Even after the many years that have passed, the murky, gas poised realm of Niflheim is unaltered. The ruins of the old Dwarven kingdom remain rusted, decayed, and desolate. The plants have withered and died, and the dirt is poised and bleeds with sickening steam. The brown skies continue to blot out any form of light from the heavens. The very sight of the Realm in this decrepit state is enough to sicken any soul.
Atreus continues to inhale slowly, testing the mask with every step he takes. As he does, he scans the old dwarven fortress. Thoughts and ideas flow through his mind as to how this realm must have looked before Ivaldi's curse took root. The few moments of passing and nothing feels different. The toxic fumes have no effect on the Last Son of Sparta. It's startling for him that the Huldra Brothers invention worked so well. He rejoices with a deep soothing breath. He nods in acceptance of the device, and even smiles under it.
"It works," he says to himself. "That's a relief."
Continuing on into the old ruins, he remains alert. The memory of the horrors within the mist comes back to him. No doubt, do those abominations still linger in the foggy realm. Even so, his blades are in hand and ready to shred through any monster that stands against him. Before reaching the maze, just as expected, Brok and Sindri wait for him at the entrance. Their crafts and gear are already set up and ready for use.
"You guys should really teach me how to use those "shortcuts" of yours," Atreus comments while sheathing his blades.
"Dwarven secret, not something to be thrown around," Sindri replies.
"Grow a beard, and take some feet off your height, and maybe we'll be more inclined," Brok adds but continues to hammer away at his work.
"Figures..." Atreus looks out to the mists of the maze. To this day, the mechanisms and traps within are still active and can be heard operating. The rumbling and shredding noises against steel is perceivable even from there. A muffled sigh of annoyance leaves him as he remembers the dangers and puzzles within.
"Anything I should know before going through there?" Atreus asks.
"Well, one thing you should know is that shapeshifting is a bad idea," Sindri says. "The mask might not change, and the last thing you want to do is break it while you're in there."
"Damn... So much for just flying over it... So, how do I find the entrance to the underground chambers?"
"There will be a courtyard beyond the maze," Brok claims. With a few hops, he directs his finger beyond the mechanized maze. "Probably one of the few places with anything green for miles. The entrance should be around there."
"I remember, I just have to fight my way through a ravenous horde of beasts and Draugr to get there... Not the mention the traps that can dismember and flatten me..."
"Yep..." The dwarves respond.
The Huldra Brothers immediately begin tinkering with their own tools and crafts. Sparks fly and banging of metal rings while Atreus stares off into the foggy distance of the ruins. The Son of Kratos lets out a tiresome groan, knowing of the difficulties of navigating the maze, and that the battles will continue until he reaches the other side.
"Okay..." He comments as he marches forward.
"Wait!" Sindri raises his voice. "You'll need these!"
Reaching off to the side, the dwarf clenches a cluster of black wood arrows with crimson, feather tails. With both arms, he chucks the ammunition to Atreus. Who in turn, blindly catches them while heading into the maze. Sliding them into his quiver, he ventures, vanishing into the bleak, deathly clouds of the ruins.
"Good luck!" Sindri shouts.
"Thanks, I'm going to need it," he replies, his voice fading as well.
All is quiet within the first area of the maze. Corpses of adventurers seeking loot and treasure rest partially within the dirty beneath Atreus's heels. Many devoid of flesh, while others rotting, grotesque and torn to shreds by the horrors within. Thankfully, the stench of this area is unregistered to Atreus due to the mask. While all looks calm around him, the gears running the deadly maze keep him on alert. As he marches onward, he comes across the first trap.
A moving wall slams into the other side of the walkway, before pulling back to repeat the act. Atreus stands at the edge, calculating the time between each collision. Although the fog is to thick to see the other side, he's confident he'll reach it before it activates. He rests his shoulder on the opposite side of the moving wall, preparing to dash the moment the way is clear.
Just as the path is open enough for his body to fit, he races blindly into the choking fog. This time the trail feels longer than when he was younger. No matter how far he charges, the other side doesn't seem to get any closer. Another trick made by Ivaldi's maze. The silencing gears signals him that he's about to be smashed against the bronze barricade.
Still, he presses on, unable to turn back now. The releasing mechanism screeches in his ears as the wall launches at him. Though the other side is still clouded to him, the solid gold block charging at him becomes clear within seconds. Each beat of his heart marks one less moment before potential death. Every step taken is a step to safety or doom. A small opening to the side is his only option, but there's no certainty he can make it. Just as he's about to cut the corner to get inside, the machine reaches him.
