With the island turtle Chaurli resting below the earth, Atreus and Freya reside beneath him in her home. Although many years have passed since the Son of Kratos has laid foot within her abode, nothing notable has changed. The window off to the side of them continues to peer into the mystic realm of the Vanir. While they rest on her carpet, she tends to his minor wounds. The rejuvenating golden and violet energy flowing from her fingers seeps into his lightly tan skin. As she works to heal him, Atreus glances here and again at her.
"Thank you," he tells her with a one-sided smile.
"Of course," she replies.
She stares for a moment at Atreus's body. A sad expression befalls her as she takes notice of the searing chain marks on his arms. Even with her magic, she cannot undo the damage of Aries's binds. Her look remains as her eyes see every sharp and deep scar from the past on his body. Finally, she sets her sights on the blue burn mark on his face. Which slightly matches his father's. As she goes to reach and heal the old wound, Atreus gently grasps her wrist.
"Please don't," he tells her with a saddening sigh. "This is my last connection to him."
The small implication of Kratos is enough to prevent her from affecting the marking. Knowing the blades were never meant for him, Atreus doesn't value them as dearly as the mark on his body.
"Did he do this to you?" she asks, aggravated by the thought of such possible abuse.
"Only because I wanted it..."
A sigh of contempt leaves her as she softly stares at the brand. Her fingers rest and hang as her magic fades from them. Freya rises from the rug layered floor and moves to her shelves. With conflicting thoughts of her past weighing on her mind, she distracts herself with cleaning and organizing. Atreus brings himself to his feet but keeps his distance. Although it's been years since Balder's death, he can sense that she still feels heartache for his passing.
"I'll take it that you heard what happened?" He asks.
"All of the Nine Realms heard what happened," Freya replies while organizing her pots and ingredients. "The whispers of the marked warrior who rivaled Thor reached to all ears... As well as his fate..." Softly placing one of her jugs down on the table, she turns to the Son of Kratos. "I'm truly sorry..."
"That's a little bizarre to hear..." Her sympathies leave the young god in mild confusion. "I thought you wanted my father dead?"
Guilt-ridden by the threatening words of the past, she turns herself to hide her expression of regret. Atreus steadily approaches, wishing to bring her comfort. With a few feet of space between them, she holds her hand out to stop him.
"I did, more than anything," she confesses. "I was furious, never had my blood boiled so much, and yet..."
"Yet what?" He asks, taking a single step closer.
"I thought about you... I thought about what might become of you if you lost your father."
Despite her ill thoughts toward his dad, she bravely looks to the Son of Kratos. With a mother's gentle touch, she presses her hand on his cheek.
"Though I may have wanted vengeance all those years ago, I would never try to hurt you," now she looks into his eyes, with both hands on his face. "You were but a child then. You were not the one who killed Balder. I don't blame you for what happened..."
Finding comfort in her soft touch, he holds her hands while exhaling contently. His eyes begin to tear up, forcing him to tilt his head and hide the water in his eyes. He lets out a sigh to relieve the mental weight on his mind. However, a thought still lingers, one that desires to show her reasoning.
"My father tried to save you," Atreus adds. "Surely you can see that now."
Surprisingly, she has little to no reaction to his words. The Goddess continues to smile at him, brushing her fingertips on his cheeks.
"Even so..."
Freya quickly paces away. The emotional stress of the dreadful moment haunts her. She breathes deeply to ease her pain while leaning on the wooden railing. Understanding the sorrow of losing a loved one, Atreus keeps his distance. Although he cannot see it, the sniffling from her makes her feelings clear.
"I broke him," she claims with her fingers trembling. "I'm the reason my son became so cruel. I thought that maybe-"
"If you had let him kill you, you would be redeeming both of your souls?" Atreus presumes, upset over the notion.
Her immediate silence is enough of an answer. Saddened but relating to the idea, Atreus shakes his head.
"Freya, I understand why you would think that," he says to her while gradually approaching. "My father once told me of a time when he too sought redemption. He thought by leaping from the highest cliffs of his homeland that he'd find forgiveness for his actions."
