Chapter 28 – Beneath the Skin of the World
The darkness closed around them like a living thing. The silence was unbearable—thick, absolute, pressing against the ears until even their own breathing sounded foreign. Kratos rose slowly, the faint blue glow of the Leviathan axe casting jagged shadows on the slick, uneven ground. The air here was dense, cold beyond mortal comprehension, heavy with the scent of old decay.
Atreus staggered to his feet beside him, clutching his bow. "Father… what is this place?"
Kratos scanned the expanse, his eyes narrowing. There was no horizon, no sky—only the endless pulse of faint light within the blackness, as though they stood inside the flesh of something vast. The ground beneath them seemed to ripple slightly when they moved, as if it breathed.
"This is no mere realm," Kratos said finally. "This is beneath Helheim itself."
The boy shuddered. "Beneath it?"
Kratos nodded once. "The roots of its power… the heart of what keeps the Nine bound together." He looked ahead, gaze hardening. "And something is waiting for us."
They walked. Every step sank slightly into the soft ground, a sound like wet earth sucking at their boots. The glow from the axe was their only light, and it flickered as if struggling against some unseen resistance. Around them, faint shapes moved—distortions in the dark, silhouettes that twisted and vanished when looked at directly.
Atreus whispered, "They're watching again…"
Kratos didn't answer. He could feel it too. The same cold awareness as before—but heavier now, closer, breathing against his skin.
Then came the sound. A faint dragging noise, distant at first, like chains being pulled across stone. The noise grew louder with every step, echoing through the void. Kratos halted, motioning for Atreus to stay behind him.
"Something approaches," he said quietly.
The noise stopped. Silence.
Then—thud.
A tremor rippled beneath their feet. The faint glow around them quivered. Another thud followed, closer this time. Then another. A rhythm, slow and deliberate, each impact heavy enough to make the air vibrate.
Atreus swallowed hard. "Father…"
"I hear it," Kratos said, lowering his stance. The axe's runes flared brighter, ready.
From the dark ahead, a shape began to emerge—massive, formless at first, then coalescing into something vaguely humanoid. Its eyes opened—two immense voids of white light, like cold suns in the abyss. The air bent around it, and a deep, guttural sound rumbled from within its chest.
"You have walked too far," the thing said, its voice layered, distorted, like a hundred voices speaking in unison. "This is the place where the dead gods sleep. You do not belong."
Atreus raised his bow. "We didn't come here to belong."
Kratos' eyes locked on the creature. "We came to end what stirs beneath the Nine."
The creature tilted its head, and the sound of cracking bone echoed. "End? You are already part of it, Kratos. You are written into its veins."
Without warning, it lunged.
The ground exploded under its weight, sending a wave of black mist rolling outward. Kratos threw Atreus aside just as the creature's clawed hand struck the spot where they stood, gouging a crater into the pulsing floor. He swung the axe upward in a blinding arc, the blade connecting with a spray of light and shadow. The creature recoiled, letting out a roar that shook the walls of the abyss.
Atreus fired an arrow, its runic glow streaking through the air and embedding in the creature's chest. For a heartbeat, it staggered—but then its form shifted, splitting apart, reforming into two smaller figures that moved with sickening speed.
Kratos cursed under his breath. "It divides."
He pivoted, catching the first creature mid-charge, slamming it to the ground with sheer force. The axe bit deep, freezing its form into brittle shards that shattered with a sharp crack. The second lunged at Atreus, its arms stretching unnaturally wide, talons cutting the air. Atreus rolled aside and fired again, this time channeling more energy. The arrow struck true, and light burst outward, burning through the creature's body until it screamed and dissolved into mist.
The ground trembled once more. The darkness stirred. Dozens of shapes began to rise from the abyss—each a twisted echo of the first creature, smaller but no less deadly.
Atreus' voice trembled. "They just keep coming…"
Kratos' eyes hardened. "Then we end them faster."