Swerving his body in the direction of the battering surface, he meets the hit head-on. Crossing his arms, Atreus activates the mechanism of Trolls Bane. Two small, triangle-shaped shields form on his forearms. Taking the impact at a sideways angle, the barricade clashes with his arm guards, and send him flying through the opening. Instead of it being a small corridor like he remembers, it actually is a large open area just as barren as before.
After tumbling across the decrepit floor of dirt and ash, Atreus studies the new sector. He stands at the heart of the octagon-shaped area. Without a doubt, the maze has somehow evolved. Perhaps too many have come to claim the wealth and treasures within. Along with the shifting mechanics of Ivaldi's workshop, the creatures within have also become much more ravenous and dangerous.
Bursting forth from the tainted gravel, hags, and masked Revenants' emerge. Floating on their vile clouds, and cackling with broken voices all around Atreus. Along with them are flaming Draugr, that angrily growl at the Son of Kratos. Though the numbers stack above him, and his foes are absent of mercy and sanity, Atreus has no worry. Time and time has he faced such horrors alone and with his father, and countlessly has he always triumphed. He draws his bow and arrows, prepared to give his enemies their last fight.
Immediately, the horde of undead charge at him while the witches behind conjure their spells. Atreus, in retaliation, begins launching his arrows.
"Ljösta!" He shouts.
Vibrant light consumes his shots while beaming off the illuminated string. Each arrow pierces through its marks. Limbs and flesh are shred and torn with every strike. One by one, the undead fall before even reaching Atreus. That is until one dug its way from the earth, right at his feet. In an instant, the zombified warrior latches its horrid claws around his ankles. Only for it to meet the end of the demigod's runic seax blade. Atreus drives the sharpest end of the short sword into its jaw, and through its skull.
Even after the majority of Draugr fall in battle, the Revenants remain. With the given time, the three deathly witches unleash their magic. From their clawed, boney fingers, they hurl waves of poison directly at him. However, with the mask on, he's only pushed back a distance by their spells. In retaliation, he sends his thunderous arrows at them.
"Þruma!" He shouts.
His bolts of lightning dart across through the air. The several arrows shot, ricochet off the metallic walls and light the field. Even when making contact with the levitating hags, they tear through them and continue through the yard. Only one manages to escape the reflective barrage. Which swiftly moves in to attack Atreus. Dispersing into a cloud of insects and gas, the last Revenant closes in on him. Now in close quarters, the two engage each other in close combat.
Even with his fast swinging Blades of Chaos, the chainlink swords cannot land a single strike against the witch. Although her attacks aren't severe, they do prove quite troublesome and irritable. Her relentless actions inhibit him from using his bow against her. It doesn't help that her broken cackling only provokes Atreus more, while she dances around his attacks. Eventually, the soulless Revenant's arrogance overcomes her. Now it circles around him in its incorporeal form.
For a moment, Atreus hones his focus on where she might appear. Her maniacal laughter becomes blotted by his intense concentration. The witch's movements are repetitive, and she always strikes at his side and back. Finally, with one swing, Atreus sends out the blades. As predicted, she reverts back to her corporeal form right where the chainlinks are heading. The revenant lets out a harrowing cry as the Blades of Chaos pierce into her flesh. Swiftly, the Son of Kratos pulls her in before she can escape. Her screams are silenced the moment his hands latch onto her throat and snaps it.
The first ring of enemies has been cleared. Atreus discards the corpse, throwing it to the side. After ripping the blades from her carcass, he places them back onto his back. Before he takes his leave from this arena, he reclaims whatever arrows he can. Pulling them from the dirt and out of the bodies. Now, there are two routes to take. Another path with a ramming wall, which is also clouded in mist. The other, a trail with arrows and harpoons being shot from the fortifications.
Atreus irritably wobbles his head, indecisive over which direction to head through. To gamble with the mist nearly killed him, while the other has relentless attacks bombarding him. However, he can at least see a new sector of the maze on the other side. Both are a test of speed and focus, now comes the matter of which one looks plausible to pass. Back and forth, he glances at each path. A decision had to be made, which danger would he choose?
