The silence was a fragile thing, stretched thin over the mountaintop. Kratos and Athena stood locked in their standoff, a wordless conversation passing between them—her cool calculation, his raw, battered defiance.
It was broken by the nervous flutter of wings.
"Right then!" Hermes's voice cut through the tension, too bright, too fast. He zipped into the space between them, holding up his hands. "I think we can all agree that was… educational! A clear demonstration of, uh, respective capabilities! So, if we're all done—"
Kratos took a step.
It was just one step, but the effort was monumental. His body was a tapestry of pain, every muscle screaming, every cut burning. The hollow feeling after his defiance was being filled again, not with purpose, but with a familiar, hot darkness. The rage was returning, not as a tool, but as a crutch. It was the only thing he had left that felt like his own.
