As they passed through the gates of Ericson's Boarding School, the air shifted from oppressive silence to a tension-filled quiet. The compound was clearly fortified, with makeshift barricades and sharpened sticks lining the outer walls. The main building loomed ahead, weathered by time and the harsh realities of this new world. Clementine moved with the grace of someone who had lived through too much for her young age. Her eyes darted to every corner, every shadow, ever alert.
Kratos followed in silence, his broad frame taking in the environment around him. Mimir, as ever, hung at his waist, observing with his usual blend of curiosity and skepticism.
"Not the most welcoming place, is it?" Mimir commented softly. "I sense a great deal of pain in this realm, brother."
Clementine glanced back at Mimir, still visibly unnerved by the talking head but choosing not to dwell on it. "We've survived because we keep it locked down. There are people here—kids, mostly—that I'm trying to keep safe."
"And who keeps you safe?" Kratos asked gruffly, his voice low but commanding.
"I do," Clementine replied, a hard edge to her voice. "No one else is going to."
She led them to the central courtyard, where a few other young faces began to emerge from their hiding spots. Most were wary, eyes wide with suspicion. Kratos could sense the fear in them—it wasn't just of him, but of everything around them. This world had beaten these children down, forced them to grow up too fast.
A boy, tall and in his teens, stepped forward, a bow slung over his shoulder. His eyes were hard, much like Clementine's, but Kratos could see the flicker of youth beneath it all, the part of him that hadn't been completely lost to this apocalypse.
"Who are they?" the boy asked, his gaze fixed on Kratos. "And why did you bring them here?"
Clementine crossed her arms. "They're not from around here, Louis. I don't know how, but they can handle walkers better than anyone I've seen. We could use help. I think they're... different."
Kratos grunted in response, his patience thinning with every passing moment. "We are not here to join your group, girl. We seek answers. There is a power here, one that pulled us from our world to this forsaken land. I need to know how to return."
Clementine studied him for a moment, weighing his words. "I don't know what brought you here, but this world isn't like any you've been in before. The dead don't stay dead, and there's no magic that can fix that. There are only two options—survive or die."
Kratos stared at her, his jaw tightening. "I do not die easily."
Mimir chuckled softly. "Aye, that he does not, lass."
The tension in the air was thick as the children continued to watch from the shadows, uncertain of these new arrivals. Kratos could feel their eyes on him, but they were nothing compared to the legions of enemies he had faced in his past.
Before Clementine could respond, a sound pierced the air—the unmistakable groan of walkers. Kratos tensed immediately, his instincts already anticipating another battle. The children scrambled, some retreating to their posts, others grabbing weapons. Clementine cursed under her breath and ran toward the source of the noise, waving for Kratos to follow.
"Walkers!" she shouted. "They must've followed us back!"
Kratos didn't need to be told twice. His hand was already on the handle of his axe, the familiar weight a comfort in this strange world. He moved with speed and precision, his godly reflexes kicking in as he approached the front gate. The rusted iron doors were rattling under the weight of the undead trying to force their way in. Their grotesque faces pushed against the bars, teeth gnashing hungrily.
Clementine reached the gate first, pulling her machete free. She hacked at a few walkers that had managed to stick their arms through the bars, severing limbs with practiced efficiency. But the walkers kept coming, pressing harder against the gate.
Kratos stepped forward, his face a mask of grim determination. He reached out with one powerful hand, gripping the iron bars. With a single pull, he tore the gate open, sending the walkers tumbling forward in a chaotic heap.
Clementine gasped, both in shock and fear, but Kratos moved quickly. He raised his axe high, and in one swift motion, he brought it down with enough force to cleave through multiple walkers at once. The undead crumpled under his might, their bodies folding like paper before him. He moved with deadly precision, every strike calculated, every blow fatal.
"By the gods, brother," Mimir muttered in awe, "You're making short work of them, aren't you?"
Clementine watched in disbelief as Kratos tore through the horde. She had seen many fighters in her time, but none like this. None who could face walkers head-on and come out unscathed. Kratos didn't just kill walkers—he annihilated them.
The other children, who had been ready to join the fight, stood back, wide-eyed. A few of them, including the boy with the bow, exchanged glances, as if silently agreeing that these newcomers were far more than they had first seemed.
In mere moments, the walkers were reduced to a pile of motionless bodies at Kratos' feet. His chest heaved slightly, more from battle adrenaline than exhaustion. He looked over at Clementine, who was still catching her breath.
"Is this all your world holds?" Kratos asked, his tone cold. "Mindless creatures and endless death?"
Clementine wiped her brow and sheathed her machete, shaking her head slowly. "It's not always like this. But most days... yeah, this is what it looks like."
She glanced at the pile of walkers, then back at Kratos. "You didn't even break a sweat. I've never seen anything like that."
Kratos frowned. "Your creatures are weak. But I sense something darker in this world. Something worse than these corpses."
Clementine nodded solemnly. "Walkers are the least of our problems. It's the people you have to watch out for."
Mimir chimed in, his voice thoughtful. "Aye, lass. The living can be far more dangerous than the dead."
As the group returned to the safety of the compound, Clementine and Kratos walked side by side, a silent understanding passing between them. They were both survivors, shaped by their worlds in different ways, but bound by the same fight.
"I don't know how you got here," Clementine said quietly, "but if you're looking for answers, you're not going to find them easily. This world doesn't care about the strong or the smart. It just… takes."
Kratos looked at her, his face grim. "Then it will take nothing more from me."
As they entered the compound once more, the children looked at Kratos with a mixture of awe and fear. He had proven himself to be a force unlike any they had seen. And while Clementine wasn't sure if he could help them survive, one thing was clear:
Kratos and Mimir had just become the most dangerous people in this world.