Chapter 25: The Paradise of the Lost
"Nergal, I presume…" Kratos growled, his fingers tightening on the axe's handle.
Their unexpected guest bowed. His lion legs bent back in time with his human shoulders falling forward in a silent display of respect.
"I heard the name before, you're one of the old gods, like my father was. Your kingdom fell to ruin."
This brought a smirk to the aged face of the foreign god. "Ah yes, Zeus. One of the few that could meet me evenly on the battlefield. Zeus had the power of his pantheon at his back. The other gods of my lands..they were weak. The Persians, Macedonians, even the Romans now begin to build..many have shed blood to conquer the fertile lands of my former kingdom. I am powerful, but cannot hold back entire leagues of invading gods on my own."
Kratos' brow ticked up at this. "So you would come here for allies, build your own army of stronger gods to retake what was taken from you?"
Nergal only replied with a maliciously echoing chuckle before raising his hands above his head with a shrug. "And here I was led to believe you were a sorry shell of your former self, living in wintery isolation up away from the rest of the world. You seem quite keen to the goings on down here in the southern regions."
"I am only all too familiar with the petty egos and spitefulness of gods."
The trio stood in silence for a minute or two after that. Kratos and Freya tensing, determining if they had it in them to fight another unknowingly powerful god. Nergal simply appeared in no rush to claim his practically assured victory.
"It is a testament to your strength," Nergal broke the silence, chiding, "Being able to stand your ground against him. Even with the book and the moon at his back, I had my reservations he would be able to actually kill you… a feat that now seems to lie at my feet. But, as soon as Ra returned and the moon vanished, his doom was inescapable.I was taken aback with his ability to last so long against the two of you without the moon. He's never fought a day in his life. He's no warrior. Be proud, spartan, and queen of the valkyries, of course, that you were able to fight him when he was quite possibly the most powerful being in the world, at the height of his power." The death god began a slow stroll around the candle-laden podium in the center of the room. Soft scrapes echoed from the claws of his lion paws as he walked.
The being was tall, a head or two over even Sobek. His upper body was very muscular, with his head, waist, and shoulders adorned in black and gold armor. Below his waist where the lion body took over, was also very powerful in appearance. Its claws were long and dark, its coat a burnt shade of brown. The stranger ran his fingers through his long, gray beard in thought, staring down at Kratos and Freya with shining white, pupil-less eyes.
Kratos gripped his axe tightly, as he turned to Freya over his shoulder and murmured, "Can you fight?"
The goddess winced as she stood to draw her swords up in front of her. The deep gash across her back was bleeding once more, and she had sustained several more shallower wounds besides. She had put everything she had into that last duel with Khonsu, not knowing an even more menacing foe lay in wait.
She shook her head briskly, looking from him to the monstrous creature before them. Whatever the dark magic imbued in these weapons their enemies wielded was, it seemed very problematic for their typically quick ability to heal.
Kratos stared at the stone floor to his right for a moment, before slinging his axe onto his back and standing tall. "So you wished to become the most powerful death god in existence with the power of that book?"
Nergal's head tilted back slightly, looking down his nose at the much shorter Greek god. "Do not compare me to that miserable waste of godhood. He desired the Book of the Dead so desperately, but he was not even able to read its texts. He was a child wailing for the injustices of life that had been levied against could have all the power in the world, as he practically did, and still remain a spineless cretin. I am already powerful without the book. I've heard of you, Ghost of Sparta, I know your strength and capabilities. I have existed since before most of your kin even had. I have been around for millenia upon millenia. I have tasted the blood of millions of living things, brought death upon countless more. The book simply strengthens my power a thousand fold. No longer will I need to remain in hiding. I can walk across this world freely, and in my wake I will leave such a path of destruction and death that no being, mortal or no, will be able to halt. Khonsu and I both sought power, Ghost, but he was feebly grasping for it with envious, frail fingers. I have always had power. I know how to wield it, and I will use this power to wipe out not just every god, but every mortal. I will create a perfect world through death, and looking at your state, you will surely be unable to stop me."
Reaching back behind him, the lion-man returned with a tomb in his hands. Its cover was a pale red, with golden symbols across its cover. It folded open in his palm, and his glowing white eyes turned purple, burning like black fire. Flexing his other palm, a large mace faded into existence in his grasp. It was long, black steel. Its end was not the typical spherical head for a mace, but that of a rounded, roaring lion. Golden, curled knobs of steel mane reached in a line along its diameter to make one half the face, and the other the head's rear. Golden teeth and glaring eyes adorned the front. A blackened aura permeated the air around the weapon, much like the kris in Freya's hands, and Khonsu's scythe.
