Diablo Chronicle Episode 18: When Wisdom Chooses the Name of Death
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This is a newly written fan narrative based on the events of the original game. The characters' emotions, dialogues, and scene atmospheres have been reconstructed, and it contains major spoilers.
Sealing the Black Soulstone
Tyrael let out a deep sigh as he walked silently through the dark, torch-lit passages deep beneath the Tomb of Rakkis. Lorath, a young Horadrim, followed closely behind him with a tense expression, guarding the Black Soulstone. The ominous energy radiating from the soulstone seemed to constantly gnaw at the fragile minds of mortals.
This stone, which imprisoned the essence of the Prime Evil, was a horrific artifact that had once corrupted even the Crystal Arch of the High Heavens. Tyrael decided that the ancient Tomb of Rakkis, a place where neither Heaven nor Hell could find it, was the only place left to hide the stone. The Horadrim scholars set down the heavy chest, catching their breath and wiping away their sweat.
Lorath shuddered at the faint demonic whispers emanating from the soulstone and glanced at Tyrael. Tyrael, now a mortal, felt the malevolent vibrations as well, but as the former aspect of Wisdom, he did his best to suppress his fear. When they finally reached the deepest chamber of the tomb, the group let out sighs of relief.
Tyrael began the complex sealing ritual, instructing the Horadrim to carve the runes of the barrier onto the floor. A blue magic circle enveloped the soulstone, slowly purifying the oppressive air. Seeing the light of the magic circle, Lorath harbored hope that this cursed artifact would finally be isolated from the world forever.
Looking at the soulstone, Tyrael recalled the memories of the devastating battle that had taken place in the High Heavens. The blood of angels spilled when Diablo trampled the Heavens and the desperate struggle of the Nephalem flashed before his eyes. He vowed to protect this stone, even at the cost of his own life, to ensure such a tragedy would never happen again.
As the barrier neared completion, the air inside the tomb gradually grew calm, and the demonic whispers subsided. The Horadrim scholars breathed sighs of relief, putting down their weapons and wiping the cold sweat from their brows. Tyrael also relaxed his tense posture and opened his mouth to offer words of encouragement to Lorath.
But just as everything seemed to be ending smoothly, the air inside the tomb suddenly froze. The torches on the walls flared with a blue light all at once, then instantly died out, plunging the chamber into deep darkness. Even the magic circle of the seal began to shatter with a bizarre cracking sound as a chilling frost rose.
In the deep darkness, an immense pressure that choked the breath out of the Horadrim scholars weighed down upon the entire tomb. Lorath instinctively gripped his weapon, but paralyzed by an unseen terror, he could not take a single step. Tyrael, realizing the identity of this familiar yet chilling presence, drew his sword with a voice filled with despair.
The Descent of Death
Frost coalesced in the air, and a grey-winged angel wielding giant sickles silently revealed himself. Malthael, once the Archangel of Wisdom but now the Aspect of Death, had descended before them. Malthael's pale form was the epitome of absolute nothingness, devoid of even a shred of life's warmth.
Tyrael pointed his sword at his former brother and shouted urgently, demanding to know what he thought he was doing here. But Malthael offered no reply, gliding forward like a ghost and swinging his sickles at the scholars. Blue souls escaped from the bodies of the fallen companions, who could not even utter a scream, and were absorbed into Malthael.
Terrified by the horrific slaughter unfolding before his eyes, Lorath collapsed to the floor. Malthael was a cold reaper, showing not a single ripple of emotion as he harvested mortal lives. Tyrael swung the sacred sword El'druin to protect the remaining Horadrim, but the blade passed right through Malthael's translucent body, failing to inflict any wound.
Malthael harbored a terrible plan to completely eradicate humanity, whom he viewed as a stain upon the universe due to their demonic blood. He intended to use the power of the Black Soulstone to absorb the souls of all mortals in Sanctuary, thereby ending the Eternal Conflict. Sensing his mad purpose, Tyrael felt the blood in his veins run cold.
Tyrael ordered Lorath to run immediately and find the Nephalem, throwing himself in front of Malthael to block his path. Lorath turned and began to run with tears in his eyes, and Malthael did not bother to pursue the fleeing mortal. Tyrael gasped for breath and delivered a final warning, declaring that the Nephalem would stop him.
