Chapter 77: [77] Athena...
In the blood-soaked gaze.
The Spartan Rage surged.
Beneath the torrential rain.
A figure, drenched in blood, with black hair, raised his hand and grasped the hilt of the demonic sword.
In the battlefield resembling a meat grinder.
The palm dripping with fresh blood, washed away by the rain, flowing all the way to the shattered blade of the demonic sword.
"I'll let you... drink my blood."
"In exchange, let me wield your power."
Facing each other in the pouring rain, on the brink of death.
With the establishment of the contract.
Their lives began to connect completely.
Allowed to drink the host's blood with relish.
The cracks on the sword gradually repaired and closed.
Heat surged in the next moment of loss.
A fierce burning sensation filled Kratos's mind in an instant.
Surging blood threads spread from the sword, climbing up the arms, body, heart of the black-haired figure...
Trembling.
The dense blood color pervaded and dyed the pupil of Kratos.
Thick as wax, the color spread rapidly, forming a crimson armor on Kratos's body.
"Hiss..."
"Huff..."
Intense blood.
Coarse, like the trembling breath of hell.
From the pile of devils, something stood up again.
Not human.
But... the ruler of hell.
Dante stared blankly...
Stared at his brother in front of him, holding a blood-red giant sword, his sturdy figure towering.
Interweaving hoarse words.
From beneath his demonic, ferocious, and bloody face, a resounding declaration emanated...
"I am Kratos/Aatrox..."
"Listen..."
"To the silence of annihilation!!!"
Boom!
Huge, monstrous demonic wings tore through the flesh from behind!
A deep, prison-like intense blood rose from the demonic sword, surging around Him like flickering flames!
The pouring rain curtain was instantly swept away, purified!
The devil's piled corpses instantly decayed, annihilated!
Even the grotesque creatures that emerged from the cracks of hell, devoid of human cowardice, seemed to sense an indescribable horror and fear under the looming demonic figure.
The bodies of the devils.
Began to tremble, wriggle, and retreat.
Clashing and gnashing teeth, mouths dripping with saliva.
Such ferocious mouthpieces for feeding, at this moment, emitted chilling and horrifying moans and screams.
The cold wind pierced.
Torrential rain poured.
Under the desolate, starless night sky.
Slowly, a hoarse, deep, abyss-like voice rang out, but it brought an incomparable sense of peace and anticipation to Kratos.
"You bunch of filthy, wretched maggots..."
"I will sever your dirty bodies... Cut them open! Smash them to pieces!!!"
"Olympus! You shall perish!!!"
Bang!
The ground cracked with deep pits from the stampede.
The blood-red muscular body leaped up violently, and the crimson wings spread abruptly under the bleak moonlight.
Accompanied by the sonic boom of a scream.
Like a mountainous, fierce, and bloodthirsty sword, it abruptly slashed down, pouring out a surge of blood-colored sword light!
Rip.
The earth trembled.
Flesh tore apart.
The great devil with the bloated body was split in half from the top by the descending furious sword!
Amidst the splattering thick blood.
The wriggling intestines were tremblingly surged out...
Splish... Splash...
"Hahaha... hahahaahaha!!!"
Accompanied by the insane hoarse laughter, a buzzing resonance spread along with the chains of fury.
All devils attempting to escape were swiftly entangled and swept away by the chains of blood-red fury, burning and billowing, towards this burly demonic figure.
Squelch.
A sweeping sword strike.
Like a meat grinder, tearing apart everything before it.
Torrential rain.
Also tainted with a crimson hue as blood.
The demonic figure, wielding the demonic sword, let out a mad laughter amidst the shower of blood, splattered everywhere.
Dante gazed motionlessly... at this scene of surging emotions.
"Kratos..."
In his heart, a fierce flame seemed to ignite.
His figure.
Each step he took almost shook the earth.
No need to consider any fighting techniques anymore.
No need for any restraints or defenses.
All beings not allowed to survive.
Were now shaken to their core, their guts torn asunder, beginning to flee in terror.
Kratos's crimson gaze swept around.
Gazing upon the devils, their trembling bodies chilled with fear.
Escape does not solve the problem.
Because...
Only dead devils are true devils!
Slaughter.
Crushing.
The burly demonic figure, wielding the bloodthirsty sword, mercilessly slaughtering all the grotesque creatures fleeing in terror.
The land bathed in blood.
As if filled and enveloped by flames of fury.
Aatrox's mad and hoarse voice was echoing.
"Interesting..."
"Interesting! Interesting!!!"
"What an interesting lad!"
"Clearly so frail! Clearly so insignificant!"
"But... Such rage! Such bloodlust! This uncontrollable urge to kill!"
"I admit, I might have slightly underestimated you! You... are worthy of becoming my host!"
"So..."
"I permit you to call my name! Call out Aatrox's name! This is your noble glory!"
"Kill!! Keep killing!!!"
"Our compatibility! It's simply 1000%! HAHAHAHA!"
The madman who destined to slay gods, and the sword who destined to slay gods.
The wills of both sides seemed to blend and intertwine, indistinguishable.
That rage that seemed to cut and shatter everything...
Was, remarkably, so similar!!!
Flesh and blood of countless devils were shredded, bathing in the frenzy of blood rain.
