CHAPTER 123 — THE GODS WHO CHOSE TO STARVE
The warning reached Midgard at dawn.
It did not come as thunder or prophecy. There was no omen written in fire across the sky. Instead, the sun rose dimmer than it should have, its light pale and cold, as if it had already begun to forget its purpose.
Kratos noticed immediately.
He stood at the edge of the encampment, watching frost creep where warmth should have held. Refugees stirred uneasily behind him—families displaced by vanishing rivers, hunters whose prey had thinned overnight, children who woke hungry and stayed that way.
The realms were adapting.
But not fast enough.
Atreus joined him, quiet, shoulders tense. The fracture beneath his skin glowed faintly, steady but alert, like an eye that never fully closed.
"They've chosen," Atreus said.
Kratos did not turn. "Who?"
"The gods who won't change," Atreus replied. "They're gathering power. I can feel it being pulled—concentrated."
Kratos' jaw tightened. "Then they are doing the Hunger's work for it."
Behind them, Tyr approached, his expression grim. "Scouts returned an hour ago," he said. "Vanaheim's outer wilds are sealed. Not by decay—by decree."
Kratos turned sharply. "Explain."
"Gods," Tyr said simply. "Old ones. New ones. They've fortified their domains, hoarded resources, closed passageways. Any realm or settlement that cannot sustain itself… is being abandoned."
Atreus clenched his fists. "They're letting people starve."
"They call it conservation," Tyr replied bitterly.
The Endurance of Worlds materialized beside them, its silver裂 flickering weakly.
"This was anticipated," it said.
"When survival becomes scarce, authority consolidates."
Kratos' voice was low and dangerous. "Names."
Tyr hesitated. "Some you know. Others you don't. But the loudest among them is Elyon."
Atreus' eyes narrowed. "The Warden."
"He's formed a covenant," Tyr continued. "They call themselves the Sustainers. They believe if enough is sacrificed early, the Hunger will pass them over."
Kratos scoffed. "It will consume them last."
The sky darkened suddenly—not with clouds, but with attention. The air tightened, pressure mounting as if the world itself leaned closer to listen.
Atreus felt it instantly.
"It's watching again," he whispered. "The First Hunger."
As if summoned by the thought, a distant section of the horizon folded inward. A hill vanished. No sound followed. No debris. Just absence.
A child screamed in the encampment.
Kratos moved without thinking, lifting the child into his arms, steadying her trembling body. He set her down gently, placing himself between the people and the empty horizon.
"This will not continue," he said.
Tyr met his gaze. "Then you must confront them."
Kratos nodded once. "Gather who will follow."
The Confluence of Gods had once been a place of debate.
Now it was a fortress.
As Kratos approached, Atreus and Tyr at his sides, the air grew dense with layered magic—wards stacked upon wards, each designed to repel outsiders, to filter weakness, to preserve only what the gods deemed worthy.
Atreus winced. "These barriers… they're built on extraction. They're draining the realms around them."
Kratos' eyes burned. "Parasites."
They passed through the final threshold without permission.
The Sustainers awaited them.
Elyon stood at the center, wings folded tightly, armor brighter than before. Around him gathered a dozen gods—some radiant, some shadowed, all hardened by fear and calculation.
Elyon spoke first.
"You bring scarcity with you, Ghost of War."
Kratos' voice echoed across the chamber. "You mistake cause for consequence."
A goddess stepped forward, her form shimmering with restrained power. "We are preserving what remains."
"At the cost of everything else," Atreus snapped.
Elyon's gaze cut to him. "You are the fracture."
Atreus held his ground. "And you are the lie."
The chamber stirred uneasily.
Kratos stepped forward. "You believe hoarding will save you. You believe sacrifice will satisfy the Hunger."
Elyon lifted his spear slightly. "It is logic."
"No," Kratos replied. "It is cowardice."
A murmur rippled through the gathered gods.
Elyon's wings flared. "Careful."
Kratos did not slow. "You have chosen to starve the realms to feel safe. You have chosen control over survival."
A deep, unfamiliar presence brushed the edges of the chamber.
The First Hunger listened.
Atreus felt it clearly now—its attention sliding across the gods like a blade testing edges.
"They don't understand," Atreus said softly. "It's not measuring strength. It's measuring stagnation."
Elyon scoffed. "We evolve by enduring."
"You endure by refusing to change," Kratos said. "That is not evolution."
One of the lesser gods spoke, voice trembling. "If we open our stores… if we share… the Hunger will consume us first."
Kratos turned to him. "It will consume you regardless."
Silence fell.
The Endurance of Worlds manifested fully now, its presence causing several gods to recoil instinctively.
"The Hunger responds to imbalance," it said.
"Your consolidation accelerates decay."
Elyon's eyes widened. "You side with them?"
"I side with continuance," the Endurance replied.
Elyon snarled. "Then you doom us all."
He raised his spear—and the chamber exploded into motion.
Power surged. Wards flared. Gods moved to strike.
Kratos did not draw his blades.
He stood.
The Leviathan Axe slammed into the floor, frost spreading outward—not attacking, but binding. The magic of the chamber stuttered, confused by restraint where destruction was expected.
Atreus raised his hands, threads weaving rapidly—not to bind gods, but to connect them. Lines of silver-gold light spread across the chamber, linking realms, resources, lifelines.
"What are you doing?" Elyon shouted.
Atreus' voice shook—but held. "Showing it movement. Change. Flow."
The fracture burned bright—but controlled.
Outside the chamber, the world reacted.
Rivers rerouted themselves. Forests surged with sudden growth. Trade routes reopened as barriers weakened against their will.
The First Hunger hesitated.
Kratos felt it—an almost imperceptible pause.
Elyon screamed, driving his spear forward—but Tyr intercepted, deflecting the strike just enough to prevent catastrophe.
"Stop!" Tyr roared. "You're feeding it!"
Elyon staggered back, breath ragged, realization dawning too late.
The chamber trembled as a distant void opened—closer than before.
A voice echoed through reality.
Adaptation detected.
Consumption postponed.
The gods froze.
Atreus collapsed to one knee, exhausted. Kratos caught him instantly.
The void receded—but did not vanish.
The First Hunger withdrew… watching.
Elyon dropped his spear.
"What have we done?" he whispered.
Kratos met his gaze.
"You chose to starve the realms," he said. "Now choose to live with the cost."
The Sustainers stood shaken, their certainty broken.
The war had not ended.
But inevitability had been wounded—again.
Far beyond sight, the Hunger recalculated.
And for the first time since before gods—
It questioned its own necessity.