A GHOST IN A STRANGE LAND

CHAPTER 9

Kratos placed his hand on the panel, then watched as the door to the room he had been assigned slid open. Wearily, he strode through the portal, barely noticing as it hissed closed behind him.

He could not remember the last time he had been this drained.

It wasn't that he was tired, though he was weary. If pressed, he could march through the night still, or fight, if he was called on to with only minor difficulty. No, it was more that his head felt full to bursting.

It had been an eventful week.

The lights to his room sprang to life as the Spartan entered, and again, Kratos flicked his eyes across his quarters, some part of him still filled with disbelief. The room he had been granted wasn't overly large - the home he had shared with his family in Midgard could have likely held three of this room, with space left over.

And yet, the luxuries contained within the room almost defied imagination.

Water available at a moment's thought, for drinking, cleaning, or bathing. The ability to raise or lower the heat in the room to one's own preferences. Devices as small as a thin book, that held uncountable amounts of information - and though he had not seen such yet, some of this information was whole plays, recorded and able to be rewatched at a whim.

And so much more - so much that to Kratos, who had lived simply for so much of his life, it almost felt like decadence.

And yet, all these things were considered common for this age, amenities that the most common citizen had access to.

It was honestly a bit overwhelming. So much these people took for granted was comparable to some of the grandest things Kratos had seen in his life, and each day brought new revelations.

To Kratos, Greece, and Sparta in particular, had been the pinnacle of civilization - especially compared to what he had seen pass for civilization in Midgard (though some of the other realms, once he saw them, were much more impressive sights, though even they did not hold a candle to his homeland). But his current surroundings made Sparta seem as primitive as the raiders that had plagued his home in the Wildwoods.

When they had asked him if there was anything they could get for him to add to his room, he'd been caught flat-footed - this room would have been fit for the greatest kings of Sparta, and they asked him if there was more he desired?

In the end, all he'd requested was something to hang his axe from, and Da Vinci had provided him with an ornate hook before the day's end, rather than the simple nail he'd been expecting. He'd not been surprised that the item in question had been artistically detailed to match the patterns that Brok and Sindri had worked into the Leviathan Axe. Master smiths, for all that she had protested that she was more than 'just' a smith, seemed to be filled with unique personalities whether they were dwarves, or Servants.

Truthfully, it was a drop of familiarity in an ocean of strange new experiences.

To their credit, they'd never once been condescending or mocking in explaining things to him - their patience seemed to be bottomless. That it was frequently either Da Vinci or Mash who was tasked with explaining things to him likely helped. Da Vinci seemed to love boasting about the wonders of the current civilization nearly as much as she loved boasting about herself. And Mash….the girl was easily one of the kindest people Kratos had ever met in his life.

His son would have liked her, if he ever had the chance to meet the violet-haired girl.

Kratos hung his axe on the wall and considered. The hot water of the shower called to him after his time spent in training in the incredible room they possessed that could create any environment, any place, but he just felt…..spent.

He could wash himself off in the morning. What he wanted right now was time to rest, and to process everything.

Quickly shedding his armor, he climbed into the room's bed (Soft, impossibly soft.), and laid his head down (the pillow was akin to a cloud), mind full to bursting with everything that had occurred in the past week.

He recalled being led about the building, Mash pointing out different areas, explaining their function to the two men trailing in her wake. Through the windows that lined the hallways, Kratos had taken note of the bleak, frozen terrain that seemed to surround Chaldea - it put him in mind of Fimbulwinter. At the conclusion of the journey, she had led them to a pair of rooms she said had been allocated for their use.

Cu had been quick to retire for the evening, saying after the day he'd had he needed some rest, but the man had seemed oddly pensive, as if something had been on his mind. Mash had led Kratos through the features of his quarters, patiently explaining the functions of the various devices contained within the room, then pointed out her own quarters, placed just a few doors down from his, and offered to answer any questions or handle any issues he should encounter during the evening. Then she had departed, wishing him pleasant dreams.

Kratos may or may not have spent more time than necessary under the pounding, hot water of the shower that evening, letting the hot water wash away the hardship of the past few days, and postpone the looming uncertainty that hovered over the Spartan.

That night, at least, the nightmares that often plagued him had not put in an appearance.

The chime of his door's alert had woken him the next morning, Mash having arrived to escort him to the day's business.

The start of a very busy day for him had started in the medical area, where, Doctor Romani had quickly, efficiently broken the Contract between Mash and the sleeping Fujimaru, and, with a quick clasping of wrists, Kratos had taken up the burden of the command of another person.

He didn't like it, his skin still crawled at the level of power he had over the two who had chosen to bind themselves to him, but it would be far from the first time he had been forced to swallow his disgust for the sake of victory in war.

