Numerous Draugrs were struck down by Atreus' arrows and the sharp, freezing blows of Kratos' Leviathan Axe, their bodies collapsing into dust and ash.
Yet, the one causing the most visible destruction was not either of them—it was the towering golem that Zelos had summoned.
The creature, made of solid earth and rock, could decimate dozens of Draugrs in a single movement.
With a single gesture from Zelos, it controlled the very ground the Draugrs stood upon, summoning spikes of stone that impaled them, or raising thick walls of rock that crushed them when it rammed them into each other.
At times, it shaped weapons out of boulders, swinging them like hammers to flatten anything that approached.
Still, even with the golem's overwhelming strength, the one who held the highest number of kills was Zelos himself.
His Zoltraak shots were fired with precise control, piercing through rows of Draugrs at once, disintegrating them before they even had the chance to scream. Compared to him, Kratos and Atreus together could barely keep up in numbers.
Every few seconds, another blast of light tore through the undead ranks, vaporizing both their armor and their rotting flesh in an instant.
The more Zelos used the Zoltraak, the more natural it felt to him—its rhythm, its density, and even the way it curved through the air.
His years of experience made him more comfortable with the technique, and with that familiarity came deeper control.
He realized that if he focused enough, he could adjust the Zoltraak's size and intensity—making it as small as a pin or as large as a spear of light.
He could even make it thread through specific targets, hitting each part he intended.
After more than ten minutes of what seemed like a relentless game of extermination, Zelos finally decided to end it.
He gathered energy into his hands, forming a bright, pure light—not one meant to harm the living, but rather to cleanse the unnatural. He whispered softly, his voice steady.
"Turn Undead."
The light expanded, covering the battlefield like a wave. It was a spell Zelos had once copied from the magical arsenal of Konosuba, a technique meant to purify any creature of undead nature regardless of its origin.
The results were immediate. Every Draugr that came into contact with the light disintegrated instantly, reduced to nothing more than faint ashes carried by the wind.
Even when Kratos and Atreus were caught within its range, nothing happened to them, as the spell recognized their living essence.
Once the last flicker of magic settled, Zelos waved his hand, and the golem turned back into pure energy, flowing into a circular seal on the ground before disappearing completely.
He stored it away inside his magic circle, ensuring that he could summon it again in the future without needing to recast the full spell.
Atreus looked at the now-empty battlefield and frowned slightly, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and curiosity. "Couldn't you have done that from the very beginning? Why wait until the end?"
Zelos smiled faintly at his question. "How would you enjoy the adventure without facing the challenges that come with it? Don't you also want to grow stronger on your own?"
Atreus opened his mouth to argue, but before he could say anything further, Kratos spoke in his usual calm yet firm tone. "Enough. Let's continue."
Both Zelos and Atreus nodded, and the three resumed their path deeper into the Wildwood. As they walked, Zelos quickened his pace slightly until he was beside Kratos.
He could feel the quiet disapproval lingering in his father's silence—the same feeling that had been present ever since he began showing parts of his magic.
Zelos knew Kratos disliked secrets, especially from those closest to him.
"Father," Zelos whispered, his tone careful and respectful, "I would like to apologize if you feel offended that I keep certain parts of my magic secret."
Kratos glanced at him briefly, his expression unreadable. "That is not my concern," he replied after a short silence. "It is not the magic itself that troubles me. It simply reminded me of something I wished to forget. It no longer matters."
Zelos nodded. "Even so, I apologize, Father."
Kratos only grunted in response—a short, low sound that meant both acknowledgment and acceptance.
With that, the matter was closed, and the three of them continued walking until they arrived at a mural etched into an ancient stone wall.
"Father," Atreus said as he examined the carving closely, "it says here there's a Giant settlement further up ahead."
Kratos looked at him with mild surprise. "You can read the language of the Giants?"
"Some of it," Atreus replied proudly. "Just what Mother taught me. But the words all connect somehow, so sometimes I can figure out meanings I'm not supposed to know. It's kind of like... guessing, but it feels right, you know?"
Kratos gave a small nod. He turned to Zelos, who also nodded silently. Zelos could read the language fluently, more than that, he could even speak the ancient, obscure tongue used by the World Serpent, knowledge he had gained from Mimir's teachings.
Still, he kept that to himself, not seeing the need to mention it now.
After a few more minutes of walking, they reached what remained of the Giant settlement. It was nothing more than ruins—collapsed walls, half-buried statues, and the remnants of a once-great civilization that had long vanished from Midgard.
The sight wasn't surprising, as all the Giants were gone, save for the World Serpent and two others—one unaware of his true identity, and the other choosing never to speak of it.
The three then began their climb up the mountain. Zelos, now permitted to use his floating magic, ascended easily, his movements smooth and effortless compared to Kratos and Atreus, who relied on their strength and agility to scale the steep rocks.
Along the way, they encountered another group of Draugrs—fewer in number but significantly faster and more coordinated than the previous ones.
The trio dispatched them quickly and continued onward until they reached a narrow bridge overlooking a deep ravine.
Atreus' eyes lit up with excitement when he saw the mountain peak so close ahead. Without thinking, he dashed across the bridge, eager to reach it first.
Zelos, already aware of what would happen, acted before anything could go wrong. He used his magic to stop Atreus mid-step, floating him safely back to their side.
"Careful," Zelos warned, his tone calm. "Not everything is as it seems."
Kratos followed up immediately, his voice low but stern. "Your haste will cost us. Be patient."
Atreus looked down, disappointed, embarrassed that both of them had to correct him at once. Zelos then extended his hand and used his floating magic to carry all three of them across the ravine safely.
But just as they were about to continue forward, Atreus suddenly froze, his face pale.
"Father, Mother's knife—it's missing!" Atreus said, panic in his voice.
Kratos turned toward him. "If it is gone, then it is gone. There is nothing we can do." He began walking forward again, but Atreus refused to listen.
He ran back toward the cliffside, looking down, trying to spot where the knife might have fallen. Zelos stood silently, watching him with mild concern.
"Enough, Atreus. It's lost," Kratos said, but Atreus ignored him. Instead, he did something foolish—he jumped down from the ledge, reaching for the lower cliff.
Zelos reacted instantly, catching him midair with his floating spell and preventing him from falling.
"Let me," Atreus insisted, his voice steady despite his reckless action. "I'll just find Mother's knife."
Zelos looked toward Kratos for guidance. Kratos met his gaze and gave a slow, approving nod. Without a word, Zelos floated both Atreus and Kratos safely down to the bottom of the ravine.
As soon as they landed, Atreus began searching through the rocks and debris, determined to find the knife that meant so much to him—a small yet irreplaceable piece of his mother.
Meanwhile, Zelos' attention wandered to the ruins scattered across the bottom of the ravine. There were remnants of ancient statues and broken pillars, traces of civilizations long forgotten.
The air felt thick, filled with the silent echoes of the past, and Zelos quietly observed it all, his expression unreadable.