The Goddess tilts her head as he goes on. He joins her side, the two stare off at the wall in the sulking absence of noise. The Last Son of Sparta clasps his hands, the mistakes of his past reemerge. She, too, can now see that he bears an identical pain but unsure how.
"To truly find salvation, we must live and fight to see it," Atreus states. "To brazenly give our lives does not yield forgiveness or reward."
"What do you seek redemption for?" Freya questions, turning to him with her hand on his shoulder.
"To undo my many mistakes..." He stands straight and directs himself to her. "My father died because of my cowardice, and now I must finish what he started. Which is why I need your help."
The young god's implication catches Freya off guard. Her jaw lightly hangs open in nervous awe at the thought of his intentions.
"Surely you don't intend on fighting Thor?" She questions, grabbing onto his shoulders. "There's no way you can stand against him the way you are now!"
"I know," he admits shaking his head. His hands grasp her wrists once more, slowly pulling them off of him. "At least not alone... I need Mimir's help..."
"Mimir?" Despite the many years that have come and gone, she unconsciously recalls the name. Freya steps back with uncertainty. "I don't see how he can help..."
"He has knowledge that can help me, but he's in Helheim... Only with the Old Magics can he be brought back..."
"But, there's nothing left to bring him back with," Freya comments, now brainstorming over her knowledge of the Vanir magics. Back and forth, she restlessly walks across and around the center part of her home. Abruptly, she stops in place, eyes widened by a sudden realization. "Unless... The Ferryman's Lantern..."
In mild confusion, Atreus lifts an eyebrow at the Valkyrie Queen. Crossing his arms, he stares while pondering her hushed words. Despite his many years across the different realms, his knowledge of such an object is unheard of.
"The what?" He asks.
The interest in his voice pulls her focus to him. Yet, just as she turns to him, the two are drawn to a dire disturbance. A booming noise on the surface trembles the home of the Goddess. Dirt and dust fill the air in the room, and the rumbling makes bowls and utilities on the shelves fall.
"What's going on?" Atreus questions with his fists clenched and ready for a fight.
"I'm not sure," she claims with her sword drawn. "Something's happening outside!"
"Let's go find out!"
The Son of Kratos takes up his fathers shackling weapons and rushes out the door to the underground tunnels. Freya follows after with the same urgency. From the old passageway, the two manage to reach the surface of her home in secrecy. The kneel down on a far-out hillside to observe from an advantage point. The wildlife of lush trees, tall grass, and bushes obscure their location. From a great distance, the duo can spy on the source of the commotion.
"By the gods," Freya says.
To their surprise, a large squadron of Asgardian's march across the garden above her house. Their horned helmets shine in the bright sun's rays, creating a sparkling display below. As they press onward, the source of the rumble is revealed.
Shackled in several pairs of chains and weighed down by metal binds is a massive troll. The tusks on the left side of its face have been broken off. It's lavender-colored flesh and black markings stand out, like a single star in the empty black sky. As of now, given its current state, the behemoth is docile and unwilling to act. Although the troll's metal totem rests on its back, the juggernaut is bound and unable to take action against its captors.
"A troll?" Atreus points out, dumbfounded by the soldiers' absurd action.
"I had heard whispers that Odin's army was capturing any that may be a threat to his realm," Freya mentions. "I can't believe they have become this daring."
"That boldness will be their downfall."
Ready to engage them, he begins to sneak his way to them. Freya, without delay or pause, grasps his arm to keep him back.
"What are you doing?" She asks, hoping to stop him.
"Delivering a message... Stay out of sight. The last thing you need is for Odin to know where your home is..."
Before the Valkyrie Queen can interject any further, Atreus alters his shape once more. A flicker of dim blue light coats his body, shrinking him down until he's in the form of a black hawk with his markings. Due to the great distance between them and Odin's forces, none notice the spell. With that, the Son of Kratos takes to the sky. Even though his tiny body is hard to see, he remains silent while soaring over the heads of the soldiers.