Aatrox, drenched in blood, brandishing the bloodthirsty sword, let out a mad hoarse laughter.
"Hahahahahaha!!!"
"Feels good! Crush them! Let it all out!"
"Want to become stronger, don't you?"
"Then, give your body more to me! Boy!"
"You will become... the host of the godslayer! This is your supreme glory!"
"After all..."
"With your frail human body, you can barely unleash a fraction of my power!"
The mad laughter abruptly halted.
Crack.
Kratos gripped the hilt of the sword.
His crimson gaze slightly lowered, meeting the sinister, bloodshot eye of the sword.
As if speaking to himself.
"Know... your place."
The deep, layered voice resonated from the same vocal cords.
"I am your master, Aatrox."
"Hmph..."
Faced with such words.
Aatrox merely emitted a disdainful sneer.
A person...
Playing both sides of the conversation like a split personality.
"Boy... I merely appreciate you, so I exchanged a few words with you."
"Contract?"
"Indeed... we are now somewhat intertwined."
"But, such a thing, for me, the vanguard of the wandering stars! It has no binding force whatsoever! I can tear it apart unilaterally at any time!"
"I don't need any contract! There's no contract that can bind me! I am free, free to slaughter everything! No one is worthy to be my master!!!"
"I was just ambushed by those scum of Olympus! Worms!"
"I am the world ender! Aatrox!"
"Do you think... you, this insignificant and frail human, are worthy to be my master?!"
Under the pouring rain.
The atmosphere became heavy.
Bathed in the rain.
The bloodstains all over, washed away by the torrential flow.
The godslayer named Kratos, hoarsely uttered a low hum.
"Then you... can leave! I don't need an unruly sword!"
No hesitation.
No delay.
Kratos released his grip, directly throwing the sword in his hand, piercing through the heap of devil corpses on the ground.
Blood mist evaporated.
The crimson armor, like melted wax, slowly receded from his body.
From the burly demonic figure.
Kratos regained his slender figure.
The left hand, newly formed by the demonic sword, bore a peculiarly pallid complexion.
Kratos flexed his fingers, finding no issue with movement.
That would do.
He turned, approaching his brother without a backward glance, leaving him behind.
"...Huh?"
The demonic sword lodged in the ground swayed and emitted a curious, surprised hiss.
Kratos didn't look back.
Watching the distant figure who insulted him by throwing him like garbage.
Aatrox infuriated!
Damn, even a sword can have temper!
"Fuck you! Bastard! If you don't want it, don't use it, who cares about you!!!"
The sword roared with a tremor.
Through clenched teeth.
"Hmph..."
The fierce eye on the sword glanced arrogantly to the side.
And...
Dismissively from the corner of his eye.
The black-haired youth gradually moved away, supporting his brother, showing no intention of turning back.
Who I am...?!
I'm Aatrox!!!
I am the Godslayer! The World Ender!!!
Who cares about you, insignificant human!
Watching the black-haired youth, supporting his brother as they disappeared into the rain.
Feeling anxious.
Aatrox admitted he was anxious.
"Are you really serious, boy?!"
Aatrox, as the Vanguard of the Wandering Star, was indeed the world ender that made the world tremble.
But now, has been shattered into pieces by Gaia, who using the sword of promised victory.
He's not who he used to be.
His consciousness also be called the remnants of Aatorx.
At this moment, Aatrox couldn't even gather his humanoid form.
If Kratos didn't feed him blood.
Then this fragment of the vanguard of the wandering star, will really wither, dry up, and die...
And...
Clearly, he is the world ender who will bring an end to this world...
Everything in this world would be crushed and absorbed by it.
In other words...
It's impossible for it to make a so-called contract with the natives of this planet, even if both sides agree, there is no chance at all!
Because, the rules of this planet cannot bind it to the vanguard of the wandering star, moreover, the crest of the wandering star within its body possess the power to devour civilizations.
And...
When Kratos said that sentence, he reluctantly agreed due to his desire for survival, its silent consent.
Contract.
Did it really come to pass?!
As the Vanguard of the Wandering Star...
It's impossible to be intertwined together with these tiny, weak, seemingly insignificant little creatures that can be squashed like insects at any time.
Moreover this person was born from Gaia that he was destined to destroy.
But...
How could...
...their lives intertwined together?
"This... how is this possible."
Aatrox experienced an ethereal feeling like a thread of connection between him and Kratos, and could not help swaying.
The bloodthirsty aura around him slowly dissipated.
As a result of losing Kratos as his host.
At this moment, he now was feeble and weak sword who even defended himself was struggling without a host..
And you can be sure what his fate will be if it continues like this...
And as expected.
Seemingly sensing the weakness of Aatorx.
In the pile of devil corpses.
Those wriggling, disgusting, grotesque creatures extended their sticky tentacles, seemingly wanting to touch the hilt of the sword.
Slippery mucus.
Slightly contaminating the blade of Aatrox.
"Ah?!"
The sword shivered all over.
Then, a hoarse and furious voice spread out.
"You! How dare you defile my body?!"
"Filthy maggots!!!"
"I'll kill you a thousand times! Not enough!!!"
Pfft.
Aatrox leaped up suddenly, with a swift jump and slash, cutting off the tentacle that dared to touch him!
"Hmph..."
Bathed in blood.
