Chapter 27: The Heart of Ice and Fire
Nergal was still reeling in pain from being blinded and stabbed, His human hands were clenched to his chest as the lion legs keeping him up stuttered back. Kratos had looked away just in time as he had pieced together what she had been doing. His mind thought nothing, it was a calm, serene plain focused on solely one thought, killing Nergal.
The shadowed claw that had entrapped him vanished with Nergal's sight. His body rose, and his legs slowly began to move. It was a trot at first, but soon picked up into a full sprint. In this moment, he was not worried about Freya, Atreus, himself, his sole purpose for existence was to ensure what Freya had started, was finished. Injuries littered his flesh, but the pain nipping at his consciousness would not stop him.
The axe spun from his hands, gliding just above the floor to where the blades lay. Its cold steel edge reached under the chains, hooking them behind its curve as Kratos summoned it back to him. Following along the leviathan axe's path, the blades screeched and clanged against the stone being dragged by their chain to their master. Kratos gripped the axe's handle tightly as it returned to his palm, and took the chains in the other hand. Charging its frigid venom until the cold ice was burning his own hands he flung it at his wounded opponent. With precise aim, the axe's blade connected directly into the burning wound the kris had made in Nergal's chest.
Ice burst forth from the hole as Nergal screamed once more in pain. Spears of ice stabbed out from his torso in various directions a tick later. All the while, the blind god struggled to see the direction of his attacker through watered eyes. It was too late, though. Kratos jumped, with broken bones, a burning wound in his gut, and fountains of blood lost, he put his entire soul into one last attack. The blades were in his fists now, in a reverse grip so his thumbs rested on their pommels.
As he fell onto the struggling death god, the blades found their homes to either side of his foe's neck, penetrating deeply at angles into the shoulders. The blades continued until they connected at the top of the growing wound in Nergal's chest. With a roar of anguish, exhaustion, achievement, and rage, the war god ripped the blades to the side, cleaving Nergal's head and neck from the rest of the human torso. Blood erupted, coating Kratos, and the gray bearded visage of Nergal froze in an expression of pure suffering as it flew through the air. A moment later, the body vanished in a burst of dark flame, the head a few heartbeats later. "No…No this, this can't be, no… But he said…He swore we could…" were the last words the death god's lips uttered before they were swallowed up by the flames, and disappeared into nothingness.
Kratos collapsed to the floor, straining every muscle to retain consciousness. He rolled himself over, and crawled over to his partner's unmoving form. Blood poured from his body, leaving a trail of red on the stone in his wake. His arm seared in pain, his chest burned with each breath he struggled to make. Kratos' body was truly fractured and broken, seemingly beyond repair. He did not stop though, he continued his strenuous crawling towards Freya's body.
Memories raced across his mind. He remembered vividly the day Atreus had first left after Ragnarok, when he had seen the hidden prophecy on the back of the cabinet. The look of acceptance and determination on her face after he had asked for her help as she said, "We'll see to it…together"
The playful look on her face when she was taunting him as he was in the bath, and later when she was in the bath and it had been him intruding. Her smile and tears when he had told her his compliment nights before, and the truth of those words. She had made him want to be a better man.
Lysandre he had taken for granted, and she had fallen victim to his rage and near sightedness. Faye had known the real him much more, when he was still finding that himself, and helped show him the path forward to change. Through her he had taken the first few steps along it, growing into a better person for their son. She had died too soon, but her effect on his life sent long reaching ripples which would shape who he was for the rest of his life. But Freya… Freya got to see Kratos when he was closest to his best self. She got to see him in a light that he was finally, almost, proud of. She knew him better than anyone else had, his failures, successes, his secrets, truths, past, even future. He wanted a future with her, more than anything.
His hands continued to slowly grasp against the cold stone as he crept on his stomach to her. Fingers reached out, and gripped her cooler ones as he took fierce hold of them. Struggling to his knees, he pulled her into his lap. With a grunt, he slowly pulled the cursed blade from her stomach, and tossed it to the ground where Nergal's body had disappeared.
He remembered a night well over a year ago, the last time Atreus had visited them in their home. She had made dinner for the young man's birthday, and they were celebrating. Atreus had been in a land he called India, full of jungles and mountains and rivers. It reminded him much of Vanaheim and he was explaining how much Freya would love the land.
She glanced over at Kratos as she replied with a smirk, "Perhaps some day, we'll take a break from all this for a few weeks and join you there. You can introduce us to all of these colorful gods you've met."
Angrboda laughed, "Oh yes, he's quite the favorite among them."