He slammed his fist into the ground, summoning a surge of frost that erupted outward in a violent circle. The shadows froze mid-motion, and Kratos swung the Leviathan axe in a broad arc, cleaving through them like shards of glass. Atreus followed his rhythm, firing arrow after arrow, runic symbols blazing along his arms as the air filled with sparks of blue and white light.
The assault lasted what felt like hours—but gradually, the tide began to break. The creatures retreated, melting back into the dark. The silence returned, broken only by their labored breathing.
Atreus lowered his bow slowly. "Is it over?"
Kratos didn't answer immediately. His instincts told him no. The silence now was not peace—it was the breath before something worse.
Then a voice came from behind them—familiar, deep, and filled with venom.
"No, boy. It's only just begun."
Kratos froze. He turned slowly.
Out of the darkness stepped a figure he never thought he'd see again. Broad-shouldered, draped in battle-worn armor scorched by divine fire, eyes like molten gold—Ares.
The God of War. The one Kratos had slain.
Atreus gasped, drawing back an arrow. "Father… that can't be…"
But Kratos already knew. "Helheim twists memory into weapons," he said quietly. Yet even knowing that, he could not suppress the weight pressing against his chest—the memories, the fury, the shame.
Ares smiled. "You think me a phantom? Then strike, brother. Let us see what your defiance earns you this time."
The darkness behind Ares coalesced, shaping into flaming tendrils that lashed outward. Kratos leapt aside, spinning the axe in a wide arc that collided with one of the tendrils, sending frost and fire colliding midair. The explosion of opposing elements tore through the air, showering the ground with shards of burning ice.
Ares laughed, a booming, cruel sound that echoed endlessly. "Still bound by rage. Still pretending it gives you control. Tell me, Kratos—when you murdered me, did you feel peace?"
Kratos charged, slamming into Ares with the force of a thunderclap. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the abyss. The two gods crashed into the pulsing floor, trading blows that cracked the very air. Frost met flame, silence met fury.
Atreus fired from the sidelines, arrows streaking like comets, each one hitting its mark, though Ares barely flinched. The god's body was flame and vengeance made flesh. He caught Kratos by the throat and slammed him down, pressing his face into the ground.
"You cannot escape what you are!" Ares roared. "You are destruction! You are the end of every oath you take!"
Kratos roared in return, summoning a surge of strength that ripped him free. He swung the axe, embedding it deep in Ares' chest. Ice crawled up the god's body, freezing him mid-motion. Kratos leaned close, eyes burning with defiance.
"I am no one's weapon."
He wrenched the axe free. Ares screamed, his form fracturing, breaking apart into a thousand shards of red light before dissolving into mist.
The silence that followed was absolute. Only Atreus' shallow breaths filled the air.
"Father…" the boy whispered. "Was that—really him?"
Kratos stared at the place where Ares had stood, the faint glow fading. "No," he said at last. "But Helheim remembers what you try to forget."
Atreus lowered his bow. "Then it's using your past against you."
Kratos nodded. "It will try to use yours next."
They stood for a long moment before moving forward again, deeper into the dark. The air pulsed around them, the faint heartbeat now louder, steadier, like the slow drumbeat of something awakening.
As they walked, Atreus glanced up. "Father… what if the Nine aren't just watching us?"
Kratos' grip on the axe tightened. "What do you mean?"
The boy hesitated. "What if… they're remembering us? Like we're becoming part of them."
Kratos stopped walking. The ground beneath them pulsed once—slow, deep, alive.
"The Nine remember," Kratos said quietly. "And memory here… becomes flesh."
The darkness rippled ahead, shifting, forming new paths—nine of them, each lined with faint runes and whispering voices.
Atreus looked to his father. "Which one?"
Kratos lifted the axe, its light reflecting across the branching paths. "The one that fights back."
They stepped forward together, into the whispering dark, as something vast stirred beneath their feet. The abyss shuddered. The Nine had awakened.