The eye on the sword narrowed with disdain.
"But so what, brat!"
"I don't need you, I can slowly recover on my own-..."
When he mutters like this.
A huge skull slowly floated up in front of Aatrox.
Resembling a leech, the devil's body as huge as a small mountain slowly approached, its pink lips dripping with covetous mucus.
The extended tongue.
Gently licked the sword.
Leaving a puddle of wet, sticky, disgusting liquid on the blade.
"Ah?!"
Aatrox infuriated!
"Who dares to defile the world ender?!"
And then, looking at the demon head in front of him...
The sword leaped fiercely, jumping towards the black-haired youth.
"Boy....."
"Boy!"
"Damn it, look at me!"
Listening to that hoarse, somewhat ridiculous voice.
Kratos supported Dante glanced over expressionlessly, looking behind at the sword that was jumping towards him.
"You're ruthless! No, I mean, You're amazing! Our contract has been established. If I die, you'll die too, do you know that?!"
"So what..."
With a disdainful expression, the young man with black hair regarded the sword as if it were nothing more than trash.
"I've told you, I don't need an unruly sword."
Such indifference in his demeanor.
It made Aatrox itch with frustration, yet he restrained himself from erupting.
Because they were intertwined in existence.
To curse him, wasn't that akin to cursing himself?
With such reasoning, he struggled to convince himself.
Aatrox squinted slightly at the figure before him, the suppressed words resonating with a trembling tone.
"Boy... I admit, you've piqued my interest!"
"I could make you my servant..."
Without looking back, Kratos turned away.
"Ah?!"
Aatrox erupted in madness.
"A warrior then? A bedfellow?... No! No no no! Damn it! I acknowledge you as my fighter! I allow you to be my kin!!"
Supporting his brother's body steadily.
The young man with black hair turned slightly, his expression devoid of emotion.
"I am your... master."
With those words, silence fell.
The eye on the demonic sword twitched.
Aatrox leaped suddenly, viciously jabbing at Kratos's knee with the hilt of the sword.
The young man with black hair raised his hand, grabbing the sword's hilt and restraining the frenzied blade.
Calm, deep-set eyes.
Facing the menacing, blood-drenched eye of the demonic sword once again.
The sword quivered.
Roaring with a hoarse, trembling voice.
"I... have no master!"
"No one, can claim to be my master!"
"You... are not my master!"
"Never will be!!!"
"Aatrox..."
A torrent of rain flows.
Drenching Kratos's wet forehead.
The young man with black hair spoke quietly in the midst of the hellish bloodbath, his expression unchanged.
"I am not your master, indeed..."
"But likewise, I am not your servant."
"If you cannot even treat me as an equal."
"Then leave, return to your place. I do not need a sword that seeks to replace me!"
"You will never have a master..."
"My body will forever belong to myself."
Clang.
Kratos dropped the demonic sword from his hand.
It fell to the ground with a resounding clang, as if plummeting from the heavens.
The nameless and irrational devils that fled earlier began to encroach once again, having seen Kratos' departure.
But shaken by the abyssal aura of the young man, and frightened by the carnage before them.
They dared not approach...
In this solemn, rain-soaked darkness.
In this bloody, hellish battlefield.
The demonic sword fell silent for a moment.
"We... are equals..."
The sword trembled.
Aatrox struggled, speaking in fragmented words.
"I admit... you and I are equals!"
"We are... comrades!"
With that, his words were lost in the torrential rain.
Facing the sword on the ground.
Kratos slowly raised his hand.
Gazing at the young man's fair who almost translucent palm.
Aatrox hesitated.
Was he... supposed to...
Was he supposed to leap up himself?! Act on his own?!
"Ah!!!"
With an indescribable sense of humiliation.
Aatrox leaped up and dropped the hilt of his sword into the young man's hand.
The eye of the demonic sword trembled.
A feeling of disdain.
Yet also, a hint of... admiration.
...Damn it!
Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!!!
This brat, truly...
Had his wits about him!
Furious as he was, yet so lucid and composed!
Aatrox felt consumed by jealousy and madness!!!
"Kratos..."
"Why are you still so lucid!!!"
"Your homeland is destroyed! Your loved ones are dead! I feel the rage within you, why do you maintain your composure!!!
"Athena..."
"Ares..."
"You are well aware of their identities, aren't you?!"
"Don't you want, to crush those maggots?!"
"Don't you want to pulp their brains! Rip out their spines! Crush every inch of their bodies! Every inch of flesh! Every inch of bone!"
"To impale those worthless beings like scraps of cloth on their own idols?!!"
"No, you certainly want to..."
"I can feel the fiery fury in your heart! Kratos! You desire it desperately!!!"
"You are destined, to reign as the king of hell and earth!"
"Come! Slaughter! Ascend Olympus Mountain! Build your throne upon the skulls of devils and gods!
"Break free... from your shackles!"
Grasping the bloodthirsty demonic sword.
Listening to the hoarse and eerie low hum of Aatrox, lingering and resonating in the mind.
The black-haired youth.
Expressionless.
Merged as one...?
Indeed... incredibly tempting.
By merging with the demonic sword, he could obtain the crest of the wandering star, and gaining unparalleled ferocious power by devouring all civilizations.
But... he would no longer be Kratos at that moment.