Kratos grunted, half in preparation and half in pain. Freya could easily see he was drained as well. The golden aura he had been reborn with outside was gone now. She was not sure how much strength he had in him after the long grueling fighting they had just finished. Khonsu had pushed her more than fighting Odin, Kratos, any gods she had battled before. The blades in Kratos' hands were burning, but not nearly as brightly as they usually do. His shoulders were heaving quite heavily, and his arms showed the slightest touch of shakiness.
"You hide in the shadows like a coward, let your ally do all of the fighting for you. You arrive just in time to finish us and assure your victory? No wonder you've cowered in the dark for all these years," Kratos growled as he lowered his stance and braced for attack.
Scoffing, Nergal replied, "Yes, Kratos. I'm not a fool. That idiot thought he could defeat you, and even at the height of his strength, the moon and book fueling him, he still did not kill you. You've killed two powerful regimes of gods, Ghost. If I had fought you outright, hours ago, I would have stood a great chance of losing. Now, that chance of loss is gone, only my triumph remains."
With a roar, Nergal charged forward, his quadrupedal cat legs propelling him with an incredible speed. He swung the mace around like it was the weight of a plain wooden stick.
Kratos bellowed back as he charged, Freya taking flight just behind him. Just before they were to connect with Nergal, Kratos slid, letting the chaos blades' chains fly free as he made a sweeping attack for their opponent's legs. The lion legs easily leapt over the attack, putting him right into Freya's path. Freya brought the cursed blade and one of her own down swiftly in an "X" aiming for the foreign god's unarmored stomach. Nergal predicted the attack easily, deflecting with an armored forearm and bringing the mace down upon her side. Immediately, Freya felt several of her ribs break, and blood splattered from between her teeth as the strength of the solid steel lion head rocked her torso. She was sent flying forty paces, crashing and rolling against the stone.
"FREYA!" Kratos thundered with rage as he regained his footing and lashed back out with the blades. Spinning them in a frenzy, his mind white with fury, as he desperately tried to land a blow against the monstrous god. Nergal continued to dodge and evade with lightning reflexes, not allowing a single scratch to reach his skin or fur. The mace spun and deflected, with steel singing against steel, as Kratos continued his furious assault. Nergal simply smirked and continued to evade. Kratos' body was dripping with renewed vigor from the power of his rage.
With an outstretched hand Nergal gripped one of the chains and yanked it down, bringing Kratos to him. The mace was lying in wait, connecting with the square of Kratos' chest and sending him soaring back with a devastating boom against the wall. As he collapsed to the ground, he struggled for breath. He felt several bones in his body broken, and the blow had stricken all wind from his lungs. Bits of stone and sediment pelted his body from the crater he had made in the vertical surface.
"Ah spartan, I am sorry," Nergal chided with a tone of arrogance. "If you still retained whatever power you had with that glowing gold aura a few moments ago, you would have stood a far greater chance. I was patient though, that is my strength. Death is patient. It waits for the opportune moment to strike, it doesn't just slash out randomly. That's what the others failed to realize. Whiro and the snake, they just wanted chaos and death to all. They were children breaking their toys. You will find I have a more...honed, focus."
Nergal was standing over Kratos body, gazing down at the nearly defeated spartan. A moment later, the axe was cutting deeply into one of his furred thighs. In his arrogance, his brazen focus slipped just the slightest bit, allowing Kratos time to summon his lost wife's weapon. Kratos rolled, scooping up the chain connecting his blades and plunging one directly into the belly of Nergal's lion half. A powerful roar rumbled from the death god's throat as Kratos continued his roll and plunged the other glowing blade into the bare stomach of Nergal's human torso.
"Do you not know when to fucking die?!" Nergal hissed as he swiftly gripped one of Kratos' arms and flung him into an opposite wall. Bits of stone crumbled down around Kratos' figure as he collided with the floor. Still, Kratos did not cease, tensing his fingers and summoning the axe from its place embedded in the lion's hip.
With a few mighty leaps Nergal cleared across the room, landing one of the lion's paws harshly down on the arm, breaking its bones. Kratos groaned in pain as blood spewed to the floor from his mouth. His fingers still gripped tightly to the axe's handle, refusing to break from their purpose. The gaping wound left by the axe had already rehealed, and Nergal ripped the blades from his body before casting them to the floor like useless trinkets.
"Even after all of this, you are still not broken. You truly are a god among gods, Ghost. I would have greatly enjoyed dueling with you when we were both at the height of our strengths. Alas, I have a path I must see through to completion, and you and your woman are standing squarely in its way. So be it, if I cannot break your body, then I will break your soul."
