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Sometimes, Kratos is aware that he has failed.
He noticeably squints out into the never-ending space in front of him. His eyes wander over every star in the sky, and he observes their silent beauty, splashed out in front of him like small drops of rain on lush, green grass. He exhales weakly, as closes his eyes to the vast space around him. He struggles to wipe his mind clean of everything that has happened in the past, but he knows it's impossible. He opens his eyes again to look over the immeasurable space. And he knows that he will never see any of them again.
"You know," says Yuan, his voice breaking the silence, "Eternal life on a rock floating in space would be a lot easier if you actually spoke to me."
Kratos continues to gaze into space.
Sometimes, Kratos' head hurts from thinking about the past.
He remembers the first time he met Martel, Yuan and Mithos, on a dark night on the outskirts of an ancient Meltokio, over four thousand years ago. He thinks of Yuan's desperate plea for help to escape from the guards that were hunting them, merely for being of another race. Kratos can recall the glint of the measly amount of gold Yuan had attempted to offer him for his services under the pale moonlight. But he had refused the gold, and gone with them anyway. Why, Kratos himself was never able to recall. But he continued on with them, protecting them as best he could.
Kratos can also remember Martel's death, vividly in his mind. It was right in front of him, and was able to do nothing. He can still see her gentle body falling backwards, and the stain of her blood slowly spreading on her back. He also can see himself helpless to help, as the woman who stabbed Martel out of hatred laughed triumphantly in her act of hate. After that, the memory becomes less detailed to Kratos, and he can see flashes of blood, and he can still hear the woman's straggled screams. Kratos is aware that he committed murder that night.
It was that night that Mithos decided to become a god.
After that, Kratos' brain seems to have shut itself off. Yes, he can see flashes of the next four thousand years once and a while, but some of those things he knows he doesn't want to remember.
Kratos looks back on his next memories, the ones that do not seem as fuzzy or messy. He can remember a beautiful face, of a strong young woman, who literally smacked some sense into him.
And he fell in love.
But love cannot last forever. Mithos took care of that.
So, Kratos spent the next seventeen years alone again.
But then, he came into his life.
Kratos knew that he never should have become attached to Lloyd and that this relationship would only end in pain. But, love for ones family is not easily thrown away, and Kratos doubts that, even with his strong will, that he could have done it if he had tried.
"Have you been counting the days Kratos?" Yuan asks, from the other side of the rock. "I was trying, but I lost count after three hundred and seventy-six..."
Kratos closes his eyes.
Sometimes, thinks he could have done something to help.
That final day, when they were all gathered on Derris Karlon, for a final battle. Lloyd's speech on morals and redemption faded to the background as I looked into Mithos' eyes, and realised what he was about to do. Kratos' eyes widened as he yelled.
But Mithos had already said the words.
And the world exploded.
I remember the screams of Lloyd's friends, the Chosen's frightened scream, the shackled man's yell as he fell, and the pink haired girl's shout to take cover. But all of these sounds were ended quickly, as they all gazed on, horrified, as the world below them disappeared. The platform we stood upon shook violently, and Mithos' sharp laugh pierced through the air, his insanity taking its final step.
He no longer cared what happened. He just wanted everything to be over.
He killed them off, in one sweep of his hand, before taking his own life.
Lloyd lay in my arms, the deep wound in his chest. The blood seeping out darkened the red of his shirt, and if one had not seen the wound, they would have thought he had spilled water over himself.
"I'm-m sorry, dad..." That's what Kratos remembers him saying, before he finally passed on.
Kratos had placed his body on the other side of the rock, with all the others. They starlight reflected off of each one of them, making them seem alive again.
He wishes that were true. But he knew he could do nothing.
Kratos always felt that he was good at accepting things like that. But even the most talented person can have trouble dwelling over something like that for the rest of eternity.
So Kratos just sat on the other end of the floating rock and eventually, it broke off and drifted away.
And they were gone.
"Well, I think it must have been at least two years, or so, don't you think?" Yuan continues on, knowing now that Kratos is not listening to a word of what he says. "It's been a while, hmm?"
Kratos smiles bitterly, and closes his eyes again. But this time, he can feel the tears running down his face.
Sometimes, Kratos wishes he wasn't immortal.
He wishes that he could experience eternal peace, and finally be able to rest the burdens that he's been carrying around for over four millennia.
The stars continue to shine as they always do, never changing, their shapes given no indication that any time has passed. Kratos stares down at his own, ageless hands, and wishes that they could change. Immortality wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
"You know, Kratos," Yuan says, getting up from the spot where he's been sitting, "It's been nearly three years that you've been on this rock. Why don't you ever talk to me?" he says, anger tinting his voice.
Kratos breaks his gaze away from his hands, and looks around slowly. The look on his face is sad as he looks up.
"Because you're dead, Yuan," he says, his eyes mournful. "You don't exist."
"Well, I can't argue with you there," Yuan says, as he sits down again.
Sometimes Kratos wonders if he his going insane.