Chapter: Shattered Pride
Kratos strode across the dead lands of Vorth'Kael, where the skies boiled crimson and the ground cracked with the bones of ancient battles. His rage burned hotter than ever. But as he approached the broken gates of the forbidden dimension, an ominous horn echoed.
Suddenly, from every direction, an elite army of divine warriors emerged—armored in celestial metal, moving as one. These were not ordinary soldiers. They were forged in the flames of the overpowered gods, created to break even the strongest of titans.
Kratos fought like a god unleashed—blades flying, roars shaking the earth—but it wasn't enough. They were too many. Too fast. Too perfect.
And then... he fell.
Slashed, bloodied, and buried beneath a mountain of divine stone, Kratos was defeated.
A Mysterious Rescue
As the army prepared to strike the final blow, a shockwave erupted from above. The warriors paused—then turned, confused.
From the shadows emerged a young warrior—a strong boy, no older than twenty, with glowing eyes and a massive energy aura surrounding him. With raw speed and power, he launched into the elite army, giving Kratos just enough time.
He couldn't win either—but he fought fiercely, then grabbed Kratos and vanished in a flash of light.
The Awakening
Kratos opened his eyes, aching and furious, lying on a stone altar in a cavern lit by strange blue fire. His wounds were wrapped in ethereal cloth. The boy stood near the fire, his back turned.
Kratos growled, "Who are you?"
The boy turned slowly, his expression calm but focused.
"I'm Kael. A survivor... like you."
Kratos sat up. "Why save me?"
Kael replied, "Because we both want the same thing—vengeance. But you can't win without it."
Kratos narrowed his eyes. "It?"
Kael looked toward the far cavern wall, where a symbol pulsed faintly on the rock.
"The Leviathrax Axe. A weapon older than the gods. It can kill anything—even those seven."
Kratos clenched his fists. "Then where is it?"
Kael's gaze darkened.
"That's the problem. It's locked deep in the Abyss Vault, guarded by the thing even gods fear…
And no one has ever returned from there alive."
Descent into the Abyss Vault
The air grew colder with every step. The sky above was gone—replaced by a swirling void where stars collapsed and light screamed as it was swallowed. Kratos followed Kael down a jagged black path carved through nothingness itself.
Floating rocks drifted by, covered in ancient runes that shimmered like dying embers.
Kratos spoke, his voice a low growl.
"This place… it doesn't belong to the gods."
Kael nodded.
"That's because it was made to hold something… even the gods feared."
At the path's end, a massive gate stood—carved from obsidian, breathing like a living beast. Its surface reflected not the world around it, but twisted versions of Kratos himself. In one reflection, he was consumed by fire. In another, pierced by dozens of spears. In one… he stood alone, weaponless and broken.
Kael stepped forward and pressed his hand to the gate. The reflections vanished.
Suddenly, the ground quaked.
From beneath the gate, a roar thundered out, followed by an enormous shadow crawling from the dark.
A colossal beast, stitched together from dead gods and reality fragments, rose to block their path—its name lost to time. It was the Sentinel of the Abyss.
"We fight together," Kael said.
Kratos pulled out his blades, eyes burning with fury.
"Then we end this fast."
The Sentinel lunged forward, screaming like the end of the world itself.
The colossal Sentinel towered over them, its eyes glowing like burning stars. Its voice echoed through the abyss—a deep, resonant thunder that shook the very air.
"Here comes only who are worthy.
Face me, or turn back forever."
Kael stepped forward, gripping his weapon tighter, but Kratos' gaze never wavered.
"We don't turn back."
The Sentinel's massive limbs shifted, preparing to
Strike
Kratos and Kael charged as one, their weapons clashing against the Sentinel's unyielding flesh and reality-warping strikes. Every blow sent shockwaves rippling through the abyss, every roar from the beast echoed like the end of worlds.
Kratos swung his blades with ferocity, but the Sentinel's armor was forged from shattered gods' bones—impenetrable. Kael's strikes were swift and precise, but even his strength waned against the overwhelming power before them.
They fought until their muscles screamed and their blood soaked the ground. Breath ragged, wounds burning with searing pain, they refused to yield.
