"Anya certainly is a fine example of feminine strength." Cain rubbed his ribs, grimacing. "Actually, she reminds me of the Zakarum priestesses I knew in my youth. They don't take vows of chastity, you know."
"Shut it, wizard. What's this shield? It looks different."
"Ah, the Bverrit Keep! This was made long ago to combat a sect of fire mages known as the Red Wizards. It proved invaluable, particularly against their walls of fire."
"Then it's useless. These things don't bother. Axes and whips are their weapons."
"What of the Ancients? Have you encountered them?"
"Aye, they let me in." Tearlach sneered a bit.
After waiting in vain for further comment, Cain shrugged and went back to examining the loot. "These must be your fiercest encounters yet, below the peak of the mountain. Surely, Baal has kept his most dangerous minions closest to himself."
"Nah; more zombies, more slaves. The bull-men get bigger and uglier, that's all."
Cain nodded. "I was told many great heroes of the past are there..."
"Aye, they were. They sold their lives dearly, but it mattered not."
Something is troubling him, Cain thought. What could it be? "The Ancient Ones must have been an awe-inspiring sight, especially for one such as you..."
"Aye, shining gold, glowing like the moon, the whole bit."
"No doubt your rite of passage could only be earned in combat..."
"What are yoo yammering about, wizard? Of course! We fought 'em, they let us in, we're in the Worldstone Keep. There's demons all over the place and pieces of red crystal smashed up through the floor. What else is there to say?"
"Well... surely, you must have some questions?"
Tearlach thought for a minute. "All right, one. What the hell is a waypoint doing inside the keep?! Is there anyplace those damned wizards didn't get to?"
Cain blinked. "There's one inside the keep?"
"Never mind." Tearlach and Klatu stomped back to the waypoint.
What on earth could be on his mind, Cain wondered. "Qual-Kehk, I don't suppose you have any idea what could be troubling him?"
"It's a simple thing. The Ancients let him win. How could any true warrior not be troubled that his foe handed him his victory?"
"Hmm. The loss of the Worldstone would not bother him like this?"
"Anya has read to me from the old prophecies, and from what they say, the destruction of the Worldstone is not the end of the world. It bodes ill for us, but the final battle against Hell's might will come later. The final gambit has yet to be played."
Cain slowly nodded. "What do the prophecies say about the end of the world?"
Qual-Kehk looked up at the mountain again. "None of the seers say anything about what comes after this; we thought this would be the end. Thinking on it now... I do not believe we will survive as the people we once were. We will survive, but there is nothing to unite us. What will become of us, I do not know, but we will face our fate on our feet."

Once, the Worldstone Keep was a matchless wonder. Heaven itself moved the stones of its walls and created its majestic columns; the Light filled its vast halls and dispelled all shadow. Now there was nothing but shadow. Blood dripped down the walls, and ancient bones from long-dead heroes lay on the floor... just like in every other building Hell roared through on its bloody trek across the world. Tearlach's heart was cold within him. Treating this place the same as the pompous temples of Kurast, or the overblown cathedrals in the western lands, was more than any man could stomach. The Worldstone fragments poking through the floor were the crowning insult; he couldn't wait to let the world know he'd won.

Without pity, Tearlach and Klatu sought out and slaughtered every last Hell-spawn in the keep. Bull-men, big-heads, and slaves went by in a blur of gory explosions. Especially the slaves; these ones, obviously the most dedicated, would willingly explode and kill themselves without a master to drive them to it. In the deeps of the fortress, hordes of demon women in gold stood guard alongside the biggest bull-men on the mountain. The golden horde didn't kick and scratch uselessly like the other ones, they hurled little balls of magic; they stung a bit. The throne of all the Barbarian people, Bul-Kathos' own, stood at the end of his great feasting hall on the lowest level of the keep. The throne was gone; apparently Baal found it a poor fit for his bug-like ass. He sat on the dais, waiting... and laughing.

"What's the plan?" Klatu asked.
"Hoo needs a plan? Just kill the wizard."
"Wizard?"
"Er, demon. It's a demon wizard," Tearlach said exasperatedly
Klatu nodded slowly. "They're the worst kind."
"Aye."
"It won't save anythin', yoo know."
Tearlach grinned wide. "It'll make me feel better."
Klatu nodded. "There's that."
In they went. Looking terribly pleased with himself, Baal made the tiniest gesture; a ball of reddish light burst at his... feet, you could call them. A hordling of little red demons popped out, gibbering and throwing fireballs. "Are those dangerous?" Klatu asked.
Trust a Crane to be cautious in battle. "No, they're pathetic. Get... what's-his-name!"
"BAAL, YOU MICROCEPHALIC PAWN!! HAD YOU TWO BRAIN CELLS TO RUB TOGETHER, YOU WOULD FLEE AT THE VERY MENTION OF IT! YOU HAVE FUMBLED YOUR WAY INTO A SPHERE OF CONTENTION FAR BEYOND YOUR MINIMAL CAPACITY, SO GET BACK TO THE ALE HOUSE WHERE YOUR POWERS ARE MORE APT TO PREVAIL!"
Klatu blinked. "What'd he say?"
One of the demonlings was screeching at Tearlach. He spat in its eye. "Who cares?"
"NO, IT IS I WHO DOES NOT CARE! THAT IS BECAUSE I HAVE ALREADY WON!!" Laughing uproariously, Baal sat back and gloated. "NOW, AMUSE ME."