At least the responsibility of using this power resided with him and him alone. He was no longer the same person he had been, even a mere three years ago. Always, there was the memory of Atreus and their promise to Be Better, to be the gods they chose to be.

He had to believe that he could be better.

While he had been in medical, he had been subjected to a barrage of tests Romani had insisted were necessary for him to travel into the past. Something about needing to know what his biological data was in order to confirm his existence.

That is where the first issue had reared its head.

"Wait, this reading….is that a curse?" Romani blinked his eyes owlishly at the screen of the device that was displaying whatever information he had obtained from his latest inspection of the scowling man, whose patience with the whole ordeal was starting to run out.

Kratos had, flatly, refused to wear the flimsy blue cloth that Romani had said was standard garb for a patient in these times. For the sake of the onlookers (mainly Mash, who had turned a bright red as the Spartan had started to disrobe, and had hurriedly turned to cover Fujimaru's eyes - Kratos was uncertain of the practicality of the action, as the girl was still deeply asleep, but it was…..endearing, in a way), the cloth was draped over his waist, preserving his modesty, not that Spartans had much in the way of such - not after the Agoge, but was otherwise devoid of any of his armor or clothes.

A fact that the medical staff, at least the female contingent, but at least one of the men, was very appreciative of, not that Kratos took any notice of this fact.

"Did you pick this up in Fuyuki somewhere and we just didn't notice?" Romani gave a frustrated noise. "As if we didn't have enough on our plates as is. We'll have to get one of our curse breakers to take a look at…."

"NO."

The single word carried enough force to shake the room. The blood drained from Romani's face, while the medical staff who had been not so subtly ogling Kratos took an involuntary step back. Even Mash, who had been holding Fujimaru's hand and chattering to her friend, looked frightened.

With visible effort, Kratos reigned in his temper. "I have borne this curse for most of my lifetime. It does not hinder my efforts in battle, and does not cause me any physical harm. You will NOT break it." He heaved a breath, getting his breathing under control. When he continued, his voice was softer. "I MUST bear this curse. It is my…..penance."

Though he could tell they had been curious, Romani hadn't pressed, and the rest of his time in medical had passed quickly. Kratos had barely noticed, part of him wondering about a life without the curse he had carried since that horrible day so long ago.

Not that it mattered, in the end. He had meant what he had said. He would carry this curse until his days came to an end.

Once he had been given a 'clean bill of health' from Romani, and the doctor had all the information he needed to ensure Kratos could travel back in time, the next stop had a room Kratos had been intending on visiting on his own at some point in the future, the room Mash had said was used for training one's body.

Romani had had to shoo the lone occupant from the room, a dark-haired, muscular man with a beard almost as impressive as Kratos' own - Kratos believed it to be the 'Jay' who Romani had singled out upon his initial arrival in Chaldea.

The man had seemed ready to quarrel with Romani, until he took in who was looming behind the doctor - at which point he had quickly departed, muttering something about 'doubling my workout to max those gains, got to match that specimen'.

Whatever in Tartarus that meant.

Once the room was theirs, it had been another series of tests, but ones more geared to his nature - tests of his fitness and strength. Those he had enjoyed more than being poked and prodded by the Doctor, necessary as that had been. Some of the machines they had crafted for the purposes of training the body were ingenious in their design. The only disappointment was that none of the machines could truly test him, something that had vexed Romani as well.

That was when Kratos had been properly introduced to the Simulator.

"What do you mean that's the maximum we can do?" asked Romani

The small, blonde haired woman gave a frustrated sigh from her seat at the controls of the Simulator. "I mean that you know perfectly well how precarious the power situation is for the base with all the damage we STILL haven't repaired yet. The Simulator was always non-essential systems, so there's only so much of the grid we can tap right now, particularly with all the coffins getting priority, given that they're set to cryostasis mode."

The hologram of Tanya gestured at Kratos, who was effortlessly holding up a massive block of stone. "And just look at him! That block is currently set at 10 tons, and he clean and jerked it like it was nothing, and isn't even breaking a sweat holding it up for…" she checked a timer. "10 minutes now. I think you're just going to have to write down a 'YES' for his strength and go with that for now."

Romani groaned.

Needless to say, he had passed the physical exam with ease, not that there had ever been any question of such. Romani had finished their time together with a barrage of questions.

Do you need to sleep? How much sleep do you need? Do you need to eat?

And other questions of that ilk, all of which had their roots in the fact that humanity had not seen a living god in centuries, and what little they knew was shrouded in myth, so any information Kratos could give Romani could make sure they didn't somehow harm Kratos with their assumptions as to his needs, and could make sure he was in as peak condition as they could manage.

In that, Kratos was little different from a man. He ate, he slept, he did all the other things a man could do. He could just go without for much, much longer than a mortal. Treat him like a man, and he would be fine, was what Romani eventually grasped.

