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As they left the old temple, silence clung to the group like mist.
The night air was cold, brushing against their sweat-damp skin as they stepped past the broken columns. Alexios, Kassandra, and Lukas were already at the doorway, their torches flickering against the marble walls. Only Atlas lingered behind, still standing over Elpenor's lifeless body.
Atlas crouched beside the corpse, expression unreadable. His gloved hands searched methodically through Elpenor's robes, careful and calm, as if conducting an autopsy.
Then his fingers brushed against something warm — faintly glowing beneath the folds of silk.
A golden shard.
Atlas's eyes narrowed. "A Piece of Eden… no, a fragment of the Isu pyramid."
The shard pulsed faintly in his palm, its surface swirling like molten light. He had seen something like this before — in the game, in the memories of my modern life.
In the game, he thought, these shards can upgrade Isu weapons… but together, they're said to reveal the past — and the future.
Before touching it, he removed the Cult mask, the dark robe, and a small scroll tucked within Elpenor's tunic. He rolled the items and slid them into his satchel. "Evidence," he murmured.
When he finally took the shard fully in hand, the glow flared.
Then, without warning, it dissolved into his skin.
Atlas gasped — the light surged through his veins like fire. His heartbeat thundered; the air around him seemed to bend. Inside his mind, something shifted.
He closed his eyes, sitting down quickly on the cold marble, trying to steady his breath.
Within the space of his soul, two mysterious keys — the ones that had always slept inside him since his reincarnation — began to stir. They pulsed, twisted, then merged, forming a vast, spiraling circle like a miniature galaxy spinning inside his chest.
Stars of energy danced within it, whispering ancient sounds beyond mortal words.
"What are you…?" Atlas breathed.
But before the vision could unfold, a distant voice broke through.
"Atlas!" Lukas's shout echoed from outside. "Hey, you coming or what?!"
The sound shattered the trance.
Atlas exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Of course… perfect timing." He sighed again, forcing himself to his feet. "Well, I guess the study session will have to wait."
Outside the temple, Alexios and Kassandra stood facing each other awkwardly, neither knowing what to say. The silence between them was thicker than the sea fog rolling across the cliffs. Lukas, standing nearby, waved Atlas over with both hands.
"Hey, uh…" Lukas gestured helplessly at the two. "What do we do about this?"
Atlas pinched the bridge of his nose. Although I knew this was coming, he thought, I didn't expect it so soon.
He stepped forward, speaking in his usual calm tone."You two — with me. We need to talk."
Then he turned to Lukas. "Gather the bodies. Burn them before dawn. I don't want disease spreading."
Lukas blinked, then grinned in relief. "You got it, Atlas. For a second, I thought you were gonna make me handle their sibling drama." He stretched his shoulders. "Burning corpses sounds much easier."
Atlas allowed a faint smirk. "Glad we agree."
He motioned for Kassandra and Alexios to follow, and together they walked in silence, the gravel crunching underfoot. The moon hung low over the hills, and the faint rumble of waves echoed from below the cliffs.
After a while, they reached the base of a colossal statue of Zeus, the god's lightning bolt raised eternally toward the stars. The trio stopped at its feet, the stone giant towering above them.
Atlas turned and faced them. "We'll talk here. Say what you need to say. Ask what you need to ask."
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Alexios took a step forward, his expression torn between hope and confusion.
"Your name," he began quietly, "is Kassandra of Sparta, right? I came to Sparta years ago — searching for my mother, Myrrine. I asked the locals about the family. They said a girl named Kassandra was thrown from Mount Taygetos with a child by Nikolaos. They said you were dead."
His voice wavered. "So how… how are you still alive?"
Kassandra's jaw tightened. "You came to Sparta, huh?" she said softly. Then, bitterly, "I did die, Alexios. Or close enough."
Her fingers traced the broken spear hanging at her side — the ancient weapon that had become her silent companion. "They threw me… and my brother. If it weren't for my mother — and my grandfather — I wouldn't be standing here."
She looked down at the spear, the fractured metal catching moonlight. "And tell me, why do you believe a dead man's words? Do you think Elpenor's story proves anything?"
Alexios started to argue, but nothing came out. His lips parted, then closed again. He looked down, silent.