While pondering, he raises his hand to rub his eyes. However, looking at Trolls Bane gives him a solution. With a jerk of his wrists, he activates the shields within the gauntlets. His whole forearms and half of his biceps are guarded by them. The size of each one alone is not much, but together they form a decent size barricade. Without a second thought, he rushes through the onslaught of arrows and bolts.
Although he doesn't match his father in endurance and strength, he does surpass him in speed and cunning. He swerves his body in fluid motions and utilizes his shields to block or redirect the barrage of razor shots. Through intense focus and precise aiming of his movements, he avoids and blocks nearly every shot. Some graze his body, cutting his fur vest and pants, but unable to harm any vital areas on him. Some harpoons, he catches and throws to the ground before continuing.
At last, he reaches safety within the new chamber. A light chuckle of proudness toward the effectiveness of Trolls Bane muffles from him. Another flick of his wrists and the shields reverts back into the gauntlets. While one obstacle is out of the way, the danger has yet to yield. More of the undead rise, this time, searing with mindless anger. One shoots out of the floor at Atreus, who reacts by drawing the Blades of Chaos. Although he lands a direct hit by slashing each blade on each side of its neck. The wild flames from his father's weapons have zero effect on it.
The Draugr latches its decaying grasp on each sword while pulling itself closer to him.
"Damn," he spouts, remember that the blades won't work on these types of enemies.
Shoving the living corpse away, he brings out his seax and drives it through its skull. With one swing, he shreds the blade from its head. Immediately after, the remaining undead begins to charge him. Atreus launches the shortsword at the furthest Draugr and rushes at the others. The runic blade embeds itself in the throat of the ravines undead. The creature falls, just as the remaining horde reaches the Son of Kratos. Plowing his way through them, he knocks them all aside to prioritize the one in the back.
Atreus proceeds to bash his way through the swarm of the undead with his brass-knuckled gauntlets. Using both speed and swift motion, he throws his punches and calls upon his seax blade to slash and pierce his foes. As well as hurl across the air, and repeat. As the fight persists, the Son of Kratos begins to grow more savage and ruthless with his attacks. Back handing his foes, grasping the runic blade with both hands for more forceful strikes, and snapping the necks of his enemies.
At last, he summons his weapon from the body of another, but the short sword incidentally pulls the corpse with it. As he grasps the handle, unaware of the body attached, he rips it from its chest. The seax is cleanly cleaved from the body, and through the throat of the last Draugr. However, Atreus is unfinished with his onslaught and flips the blade in his hand. To finish his foes, he drives it through the back of its skull. Yanking it from the undead, its sizzling blood splatters on him.
Atreus stands, his body steaming as the liquids from the Draugr coat his body. He's unfazed by the heat and takes a moment to calm himself. He growls aggressively when gazing down at his foes. As his moral senses return to him, he questioningly examines himself. Where is this savagery coming from? His body trembles, wanting to let loose more of this sudden wrath. It only takes but a moment for him to correct his senses, but his fight is not yet over.
From above, with rampaging fury, and ogre crashes down into the corridor. The sickly, gorilla-like behemoth roars, blinded with rage and hysteria from overexposure to the toxins in the air. Its eyes devoid of color, its flesh rotting and barely clinging to its body, even its gums and fangs are decomposing. The only desire left in the ogre is to destroy everything in its path. Now, its new target is the Son of Kratos. Not only is Atreus unthreatened by the beast, but a sudden idea comes to mind.
"There's my way through this maze," he comments. "COME ON THEN!"
Atreus's taunts quickly agitate the beast. Another deep yell erupts from the monster's throat before charging at him. The Son of Kratos does the same but hurls his seax blade at the beast while rushing forward. With ease, the short sword directly hits the ogre's right eye. As it does, the creature flinches from the hit, allowing Atreus to take the upper hand in the fight. He leaps into the air, grabbing onto the handle of the blade, and twirling his body onto its back. Tearing the seax off, he plunges it into the ogre's other eye. More roars and cries of spiteful rage rhythm in the room.
Just as the beast reaches to grab hold of him, Atreus leaps from its shoulder. Right as he lands in front of it, the creature's wild flailing is about to make contact. As its backhand swings at him, the Son of Kratos blocks it with Trolls Bane. Although he is pushed back, he's able to harness the strength of the blow. The automated shield that forms absorbs the hit, now allowing him to redirect the force of the attack right back. His fists, amplified by the power taken from the ogre, knocks the beast flat on its back.