When the dinner ended and the two giants were readying to leave, his son had returned to Freya and embraced her in a warm hug. "Thank you, Freya. This is the best birthday I've had in a…long time. Thank you for everything, you've really become like a second mom to me. I love you."
Tears welled up in the goddess' eyes as she returned the hug before pulling back to look eye to eye with the young man. "And you are like my own, truly. Your father and I could not be more proud of the man you've become. You have the kindest heart of any I've ever met. It is my life's greatest honor and blessing to know you as I do."
Kratos stepped over to them, and placed a gentle hand on Freya's shoulder, with a hint of affection he had never displayed. He looked to his son, who now stood only a touch shorter than Freya even, and shallowly nodded. "We are both proud of you and who you've become. And you go with both of our unending love."
As Kratos sat on his knees, holding Freya's lifeless body, tears began to bead and drop from the corners of his eyes. When did he last cry? Kratos wasn't sure. Perhaps when he found the other side of the giant's prediction cabinet years ago. Its mural painted a bright future, that he would become a god to be loved and worshiped. The tears flowed freely now, as the spartan let down his built up walls and emotions spilled forth.
"Freya, I'm so sorry… I can't. I don't know what to do. Please, if you can hear this. Come back to me… Please. I…you.."
A slow clapping from behind him interrupted Kratos' confession. Before he could move, a darkly cold tremor worked its way down his spine. Whoever was clapping, the aura, the presence they gave off, it felt as if death itself had come…and Kratos had not felt even a hint of it. Before Nergal had arrived, they felt his proximity and readied. This dark, terrible feeling had burst into life in an instant. It wasn't the intrusion that bothered him, more so the fact that the intruder had been completely undetected even to his otherworldly senses.
Kratos slowly, carefully turned his head as he glared, seeking the sound's source. Emerging from the shadowed recesses of the underground chamber came not another monstrous god but..a man. He had tousled blonde hair down to nearly his shoulders. A dark black coat surrounded his torso reaching down to his calves. A pristine, white doublet under the coat and matching white trousers were his only other garments. The man wielded no weapons, and his greenish-silver eyes stared right at the Greek god. He seemed a whole two or so heads shorter than Kratos.
"They weren't lying," the figure chided, "you really are the king of fucking it all up, huh?"
Kratos slowly set Freya's body to the smooth stone beneath him, and he struggled to stand. His fingers twitched, and the axe was in his fist a moment later. The stranger's hands raised with light waves of appeasement. "Whoa, big guy. Relax, not here to fight. You won the game! Just here for the after victory interview."
Kratos' nose began to twitch as his head tilted forward, glaring at this new, unwelcome guest. "Who are you?"
The stranger laughed. "The Alpha and the Omega. That's your symbol, yeah?" He raised his finger with a smirk and traced the Greek symbol for omega in the air, the symbol for war.
"This is not a game," the spartan growled.
"'Course it is. It all is. Not my game, not your game, but doesn't change the board any."
"You're the one…the one Nergal whispered for. You're the one behind everything…" Kratos growled, his rage returning to his body.
The blonde man bent his torso forward and stretched his arms out to his sides in a low bow. "That's right. One devilishly handsome puppet master, at your service."
Kratos tried to rush the being with a speed and ferocity he did not know he still wielded with the many injuries he had sustained. The axe in hand, charging its icy fire as he sprinted, spinning it and jumping to attack. Kratos' swing came down, and connected with… nothing. In an instant the stranger was gone, as if he was a mirage.
"Now, now, we don't need to fight. Sheesh I can't believe you can still move like that after everything too. I know you've got the whole 'god of war' shtick, but come on, we're so similar you and I!" The stranger cheerily exclaimed from Kratos' left.
Kratos flung the axe now, aiming for the man's neck. He ducked, rolled, and came up with his fist aiming for the stranger's torso to follow up. Neither the axe nor the fist found their marks, as again, the stranger instantly disappeared.
"Hey, big man." Kratos heard whispered in his ear. He turned around with a grimace to face the stranger, but it was too late. The man rose only one hand, his middle finger pulled back to his thumb. That middle finger snapped free a moment later, right into Kratos' chest. The sheer power from that single finger snap sent Kratos flying back fifty paces, crashing into the distant stone wall.
As Kratos lay in the rubble struggling to breathe. The stranger was once again suddenly there, standing over him. "You're gonna wanna take that advice big guy on not fighting me. Trust me, you're out of your depth here. Oh, and to answer your previous question, I have a lot of names. I won't bore you with the details, but my friends call me Luci."