When the conversation had turned to Banes - anything he might be conceptually weak against, to levels from annoying to lethal (Baldur, mistletoe, whispered his mind), Kratos had grown, not wary, but cautious.

On the one hand, desiring that knowledge could have the obvious answer of them not wanting to accidentally kill their powerful new ally through something avoidable. On the other, it could easily be seen as them gathering ways to keep Kratos in check.

He supposed he couldn't blame them too much - both Olga Marie and Cu had ranted at length about the paranoia of Mages. But it still rankled, if that was truly their aim in the interrogation Kratos had been put through.

He had given his word to aid them, after all.

In the end, it was moot. Kratos had no such weaknesses as had Baldur or Achilles. If Romani had been displeased by that fact, it had not shown on his face.

It was at that point, as they were wrapping up, that Da Vinci barged her way into the Simulator and began berating Romani about skipping meals, and had ended up dragging the doctor off by his ear, explaining that he was going to sit down, eat a meal, and not think about work for 30 minutes, or ELSE. The sheer menace she had put into that threat had quickly silenced Romani's protests, and he meekly allowed himself to be herded off to the cafeteria.

Then, as she was leaving, Da Vinci had turned to Kratos and cheerfully asked him if he would care to join them, the ire she had been directing at the doctor having vanished in the blink of an eye.

In his bed, his mind starting to become fuzzy as sleep crept up on him, Kratos allowed himself a small half-smile.

If this far future was awash in things so alien to him to, at times, be almost incomprehensible, the food, at least, was a revelation.

He had tagged along in Da Vinci's wake, Mash bringing up the rear, because he WAS hungry - though he would admit, to himself, at a small spark of curiosity at what food looked like in this distant age. Mash had been pleased when she had seen what the dining area had been offering that evening - some kind of bread, thinner than a loaf and circular, and covered with cheese, meats, and vegetables.

It was apparently a comfort food for many in these times, and with the losses Chaldea had taken, it was being served for that function, to help ease the pain that many were feeling with a taste of something beloved.

It was cut into triangular pieces, fit to be eaten with hands, though some in the dining area had been using knife and fork to cut into theirs. Kratos had simply seized a greasy 'slice' (as Mash had explained the terminology for one of the pieces), and taken a bite.

It was delicious.

And better yet, some varieties of this 'pizza' had olives.

He had missed olives.

Da Vinci had happily spent the evening's meal babbling away at Kratos, as she explained the origin of the dish - which was from a land near to Greece, of all things, as well as some of the ingredients - the sauce was apparently made from a vegetable called a 'tomato', which had its origins in a landmass across a great ocean from the two lands he had made his homes in - while simultaneously shooting glares at Romani that Kratos found oddly familiar.

He had seen a similar look when Faye had been trying to get a much younger Atreus to finish his meals. Romani's somewhat reddish hair only added to the similarity, for all that Da Vinci looked nothing like Kratos' departed wife.

It seemed that some things were universal no matter the age, and no matter the age of the 'children' in question.

Kratos indulged in anything rarely - it flew in the face of the discipline that had been beaten into him from the moment he could walk (discipline that he had abandoned for many years after his family's death, and only regained when he looked around at Greece and saw nothing but a blasted wasteland, and realized how far from a Spartan warrior he had fallen), but that night, he had eaten well, and had felt pleasantly full for the first time in ages.

After making sure that Romani had eaten to her satisfaction, she had let the man scurry off to continue overworking himself (her words, not his), and had let Kratos know he had the rest of the evening free to do with as he pleased, something that left him wrong-footed.

How long had it been since he'd had any time to himself? His time in the Wildwoods had been heavily consumed with hunting for food to provide for his family, or upkeep of the fences and buildings that defined the boundaries of their lands. Baldur's arrival on his doorstep, and the frigid winter that had followed had required even more time spent to acquire food, as the increasing cold had made game harder and harder to find. What time was left over had been spent training Atreus for a war he hoped to avoid, but felt in his bones was coming.

Even the few months post-Ragnarök had seen little respite for Kratos, as his reputation as an outsider had seen all manner of folk arriving at his door, asking him to arbitrate this dispute or that quarrel.

Truly, he did not know what to do with himself at Da Vinci's announcement.

The woman had clearly learned to read Kratos' limited body language better than he had guessed in the short time they had spent together, as she had suggested that if he wanted, there was still a great deal of repairs that Chaldea needed, and another pair of hands, divine or not, would certainly be appreciated.

