Within the depths of the Burning Hells, Baal and Leoric stood locked in a silent vigil.
The two monsters remained still, as if engaged in a wordless exchange. Neither spoke; they simply waited. Would it be battle, or coexistence? The answer depended entirely on who arrived next.
If Bul-Kathos strode in with his overbearing gait, radiating the aura of a victor, Baal would surrender his godhead in exchange for the continued existence of his will. If Diablo arrived, shrouded in the mantle of Terror, Leoric would mount a final, desperate resistance. In that scenario, Baal would abandon all hope and allow himself to be silently consumed by Diablo, praying for whatever shred of mercy his brother might possess.
As for relinquishing the Shadow's Fang to unseal the Burning Hells…
Baal would never do it. That was the pride of a Great Evile. To abandon the Shadow's Fang was to betray the very essence of his existence. Baal was the purest of his kind—he was the Lord of Destruction. As long as he existed, he would uphold the dignity of a Prime Evil.
Outside the Burning Hells, Tyrael watched the unfolding situation in silence. He didn't quite understand why Bul-Kathos had tasked him with protecting Leoric—a being who supposedly couldn't be killed. Baal couldn't truly eliminate Leoric; even Baal knew that.
Hidden beneath his hood, Tyrael sensed the tremors echoing from the Holy Mountain of Harrogath. The battle between Raekor and Bul-Kathos? The outcome required no thought. In this moment, Bul-Kathos was an unstoppable force. Tyrael's only concern was whether Raekor would die by the King's hand, ending her brief resurgence of life.
As Tyrael brooded, Oblivion descended.
A void manifested within the Burning Hells. Amidst the absolute darkness, a figure tore through the fabric of reality. The Burning Hells instinctively retaliated against the intruder. Any outsider was forced to endure the ceaseless, corrosive power of the Hellfire.
"What is this?!" Tyrael exclaimed, his voice sharp with alarm.
The power of the Burning Hells began to boil. Endless demonic flames erupted, carving a small pocket of light out of the darkness. Oblivion's power was immense—perhaps the greatest among the five primordial gods of this world—but it was not yet so great that it could ignore the collective weight of Hell itself.
"I knew it," Leoric said, laughing as he stood up, resting his scepter against his shoulder.
This was his natural enemy. Without a word, Leoric realized exactly what he was about to face. But the Skeleton King was not one to stand still and await erasure.
Erasure was not death. The Skeleton King was not alive, so he was beyond death's reach. But as long as he existed, he was subject to the End.
"Diablo?" Baal's eyes flickered. He felt as though his secret schemes had been laid bare before his brother.
Oblivion carried the scent of Diablo—the unmistakable, creeping aroma of a soul being slowly overtaken by Terror. In Oblivion, Baal saw the path he was meant to take; he saw a rule mirroring his own: Destruction.
What was Oblivion? The inevitable end of all things.
Leoric's existence was a blasphemy against life, transcending its boundaries. But all existence has a corresponding end. In the presence of Oblivion, the Skeleton King needed the god's permission just to speak a coherent sentence.
Baal stood up silently. He finally understood Diablo's gambit. Oblivion was slowly falling into the grip of Terror. The moment Terror completely shrouded this primordial god, Diablo would transcend his limits and gain the power to face Bul-Kathos head-on.
"Cease this at once!" Tyrael took a step forward, plunging into the Burning Hells.
Auras of light radiated from him, bringing illumination to the endless void. He had promised Bul-Kathos to protect Leoric. No matter what stood before him, he would keep his word. Justice was inextricably linked to commitment; thus, Tyrael stepped into Hell without a second thought.
Even if the Shadow's Fang meant he would be trapped with Baal for the foreseeable future. Could he not escape? Justice had never been one to flee in disgrace.
"I knew it! I knew you wouldn't be as reasonable as Death. You have your own desires, your own agendas!" Leoric raised his heavy mace, radiance shimmering around him.
The Authority of Life and the severed hand of Death had already merged into his body. The End? It might end the Skeleton King who was neither living nor dead, but it would not end Leoric, the one graced by the Authority of Life!
They had long been prepared. Death understood Leoric's nature and knew that her brother, Oblivion, was the greatest threat to him. Was it love? Or was he simply the only being she had seen in eons who truly defied the limits of life?
Death cherished Leoric. She was obsessed with him. Possessiveness, control, love, hostility, and affection—these defined Death's feelings for the King. Yet, even she was powerless to stop Oblivion's might. Death was never a god suited for combat; before Bul-Kathos, no living soul had ever dared defy her will. Her power could only briefly delay Leoric's erasure in the face of Oblivion.
"Ant, vanish into nothingness!" Oblivion's voice echoed as waves of emptiness swept toward Leoric.
He had no intention of wasting words. By manifesting within the body of Eternity, he was already taking a risk. Had Diablo not used the Authority of the Burning Hells to grant him passage, entering this high-tier realm would have been difficult even for him.
But Diablo had allowed it. The strongest of the Three Prime Evils had welcomed Oblivion's arrival. The power to end all things surged, wrapping Leoric in layers of void. This wasn't a contest of strength; it was a conceptual crushing of his very essence.
The Skeleton King raised his hand, pointing into the depths of the void, and swung his scepter with all his might. A gust of deathly aura passed, followed by a flash of hatred for life itself. The resistance against all injustice was concentrated in the legendary weapon—The Skeleton King's Wrath.
It was a blow of titanic proportions, yet it wasn't the crude skill of a "Spectral Walk." It was a strike that condensed everything Leoric was.
CRACK—!
The hideous greatmace let out a clear sound of fracturing. Ripples spread out from the impact, and in an instant, the mace crumbled into ash. The Skeleton King's Wrath—that was the legend of the undead monarch, not the condensed life of the noble and powerful King Leoric.
Under the weight of that strike, Oblivion let out a soft groan. He was not immortal or indestructible. He was a living existence. He could die. Thus, a strike imbued with Death's power could wound even this high-and-mighty god.
"Hmph!" Tyrael walked in empty-handed, completely ignoring the suppression an Archangel suffered within the Burning Hells. His power was enough to disregard it. Even Baal, having consumed Mephisto, could not defeat the Tyrael standing before him.
Justice did not fall under the domain of Oblivion. Tyrael was capable of forcing Oblivion to retreat—provided he could reach him.
"Baal, my brother. Will you simply watch an Archangel unleash his power within our Burning Hells?" Diablo's faint voice reached Baal's ears.
Facing Diablo's provocation, Baal's expression remained unchanged, yet his figure suddenly appeared before Tyrael. Diablo had issued a warning. Baal had no choice. Intercept Tyrael now, or face a Diablo who had consumed Oblivion later? It wasn't much of a choice at all.
"Tyrael, this is the Burning Hells!" Baal raised his arm and smashed a heavy fist into Tyrael's face.
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