But the Sentinel barely faltered.
With a deafening roar, it crushed Kael's weapon and slammed Kratos into the jagged rocks. Both warriors collapsed, exhausted and broken, their last breaths fading.
The Sentinel loomed over them, victorious—for now.
Kratos' eyes flared bright crimson, his entire body engulfed in blazing energy — Spartan Rage surged through his veins like wildfire. His strength multiplied beyond mortal limits, every strike tearing through the very fabric of the Abyss.
He roared with primal fury, swinging his blades in unstoppable arcs, each hit shaking the Sentinel's massive frame.
But the Sentinel was no ordinary foe. It absorbed the blows like a living fortress, its grotesque form regenerating as reality itself bent to its will.
Even Kratos' legendary rage was not enough.
The beast retaliated with a brutal strike that sent Kratos crashing into the abyssal rocks, breathless but unbroken.
Kratos' Spartan Rage blazed like a supernova, each strike exploding against the Sentinel's monstrous flesh. Cracks appeared in the creature's armor — shards of broken reality splintered away.
A deep, pained roar echoed from the beast as it staggered for the first time.
Kael's eyes widened.
"He's hurting it. But it's still far from over."
The Sentinel's movements grew wilder, more desperate—its very existence threatened.
Kratos, panting but fierce, readied for another blow.
"This ends now."
The Sentinel staggered but steadied itself, its massive form looming like a collapsing mountain.
With a voice that rumbled like the foundation of reality, it spoke:
"I was here from eternity past,
guarding the Leviathrax Axe through endless ages.
Now, at last, a worthy challenger arrives."
Its glowing eyes shifted toward Kael.
"And you… Kael, have proven your spirit.
Take this—
The Sentinel's arm shifted, revealing a bow forged of celestial light and shadow.
A legendary bow, forged in the void, capable of piercing any god's armor."
Kael reached out, accepting the weapon with a mix of awe and determination.
Kael held the glowing bow carefully, feeling its immense power hum beneath his fingers. He looked toward Kratos and spoke with reverence.
"Leviathrax—the axe—is no ordinary weapon.
It tears through reality itself. Each strike can rip open dimensions, unmake godly protections, and absorb the power of those it defeats. The more gods you slay, the stronger it grows—almost limitless."
He then raised the bow, its strings shimmering like starlight.
"This bow is the perfect counterpart. It fires arrows that can pierce any armor, even divine shields. It bends shadows and light to cloak its wielder, and can strike from impossible distances. In the hands of a skilled warrior, it's a weapon of unstoppable precision."
Kael's eyes met Kratos'.
"Together, these weapons could change the fate of gods."
Kael's expression grew serious as he lowered the bow and looked at Kratos.
"If the gods decide to fight us bare-handed—without their weapons or powers—we won't stand a chance.
Their strength without magic is still beyond anything we've faced."
He clenched his fists, determination burning in his eyes.
"We have to train—harder than ever before.
Only then will we be ready to face Zyraxa and the others."
Kratos nodded, feeling the weight of the challenge ahead.
This was no longer just a battle of weapons—it was a war of strength, skill, and will.
Mountain of the Hidden Master
The path to strength was brutal.
Kratos and Kael journeyed across scorched plains, freezing winds, and shadowed forests—each step drawing them closer to the sacred mountains where the strongest warrior in all realms was said to dwell.
But the gods knew what they sought.
They sent waves of normal armies—not divine, but countless. Armored soldiers with relentless discipline. Traps hidden beneath the ground. Poisoned arrows from the trees. Still, Kratos's fury and Kael's precision cut a path through them all.
After days of battle and hardship, they finally reached the foot of a towering mountain range wreathed in mist and thunder.
A colossal stone gate blocked the path—and before it stood a towering creature:
A massive, intelligent gorilla—twice Kratos's size—his fur braided with gold rings, his eyes glowing with wisdom and strength.
He pounded the earth with his fists as they approached, shaking the stones beneath their feet.
"Turn back," the gorilla growled.