So it was that Kratos spent the remainder of his evening clearing rubble from the damaged command room of Chaldea. Some of the workers had been surprised to see him there, and more than a few had been uneasy with his presence (Romani had, earlier in the day, informed Kratos that he had disclosed his divine status to Chaldea's staff - and the measures he had taken to ensure that this never made it's way beyond the walls of Chaldea), but that unease had quickly lessened when Kratos' strength had made the rubble vanish as if time itself had been sped up.

The man Jay had been among those who had been hauling rubble - and had been consistently baffled by the sheer amount of weight Kratos could handle at a time. More than once, he had been reprimanded by those in charge of the repair and cleanup efforts for attempting to lift chunks of stone well beyond his capabilities, as Kratos had strode by, easily handling a shard several times the Spartan's size.

When Kratos had retired for the evening, it had been with a full belly, and the welcome feeling of having accomplished something notable during the day's passage - something that didn't involve fighting or killing, for once.

The next day, his education had begun.

Kratos stared at the shimmering globe before him, silent as it slowly spun on its axis. "This…..this is our world?"

"Yep!" chirped Da Vinci. "Good old Earth, still spinning on through the void after all these years." She reached out and touched the globe, halting its spin,and expanded the size of the image, halting the rotation on an area slightly to the east of a strip of land that was shaped like a boot, of all things. "And this area, right here, is Greece, or at least, Greece with the borders it claims today."

For a long moment, Kratos said nothing, just stared at the flickering map, a myriad of emotions, she was sure, running through his head. When he finally spoke, his voice was the softest she had ever heard it. "Greece still lives?"

And wasn't THAT a lot to unpack - sure, numerous cities and empires had fallen over the ages, with not a trace of them left in the current day and age - try finding someone who recognized Uruk's sovereignty, for instance - but somehow, she got the feeling that he didn't mean 'lives' in the sense that Greece still existed as a nation, but something a heck of a lot more final.

Something, she supposed, had to have driven him from his homelands and forced him to settle in whatever part of the Nordic countries made up his Midgard.

"Yes, it's still around," she replied, trying to keep the….whatever the heck that had been in the man's voice from dragging the mood down too much. "It's been having its problems lately, their economy is in utter shambles, and has been for a bit, but there's some hope of recovery these days."

She smiled. "Interestingly enough, that peninsula shaped like a boot next to Greece? That's Italy, my stomping grounds when I was alive. That makes us neighbors, of a sort, or Mediterranean Sea buddies."

She couldn't help it. The completely befuddled look he had turned on her had made her laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

From that point on, his mornings had been spent learning. Learning about the various 'technologies' that were an everyday part of life in these times - and of a more relevant bent, would be used when they discovered the next Singularity. Learning of the society of Mages he found himself entangled within. And learning of history. So much history.

Two wars so massive, so all-encompassing that they had been called 'World Wars' for the sheer scale of the conflict, and the number of nations involved. He recalled how some had thought the Persian invasion of his lifetime to be the greatest conflict the world would ever see, when King Leonidas and his chosen had marched off to Thermopylae.

It now seemed like a mere skirmish compared to some of the mere battles from those wars, much less the entire conflicts themselves. One such invasion, he had been told, had yet to be surpassed in sheer logistics or number of soldiers involved - even Da Vinci had spoken with a bit of awe when she had told him of D-Day.

Was it any wonder his head felt full to bursting by the time his day drew to a close?

Mimir would have loved every moment of it. And would have loved Da Vinci as well - though some part of Kratos feared what he would be unleashing upon the world should the self-proclaimed 'Smartest Man Alive' ever met the also self-proclaimed 'Universal Genius'.

Another period of his day was spent, of his own volition, attempting to learn the common tongue of these lands. While Freya's enchanted bracelet allowed him to communicate with the members of Chaldea, it did nothing for the written language they used. And it was not impervious to harm - a powerful foe, or a simple bad turn of luck could see it destroyed, and Kratos unable to communicate with his allies.

The bracelet, in the end, was a tool, the same as his weapons. It could be stolen or destroyed. His ability to speak the language in use at Chaldea, earned through time and effort, could not. It was the same reason he had taken pains to learn how to read the Midgardian language over Fimbulwinter - he could not continue to depend on his son and Mimir to read the runes for him.

Learning the language would also eliminate the need for all of the signs in Chaldea to be decorated with the little yellow squares of paper that could be stuck to surfaces, with the runic script of Midgard written on them. Cu Chulainn had apparently been responsible for that, spending a portion of the previous day running about Chaldea and affixing the yellow translations to every sign in the building. A task he had apparently enjoyed greatly, having Da Vinci record his time for each section, then attempting to do the next section even faster.

As Da Vinci was too busy to devote a full portion of her day to Kratos, Mash was his teacher for the language, spending time after the mid-day meal they called 'lunch' instructing Kratos in the tongue. It was slow going, as of yet, for Kratos had never had a head for languages. It had taken some time before Faye's instructions of the Midgardian language had borne fruit, and while his son had had an easier time in teaching Kratos the runes, he had already been fluent in the tongue when he had started. He had no such base to build from this time.