Malthael paused at Tyrael's warning, looking down at his former brother's fallen, mortal flesh with a cold gaze. 'No one can stop Death.' A chilling voice that froze the very bones echoed through the air of the tomb. It was not spoken in arrogance, but with the absolute certainty of pronouncing a fundamental law of the universe.
Malthael placed his hand on Tyrael's chest to claim his soul, but realizing that Tyrael's soul was a pure angelic essence untainted by demonic blood, he stopped the harvest and shoved him violently against the wall. Tyrael crashed into the wall and collapsed to the floor, while the Aspect of Death approached the altar, now free of obstacles, and grasped the glowing red Black Soulstone in his hand.
Clasping the soulstone to his chest, Malthael dissolved into the frost-laden air and vanished without a trace. In the tomb, now cleared of darkness, only the cold, soulless bodies of the Horadrim and the bleeding Tyrael remained. In his fading consciousness, Tyrael desperately called out the Nephalem's name and closed his eyes.
The Tragedy of Westmarch
Upon receiving Lorath's urgent message, the Nephalem rushed to Westmarch, but the city had already been transformed into a living hell. The sky was blanketed in grey clouds, and the lifeless bodies of citizens lay piled like mountains throughout the streets. Malthael's army of Reapers was sweeping through the city, ripping out the souls of every living being.
The Nephalem witnessed grotesque Reapers chasing screaming survivors through the alleys. Just as a Reaper's sickle, exuding a mist of death, was about to strike down a woman holding a child, the Nephalem swung their weapon to block it. With a powerful blow, the Reaper's skeletal frame shattered, scattering hideous fragments in all directions.
After evacuating the terrified citizens to the safety of the catacombs, the Nephalem made their way to the heart of the city. There, they reunited with Tyrael, who was catching his breath while nursing his wounds, and received the devastating news that the Black Soulstone had been stolen. Tyrael wore a grim expression, explaining that Malthael intended to completely eradicate humanity due to their demonic lineage.
If Malthael absorbed the souls of mortals using the power of the soulstone, he would become an unstoppable force. Watching the horrific slaughter of their own kind, the Nephalem felt a boiling rage rise from deep within. With even the defenders of Westmarch fallen to the Reapers and resurrected as undead, the Nephalem was the only hope left.
As they advanced through the streets, the Reapers' resistance grew fiercer, and soulless corpses rose as grotesque monsters to block their path. With an unwavering gaze, the Nephalem broke through the enemy formations, ruthlessly tearing apart the magic of death. Each time their weapon cleaved the air, the souls of the unjustly sacrificed were briefly liberated, scattering into light.
Searching through the city's sewers and slums, the Nephalem rescued dozens more survivors who had been hiding. Looking at the reassuring back of the Nephalem, the survivors could harbor a glimmer of hope for salvation even amidst despair. However, to completely halt the slaughter in the city, they had to defeat the commander leading the Reaper army.
A massive blaze erupted from the direction of the Cathedral of Zakarum, beginning to dye the remaining districts of the city in crimson. Tyrael warned that Urzael, Malthael's most loyal lieutenant, was attempting to incinerate the entire city to wipe out any survivors. Judging by the speed at which the flames were spreading, there was no time to lose, so the Nephalem left the survivors behind and ran toward the cathedral.
Evading collapsing building debris and soaring pillars of fire, the Nephalem boldly entered the cathedral's spacious courtyard. There stood Urzael, wielding a massive cannon, laughing maniacally as he aimed the barrel at a building where refugees were hiding. Filled with blind hatred toward humanity, Urzael's eyes had long since lost all reason.
Urzael in the Flames
The flames spewing from Urzael's cannon were no ordinary fire, but a horrific death magic that consumed the soul. The Nephalem rolled across the ground, barely evading the lethal fire, but felt the searing pain of burning flesh from the mere heat brushing past their cheek. The cathedral's bell tower, engulfed in the inferno, collapsed with a thunderous roar, turning the battlefield into utter pandemonium.
Despite his massive bulk, Urzael leaped with astonishing speed, slamming his cannon down toward the Nephalem's head. The ground cracked like a spiderweb, sending debris flying, and the Nephalem raised their shield to endure the brutal shockwave with their entire body. Even under pressure that felt as though it would break their arm bones, the Nephalem refused to back down, watching for an opening to counterattack.
The Nephalem did not miss the brief moment Urzael took to reload his flame cannon, swinging their weapon at his leg joint. With a sharp cracking sound, a portion of Urzael's armor shattered, and he staggered, letting out a beastly roar. Enraged, Urzael ripped a burning beam from the cathedral and began to swing it ruthlessly at the Nephalem.