Able to easily slip by their ranks, he perches himself onto a nearby tree. Returning to his original form, he stays hidden while within the brush and leaves. With his bow in hand, he draws three arrows from his quiver. Pulling them back on his bowstring, magical energy flows from his fingers onto the projectiles.
"Þruma..." He whispers with an exhale.
The cracks within the wood of his arrows glow a dim yellow and white. Within a second, the arrowheads are engulfed by sporadic electricity. Before his position can be exposed to the enemy, he releases his shots. The bolts fly across the field. As each one makes contact with the metal chains, the electricity courses through them. Over a dozen Asgardians, along with the troll, are electrocuted.
The sudden sparks draw the focus of the other soldiers, distracting them from who launched the attack. While the few Asgardians who held the beast at bay are fatally burnt, the troll is only agitated by the strike. Lifting its head high, the juggernaut roars into the sky in rage. Now with its binds weakened, the massive brute tears itself free.
As the militarized force's entirety is unaware, Atreus returns to his bird form and soars to them. Raising himself high to the sky, he studies the militarized force. Finding the weakest point in their formation, he darts downward at them. Undoing the self enchantment, he crashes down from the air onto a divided squad. With the Blades of Chaos, he hooks the earth, hurling himself faster and creating a wave of blue flames on impact.
Bodies fly, and screams are heard in the field. The remaining soldiers in disarray scramble to work out what is happening. Some choose to focus on dealing with the troll, while others are hesitant but inevitably charge at Atreus. Their battle cries carry in the winds as they race towards their end. Now that the enemy is divided, the Son of Kratos unleashes his wrath.
His blades ignite with a light blue flame, and with a roar, he extends them with the chains and swings them. Though the Asgardians try to block and withstand the blows, the searing steel of Olympus rips through their armor and weapons. Fire and wind dance around Atreus as his father's twin swords flail around him, almost forming a protective barrier around him. With more bodies piling on the battlefield, the Asgardians take a defensive approach to him.
As they form a wall-like formation with their shields to keep him in one place, their archers take action. The enemy bow users launch a barrage of arrows into the sky. The sun becomes partially clouded by the soaring, golden bolts. Before he can be bombarded, Atreus arms himself with a shield from a fallen Asgardian. Kneeling while holding it over him, the projectiles strike it. Some reflect and are embedded into the dirt, while others barely pierce the guard.
As the archers reload their bows, the Son of Kratos presses onward. With a swing of his arm, he launches the bulwark, making it spiral sideways at them. Even with a great distance between him and the enemy, he hits one of them. As one of the archers is knocked down by the hit, his comrades are temporarily distracted. With this short opportunity, Atreus prepares his own shot. With three arrows pulled against his bowstring, he aims his shot at them.
"Bruni!" He shouts.
As Atreus releases the arrows, they combust, darting across the sky as raging balls of fire. Upon contact with the enemy, the area explodes into a column of smoke and flames. A minor tremor from the blast nearly knocks down any nearby Asgardian. Even those who have formed a defensive formation are taken back by the detonation. Once more, he fires a set of his blazing arrows, another explosion knocks back another group of enemies. The remaining troops gradually back away from Atreus to fortify themselves.
Unbeknownst to them, danger had them cornered on both sides. As a deep growl blowing in the winds chills their backs, they freeze in place. Even Atreus discerns the dry snarl, knowing what it came from. Before the soldiers can turn to find out, their bodies crumble beneath the weight of a giant pillar of steel. The quake from the smashing attack alerts the Son of Kratos.
Swiftly turning towards the source of the shake, Atreus meets the gaze of the surly troll. Despite his choice to free it, the massive brute has no intention of returning the favor. Spitefully looking down at the Son of Kratos, the creature begins speaking profusely in its native tongue. Although very few can understand such an old language, the troll spouting with spit leaving its jaws makes it apparent that it is not grateful. Atreus, with his excelled linguistic talent, can understand such profound words with ease.