"No one reaches the master without proving their soul and strength. If you want what lies beyond this gate... you must defeat me first"
The ground trembled as the gorilla stepped forward, his fists like boulders, his chest broad as a mountain wall. He moved with surprising speed—faster than any beast Kratos had faced, and with terrifying precision.
The battle began in a flash.
Kratos lunged first, swinging his blades—but the gorilla caught them mid-air with one hand and hurled Kratos into a cliff, cracking the stone.
Kael fired a flurry of energy arrows from his legendary bow, but the gorilla leapt and dodged with uncanny agility. With one thunderous leap, he landed beside Kael and slammed the ground, knocking him back with a shockwave of raw force.
"You rely on weapons," the gorilla said.
"Here, only willpower and raw strength matter."
Bruised but unyielding, Kratos wiped blood from his mouth and rose to his feet.
"Good," he growled. "Then I can finally use my fists."
The gorilla charged again, fists blazing with sheer brute force, but this time—
Kratos roared, eyes burning red, and his body erupted in a furious storm of rage.
The earth cracked beneath his feet as Spartan Rage surged through him. His muscles expanded, his speed multiplied, and his aura flared like a god of war reborn.
"ENOUGH!" Kratos thundered, slamming his fists into the ground and launching himself at the gorilla with unstoppable momentum.
The first punch hit like a meteor. The gorilla grunted, sliding back for the first time. Kratos didn't let up—he hammered the beast with a flurry of devastating blows, each one causing shockwaves that shattered stone and tore trees from the ground.
But the gorilla was no mere beast. Bleeding and grinning, he caught Kratos mid-attack and headbutted him with tremendous force, sending the God Slayer flying.
Kael shouted, "KRATOS!"
The gorilla stood firm, chest heaving, blood trickling from his lip.
"You… are strong. But not reckless. You held back before. Now I see who you truly are."
Kratos rose slowly, his rage simmering.
"We didn't come to destroy. We came… to learn."
The gorilla smiled, then slowly bowed.
"Then you have passed. Welcome, warriors. The master awaits."
And with that, the giant stone gate creaked open, revealing a long path up the mountain—into the domain of the strongest trainer in existence.
Kratos and Kael stepped through the massive stone gate into a silent courtyard at the mountain's peak. Mist drifted between towering statues of forgotten warriors. At the center stood an old man—frail, hunched, with a long white beard, and eyes like still water.
Kael whispered, "This is the master?"
The old man didn't speak. He simply raised one bony hand… and with a flick of his finger, a powerful shockwave blasted out.
BAM!
Kratos and Kael were launched into the air like leaves in a storm, crashing into the ground with force that cracked the stone beneath them.
The old man finally spoke in a soft, commanding voice:
"Strength is not born in war—it is forged in suffering. And your suffering begins now."
The Training Begins
There was no rest. No food. No mercy.
Each day began with lifting stone towers, running through blade-filled valleys, and climbing walls under a rain of fire. Their bodies screamed, but they never stopped.
Kratos trained with the Leviathrax Axe, learning to open rifts and collapse enemy shields with a single blow. Kael mastered the Legendary Bow, hitting targets beyond sight, bending light to become invisible while moving.
They fought each other, fought illusions, fought spirits of fallen gods conjured by the master. Every time they fell, they got up. Stronger. Harder. Meaner.
Even Kratos grunted one night, resting his back against a boulder.
"This is harder than killing gods."
Kael chuckled.
"But we're becoming something they've never faced before."
And in the shadows, the master watched silently.
"Soon… they'll be ready to face Zyraxa."
The next morning, storm clouds swirled above the mountain. Thunder cracked the sky as Kratos and Kael stood before the master, their bodies already scarred and worn.
The old man's voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Your true training begins now. Ten days. No food. No sleep. No healing. Only pain. Only war. This is the trial that breaks gods."
He raised one hand—and the world around them changed instantly.
They were transported into a pocket dimension, forged by the master's will. A place of chaos and death.
The 10-Day Trial Day 1: They were hunted by monstrous illusions of themselves—every weakness exposed, every mistake punished with brutal precision.
Day 3: The terrain turned into shifting lava fields. Kael's skin blistered. Kratos carried him without hesitation, screaming through the heat.