Each time the burning wooden beam cleaved the air, acrid smoke obscured their vision, hindering the Nephalem's breathing. Yet, relying on intuition and combat instincts, the Nephalem deflected Urzael's onslaught, biding their time for a critical strike. The moment Urzael swung the beam wide and lost his balance, the Nephalem lunged into his guard without hesitation.
The Nephalem's weapon pierced Urzael's breastplate with precision, and dark grey blood spurted out like a fountain. Mortally wounded, Urzael staggered, looking down at his chest in disbelief, but he did not let go of his cannon. In a final act of desperation, he attempted to take the Nephalem with him by detonating all the remaining flame magic within his body.
A tremendous explosion erupted with a blinding flash, but the Nephalem quickly took cover behind a collapsed pillar, saving their life. Once the smoke cleared, only the charred remains of Urzael stood in the center of the courtyard, emitting a hideous trail of smoke. As the great fires that threatened Westmarch gradually subsided, the weeping of survivors could be heard.
Tyrael limped forward, confirming Urzael's demise, and expressed his deep gratitude for the Nephalem's steadfast courage. However, despite defeating Urzael, Malthael's whereabouts with the Black Soulstone remained unknown, leaving no room for complacency. Tyrael advised that to locate Malthael, they must find the witch Adria, who was linked to the soulstone.
Adria was the very person who had manipulated the soulstone to resurrect Diablo, and the sworn enemy who had sacrificed Leah. Upon receiving information that she was hiding in the Blood Marsh, the Nephalem turned their steps to settle past scores and uncover the truth. Leaving the tragedy of Westmarch behind, the Nephalem once again embarked on a path of endless vengeance and pursuit.
The Blood Marsh and the Witch Adria
True to its name, the Blood Marsh was a foul-smelling swampland covered in rotting blood and filth, a cursed land. From the sticky mud, the forgotten ruins of ancient Nephalem rose like hideous skeletons, creating a bizarre landscape. Wading through the ankle-deep swamp, the Nephalem advanced toward the Great Weaponry of Corvus, where Adria was hiding.
Throughout the marsh, hideous blood-flesh monsters born of Adria's blood magic lay in ambush, waiting for intruders. Crimson tentacles erupted from the mud to wrap around the Nephalem's legs, but they were ruthlessly severed by a resolute blade. Remembering the unjustly sacrificed Leah, the Nephalem focused their cold rage toward the witch onto the tip of their blade, cutting down the enemies.
At the heart of the ancient ruins they finally reached, a massive pool of blood boiled, emitting a sickening aura. Standing in its center, Adria had already lost her human form, mutating into a hideous demon with grotesque wings and tentacles. Spotting the Nephalem, she burst into a chilling laugh, declaring that Diablo's return was imminent.
Adria mocked that her betrayal was a grand devotion to her master, and that even Leah's sacrifice was a glorious thing. At those outrageous words, the Nephalem's patience reached its limit, and they lunged forward with fierce momentum, charging at Adria. Adria desperately tried to block the Nephalem's approach, firing spheres of red magical energy from the pool of blood.
Each time a drop of blood touched the floor, hideous blood-clot monsters rose to surround the Nephalem from all sides. The Nephalem unleashed wide-area attacks to sweep the monsters away in an instant, relentlessly striking and pushing through Adria's barrier. Adria cunningly showered them with magic while teleporting to change positions, but she could not shake off the Nephalem's relentless pursuit.
After a fierce exchange, the Nephalem's fatal blow tore Adria's hideous wings and deeply slashed her back. Rolling on the floor with a scream of agony, Adria writhed, unable to control her own blood spurting from the wound. The Nephalem looked down coldly at the witch's abominable face as she begged for mercy, preparing to deliver the final blow.
Even with death imminent, Adria displayed her madness, spitting out a cursed prophecy that Diablo would return. Just before the Nephalem brought down their weapon, she leaked a crucial clue: Malthael had taken the soulstone to the Pandemonium Fortress. Finally, the weapon pierced Adria's heart, and the witch turned into a handful of ash, vanishing into the pool.
The bitter consolation of avenging Leah was short-lived, as the Nephalem grew tense at the fact that Malthael was in the Pandemonium Fortress. It was a scar on the universe where Heaven and Hell waged their Eternal Conflict, the center of all creation and destruction. Rejoining Tyrael, the Nephalem opened a portal to Pandemonium and leaped through for the final battle upon which the survival of humanity rested.