He would become... the world ender named Aatrox.
"I still cannot unleash my fury."
Kratos slightly lowered his deep crimson eyes, locking gazes with the demonic sword.
"Because... I must survive, Aatrox."
These simple words.
Caused the voice of the sword demon to falter.
"Surging rage, the feeling of abandoning everything, destroying everything, breaking free from shackles... what freedom it is... I know it all too well."
Kratos indeed knew it all too well.
In fact...
The freedom as a BEAST.
He had already experienced it.
He had already broken free from the cage once before.
Looking into the Kratos's eyes.
Aatrox realized the cruel truth.
It finally dawned on him that he had underestimated this kid.
His fury was almost about to consume everything, his determination to die was evident.
But he continued to struggle, to restrain himself with what he called 'reason.'
Because...
Compared to breaking free from everything.
After breaking free from the cage, it takes even more courage to restrain oneself again.
Kratos knew exactly what he had to do.
"You are too weak now, Aatrox, and so am I."
"I must survive for vengeance..."
"When a person dies, everything is lost."
"I must live for my father, for Myrrine, for Vergil, for the sacrifices of the warriors in the city..."
"And Dante he still needs me, he cannot lose me."
"The reason I hold onto you, and the reason you choose me... are the same."
"The day of vengeance..."
His faint words floated in the rain.
Like moonlight shimmering in a pool of blood.
"It's not far away."
"Hahahahaha."
Aatrox laughed, appearing mocking, ridiculing, and sorrowful.
"So..."
"You are already mad, Kratos."
"You are madly and soberly, boy."
"The determination to die... is not rare."
"What is terrifying is the heart that survives for revenge."
"This is your... dark glory."
Developing a rational, compassionate, and morally sound personality.
Requires love, patience, companionship, education...
And a long time.
But...
Turning someone into a lunatic.
Often only requires... a moment of despair.
No one can maintain reason indefinitely.
Just as no one can resist the growth of their own nails.
The so-called morality, order, kindness, humility, propriety, and shame.
Are all just... masks.
Aatrox himself knew this best.
Before his fall.
He used to be a proud ascended god-warrior...
...Wait.
His memory... seems like there's something wrong?
Is he ... the vanguard of the wandering star?
Or... an ascended god-warrior of shurima...?
A subtle sense of discord lingered in his heart.
He... sent to this world.
By whom...?
Grrr...
His eyes throbbed in pain.
Aatrox gave up thinking.
This subtle sense of discord, rising in his heart, was swiftly abandoned by Aatrox's brain, pushed to the back of his mind.
He vaguely remembered.
Vaguely remembered... why his shattered self had fallen before this guy.
Because.
Aatrox saw... rage.
The youth with black hair before him, in those deep crimson eyes as profound as deep oceans, harbored surging rage, ready to devour and obliterate everything.
The flames of vengeance.
Burned in his heart.
The thing called 'reason' was in jeopardy.
"Boy..."
"I look forward to the moment you take off the mask."
"I'll reluctantly let you have a go."
"Clean up this trash first."
Blood-red tendrils surged out from the sword, emanating from the blade and spreading inch by inch over the black-haired youth's body.
The crimson armor, like blood, slowly coalesced once again, enveloping Kratos entirely.
"Kratos..."
"I fully sense your dominance..."
"I fully understand your determination..."
"We... shall merge as one!"
Beneath the desolate moonlight.
Amidst the torrential rain.
"Your suffering..."
"I will make it bloom in full..."
The roar of the godslayer echoed over the entire city of Sparta!
"Annihilation!!"
With the bloodthirsty demonic sword, Aatrox.
Once again, inseparable, they fused together.
Boom.
Blood-red wings tore open behind him, the demonic aura surrounding Kratos surged, intensified, and magnified!!!
Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!
At this very moment, Kratos's rampage aura is more ferocious than ever before, tenfold! His power is tenfold! His rage was unparalleled!!
Unrivaled in dominance! Unmatched in fury!
Damn it all! Be it hell or earth! What else in this world can withstand! What else in this damn world can resist?!!
In just a few short minutes.
Whether they are renowned devils or lowly foot soldiers.
"Die!"
The blade cleaves flesh and blood.
With each life slain, as the blood of devils is spilled, a circle of crimson blood mist rises and dissipates.
Blood for the Demonic Sword! Skulls for the Skull Throne!
The corpses of devils, piled beneath the carnage of battle, form a gruesome spectacle.
Nerves, seemingly on the verge of melting in such terrifying brutality.
But still, a strand of reason from Kratos dangles perilously.
With each kill.
His speed escalating relentlessly...
His strength stacking incessantly...
Amidst the blood rain, the crimson demon body moves, akin to a slaughterhouse, decimating all the devils surrounding the royal court.
Bathed in the torrential downpour, drenched in copious fresh blood.
Kratos looked at the confused Dante.
"Wait for me to come back."
"Blood! Fresh blood! I need to drink more blood!! Quickly!! Kratos! Cut open! Sever! Annihilate!! Crush them!!!!"
Facing the resounding uproar of the entire city-state, the clamor of warriors and devils locked in combat.
Kratos spreads his wings.
Boom!
Accompanied by the tremors of the mountaintops.
Crimson as blood, like a meteor with a blazing tail, from the heights of the sky, descends upon the Sparta palace.