Still, he was making progress, slowly but steadily.

After the evening meal, his time was his own, or would have been, if not for a request made of him at the end of his first language lesson.

"Mr. Kratos?"

Kratos glanced back at his teacher, who had spoken up just as he had been rising from his seat at the conclusion of his lesson. Mash fidgeted for a moment, before finding her nerve. "Could I….ask you something?"

Kratos nodded, wondering what question the girl had for him, and why it made her so nervous. He had been expecting some inquiry about his past - both Mimir and his son were fond of those. Mash, however, had something else in mind.

"Would…..would you teach me how to fight?"

Kratos blinked. Taking his lack of outright rejection as grounds to continue, she barreled forward. "I know HOW to fight, sort of. Whatever Servant was bonded to me gives me the reflexes and instincts to let me know what to do…..but they're not me. Not….not MINE." She huffed out a breath, her cheeks extended out. "At times I almost feel like I'm tripping over myself, my body feels like it knows what to do, but my mind can't catch up, or can't make sense of the signals it's getting."

Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper. "It's why I froze up and got Senpai hurt…..I just didn't know what to DO, and…." She began to sniffle, as tears gathered in her eyes.

A massive hand laid itself on her shoulder, and Mash looked up through watery eyes at Kratos. "One's first time in combat is seldom easy. My own son fared little better than you, the first time he was forced to fight for his life." So badly, in fact, that Kratos had been willing to postpone his wife's final request until Atreus was more prepared for the journey. If not for Baldur showing up on their doorstep, they might yet still be in that cabin, Faye's request still unfulfilled.

"I will not teach you as I was. The way I learned was…unforgiving. Unforgiving, and cruel. I would not teach my own son that way, and neither would I do to you what was done to me. But if you would learn, I can teach you what I know of combat."

He raised a finger. "But be warned, even if I am not teaching you in the manner I was taught, it will not be easy. I WILL push you to your limits, and beyond. Do not ask this of me if you are not willing to commit to it."

Mash beamed up at him, her tears forgotten. "I promise, I won't let you down!"

And so, now his evenings were spent training Mash.

From the first spar it had been clear the girl hadn't been exaggerating, there was something of a style in how she fought with her enormous shield, but her instincts and reactions were a jumbled mess. And while a shield as a primary weapon was not strictly speaking something he was familiar with, the first tools of war he had learned had been spear and shield together - and the shields of a Spartan warrior were of comparable size to Mash's, though obviously, smaller.

So there was enough overlap in his training to at least impart some knowledge to Mash.

The first evening had been spent mainly taking stock of what he had to work with. Much as he had done with Atreus in their first hunt together, he had tested the girl's knowledge and abilities, and used his observations to build a plan to correct the flaws he noticed. And, as with his son, the flaws were many.

(He had been planning on training Atreus, when the boy proved he was not yet ready for the journey to the highest peak in the Realms, but, as with many things in Kratos' life, his hand had been forced.)

The second evening, they had begun to draw a crowd of onlookers. Given the men and women of Chaldea had been told of his divinity, he assumed most were simply curious to see him in action, as it were. Tanya had mentioned during the evening meal that rumors of the physical test Romani had put him through had already circulated through the base, and were growing ever more outlandish by the hour.

So long as they kept to themselves, and didn't disturb the lesson, he cared not about their presence.

His taking of Mash as a student had two outcomes, neither of which, had he given them the time to consider, were all that unexpected.

"Kratos?" Da Vinci looked up from her tea (something called 'English Breakfast' today, a darker blend that put him slightly in the mind of the Black Broth of his homeland, even if the taste was in no way similar). "A word?"

At his grunt, she continued. "I've no objections to you training Mash, per se. I've reviewed the footage of the Fuyuki Singularity, and the girl desperately needs it. She's not a legendary hero from the past who lived a life of blood and death like Cu Chulainn, just a girl who's never had a cross word to say about anyone in her life, with a Servant bonded to her, and thrown into a battle beyond anything humanity's ever seen. Anything you can do to help her stay alive is appreciated."

The woman steepled her fingers. "Just, be careful with Mash. I came along well after the Demi-Servant experiments had been abandoned as a failure, and most everyone had lost interest in Mash. Romani and I practically raised the girl, between the two of us - God knows the researchers, magical or not, couldn't be bothered to see her as anything other than a tool, or an experiment."

Da Vinci's eyes hardened, as she stared across the table at Kratos. "She's a very special girl - so if your training turns her into something she's not, I will be VERY displeased with you."