The Path to the Pandemonium Fortress
Pandemonium, reached through the portal, was a chaotic space where the crystals of Heaven and the lava of Hell were grotesquely intertwined. Giant rocks floated in the air, defying gravity, while the screams of angels and demons from thousands of years of conflict echoed in their ears like auditory hallucinations. Looking upon this ancient battlefield, Tyrael silently reflected on the origin of the Nephalem's birth.
Malthael's army of Reapers was stationed at every path leading to the Pandemonium Fortress, desperately blocking the Nephalem's approach. The onslaught unleashed by powerful Death Knights and Soul Mages was incomparably fiercer than the battle in Westmarch. However, the Nephalem drew upon their potential to wield the powers of both angels and demons, overwhelming the enemy.
As they advanced deeper into the fortress, the Nephalem encountered the echoes of countless human souls who had met their deaths in the past. The sorrow and rage of those unjustly sacrificed flowed down the walls of the fortress, weighing heavily on the Nephalem's shoulders. Tyrael watched with wonder at the infinite potential and resilient will hidden within the fragility of the human soul.
Malthael justified eradication by defining humans as imperfect and corrupt beings simply because they were descendants of demons. However, the sacrifice and courage shown by the Nephalem proved how arrogant and narrow-minded Malthael's cold logic truly was. Tyrael lamented the foolishness of his former brother, who had abandoned wisdom to choose death, and supported the Nephalem from behind.
In front of the massive gates guarding the heart of the fortress stood the most powerful Soul Guardians placed by Malthael. The Nephalem charged with their shield forward, breaking the guardians' phalanx and crushing the enemies with a fierce barrage of attacks. With a thunderous roar, the guardians' skeletal frames shattered, and the tightly shut gates to the center of the Pandemonium Fortress slowly began to open.
Beyond the gates, a space of absolute nothingness, devoid of both light and sound, lay open, silently waiting for them. Tyrael sternly warned that crossing this threshold would reveal the true realm of death, a place far beyond what mortal strength could endure. Yet, without a single moment of hesitation, the Nephalem gripped their weapon anew and stepped into the cold darkness.
In the dense fog where the cold air pierced the lungs and obscured vision, the blue glow emitted by two sickles flashed. As the massive Black Soulstone floated in the air, flickering with an ominous red light, Malthael slowly descended from above. Turning his head toward the Nephalem, he coldly declared that the only way to end the Eternal Conflict was the complete annihilation of humanity.
The Nephalem dismissed Malthael's forced sophistry, proudly asserting that no one had the right to strip humanity of its survival. Malthael offered no further reply, crossing the sickles in his hands and unleashing an explosion of deathly energy. The inevitable final battle between the Aspect of Death and the mortal hero, which would decide the fate of the universe, had finally begun.
The Showdown with Death
Malthael glided across the battlefield like a ghost, swinging his giant sickles in unpredictable trajectories to put immense pressure on the Nephalem. Each time the sickles sliced through the air, a bone-chilling mist of death erupted, relentlessly choking the Nephalem. The Nephalem narrowly evaded the attacks, searching for a chance to counter, but Malthael's defense was flawless.
As the battle dragged on, Malthael began to summon soul vortexes across the battlefield, slowly draining the Nephalem's life force. Even in this desperate crisis, with their stamina depleted and their mind growing hazy, the Nephalem endured with indomitable will and unleashed a fierce onslaught. The Nephalem's weapon finally pierced Malthael's pale barrier, succeeding in carving a deep crack into his breastplate.
Suffering unexpected damage, Malthael retreated, realizing to his bones that the mortal's strength far exceeded his expectations. Sensing that he might face defeat at this rate, he made an extreme choice that should never have been made. Malthael reached out toward the Black Soulstone floating in the center of the battlefield, concentrating his immense magical power into a single point.
With a horrific shattering sound, the Black Soulstone splintered into pieces, and the black essences of the seven Great Evils imprisoned within poured out like a tempest. Malthael absorbed those malevolent essences entirely into his own body, transforming into a hideous entity where death and evil fused. His grey wings were dyed blood-red, and the aura he radiated carried even the terror of Diablo, suffocating all around.