[Facing the sudden invasion of a devil of such colossal scale and unexpected ferocity.]
[You merge with Aatrox, the demonic sword, and descend like a meteor, piercing through various city sectors.]
[Amidst the warriors' bewildered and stunned gazes.]
[In the blink of an eye.]
[The devils' bodies are all severed and crushed by you.]
[A thick crimson hue gradually spreads across your eyes.]
[Even the horizon is tainted with a scarlet hue.]
[As the desire for slaughter gradually intensifies.]
[Your blood seems to emit a faint roar.]
[Nerves seem to melt completely in such a terrifying and exhilarating sensation.]
[Despite the looming danger to your sanity...]
[You still cautiously control your force, mindful of sparing the lives of the Spartan warriors.]
[Unfortunately, concerning the destruction of buildings, you have been somewhat neglectful.]
[Thrust, sever, then swiftly fly towards the next area.]
[The bewildered Spartans find themselves utterly astonished.]
[Your figure akin to a devil king reigning over the devils, causes even those who face It, their hands gripping their weapons, to tremble, instinctively losing all will to fight.]
[However, you pay no heed to them, and rampage with ferocious sword strikes that tear through the devils' bodies before soaring away.]
[Is this... devil in internal strife?]
[Devil slaughtering devils?]
[You unilaterally massacre the devils, continuing throughout the entire night.]
[The devils' fresh blood forms a bloody sea on the city's streets, washed away by the downpour, creating rippling waves of destruction.]
[Amidst what feels like an endless massacre...]
[The sound of rain gradually fades.]
[Sunrise, moonset.]
[The faint morning light on the horizon gradually rises from the azure surface of the sea.]
Crack... Crack...
The stones tremble.
The blood-colored giant sword's blade tip grinds incessantly against the ground, sparking friction.
Dragging along with faltering steps.
Bathed in the brilliant morning light.
Covered in blood and with disheveled black hair, Kratos drags the blood-stained demonic sword, swaying step by step, making his way up the path, ascending to the Sparta palace.
Before him once stood a magnificent palace.
But now, at this moment, only ruins remain, like a desolate wasteland of broken walls.
That force, which annihilated everything in its path with violent and intense attacks, had come from the coastline, stretching tens of thousands of meters across the land after shattering the Sparta palace.
After shattering the Sparta palace, even the distant mountains behind the palace were pierced, creating a grotesque and rugged, kilometer-long fissure.
His brother, Dante, kneels amidst the ruins of the court.
Bloodied and with trembling hands.
His nails are torn and cracked, his skin covered in bloodstains.
All night, he had been trying to excavate the body of Leonidas from the ruins.
But he couldn't retrieve even a fragment or bone.
Amidst such violent onslaught...
Even the existence of a single bone became a luxury.
Dante stares blankly, tears streaming down his face, averting his gaze.
Looking at his brother's battered and bloodied body, approaching him step by step.
"Kratos..."
Dante, trembling, rises unsteadily, running towards his brother, only to be tripped by the rubble.
Ignoring the dust covering him, he continues to climb up, staggering, and reaches out to steady Kratos's trembling body.
This body.
These injuries.
These gruesome bloodstains covering his entire body.
Examining Kratos's miserable body, Dante despairs, realizing that his brother's condition is far more severe than his own.
From head to toe.
Not a single piece of intact skin.
Not a single intact bone.
Such severe injuries.
As if crushed by a steamroller...
For an ordinary person, even a strong Spartan warrior, they would have died several times over.
But... Kratos, the black-haired youth.
He still retains a faint breath.
Aatrox, feeling incredulous, has been repeatedly shaken by the power emanating from this youth.
Wielding the demonic sword of slaughter.
It's an extremely heavy burden.
As a vanguard of the wandering stars, Aatrox is not something anyone is qualified to wield.
He devours with a primal instinct, unconsciously annihilating everything, including his wielder.
Wielding this god-slaying sword, both physically and mentally, is an extremely heavy burden.
The bloodthirsty demonic sword.
The more it's wielded, the more it's corroded by its instincts.
Aatrox was the world ender and vanguard of the wandering star that every time he killed and devoured a civilization he gradually became stronger.
And his wielder will also grow stronger as well.
But....
Is Kratos the same as him? The vanguard of the wandering star?
Of course not.
Kratos is human.
His body cannot withstand a continuous surge of excessive power.
Just like eating.
Eating properly is beneficial to the body.
However, overeating will only cause the stomach to rupture.
Excessive slaughter overflowing with magical energy... has caused Kratos's body to swell and almost feel like it's been repeatedly crushed by a steamroller.
But...
This... is not an unsolvable problem.
If he were to completely merge with Aatrox.
He would rid himself of this weak human body and, through slaughter, gradually gain unlimited strength.
However, Kratos cannot do that.
Because, in that case, his consciousness will be completely obliterated, replaced by Aatrox's consciousness.
Although Aatrox could have used this opportunity to gain control over Kratos's body.
He did not...
Because he was a man of his word.
He did not take advantage of Kratos's weakness to erode his consciousness...
And...
As a vanguard of wandering stars.
Aatrox finds it difficult to restrain his bloodthirsty instincts, but he is trying his best to absorb and retain magical energy, helping to maintain Kratos's sanity.