He remembered — the Sanctuary of Asklepios, the Stone slabs, the deception of Chrysis, but, He didn't remember being a baby, sick and weak, carried in arms that weren't his mother's. Everything he'd been told since then — every truth — felt suddenly fragile.
Finally, he looked up again. "I don't have proof," he said quietly. "But if there's even a chance we're related… then we'll find the truth. Together." His tone steadied. "We will find Myrrine. Mother. She'll tell us what really happened."
Kassandra's eyes flickered. "Mother is… alive?"
For a heartbeat, her voice broke — something like hope slipped through her disbelief. After a pause, she nodded slowly. "Then we search for her. Even if we have to cross the whole Greek world… we won't stop until we find her."
Alexios gave a short laugh, equal parts relief and disbelief. "Then it's settled."
But Atlas, who had been quiet until now, crossed his arms. "There might be another way to confirm it."
Both turned toward him.
"What?" Kassandra asked, brows furrowed. "And what would that be?"
Atlas smiled faintly. "You mentioned your grandfather — that would be King Leonidas, correct?"
Kassandra nodded, still confused. Alexios leaned forward impatiently. "Just say it, Atlas."
Atlas gestured toward the spear in her hand. "That broken spear — Leonidas's spear — it's special, isn't it? I can feel its energy. The same kind that flows through your sword, Alexios."
Atlas held his chin thoughtfully. "When we were at Markos's vineyard, I noticed something strange. The spear glowed faintly when you two stood close together."
Kassandra blinked, staring at the weapon. "It… did?"
"Why don't we find out?" Atlas said. "If my theory is right, that spear doesn't just hold power. It holds memories. Maybe it can show you what blood it belongs to."
Alexios's eyes narrowed. "You think it'll show us… the past?"
"Only one way to find out," Atlas replied. "You both want the truth. So take it together."
Kassandra looked at him like he was mad. "A hidden power in a broken spear? This isn't a fairytale, Atlas."
Atlas chuckled softly. "You'd be surprised how often myths turn out to be true history with better lighting."
Kassandra hesitated, then met Alexios's eyes. Neither spoke, but the understanding passed silently between them.
Slowly, she lifted the spear and extended it. "Fine. Let's see what happens."
Alexios reached out and grasped the spearhead.
The world vanished.
The moment Alexios's fingers brushed the spear, the world shattered like glass.
A surge of golden light burst outward, wrapping both him and Kassandra in a storm of energy. The air cracked with power. Their surroundings — the statue, the night, even Atlas's voice — dissolved into blinding brilliance. Wind howled in their ears like the breath of gods awakening.
Kassandra gasped, trying to pull her hand back, but the spear anchored itself to her palm as if alive. The broken weapon trembled with a low, resonant hum, threads of light crawling up her arm and Alexios's — connecting them.
Alexios's eyes widened; he couldn't let go either. The weapon was binding them through blood and memory. It had chosen them both.
Then, the visions came.
They were no longer standing beneath the Zeus Statue.
They stood in a battlefield of dust and blood — Thermopylae, The stench of blood filled their lungs, and the ground trembled under the march of ten thousand feet.
Before them, King Leonidas stood unyielding, his red cloak snapping like flame in the sea wind. His eyes burned with defiance as Persian arrows blackened the sky.
"Hold the line!" his voice thundered across the pass.
A hundred Spartan throats answered as one, the sound like thunder rolling through the gorge.
"For Sparta!"
The clash came like an earthquake. Shields slammed, blades clanged, and the air split with the roar of dying men.
Leonidas moved like a storm — his spear piercing through the enemy, each strike a testament to strength and will. The weapon blazed golden with every thrust.
Kassandra's heart surged, her breath caught in awe. "That's him…" she whispered. "Our Grand Father."
Beside her, Alexios's voice trembled. "The strength… the fury… it's in us too and it's real, like i can feel it."
Leonidas turned for a fleeting instant — and though the vision wasn't real, Kassandra swore he looked straight at them. The faintest smile tugged at his lips before the battle consumed him again.
Then the world shifted.
The clang of bronze faded, replaced by the soft crackle of firelight and the scent of oil lamps.
They now stood in a warm chamber, gentle light flickering over carved Spartan walls.