Having seized even the power of demons, Malthael ruthlessly drove the Nephalem back with an overwhelming destructive force incomparable to before. Red lightning and the mist of death blanketed the battlefield, and the Nephalem staggered, struggling even to defend against the ceaseless barrage of attacks. In this desperate situation, the Nephalem fully focused their mind on the true power of their ancient ancestors flowing through their blood.
Embracing both the light of Heaven and the darkness of Hell, the Nephalem's true potential exploded, illuminating the battlefield with a dazzling aura. Charging straight through Malthael's red lightning, the Nephalem delivered a fatal blow with all their might. The Nephalem's weapon shattered Malthael's crossed sickles and lodged deep within his chest, inflicting a mortal wound.
Malthael stared with wide eyes in disbelief, looking down at the weapon embedded in his body as he let out a painful scream. The countless souls and the essences of the Great Evils he had absorbed lost control, violently erupting from his body. With a massive explosion, Malthael, the Aspect of Death, lost his form and crashed miserably onto the floor of the Pandemonium Fortress, meeting his end.
As the aftermath of the explosion subsided and the thick fog cleared, only the Nephalem stood alone on the battlefield, gasping for breath. The countless human souls freed from Malthael's remains hovered around the Nephalem, leaving words of gratitude before ascending toward the light. It was a heart-stirring moment where the threat of death that sought to eradicate humanity was finally brought to a complete end by the hands of the Nephalem.
Unleashed Demons and New Fears
The joy of victory was short-lived, for it was not only the unjustly taken human souls that were liberated with Malthael's death. The essences of the seven Great Evils, escaping from the shattered Black Soulstone, hovered in the air of the Pandemonium Fortress before beginning to disperse. Diablo, the Prime Evil, was also free once more, bound to sow the seeds of a new calamity somewhere in Sanctuary.
The Nephalem silently watched the black mist vanishing into the air, sensing that this fight was not yet fully over. However, the most urgent task at hand was to tend to the suffering survivors and rebuild Westmarch and various parts of Sanctuary. Sheathing their blood-stained weapon, the Nephalem turned back with heavy steps, walking toward the entrance of the fortress where Tyrael awaited.
Tyrael welcomed the wounded Nephalem, expressing deep respect and praise for the miraculous victory they had achieved. The fact that a mortal Nephalem had defeated the Aspect of Death, whom even he, the former Angel of Wisdom, could not stop, was nothing short of a wonder. Tyrael firmly believed that the Nephalem was the only hope to shatter the age-old balance between Heaven and Hell and protect Sanctuary.
Yet, after the Nephalem departed first for Westmarch with the news of victory, an inexplicable anxiety bloomed in the chest of the solitary Tyrael. For the first time since becoming mortal, he shuddered at a cold fear that seeped into his very bones, looking up at the dark night sky. It was not a fear of the demons' resurrection, but a fundamental dread directed toward the great hero who had just saved the world.
The Nephalem had overwhelmed the archangels of Heaven, subjugated the Great Evils of Hell, and finally conquered even Death itself. Their potential was so infinite that even the creator of the universe might fear it, and no one could tell where the limit of that power lay. While Tyrael firmly believed in the nobility of the human soul, he was also well aware of the potential for corruption hidden within them.
If that great Nephalem should one day succumb to the temptation of corruption and turn their back on Sanctuary, who could possibly stop them? Tyrael found no answer to the terrifying question he posed to himself, overwhelmed by a deep sense of despair and helplessness. Having witnessed Wisdom warp into Death, the corruption of absolute power was no longer an impossible imagination to him.
Tyrael stared blankly at the floor of the Pandemonium Fortress, scattered with fragments of the Black Soulstone, deeply worrying about the unknown future to come. The world saved by the Nephalem seemed to have regained peace on the surface, but beneath it, a greater shadow of ruin lay in wait. The Great Evils would awaken again, and the Nephalem would constantly have their nobility tested amidst endless struggle.
A cold wind blew, rustling Tyrael's worn cloak, and he let out a heavy sigh, turning his gaze toward the dark void. There was nothing he could do but pray fervently that humanity's greatest hero would walk the path of light forever. The threat of death was gone, but within Tyrael's mortal heart, a new fear that would never be erased had taken deep root.
Sources Consulted
Official Blizzard Chronicle: After the Destruction of the Worldstone
Official Blizzard Lore: Book of Tyrael and the Leoric Lineage
Official Blizzard Lore: Adria's Betrayal
Official Blizzard Material: The Black Soulstone and the Reconstruction of the Horadrim
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