Aatrox gazes with endless emotion.
Gazing at this precarious figure of his younger brother, covered in tattered bloodstains, yet... still making his way back.
What drives him is not bones or flesh.
It's his concern for his brother.
Watching him stagger towards him, steadying his pale-faced, silver-haired brother.
Kratos, somewhat dazed, manages to smile weakly.
He tremblingly raises his hand.
Like how their father often used to, he gently rubs his brother's silver hair.
"Dante..."
Hearing his brother's faint call.
Dante with tears in his eyes, leans his ear closer to Kratos's lips, humming near his lips.
"Don't be afraid, we... are going home."
"Home..."
Hearing this word.
Dante with a dazed and stagnant gaze, looks at the ruins before him.
In just one day.
The palace was destroyed.
Vergil was taken away.
Their Father... are gone without a trace.
In an instant, everything was destroyed.
"Kratos..."
Dante with tears streaming down his cheeks, cries with a trembling voice.
His right eye that was gouged out by Ares covered in a layer of blood-red haze.
"We... have no home anymore."
Kratos strokes Dante's hair.
Though he is taller.
He is truly... a... worrying little brother.
Clearly, he should be... an optimistic and carefree child.
But now he's lost his cheerful smile.
"As long as... I'm here, it's... your home."
As the words fall.
Struggling to maintain his last shred of consciousness, ensuring his brother's safety.
The black-haired youth closes his eyes abruptly, falling into unconsciousness.
"Kratos!!!"
In this despairing, rising morning light.
Aatrox's lazy voice rings out.
"Oh... don't worry... your brother won't die."
"Just... let him rest, kid."
"Your brother... has... remarkable potential."
In the seemingly endless battle.
As Aatrox merges with Kratos, he realizes.
Although his body has repeatedly approached collapse and is about to disintegrate...
However... Kratos still perseveres.
How can he still persevere, what makes him able to persevere?
Aatrox realizes.
There's something... constantly loosening on Kratos' body.
It's not his body verge of breaking, but the shackles on him.
That's what makes him as the vanguard of the wandering star, constantly feel shaken by his power.
"Ah, I see..."
"You... you're hardly what should exist in this world, boy."
"Heh... comrades, huh?"
"Who knows, maybe you'll become someone like me in the future?"
As Aatrox's words trailed off.
Dante's gaze tinged with a hint of caution, slowly shifted to the bloodthirsty demonic sword.
He had noticed it before.
Before his brother, this blood-red demonic sword descended.
Its ferocious appearance, truly made people unable to help but think of...
"What exactly are you... a devil? Or something else..."
"Hmph... a devil."
Aatrox leaped out from Kratos's grasp, using the hilt to prop up the black-haired youth's body.
"Don't you dare equate my perfect divine physique with those dirty, ugly maggots!"
"This time, I'll let your presumptuous words slide, kid..."
"But, let me introduce myself first..."
"Heh..."
The sword swayed, emitting a hoarse, menacing laughter, enough to scare children.
"I am... Aatrox."
...
[You gradually woke up from unconsciousness.]
[You gazed at the figure before you, holding your hand, and in that moment of grogginess, your eyes cleared, overflowing with a surge of joy.]
[You pulled open your clothing.]
[Aatrox, contained within you, transformed into a closed eye embedded in your chest.]
[Because of the innate talents of the vanguard of the wandering star, leveraging your presence as its host, it could more effectively shield against the scrutiny of the gods.]
[During your unconsciousness, it lay dormant within your body.]
[You could feel a wave of heat emanating from your chest.]
[During this time, it diligently worked to repair your body.]
[The priests believed it to be a miracle bestowed by the gods upon a righteous son.]
[From Dante, you learned of the events that transpired during your unconsciousness.]
[You were out... for over half a month.]
[The crimson titan, it's said, had been shattered once more by the gods.]
[From the lofty Mount Olympus, the gods would soon cast their gaze down upon the land.]
[People rejoiced, praying to the Temple of War for the favor of Ares, the God of War, on your behalf.]
[Sparta, in its devastated state, ignited like a dwindling ember amidst the ruins.]
[With Leonidas gone, and you fallen into a coma, the entire city-state seemed leaderless, plunging people into fear and uncertainty.]
[Yet, upon hearing the news of victory bestowed by the gods, hope swiftly ignited in their hearts, and amidst blood and tears, they quickly began to pick up the pieces of the aftermath.]
[Their shattered homes were rebuilt once more, as such events had repeated countless times before.]
[Meanwhile...]
[There existed... the slaying of devils by devil.]
[Such a legend gradually spread across the Greek land, eliciting astonishment from neighboring states.]
[Countless eyes turned towards the beleaguered Sparta, and people anxiously wondered how long it would take for you to awaken.]
[Three days later.]
[Seated in a hastily constructed makeshift palace, you held the war report in your hand, sinking into a long silence.]
[In this battle, over three thousand Spartans perished, and when combined with the casualties among the city-state's residents, the total exceeded forty thousand, saved in part due to your swift actions which spared many lives.]
[The ferocious attack from the sea, no one knew for certain what it was, but rumors spoke of sightings of a colossal devil-like figure akin to mountains upon the waves.]
[The terrifying scars of destruction, still etched upon the earth, remained as stark reminders, like haunting scars.]