She held up her hand, forestalling his response. "She told me what you said about your son, how you wouldn't train him in the fashion you were trained, and the same held for her. And from what you've said about your boy, he sounds like a kid you should be very, very proud of. So I don't think you're looking to turn Mash into some sort of emotionless killing machine."

She sighed. "I'm just very, VERY protective of the girl, so I don't want there to be any misunderstandings between us. You've been nothing but trustworthy so far, and I know, much as I wish otherwise, Mash is going to change a lot over the course of this fight. And some of it isn't going to be for the better. She's going to get hurt, she's going to see horrible things, she's going to lose even more people than she already has. And while I wish I could shield her from that, there's nothing I can do about it."

She smiled sunnily at Kratos. "So, if you do anything to deliberately damage that girl's innocence, I will do everything in my power to make your life a LIVING HELL." She tilted her head slightly, still wearing that bright smile. "Capiche?"

For a moment, it had been like standing across Freya over the still body of her son. Kratos had nodded, understanding the warning for what it was.

And truthfully, had he been forced to entrust his son to another, he would have delivered one of his own, though less…..verbose.

At least Da Vinci was wiser, in her own way, than Freya. Both women wanted to protect their children from the harms of the world, but where Freya had driven her son away with her overprotectiveness, Da Vinci at least realized she couldn't shield Mash from the world forever, and accepted the sad reality of their situation, even if she didn't like it.

It had nearly torn Kratos in two to let his son leave after Ragnarök, but he knew, deep down, that he had to let the boy go, for now.

While Da Vinci's reaction to Kratos training Mash should not have, in hindsight, surprised him at all, he shouldn't have even needed a mind to realize that once he heard Kratos was training, Cu Chulainn would show up, demanding a spar.

Cu took gasping breaths as he lay on the simulated dirt floor of the Simulator. "You are something else, you know that? Gods, WHY wasn't I summoned as a Lancer?" He kicked his arms and legs in the air, looking for all the world like a child throwing a tantrum. "Best fight I've had since my teacher, and I can't even cut loose properly, because I'm a stupid Caster. No justice in this world, I tell you, no justice at all!"

Frankly, Kratos wasn't sure why the Irish Servant was being so hard on himself. The contest had been closer than it had appeared. For all that Kratos had appeared to hold an advantage most of the fight, Cu was devastatingly quick, and had no compunctions against fighting dirty. It had taken Kratos much, much longer than he had anticipated to win the contest, even with the Caster only using a few of his magical tricks, so as to not damage the Simulator.

It was only a single fight, but Kratos could see why the man was considered his land's equivalent of Heracles - he was quite a warrior.

Their little contest had gotten quite a reaction from the handful of onlookers, to the point that their applause was only just dying down. Even Mash, who had been running through the forms he had instructed her on had paused to watch. Kratos looked over to the girl, and narrowed his eyes slightly. With a flush and an 'eep', Mash resumed her training, shield again cutting through the air.

Still lying prone, Cu began laughing, hearty belly laughs. Arching his back, he sprang up from the ground, agilely landing on his feet. "I can't tell you how much I needed that. After weeks in that city playing hide and seek with Saber and her twisted little minions, taking care to pick my fights and always being careful - thanks Kirei, you rat bastard - it feels so fucking good to just be able to cut loose like that." He stretched, popping his neck and rolling his shoulders. "Anytime you want to do that again, I am MORE than game. Man needs to fight like that to keep the rust off, and get the blood moving."

Kratos gave a grunt and a half-nod, himself not opposed to the idea. Sparring with Cu Chulainn was certainly more enjoyable than some of the other contests he had found himself in over his lifetime. Worlds better than dealing with History's Greatest Musician again, at any rate.

For a bit, there was silence, as they both watched Mash run through her exercises. It was, of course, Cu who broke the silence.

"Girl's not half bad." His hand had reached up to cup his chin as he observed. "Raw as hell, but given she's been fighting for less than a week, that's to be expected. She's got potential - though some of that's obviously whatever Servant they managed to bond to her." He glanced over to Kratos. "Still no clue on who that Servant is, I take it?"

Kratos huffed a noise of displeasure. "No. She says it feels as if the Servant within her handed her its powers, then vanished. And it seems to have no desire to communicate with her."

Cu's face pulled into a frown. "Well that's damnably vexing. Knowing who she was bonded with would make training her a heck of a lot easier. And you'd think with a weapon as distinctive as that shield of hers, the list of of who it could be would be pretty damn short, but I can't recall running into anyone on the Throne with a shield like that." He shrugged. "Throne's a big place, though, so it's possible I missed them, but even then, I never heard anyone even mention a weapon like that in passing."