Day 5: Gravity reversed every hour. They had to fight upside-down, sideways, and falling through the air with enemies from all sides.
Day 7: Time slowed. Every movement felt like lifting mountains. But they fought, every strike deliberate, controlled, precise.
Day 10: The master himself appeared in the realm and fought them both—barehanded. His every move was perfect. His every strike meant death.
And yet—they stood.
Bloody. Bruised. Breathing hard.
But they didn't fall.
The master smiled for the first time.
"You are ready. Now go—slay Zyraxa. And show the gods what true warriors look like"
Path to the Devourer
With their bodies hardened by brutal training and their spirits unshakable, Kratos and Kael descended the mountain, the master's final words echoing in their minds.
"Zyraxa awaits. Show no fear."
As they traveled through the Voidlands—twisted lands scarred by ancient gods—they encountered a strange figure cloaked in black mist, standing beside a flickering campfire beneath a dying tree.
An old Weapon Enchanter.
His eyes glowed with runes, and he spoke in riddles.
"Steel and power mean nothing without purpose. Your weapons still lack... soul."
Kratos growled, untrusting.
"You want to touch my axe?"
The enchanter smiled.
"Let me forge destiny into your blades… or fall with them dull."
Kael stepped forward.
"We risk everything. Do it."
The Enchantments
Leviathrax Axe (Kratos)
The enchanter bound it with flames from the dying stars and frozen tears of the first titan. It could now cut through time-slowed space—striking before an enemy even moves.
Voidpiercer Bow (Kael)
The bow was merged with shadow essence and light from the Abyss Vault. Now its arrows could track divine energy and pierce through dimensional walls.
As the enchanter handed the weapons back, his voice darkened.
"You are no longer just god-killers… you are destiny-shapers."
Kratos gripped the axe.
"Good. Because we're about to face a god who eats reality."
After days of relentless travel through the shattered lands of the Voidlands, Kratos and Kael finally spotted a faint glimmer of refuge—a small, ancient stone hut nestled between jagged cliffs. The air around it was strangely still, untouched by the chaos that surrounded them.
They approached cautiously, weapons at the ready, but found the place empty and safe.
Inside, the hut was sparse but warm, with a dying fire flickering in the hearth and a few bundles of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. For the first time in days, the silence was theirs alone.
Kratos sat heavily against the stone wall, his muscles aching but his mind sharper.
Kael cleaned his bow quietly, eyes scanning the dark outside.
"This calm won't last," Kael said softly.
Kratos nodded.
"Good. We rest now. Fight later."
They shared a brief moment of peace—knowing the battle with Zyraxa would test every ounce of their new strength.
As the night deepened and shadows stretched long across the stone hut, an eerie stillness settled around the refuge.
Unbeknownst to Kratos and Kael, Zyraxa had been watching—waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Without warning, the walls trembled violently as a rift in reality tore open, and Zyraxa emerged like a living nightmare—an immense figure wreathed in dark flames, eyes glowing with devouring hunger.
Before either warrior could draw their weapons, Zyraxa's claws flashed with deadly speed.
In a single brutal strike, Kratos was thrown across the room, crashing against the stone wall.
Kael barely dodged, firing arrows that shattered into black smoke upon impact.
Zyraxa's voice echoed—a low, terrifying growl:
"Fools. You come to die in my hunger."
Kratos struggled to rise, pain ripping through his body.
"This... is just the beginning," he snarled, gripping Leviathrax tighter.
Kael readied his bow, eyes burning with fierce resolve.
Zyraxa's dark flames flickered as he loomed over the battered hut, his voice dripping with cruel amusement.
"I am far beyond your reach—
For now, rest if you must.
Gather your strength, and when you come to me…
I will kill you."
His eyes burned like dying stars, a promise of inevitable doom.
With that, Zyraxa vanished back into the rift, leaving behind a heavy silence—and two warriors aching to face their destiny.
Kratos clenched his fists, whispering,
"Then we will come... stronger than ever."
Kael nodded, steadying his breath.
"And this time, we won't run."
They both were very tired and take the place and rest.