"Oh, Hel yeah," Atreus says to himself, with great delight for the steaming gauntlets.
The shields retract, and as they do, the ogre begins to lift itself back onto its feet. With a window of opportunity still presenting itself, Atreus draws his twin blades. He swings them out to the beast. As the chains wrap around its head, inside its jaws, and over its blood pouring eye sockets, they finally snag into the flesh of its shoulders. Though it yanks and pulls to remove the metallic leash, its efforts only tighten the hold. Before the ogre can retaliate any further, Atreus runs along the wall to pull himself back onto its back.
Shackled, impaired, and blinded with rage, Atreus now uses the behemoth as his personal mount. When yanking in the right direction, the beast runs rampant wherever he chooses. For starters, he has the ogre rush through the next contraption ahead. A series of ring-shaped saws shred the halls ahead. Utilizing its berzerk strength, the Last Son of Sparta makes the creature bash its way through. Every swing breaks and shatters the spinning blades. The mechanism slowly falters the more damage is done. The saws ahead begin to spark and glitch, right before being pummeled and yanked from the walls. Whatever damage would have been inflicted on Atreus, is now being unwantedly shielded by the ogre.
Every enemy that comes their way is bashed, torn in two, or flattened by the brute strength of the beast. Even the spell casting Revenants can barely phase the creature, which only leads to their downfall. Even when the ogre attempts to free itself, it only takes a moment to make the beast submissive once more. Using brute force like his father to keep the mindless creature under his control.
Sadly, the free ride comes to an abrupt end. Right as Atreus reaches the final pathway to the garden, the ogre reclaims its freedom. With one swoop of its burly, rugged hand, it snatches Atreus from its back and hurls him forward. The blades and chains detach as he's sent flying through the pass. His body collides with the stone and metal entryway and plummets, with some rubble falling with him.
Quickly he stands, to finish the beast off. Both blades burning blue in his grasp, and staring at the incoming foe. The ogre roars as it swings at random while rushing toward him. However, halfway through, the creature's lost sight proves to be its greatest downfall. Stomping on top of a small pedestal, the ogre triggers one of the hidden traps. From beneath it, several well-crafted spears, tridents, and spikes shoot out. Most, if not all, of the bladed edges, drive their way through the blind beast. A soft, wet growl leaves its decaying jaws, along with its dying breath.
With victory assured, and no longer needing to face any other threats, Atreus sighs in relief. As he sheaths his blades, he makes his way to the garden.
After making his way up the stairs, he is greeted by a sliver of sunlight. The temporary blinding light is immediately blotted out by the giant statue on the peak. Atreus looks out to the garden that he and his father once walked.
Just like how he remembered, the green meadow is unchanged. The grass is flourishing and healthy. The statues and carved stone still pristine, even the chests that he and his father looted are still barren. After more than a decade, the garden has not been disturbed in any way. For the moment, Atreus dwells in the serenity of the area. He sits at its center, basking in the beauty that has endured the impossible odds. He takes in the only clean air for miles, for once in a long while, he feels peace.
"I wish you were here, father," Atreus says, looking to the sky. "The years have felt like an eternity without you here... I've never been so lost..."
Moments pass as Atreus continues to stare into the clouded, emerald sky. The time of solitude alleviates the physical hardship of these battle filled days. Yet, dwelling thoughts of the past begin to weigh on Atreus's psyche.
"I know I've made mistakes, but I'm trying my damndest to follow your lessons," he says. "Yet, the more I tell myself that I'm doing the right thing..." Every second he ponders his moral dilemma, the more his anger builds. His fingers dig into the ground, as his expression tightens and scowls. "The more I feel the burning hatred inside... How did you do it? How did you overcome your rage?"
Sorrow follows his questions in desperation for direct answers. Sadly, the only response is the silence of the deathly realm. It fills his heart and coincides with his dread. He lowers his head, allowing the quiet atmosphere to help fight off the inner distraught.
"I suppose I'll have to learn for myself," Atreus says while bringing himself back to his feet. "Wherever you are, father, I hope mother is there, and that both of you are at peace..."
Even with the thought of his mother and father haunting him, he proceeds to search the garden. The few runes that are readable don't provide many clues as to the location of the chamber. Instead, what he learns is a riddle.
He who watches over the cradle guards the way. His look is the lock, and his negligence is the key. From oversight, will the path open to the heart of Niflheim.