"And I'll tell you what else, that Servant in her has to know the situation we're in. Incineration of Humanity, dire threat, blah blah blah. Our backs are against the wall like that, and it still chooses to clam up and make our lives even harder." He spat to the side. "Doesn't reflect very well on them, in my opinion. Even that jerk of an Archer would be more of a team player - and doesn't it gall me to have to say that."

Kratos couldn't help but agree. "So long as it does not hinder her, we shall have to make do. One marches with the army they have, not the army they want." Frankly, if he was wishing, he would happily take an enōmotiai of Spartan soldiers, but wishing was a largely fruitless exercise. He had what he had, and would make do with that.

"On a lighter subject, think I could take that spear of yours for a spin?"

Kratos blinked. He supposed he saw no harm in it, though the request had been unexpected, to say the least. Silently, he withdrew the ring from his finger, and handed it over to the Servant.

Eagerly, Cu slipped the ring on his finger, and within moments, was running through a routine with Draupnir that was almost like a dance - much more athletic and showy than the Spartan spear drills - but there was an underlying savagery in the movements that belied the almost graceful movements of the weapon.

Mash had once again paused her exercises to stare in awe at the Caster, and Kratos couldn't blame her too much. The man was very, very good. As the spectators watched, Cu left his feet, and somehow delivered five strikes in the blink of an eye, and then brought the spear crashing into the ground, using it to vault himself forward, Draupnir stabbing forward at approximately torso-level.

Honestly, if the man was as fast as he boasted as a Lancer, he would be a truly terrifying foe. He wielded a spear like he had been born with it in his hands.

Cu put Draupnir through a few more routines before he stopped, idly spinning the spear through the air in one hand, before rolling it across his neck and continuing to spin the spear with his other hand, giving a low whistle. "That is one heck of a spear you've got here, Kratos. My compliments to whoever forged it, they certainly knew what they were doing. Doesn't hold a candle to my Gáe Bolg, but nothing compares to that spear - at least not for me."

He caught the spear, halting its spin, then hurled it across the room into a tree, then grinned like a child as Draupnir reformed in his hand. "And I've got to say I LOVE this little trick. My Gáe Bolg will come back to my hands like your axe does, but this is a bunch quicker. Also makes it real hard to disarm you without taking your whole hand off. I mean, you could take just the finger off, but we both know how hard that would be to do in the middle of a good scrap."

He slammed the spear down, watching as the replica embedded in the tree detonated, shredding the bark. "Yep. This is easily the second-best…" He paused, head tilted back, almost as if he was listening to something only he could hear. "Maaaaaybe third-best spear I've ever handled."

He shook his head, as he handed the ring back to Kratos. "Nah, second-best. But there's no way I'd ever say another spear was better than my baby."

Cu was now a regular feature at the nightly training sessions, even at times giving Mash a bit of advice, though he admitted to having done very little with a shield in his lifetime. He and Kratos sparred regularly, and from what he had heard, there were even wagers being placed on their contests.

On the one hand, he wasn't sure he liked being a spectacle for Chaldea's workers. On the other, he was well aware of how tenuous morale was around the building. If watching two men fight helped keep it up, it would be far from the most objectionable thing he had ever done in the course of a war. And he did agree with Cu, it was enjoyable to have a competent partner to spar with. He even loaned Draupnir out to the man from time to time, to fight him in a state closer to what he claimed was his ideal class.

He was certainly much more difficult to defeat when he had a proper spear in his hands - he took brutal advantage of having a greater reach than Kratos' axe, even if his speed at times couldn't keep up with the maneuvers he wanted to pull with the spear.

A blushing Mash had even asked if she could take a turn with the spear, which he had allowed, if only to see if she would be better served using a more traditional weapon alongside her shield. She had not been, the prenatural skill she displayed seemed to be limited to her shield alone - she had said the spear had felt 'wrong' in her hands, like she was actively fighting herself when she tried to wield it.

It hadn't prevented the girl from having a bit of fun with the weapon, yelling something about 'dining in hell tonight!' as she had awkwardly thrust the spear at imaginary foes.

It was with those thoughts that Kratos drifted off to sleep.

It was a loud, shrill noise that woke him, sometime later.

Kratos did not recognize the sound, but as a soldier who had seen his share of wars, he knew an alarm when he heard it. He was up, axe in his hand before he was fully awake. He was out the door a moment later.

The cool, white lighting of Chaldea was an angry red, the lights flashing as the alarm blared. Almost as soon as Kratos stepped into the hallway, Cu materialized at his side.

"Shit! We under attack?" His head darted about, looking for enemies.

Kratos was spared having to yell his ignorance over the alarm by another voice cutting through the cacophony. "Mr. Kratos!" shouted Mash as she rushed from her room, her Servant armor forming around her. On her wrist, he could see the projected image of Da Vinci. "It's the summoning chamber! We need to get there right now!"

