"Bul-Kathos, if—and I stress, if—you were to reach that final step, would you do to us, to the High Heavens, what Malthael did?"
Tyrael's voice cut through the air, posing the question that had been lingering in the silence.
Bul-Kathos didn't know exactly what Tyrael was fishing for, but he saw no reason to withhold the truth.
"If?" Bul-Kathos's voice rumbled, rising with a sudden, sharp edge, particularly when he reached the next word. "If you hadn't detonated the Worldstone, the Barbarians would have continued to thrive for generations. But you did. There are no 'ifs' left."
That flash of incandescent fury was an answer in itself.
When the end finally came, Bul-Kathos would act. It wasn't a matter of simple revenge; it was an irreconcilable conflict of existence.
The light radiating from Tyrael flickered for a brief moment. He nodded slowly.
"Auriel, is this truly your choice?" Tyrael asked, his words carrying the faint sting of an attempt to sow discord. Yet, his expression remained perfectly nonchalant.
"Don't pretend you've never thought about becoming the Only One, Tyrael. Be honest for once," Auriel said calmly.
In their world, every being born of Anu's grace harbored a desire to reach the summit. Even for those who didn't crave raw power, the curiosity inherent in life itself drove them to climb. The pursuit of the unknown was the only thing that truly endured.
"In all these long years, has anyone walked further down that path than Bul-Kathos?" Auriel's lips curled into a faint smile.
As the Aspect of Hope, she was unabashed about her perspective. Her gaze drifted momentarily toward Baal's direction. Hope was omnipresent; therefore, nothing occurring in that vicinity escaped her senses. She was certain that every move Baal made was still firmly within Bul-Kathos's calculations.
"Itherael cannot represent Justice, and neither can you. You sit on your high throne like a hollow icon, calling us 'mortals'—toys meant for your amusement," Zoltun Kulle's gravelly, discordant voice rang out again.
The translucent ghost drifted in circles around Tyrael before finally stopping directly in front of his face. Their eyes met—one pair glowing with divine light, the other burning with the arcane fire of a mad genius. Waves of mana pulsed rhythmically through Kulle's spectral form. He had never bothered to hide his hostility toward the Archangel of Justice.
"End this battle, Bul-Kathos. I concede," Tyrael said, looking right through Kulle's transparent body to address the Immortal King.
The objective Tyrael had sought through this wager had been met. To continue would be a waste of his time.
"Then you are free to leave, Tyrael!" Bul-Kathos replied icily.
Ending the fight was simple enough. If Bul-Kathos stepped in personally, a mere fragment of Baal's power wouldn't be enough to trouble him. However, there was still one final objective to conclude: the vetting of the recruits. He needed to see how many of them were actually capable of carrying the weight of the future.
"Very well. As you wish," Tyrael said, his silhouette beginning to dissolve into shimmering motes of light. "I only hope you come for me soon, to strip the mantle of the Archangel from my shoulders."
Bul-Kathos watched him vanish in silence, his expression unreadable.
"Now then, Auriel," Bul-Kathos said, glancing up at Kanai's Cube hovering above. The radiance emanating from the Cube had reached its zenith and was now beginning to dim. When the light finally faded, the supplement inside would be complete. "Do you have something to tell me?"
"Hehe…"
Auriel let out a clear, melodic laugh. At first, she covered her face with an elegant, demure gesture, leaving only her sparkling eyes visible. But the laughter quickly intensified. She doubled over, clutching her stomach in a fit of genuine, unrestrained mirth.
After a long moment, she finally caught her breath.
"Tyrael really is a terrible actor, isn't he? Don't you agree, Bul-Kathos?"
"He is always just 'stupid' enough that you can't tell if it's an act or if he's truly a fool," Bul-Kathos remarked.
His words caused Johanna to shift uneasily. The young Nephalem didn't know the full history of Tyrael's "mistakes."
