice, he knew exactly what he was facing. It wasn't that his heart was made of stone; it was simply that he refused to endure the same tragedy twice.
Leah!
Leah!
"Diablo, I hope you can hear me. Now... get lost!"
Bul-Kathos stared at the rising Cube, his voice as harsh and jagged as a freshly forged battle-axe. His words, fueled by a simmering rage, rippled across the world, transcending the boundaries of time and space to echo far beyond the "Rift."
As his voice fell, the chaos atop the Holy Mountain subsided. Only the howling wind remained, sweeping across the white snow stained crimson by Baal's blood, as if trying to restore its sanctity.
Bul-Kathos knew Diablo could hear him. Diablo never missed an opportunity to watch others suffer.
"Barbarians! The Great Elder has chosen sacrifice!" Bul-Kathos roared into the sudden silence. "Now tell me—how shall we see Kanai off?!"
His voice thundered across the mountain peaks. It wasn't filled with anger or zealotry, but a simple, profound inquiry. Kanai never used anger to interrogate his kin, nor did he use commands to question his comrades. Only a call issued in Kanai's own manner was a fitting farewell.
"Through victory in glory!"
"Through resistance against injustice!"
"Through reverence for life!"
"Through remembrance of the past!"
"Through the pursuit of hope!"
Voices rose from every corner of the Holy Mountain—familiar, weathered voices of the ancestors.
"Through the manifestation of will in battle!"
Aulic's voice boomed, thick with the scent of blood and fury, instantly drowning out the other spirits. Aulic respected Kanai, but he could never truly grasp that trademark serenity. Kanai always spoke of "tranquil rage," a concept Aulic found incomprehensible.
Did the God of War love to fight? Never. It was because he loathed conflict that Aulic spent his existence trying to end it. His only method, however, was to terminate the lives of those who perpetuated it. In Aulic's eyes, "tranquility" brought no peace. Only relentless struggle and the harshest punishment for those who harmed the innocent could pave a true path.
To loathe battle, to face every warrior with cold indifference, and then to destroy oneself in the fray—that was Aulic's choice. Mercy was reserved for those too weak to fight. Warriors required no such thing.
"Through the realization of will in righteousness!"
Cassius's roar rose in opposition. The clash had finally begun. The Great Elder's sacrifice could not be without the accompaniment of a spectacular battle. Baal wasn't worthy of being the centerpiece. Conveniently, Cassius and Aulic still had an old score to settle.
The victor would have his say; the loser would hold his tongue.
"In the name of the Great Bear!"
Aulic's massive frame lunged toward Cassius like a falling mountain. The Blade of the Tribes in his hand rippled with invisible force. There was no flash of steel—only a bone-chilling cold capable of freezing a soul mid-swing. The "Bash" was everything to a God of War—simple, brutal power used to deliver death.
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