"So much for trying to help," Is all he has to say in response.
Before he can reply to the monster's harsh tongue, it pulls its arm back for a hard swing. Grasping its blunt weapon, it swings it down at Atreus. With only a second to react, he leaps away from the attack. Tumbling and rolling, he swiftly returns to his feet. Unshaken by the booming strike, he sets up his bow for another shot.
"Damn!" he tells himself. With his shot pulled back and ready to let loose, he aims his bow at the beast. "Bruni!"
Releasing the arrow, his magics cause it to burn in the air. Although he can easily land the hit, the blast of fire only causes minor pain to the creature's thick skin. Brushing off the embers, the troll rushes at him to attack again. Its blunt weapon steams and burns orange and red when being swung. Once more, Atreus averts the incoming totem but is grazed by the unexpecting searing steel. Due to his adrenaline rush, the Son of Kratos can ignore the pain.
"Þruma!" He shouts after releasing another shot.
With every arrow fired, Atreus infuses them with either light, fire, or electricity. Even with his precise aiming, no matter where his bolts landed on the troll, his enemy did not falter from the excessive piercings. From his distance, he could not nail a perfect shot on its head, for the beast would be able to block it with the totem. Sparks fly in all directions when it deflects the electrifying arrows. Resulting in flakes of burning ash falling and clouding the area by the burning bolts.
With the beast blinded from shielding itself, Atreus charges at it. As he sprints toward his foe, the Son of Kratos draws out his seax blade. The troll, lowering the bludgeoning pillar, sees his rapid approach. With only one arm, the fierce creature swings the totem in a sideways swoop. As it does, Atreus times the speed of the stone formation. Once close enough, he leaps up, landing on the pillar as it flies by.
Now in tight proximity, he jumps onto the beast's shoulders. He rams the seax blade into its cheek with one hard thrust, just barely missing the skull. Right as he is about to grab one of his swords, the troll latches onto his torso. With all of its strength, it hurls him to his side into the ground. The force of the impact leaves a ditch and makes Atreus' body bounce across the field.
A few yards of space lies between the two, the troll strolls toward him to break the gap. Already, it prepares another swing with its searing idol. Atreus, feeling the rumble from its stomping, stands with haste. Before the enemy can reach him, he draws his bow. As the massive creature stands before him, he reaches for his quiver. Only to find that he has run out of ammunition. Just as he looks to his back, his enemy pulls back for another swing. Having but a second to act, Atreus holds his arms up to block the hit.
Taking in the full power of the strike, his firm body launches across the field. His brief time airborne is halted by a stone wall. Both his back and the formation crack by the collision. He falls to the ground, for a moment, the pain leaves him winded and dazed. Clenching his teeth, he groans while digging his palms into the dirt. Inhaling deeply, he starts to push himself up with his unsteady arms. As he does, the bones in his back and shoulders pop with a jerk of his shoulder blades.
Freya, from a distance, has observed the entire altercation. A look of grim worry is plastered on her face. She watches as an injured Atreus stumbles back to his feet. Not only does the troll still stand, but a few Asgardians remain, watching the spectacle on the sidelines. Her instincts tell her to interfere and help him, no matter the consequences. Even if it risks Odin learning of her regained warrior spirit. However, just as she is about to fully stand, a minor detail stops her.
Atreus stands, winded, but holding his hand up and to his side. As if gesturing for her to remain hidden. With his head tilted, a sudden chill in the air frosts his heavy breaths.
"If my father can best a troll, then so can I," he whispers to himself.
With blood dripping from its fangs and jaw, the troll is greatly angered by his persistence. Its totem burns brighter than before, and its growls reverberate in the breeze. Atreus also begins to show his internal wrath when looking up. Once he unsheathes the Blades of Chaos, the blue flames ignite. However, this time, a flicker of red is seen within the fire, and for a moment, dimly glowing in Atreus's pupils.