[That single strike alone claimed over ten thousand lives.]
[You silently perused the war report, then took over all affairs within the city-state of Sparta.]
[No one questioned your capabilities, the council prepared for your coronation ceremony, only for you to decline.]
[For, aside from the fragments of helmets, no remains of Leonidas were found amidst the rubble.]
[Thus, you declared yourself merely a regent, when the time came to ascend, the throne would forever belong to the rightful King of Sparta.]
[People bore their grief, yet also carried hope, continuing to live on. In the square of Sparta, they held a day-and-night vigil of mourning.]
When the crowd dispersed.
The sunlight fades into a somber hue.
As dusk settles, its melancholy spills over the landscape of gravestones outside the outskirts, akin to a silent lament.
Standing before the newly constructed tombs.
A figure of symmetry with dark, scant hair, holding his brother's hand, cradling a bouquet.
They stood there for a long time.
Silently, they gazed upon the inscriptions on the tombstones.
Those represented, forty-two thousand three hundred and sixty-seven lives.
Night gradually crept in.
Moonlight caressed.
In the solitude beneath the tree shadows, a stooped, silver-haired old man was digging with a spade, covering the graves with the last clumps of soil.
Pressing down the final earth.
He leaned on the shovel, lifting his gaze tremulously.
Gazing at the two brothers standing silently like sculptures.
The old man's visage couldn't help but sigh faintly.
"Let's go back, Your Highness Kratos..."
The old gravedigger softly persuaded.
"The construction of the city-state, everyone's hopes, Sparta needs you everywhere."
"You've been standing here all day..."
"No need to worry... but it's you, sir, who's aged, you should rest early, nobody would mind."
The black-haired youth spoke softly...
"We just want... to stay a little longer."
"Your foster father..."
The old man shook his head and continued...
"Wouldn't want to see you sunk like this."
"Not foster father."
In the bitter smile that appeared on the old man's face.
The black-haired youth spoke softly, word by word.
"He's my father."
"Ah..."
The old man sighed softly.
"Your Highness, your legend, everyone in the city-state has heard, so don't grieve too much."
"Perhaps, your biological father still lives in this world?"
"You still have the chance for family reunion..."
Looking at the stooped figure, the kindly face, slightly smiling old man with white hair.
Kratos lowered his eyelids slightly.
"Thank you for your comfort..."
In the old man's dazed and stagnant expression.
The black-haired youth spoke softly.
"My father is Spartan."
"My honorable father is Leonidas."
"Sparta is the land where I was born and raised."
"Leonidas was the parent who taught me and gave me the warmth and love of a father."
"No father's place in my heart can be left to anyone else."
"No matter how mighty, how noble, how venerable that person might be."
"I won't acknowledge him as my father."
Silence.
In the stagnant night, all was quiet.
Only the old man with white hair, lowering his heavy and clouded gaze, shovel by shovel, piled soil upon the graves of the departed.
"Thank you for coming and building a resting place for everyone."
With his brother.
Kratos deeply bowed to the old man.
In front of the tombs and gravestones.
He gently laid down the chrysanthemums in his hand, then turned around.
"The people of this city-state... should prefer olive branches, Your Highness."
In the sparse night.
The old man's voice, tinged with weariness and sorrow, echoed softly from behind him.
"Would you like me to bring you an olive branch?"
"Everyone..."
Kratos halted his steps, but didn't turn back.
"...Do they all like olives?"
"Yes, because olive branches symbolize peace."
The old man sighed deeply.
"People are longing for peace."
"I see..."
Kratos murmured softly.
"Sorry... but I personally don't like olives."
In the old man's cloudy pupils.
The figure of the black-haired youth gradually vanished into the night, finally disappearing without a trace.
[The new palace quickly rose from the ruins.]
[Officially, though only a regent, everyone knew you were the uncrowned King of Sparta.]
[You efficiently handled the affairs of the city-state of Sparta. Soon, half a year had passed. The entire city-state was governed by you with precision, swiftly regaining its vitality from before the great war.]
[To prevent the tragedy of half a year ago from happening again, you began to summon priests to discuss the construction of wards against devils.]
[You hoped that, through magical influence, the fissures of hell would no longer open within the city-state, at least leaving a broad battlefield for combat with devils to avoid casualties among innocent residents.]
[However, for such a plan, you received a disappointing answer.]
[The more people gathered in one place, the easier it was for devil to appear, this was an eternal truth for millennia.]
[However, in sparsely populated wilderness areas, besides skilled warriors, the common people were vulnerable to attacks by magical beasts.]
[To minimize harm, wide streets and spacious settlements became widespread in the city-state's design.]
[You discussed with Aatrox in your heart, not giving up the idea of expelling devils.]
[However... during these days.]
[The nightmares that came more and more frequently began to make you feel increasingly uncomfortable.]
...
In the murky chaos of his thoughts.
It seemed to come the joyous cheers of the crowd.
Kratos lowered his gaze in a daze, then slowly opened his eyes.
The sunlight, bright and clear.
Everything was so peaceful and harmonious.
Flower petals fluttered, lanterns adorned the Sparta square.
He was holding hands with a red-haired girl, exchanging marital vows amidst Leonidas' smile, their eyes filled with marital bliss.