Take Inarius, for example. Though he lacked the title of a Great Archangel, he had been a member of the Angiris Council before leaving the High Heavens. Was it because he hated war and sought sanctuary? That was the most convenient, irresponsible explanation. It was a factor, certainly, but it wasn't the whole truth.
The Angiris Council consisted of five Archangels specifically to ensure there was never a tie in their votes. No matter how much Itherael calculated, he couldn't maintain a balance with an even number. Thus, Inarius was cast out.
And the one who orchestrated it all—hovering between the masks of the fool and the sage—was Tyrael. Loving a demon was "unjust," and so Inarius was purged. Looking back at Tyrael's choices, he had never once come out on the losing side.
Even if Bul-Kathos had finished Malthael back then, who would the Mantle of Wisdom have fallen to? Without question, it would have been Tyrael, the strongest Archangel remaining. After Itherael was wounded by Kanai, he lost the strength to compete. Schemes were merely the tools of those who lacked the power to take what they wanted directly.
"Itherael seems to have some ideas of his own. I've only come to give you a warning," Auriel said, her face glowing with a radiant, compassionate warmth. It was a look that instinctively made Johanna feel a sense of trust and goodwill.
"The 'understandings' between Archangels and Demon Lords... how tedious," Bul-Kathos said, his tone blunt and abrasive.
"Don't you want to know who I've been in contact with, Bul-Kathos?" Auriel asked softly. She stepped forward, standing directly before the massive Barbarian and tilting her head up.
Their eyes locked. At this distance, Bul-Kathos could see the long lashes and the slow, human-like blink of her eyelids.
"You and Inarius were always on good terms," Bul-Kathos said, his voice booming and steady. "Which is why you have always looked after Andariel."
Zoltun Kulle nodded slightly at the remark. He didn't want his partner to be a half-wit; Bul-Kathos was proving to be quite sharp. Hope was a power born from agony; the hope grasped in the midst of pain and torture was the most precious kind.
"The Anguish of this world is no longer within Andariel's grasp," Auriel explained. "Therefore, I can shed the Mantle of the Archangel of Hope. I will use the suffering of this new world to gestate a new Hope. That is why I didn't hesitate to entrust my Mantle to you."
"What do you want from me?" Bul-Kathos asked, cutting straight to the point. Vague riddles only served to irritate him.
"When I transition into the true Hope of this world, I want you to shield me from the malice of this realm," Auriel answered.
The Great Archangels and the Lords of Hell saw the same thing the Eternal Ones did: an opportunity to grow stronger in this new world. And currently, Bul-Kathos was the strongest pillar to lean on.
"It won't be forever," Bul-Kathos agreed, but he demanded a limit. Protecting her indefinitely was unrealistic.
"Three thousand years."
"Deal. But I want news of my old friends. Don't tell me that 'omnipresent Hope' knows nothing of my comrades."
"Li-Ming is with Rathma. Karazim is still on the move," Auriel began, holding nothing back. Her words made Bul-Kathos's anger flicker for a split second. Johanna, too, felt the power of the Crusader flare within her.
"Nazeebo attempted to reconstruct the Unformed Land, but he was attacked by Rathma. His current status is unknown, though I doubt one such as Nazeebo would die easily. As for Valla... Malthael destroyed her path."
"Be specific!" Bul-Kathos demanded. He had a suspicion, but he needed the words from Auriel's mouth.
"Malthael killed Valla's Hatred," Auriel said plainly.
A Demon Hunter's energy was different from a Barbarian's. A Barbarian needed only Fury. A Demon Hunter required two distinct energies: Hatred and Discipline. It was a complex system, but a devastatingly powerful one.
Hatred was a form of energy similar to Fury, fueled by killing intent, revenge, and rage. Without her Hatred, Valla's situation would be dire, though it wouldn't kill her. Discipline was what a Demon Hunter relied on for survival, but without Hatred, she had lost her primary means of offense.
For a Demon Hunter who lived for vengeance, being unable to easily slaughter demons was a torture worse than death.
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