With a fierce battle cry, the Last Son of Sparta charges at the creature, which also roars in turn. Again, the troll swings at him. This time, Atreus slides beneath the glowing metal weapon. His reacting speed gives him but a few inches of space between him and the totem burning him. Once out of the way of the strike, he quickly stands and rushes forward. Using his blades and speed, he drives them through the creature's right knee, ripping through the tendons and even bone.
The troll lets out an excruciation howl and caves on the torn limb. Before it can tend to its wound, Atreus unleashes a series of scorching slashes. Standing behind the beast, he furiously slices and flails the blades across its back and arms. In retaliation, the troll swerves to slam his hand down at the Last Son of Sparta. However, his unbalanced state makes his attack easy to avoid.
Leaping away, it only takes but a second to rise back up. Getting into a prowling position, Atreus invokes his divine gift. A blue mist of energy consumes him, transforming him once more into a mighty, blue tattooed black wolf. Using his body as a battering ram, he hurls his body into the troll's only stable knee. The shattering of the monster's bones echoes in all directions. The juggernaut's pain-filled roar follows right after.
Dropping down further, the troll catches itself with its arm and totem. As it temporarily rests, Atreus returns to his humanoid form. He rushes to the front of it, already wielding his father's blades. Right as he stands in front of it, the troll attempts to lift its blunt pillar. Before it can even make an attempt to attack, Atreus hooks his chain blades into the corners of the creature's neck.
Pulling himself up to its head, he rams his knee into its jaw. The stunning strike leaves it dazed, as well as disrupts the balance of its whole body. Now it falls forward once more. As it does, Atreus leaps off its body while unhooking his blades. Seeing the totem be raised above them, he takes the opportunity to finish the battle. Hurling his swords to wrap around the metal pillar, he brings it down with all of his strength. As he yells, the troll's very weapon crashes down on its skull, splattering blood all over him.
The troll lays lifeless by Atreus's feet, its power depleted and body broken. This was not just a simple act of killing. This brutality is meant to be a message. The remaining Asgardians stare, shaken by the savage fury of the Last Son of Sparta. Unlike others before them, they all keep their distance, and these soldiers dare not throw their lives away. Each one knowing that it would not just be death they'd find, but pain and shame.
Atreus sheathes his blades when taking notice of this. Standing angrily and triumphant, he spits blood in their direction as a taunt of disdain.
"Is this it!" He yells with his arms raised. "Is this truly all the might Asgard can muster!"
The Asgardians look to themselves, some trembling in terror, others sweating in confusion. Even so, no one dares to approach him, as he rants on.
"Are its servants truly as weak, AS THEIR GODS!" He rhetorically asks to add insult.
His blasphemous words startle the Asgardians, several surprised gasps can be heard in the crowd. Even after showing disrespect to their lords, the soldiers remain at bay. As they do, Atreus attempts to invoke greater dread into his enemies' hearts.
"Over ten years ago, the Aesir gave in to fear! Their paranoia and chaos fueled actions have brought forth their undoing! AN ENEMY THAT BRINGS WAR, WHO DOES NOT HAVE SUCH WEAKNESS!"
His voice booms in the ruined valley, extending to all ears nearby. Even to those of the Goddess Freya, who continues to watch from the nearby hills. His threatening tone is enough to make her heart race like drums.
"You may choose to die here, to let your bodies waste away, and to be forgotten!" He shouts to them, enraged. "Or you can return to your doomed kingdom and deliver a message! Tell your GODS, your LORDS, THOR, AND THE ALL FATHER, THAT LOKI COMES FOR THEM ALL!"
As he offers, the Asgardians do not hesitate to flee. The name Loki haunts their minds, all of them knowing full well what it entails. Even so, to the Aesir, they will believe that he will not be easy to find. Given the many battles that Atreus has taken part in across the realms, the search for him will be far and wide. This will give the Last Son of Sparta time to prepare himself for the confrontation. Although he speaks of justice, vengeance bleeds in his heart. A new cycle has begun, and with it comes the god who will bring war.