Tearlach charged, but found an invisible wall between himself and Baal, with his face. Baal's amusement was obvious, and uproarious. The wall didn't budge when he put his shoulder to it. At his back, fireballs were pinging off his shield. The demonlings were starting to annoy him, and Klatu wasn't killing them fast enough, so he killed them himself. Once they were dead, what's-his-butt threw out a crowd of mummies, with skeleton mages. Klatu had to be reassured about them too, then convinced to attack the big ones first. The biggest mummy was a hellish creature, with more poison in his breath than any chemicals could explain. One thing was clear: Baal liked mummies. Maybe all that time in a tomb warped his judgment more than most demons.

After the mummies came some of those strange warped Zakarum priests, then a bunch of sword demons. Through it all, the wall around Baal stood firm. Tearlach wondered how much more "amusement" they'd have to provide before he took this seriously. The last battle was hard. The summoned creatures were giant fleshy things with too many arms, too many legs, and too many teeth and claws. They fought by slamming bodily into their foe; they didn't need technique, they were so strong and heavy. Tearlach gritted his teeth and took them on his shield. Klatu's fancy moves were getting him nowhere, he might have fallen if Tearlach hadn't pulled him back to pour a potion down his throat now and then.

It was a hard fight. The Ancients were far tougher. They could have stopped Baal easily, if that damned snake hadn't... but there's no point thinking about that. What's done is done, there's no taking it back. When the last of his minions was slain, Baal turned his back on them and strutted through a red gate, doubtless to what was left of the Worldstone. He probably wanted one last chance to gloat. Tearlach and Klatu went in after him. They could not take his victory from him, but he could not be allowed to enjoy it long.

Baal was pathetic compared to his minions. His brothers should have been ashamed of him. Maybe he was the more "civilized" of them, used to ordering, not leading. His body was softer than Diablo's, but solider than Mephisto's; blades bit his flesh deeply, releasing satisfyingly thick gouts of blood. He had a few tricks, like a blast of icy wind that blew them back. Klatu had heard of Druids doing that. His other trick was making an illusory copy of himself, hoping to confuse them. Trouble was, the copy looked whole and hearty, which Baal most certainly did not by that time. Baal was still laughing even as life ebbed out of him; Klatu put the last cut neatly across his throat. He died spraying blood like a fountain, puking too much for any more of that annoying laughing to be heard.

"There," Klatu said, "a job well done."
"Can't be much of a win if you're dead," Tearlach agreed. "Now for the loot!"
"Strip him! Let's see what he had... Vidala's Fetlock... Sigon's Gage... Tancred's Skull... Kinemil's Awl. Not a bad haul."
Tearlach looked dumbfounded. "How'd yoo know that?"
Klatu turned Vidala's boot over. "See? She wrote her name on it."
"Och! And here I thought that damned wizard knew somethin'! Hey, what's up there?"
A shaft of light burst through the ceiling of the Worldstone chamber, and Tyrael floated down. Klatu stood there slack-jawed, then closed his eyes and shook his head: too much weird stuff for one day. Conversely, Tearlach greeted the heavenly emissary casually, like an old and trusted friend. "Hey, took yoo long enough, angel! Where yoo been?"
"Mortal, I am actually impressed," Tyrael said, politely ignoring him. "You have done all you set out to do, and you have done it well. But it was too late to save the Worldstone. If it is allowed to exist, the stone's empty husk would give the forces of Hell a permanent gateway into your world. Therefore, I must now destroy the Worldstone."
"It's already destroyed," Tearlach asked. "There's bits of it all over the keep."
"Before Baal's corrupting touch defiled the Worldstone, it was full of the energy of your world. Now its power is draining away, even as the crystal structure breaks apart. The pieces could serve as a power focus for outside energy sources, but never again will they resonate with earthly energy. It can only be a weapon for Hell now. This is the end of an era, for your people and all humankind."
"It's not the end of the world?" Klatu asked.
"Nah. It's the end of the Worldstone," Tearlach replied. "So... now what do we do?"
"Humanity will go on as before," Tyrael said. "The effects of the Worldstone's loss will not be felt for some time. You have dealt a profound blow to The Three Brothers; they will not recover from it quickly. But in time, they will regain their strength, and there will be nothing to stand between them and the world of men."
"Ah, that's all right," Tearlach grunted. "They couldn't take us now, they won't ever. The worst they'll do is sneak in and trash something before we send 'em back where they came from. Who needs the Worldstone? So it's the end of an era. All things have an end. Except sausages, which have two."