Nergal murmured some words Kratos did not recognize, and curiously that even Thoth's glass key could not translate. A few moments later a dark, shadowy claw rose up from the ground. Its fiery fingers wrapped around Kratos' body and forced him to stand. The flames did not hurt, but it was as if they were made of steel. Kratos struggled against them, thrashing and roaring, but failed to break free. His momentary distraction of gaining freedom ended swiftly upon hearing Freya's body shift some sixty feet away.
A strong hand gripped the back of Freya's neck as Nergal raised her barely conscious form from the stone floor and held it high. Her head was even with his own bearded face as he brought her in close against him. His malicious, pleased eyes glared at Kratos from over her shoulder as they both faced the wounded spartan. The mace was gone from his other hand, for now it wielded the cursed kris blade. Lifting the curved edge to Freya's neck, he whispered in her ear, "Any final words you wish your love to hear, my lady?"
Kratos looked on helplessly. Struggling against the dark magic binding him, he roared and frenzied trying to escape its clutches. Even if he were to escape and fling the axe in one final, desperate attempt to kill him it would do no good. Nergal was hiding his entire chest and head behind Freya, holding her tight to his body in front of him. He was using her as a perfect shield as both their eyes gazed down at him. Nergal's reflected with an evil delight, and Freya's with desperate sorrow and panic..
Freya tried to speak, but air had only just begun to return to her chest. She could feel that part of her throat had been crushed as well. All she could do was struggle against Nergal's iron grip on the back of her neck and the kris' edge against her trachea. Looking down at Kratos' wide, fearful eyes dozens of feet away, she wished they had had more time. That she had forgiven him sooner, that she could have the time to fall in love with him outright, and let her feelings flourish.
No..this isn't the time for that. I had a second attempt at life with him. A chance to make things right, I'm sorry I cannot speak the words, Kratos, but everything I have in my life at present I owe to you. My freedom, a new son, knowing that I belong. Thank you, my love.
Her hands were clutching tightly to the long fingers clenched down on her neck, her ankles kicking against Nergal's muscular abdomen and lion body. Then, some words Thoth had uttered before their departure trickled into her mind.
"Hold onto the key I gave you, I'll be able to hear what transpires through it, and hopefully it can give you the light of the sun to guide your way."
With eyes white and wide with realization, she slowly reached behind her into her pocket to withdraw the small glass orb Thoth had gifted them. Thoth never said anything that did not have purpose or importance. Nergal was too busy gloating to notice anything of consequence she did as she struggled against him.
"Do you wish to say anything to your woman before she joins Khonsu in the afterlife, Ghost? This is your final chance. I will allow it in reverence to the great power you have wielded in your life. It's a shame that power a few minutes ago seemingly dried out, I suppose your body is beginning to fail you in your older age. Didn't you tell Khonsu you were a god of death yourself? Dealing it to your own kind? I suppose not afterall," the lion-man taunted as his grip on the back of her neck tightened.
All Kratos could do was look on in horror at the sight before him. He continued his struggle to break out, but continued to be unable. Then, he noticed the movement from her left arm. His eyes remained locked with hers, as she stared down at him, knowingly. Her lips trembled as she strained to mouth some final words to him. "I'm sorry."
Clutching the orb tightly she held it out to her side and was able to croak out with a broken, quiet voice. "Thoth, I..need the..sun…"
A few moments later, a bright light erupted from the small glass key. It was blinding, like the sun had been when it had taken back the night sky outside. Nergal's head jerked to the side as his eyes received its full, shining fury and slammed shut. Unfortunately for the death god, he had been looking at the orb directly, wondering what final, desperate act she had been attempting. While Nergal was blinded and unfocused, she dropped Thoth's key and with every fiber of her being she could muster she reached for his hand wielding the cursed sword to her neck. She did the only thing she could think of that would do any substantial damage to the foreign lion god. Pain shot through her body, a pain like she had never experienced before, as she brought Nergal's fist to her and the blade pierced her stomach.
Nergal screamed in unrelenting agony as the kris moved through Freya's abdomen and stabbed into his chest, narrowly missing his heart. On reflex, he threw Freya's body to the side, the sword ripping back out of his chest and leaving a cascade of spewed blood. Nergal strained against his watering, sightless eyes trying to look down at the burning wound the Vanir goddess had managed to inflict upon him. The valkyrie queen's body hit the stones a dozen feet from where he stood, the sword still embedded in her torso. She felt searing, unimaginable pain for a few more moments, and drew a handful of final, gasping breaths. Shortly after hitting the ground, her soul left her body, and the aching was gone.