THE DARK SAVAGE IN UNITED STATE

The multiverse trembled as its fabric began to shift, centered on the formidable Ancient One. Across dimensions, the masters of mystic arts had emerged to protect their realms. Yet, the convergence of an alien dimension proved a slow, chaotic process, resisted by the guardians of this world.

In the far reaches of the Marvel Universe stood the Holy Mountain of Harrogath, an unyielding bastion protected by the ancestors of the barbarian clans. For eons, even the mightiest forces of darkness—whether the demon kings of Hell or cosmic invaders—had failed to taint its purity. Storm, the legendary X-Man and weather goddess, now sought to reshape this mountain with her unparalleled elemental might. Her goal, noble or not, was met with fiery opposition.

"To think you can shroud Harrogath in your alien power, mage! You insult the very spirit of the barbarians!" Conan the Barbarian, Earth's fiercest warrior, growled. The aftermath of an earlier battle still smoldered around him, his dual blades worn but his spirit undeterred.

Even damaged, his weapons gleamed with a primal energy forged in countless battles. Conan, now heralded as the Immortal King among his people, stood defiant. Though the dark soul stone's explosion had splintered his blades, he was no ordinary warrior. He embodied the will of his ancestors, the soul of Harrogath itself.

Storm's mystical vortex crackled in the skies above, her intentions clear. Yet her actions were nothing short of sacrilege to Conan. Harrogath was not merely a mountain—it was the heart of barbarian spirituality, the sanctuary of ancestral spirits. To corrupt it with a foreign dimension was an affront that no barbarian could bear.

"Enough!" Conan's thunderous roar shattered the silence, echoing through the sacred peaks. With a mighty bellow, he invoked Battle Rage, a primal barbarian skill that heightened his power tenfold. The air trembled as his unyielding fury surged.

The Immortal King charged toward Storm, his speed and precision defying mortal limitations. Though his mastery of earth-bound powers paled in comparison to her control of the elements, his warrior instincts and mastery of barbarian combat arts set him apart.

Storm met his charge with a gale-force wind, attempting to drive him back. But Conan's resolve was unshakable. Even without the legendary unity of Raiko, a mythical barbarian said to merge all combat forms into one unstoppable force, Conan stood at the apex of his kind. His every strike was a declaration, a message to all who dared oppose his people: this was his fight, his mountain, and his destiny.

"Harrogath's spirit will not fall to a storm, nor to a god," Conan roared as he leapt through the winds, his torn blades gleaming with ancestral energy. The battle between Earth's mightiest warrior and its weather goddess would determine the fate of an entire realm—and echo throughout the multiverse.