The girl wore a veil, her rosy and delicate face flushed with embarrassment.
But her gaze towards him was intense and bold.
"...Myrrine?"
Kratos called her name somewhat dazedly.
He turned his gaze.
Leonidas was smiling and nodding towards him.
"Today, it's your turn for the ceremony, Kratos."
Just as he remembered.
The red-haired man smiled and sighed softly.
"For your sake, for your wedding..."
Amidst the colorful fluttering of flower petals.
Kratos stared blankly as the red-haired girl's hand gently touched his face.
Childhood friends' fingertips.
Carrying a soft, reassuring warmth.
She reached out her hand, gently pushing.
In the dizzying haze.
Kratos's back of the head touched a soft, feather-filled pillow.
Candlelight flickered in the palace bedroom.
Kratos looked at the red-haired girl with flushed cheeks, straddling him.
In her amber eyes, a dreamy and intoxicating light poured out.
"Kratos..."
Calling her husband's name so affectionately.
Her soft, crimson lips slowly leaned down, as if to kiss him.
"Myrrine."
With a somewhat bewildered expression.
Kratos lifted his hand, gently pressing against her lips.
"What's wrong... Kratos."
"Did we... have our wedding?"
"Yes."
The red-haired girl smiled brightly.
As in the past years, her smile shone brightly amidst the flowers.
"Are you too tired, Kratos? It's been a long day for the wedding, you..."
"I'm dreaming."
Kratos whispered softly.
"You're already dead."
Her smile froze on her face.
The girl's touch suddenly became cold and lifeless.
Childhood sweetheart with red hair.
The delicate figure, gradually oozing thick blood.
"Because you... didn't save me, Kratos."
"I'm sorry."
Her figure seemed to collapse.
The enchanting beauty, dissipating into the silence of death.
Supporting his forehead.
In the dim palace bedroom, Kratos slowly sat up.
Moonlight poured in through the window, serene and pure.
He tiredly rubbed his temples.
"It's this dream again..."
Leonidas, Myrrine, they're not dead.
In Kratos' nightly dreams.
Everything passed so peacefully and harmoniously.
The timeline grew longer, and... more real.
At first, it only went until Kratos's thirteenth year, then the dream abruptly ended.
But now, half a year had passed.
As in the dream, Kratos had grown to twenty years old and had married Myrrine.
This couldn't go on.
Yes, this continuous nightmare...
"...Someone... is messing around, Aatrox."
He silently questioned in his mind.
However, there was no response from Aatrox.
...Hmm?
As if sensing something.
Kratos's gaze shifted in a daze.
His breath suddenly stopped.
His heart skipped a beat.
His consciousness, realizing something was wrong, was struck like a tense string by a hammer.
In the quiet palace bedroom, a dull hum echoed in his ears, spreading silently.
His brain.
A feeling of dizziness emerged.
This... this was...
A familiar bed.
A familiar bedroom.
Wrapped in the comforting warmth of a familiar bedsheet...
...And the presence of a familiar, beautiful woman with amber eyes with circular patterns.
Her skin was pale and flawless, with an air of intelligence in her delicate features.
Her olive branch-colored tangerine hair was somewhat disheveled as it fell over her cheeks, jawline, and neck.
Her smooth shoulder, peeking out from the sheet, invited thoughts of her collarbone's curves.
And the curve of her lips, with that hint of allure.
She lay on her side, gazing at him with an enigmatic and ambiguous look.
"..."
Silence.
Time seemed to freeze in silence.
"What's wrong, Kratos?"
The woman with circular pattern eyes gently took Kratos' right hand, covering her face.
With a vague expression.
She placed Kratos's palm gently on her cheek.
Elastic.
Then soft.
The warmth, like flawless white gem, formed a smooth arc from bone and flesh, revealing her collarbone and continuing down her deep curves, as if ascending the stairs to heaven, tempting one's imagination.
With her soft cheek, she gently caressed the back of his hand.
The woman with circular pattern eyes smiled softly and spoke in a low voice.
"...We just had our wedding."
Layers of concentric pupils, like amber, seductive eyes.
Her smile was subtle.
"You don't remember, do you?"
Thud!
Kratos suddenly exerted force, punching through the thick wall, and shattered the woman's form into an illusion.
"Athena..."
"Heh..."
Her form dissipated like ripples.
Once again, she flickered and reappeared on the bed.
Wrapped in a pure white, suggestive veil.
A halo floated above the woman's head, like a descending goddess, standing before Kratos.
"Your father hasn't died."
"Your childhood friend hasn't either..."
"That wasn't a dream."
"It's... them calling for your performance, Kratos."
The woman with tangerine hair tilted her head, her face showing a half-smile.
"I can tell you how to save them."
She lowered her delicate cheek.
Her swaying braids danced behind her.
"The premise is..."
With amber eyes, she looked down at Kratos.
"Kratos, be my dog."
Ripples gently stirred in her eyes, and the goddess with tangerine hair licked her lips.
"I will... treat you well."
In the solemn atmosphere.
Facing the seemingly captivating amber eyes.
Kratos lifted his gaze.
In a solemn tone, he uttered words that left the goddess stunned.
"This is an advice, Athena."
"It should be you come to be my dog instead."
"This will be the greatest honor of your life."
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
XElenea
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