A/N: As promised, the next chapter is up. If we get several more chapters written, we might start updating biweekly, but we'll just see. Thanks to Just a Reviewer and Curls923 for the awesome reviews and thanks to our readers out there! All of your support is what keeps us going. Things will start picking up now that the stage is set, so if you like it so far, feel free to drop a review in the box below. Even if it's a short 'great job' or 'interesting story'.

Enjoy,

Orangepotato and Emil Lime

Chapter by Emil Lime

Kratos Aurion: Chosen Project (Tethe'alla), Status-Incomplete

He was happy to be leaving Meltokio, the city of his birth a little over 3000 years ago. Even now, it remained the largest city in Tethe'alla. It always felt so impersonal, something that bothered Kratos for some reason.

Pushing that thought to the back of his head, he wandered behind the large band of priests; Ilene shuffled in the middle of them. She and a few of them were sharing a pleasant conversation, one that Kratos didn't bother listening too. His mind was too busy mulling over the set of eyes he'd seen through one of the windows.

Grey eyes, steely and cold, had been glaring down at him from high above. Upon him noticing them, though, they quickly left the window, curtain swishing back into its proper place. Kratos wasn't sure who that person had been, nor did he know if they were at all worth his consideration. There was just something dangerous in those eyes, something that was rather unwelcoming.

Shaking his head slightly, he deemed the individual to be unimportant. Most likely, it was some other orphaned child within the sanction of the church walls, glaring down at him because they didn't know his face.

It didn't take them long to reach the temple, it's tall, stain-glass windows glimmering in the morning sunlight. The grass around it was still covered in dew, undisturbed by monster or man. It was silent as well, not even the song of birds floating overhead.

That fact seemed to unnerve some of the priests, whose eyes travelled from side to side as if searching out the source of the silence.

"Is this the place?" One of them asked, being one of the younger priests. He received some nods from the oldest ones, Ilene stepping to the front of the group. There was a determination in her step, as well as fear.

Kratos could see the way her hands quivered as she reached forward, pushing the large, wooden door open to reveal a musty, dank room within. Stairs circled around the sides. Several long hallways spanned forward, descending into darkness before becoming invisible entirely. They stepped in, each of them gathering in the front hall before one of them closed the door behind them.

"Sir Kratos, do you think we'll be done here shortly?"

Giving a nod, he ignored the fact that the priest's voice was shaking. It was natural, he knew, for those with no fighting experience to be terrified of leaving the safety of the city. Even as he looked at the Chosen, he could see the anticipation gathering in her limbs. Although her eyes scanned the tall walls and ceiling, she held herself, arms wrapped about her body despite the unexpectedly warm day within the huddle of cold days which spanned the coming season.

He let his eyes travel to the ceiling, vision soaking up the faded painting of Martel and their depiction of the four Seraphim. For some reason, they were always depicted as animal-human hybrids, large white wings swooping from their backs. One such creature was a lion-man, his might golden mane tangled behind him, shield and sword raised in his mighty paw, glowing golden eyes looking down at them as he guarded the Goddess. Another, a snake-man who coiled around Martel protectively, held its green eyes firmly towards its Goddess. There was the mighty bird-man, whose wings, both angelic and bird, fluttered about, spreading across the entire depiction. The last, the one that unnerved Kratos the most, was the dog-man, eyes fixed on the Goddess, back turned to the other Seraphim.

It was then that he felt it, something irregular in the air. Despite the typical presence of monsters, there was something else lingering there. Taking his eyes away from the mural, he mentally filed through everything he'd ever sensed, seeking what had just crossed his path.

Looking back at Ilene, who was discussing something intently with a rather portly priest, he found out what it was he was feeling. The presence was almost screaming at him now, the presence of half-elves.

Was it the Renegades?

He'd had his share of run-ins with the Renegades, but never this early on a trip. It was like they avoided temples and seals, anywhere that angels frequented, almost like they knew it'd be sacrilegious to kill the Chosen in a holy place. But they were the only explanation Kratos had as to why he could sense half-elves. Even though it was weak, it felt as if there were many of them off in the distance somewhere.

For some reason, it was making Kratos nervous.

Tucking that feeling into the back of his head, he pointed forward. "Let us be off, Chosen."

"Wait," she said, stepping towards Kratos and looking at him for the first time since departing, "I want a weapon."

Raising an eyebrow ever-so-slightly, Kratos spoke, "A weapon, Chosen? I'm afraid that I cannot allow you to put yourself in such danger."

Her response was quick, "I know how to fight." Determination was set in her eyes; apparently she'd already made peace with the danger of throwing herself into battle. Or maybe, he mused, she'd made peace with the idea that she wasn't going to die without a fight. At the very least, if someone or something was going to take her life, she'd leave them a scar or two to remember her by.

Letting out a small sigh, Kratos nodded, "As you wish, Chosen." He'd fought alongside Chosens before and this wouldn't be any different. Motioning to a priest, who gave the mercenary a scowl but dug into his bag anyway, the holy man pulled out one of the many spare swords they'd brought along for the journey.

Taking it with a nod, the mercenary unsheathed it and examined it. It was rather dull, still usable but dull, and there were several signs of use. Scrapes and deep scratches marred its once pristine surface, the grip torn and wearing thin in some places.

It would work, however. After all, he didn't know to what extent Ilene could fight. The last thing he needed was a liability. Especially for the Chosen to be a liability.

Handing her the blade with one hand and the sheath with the other, she took it solidly and gave it a tentative swing. Deeming it satisfactory as well, she started forward, Kratos close behind. Giving one last thought to the area surrounding them, the auburn could feel the half-elves getting closer, moving so slow it'd be nearly impossible for a mortal to hear them approach.

He'd never known them to be so stealthy, every time sacrificing golden opportunities to attack head on. They believed they had power in numbers, something only a small, newly built rebellion, which they happened to be, could conceive as a good plan.

So this...this was something new.

Kratos didn't like new.

Regardless, the mercenary would wait them out. After all, it was impossible to catch an angel by surprise.