Kratos, still not completely familiar with the layout of the building, let her take the lead, thundering in her wake as she rushed deeper into the facility.

The summoning room. Aside from the command room, it had been the second most heavily damaged area of Chaldea, or so Da Vinci had told him. Lev had apparently planted a great number of explosives there, not to kill, as with his sabotage of the command area, but to prevent Chaldea from summoning any Servants as reinforcements, in the event the decapitating strike failed to completely cripple them. It had only just been restored to functionality a few hours ago, or so Da Vinci had told him when he had dismissed Mash from that evening's training.

Not a room Kratos ever planned on visiting, either, given his distaste on commanding Servants, much less summoning one.

Mash led them true, and they arrived at the room within minutes, the door hissing open at their approach. Inside, a worried looking Da Vinci was frantically typing away on the controls of what Kratos assumed was the device that controlled the operations of the summoning chamber. A disheveled Romani, dressed only a pair of pants that were likely what he had been sleeping in, was staring into the chamber itself, his face bloodless.

"Romani!" bellowed Kratos, his voice cutting through the whine of the alarm. "What is happening?"

Romani started, so fixated on the summoning chamber that he hadn't noticed the trio barging into the room. "It just activated on its own! There was no one in here, the power wasn't even hooked up, but then…." He gestured aimlessly. "...suddenly, full power, and the summoning system is powered up and online. Da Vinci's been trying to shut it down, but…."

"I'm locked out! HOW AM I LOCKED OUT?" shrieked Da Vinci. "None of my backdoors are working, either? This shouldn't be POSSIBLE!"

Her eyes locked onto something on the monitor, and a touch of fear cracked her normally unflappable visage. "Something's coming through!"

The words sent a chill of fear down the spines of everyone in the room. "The three of you get in there!" barked Romani. "If we're about to have guests, I want you three to make sure they're friendly. Da Vinci, you keep trying to shut this thing down! If you can't, then back them up if it looks like we're about to repel invaders!"

The three of them were in the chamber itself a second later, Mash in the middle, Cu and Kratos flanking her, all of them whipcord tense.

The chamber shook violently, lightning (electricity, the word was electricity, for this lightning tamed by humans and used to power these buildings) sparking from the ceiling to the floor. As they watched, 10 white orbs formed in a circle around the center of the chamber. They hovered there for a moment, innocuously, before each turned blood red, and burst into crackling flames. They began to spin in a circle, slowly at first, then faster and faster, until they were a blur.

It was faint, at first, impossible to notice over the blaring alarm, the rumbling of the chamber, and the hissing flames, but it became louder, more noticeable as the circle of flame leapt higher and higher.

It was the sound of tearing, of something sharp piercing through, and shredding.

Five pairs of eyes watched as, in the ring of fire, something tore a rip in reality itself, and a blue, shimmering void appeared. The tear remained open but a second, before something fell through, hitting the ground with a metallic clunk, and the sound of rattling chains.

Two blades, about the size of a short sword, wickedly jagged, with a long length of chain attached to each.

Kratos felt his heart fall into his stomach.

And then he heard laughter. Ghostly, unearthly, laughter.

He turned, blood turning to ice, but there she was. Standing behind Da Vinci, a look of utter contempt on her face. Ghostly blue, gold motes of light dancing about her ethereal form.

Athena.

"There is NOWHERE you can hide, monster. Run as far as you can, even to a place such as this. You will NEVER be free of us…..of your sins."

Kratos blinked, and then she was gone.

AUTHORS NOTES: The impeccable MadCrona had a bit in his wonderful Timeless Academia where Roman remembers showing a younger Mash 300, and her playing pretend at being Leonidas after that - the scene lives in my head rent free, so the bit with her playing with Draupnir is a bit of homage to that. Absolute respect, MadCrona, you are a hell of a writer.

For all those who were wondering about if Kratos would get his blades, here's your answer. He tried dropping them into the sea, and the things sank the boat he was on, then were waiting next to him on the beach when he woke up. They aren't ABOUT to let a measly thing like being in another universe entirely keep them apart from the one they're bound to.

No idea how long I can keep this writing pace up - I've got the bug BAD, to the point where I dragged my laptop out and was working on this story in between downs of the NFL on Sunday. Less likely to happen this week with a FGO event (and a lotto, to boot) to work on. Just saying, weekly updates - don't get used to them.

You're never going to get Kratos' opinion on pineapple on pizza. Shipping, powerscaling, I'll dip my toe into those arguments. Pineapple on pizza? Not touching that one with a ten foot pole, particularly as my better half and I come down on opposite sides on that, and she knows where I sleep.

Next chapter will likely be the last one before we start Orleans. There might be a short prologue for Orleans to set the table, but we're drawing close, if nothing else, to the first Singularity.