Myrrine knelt there, her dark hair falling over her shoulders. Her face glowed with both pride and sadness as she pressed the broken spear into the small hands of a little girl.
"Take this, Kassandra," she whispered. "It belonged to your grandfather. Let it guide you when I cannot."
The child nodded, clutching the weapon tight. "I will, Mother."
The grown Kassandra reached out instinctively, tears in her eyes. "Mother…" she breathed, her voice cracking under the weight of memory. "I remember this…"
Alexios turned to her, watching the armor of years — all that cold mercenary distance — begin to melt from her face. For the first time, he saw the child behind the warrior.
But the warmth vanished. The light bled away.
And then — cold.
The mountain wind and rain cut through them like knives.
They were standing on Mount Taygetos, high above Sparta.
The world was dark and cruel. Two small children — Kassandra and a baby wrapped in cloth — were being dragged toward the edge of the cliff.
Nikolaos, the Wolf of Sparta, stood waiting, his expression carved from stone and sorrow. While his wife Myrrine begging beside him to stop
"Father… please," the young Kassandra sobbed, her voice breaking the silence.
The baby began to cry — small, helpless cries that echoed in the night.
Behind Nikolaos, the priests of the Oracle chanted, their words venom in the wind:
"The prophecy must be fulfilled! The child will bring doom to Sparta!"
Nikolaos hesitated. His sword trembled. "I… I cannot…" he whispered.
Then — a shove. A scream.
The sound of wind and rain rushing past.
The mountain swallowed their cries.
Alexios flinched, clutching his chest as if he could still feel the fall. Kassandra screamed, her voice echoing into nothingness.
The light fractured — and then it shifted again.
Now Kassandra's vision continued, but Alexios could see through her eyes.
He saw what she endured.
She was still alive — bruised, bleeding, gasping for breath among the rocks below. The moonlight glinted off her tears as she staggered to her feet.
Her small body trembled, but she began to walk — then to run — through the cold forest, guided only by instinct and the faint memory of her mother's voice.
Days blurred together. Hunger gnawed at her, wolves stalked the dark, yet she did not stop. Finally, she reached the coast — broken, half-starved, but alive.
She found a small fishing boat, untied it, and drifted out into the unknown sea, the waves rocking her into restless sleep.
When she awoke, she was on Kephallonia.
There, she met a loud, foolish man with an even louder laugh — Markos — who promised her a "fresh start."
Alexios watched it all, silent. His heart ached for the sister he never knew.
"She survived all that… alone," he murmured, awed.
Then the vision shifted again — and now Kassandra saw Alexios's past.
She saw Myrrine, broken but determined, cradling her wounded infant son. The boy's cries echoed through the Sanctuary of Asklepios.
"He's all I have left," Myrrine pleaded. "Please, save him!"
The priests bowed, but one woman stepped forward — cloaked, smiling falsely. Chrysis.
"Fear not, Myrrine," she said sweetly. "The gods guide me. I will heal him."
Alexio's heart froze. "Chrysis…" he whispered, venom in his voice.
Then the memory darkened — Myrrine didn't realize that it was a trap and was deceived by Chrysis by pronouncing that the baby had died. Since then the baby was taken from his mother's arms.
The scene dissolved into years of harsh training, of blood and blades, of a boy molded into a weapon by false teachings.
Alexios grew up under shadows — pain, loss, manipulation — until one day, a new light entered his life.
A young man extended a hand — Atlas.
Behind him stood Lukas and others. A makeshift family in the ashes of cruelty.
Kassandra gasped softly. "He saved you…"
Alexios nodded faintly. "He gave me a reason to fight."
The visions began to collapse, folding in on themselves — the mountain, the sea, the temple, all blurring into streaks of gold. Both siblings reached toward one another through the chaos.
And then — silence.
They fell back into the real world under the statue of Zeus, gasping for air as if pulled from the depths of the sea.
The broken spear slipped from their grasp and hit the marble with a sharp clang. Its cracked tip glowed faintly, whispering with residual energy.
Atlas was already kneeling beside them. "You two! Talk to me — are you alright?"
Kassandra's chest heaved, sweat and tears mixing on her face. "I… I saw everything. Mother, Leonidas… the mountain, the fall… and Alexios…" Her voice trembled. "I saw your life. What they did to you."
Alexios rubbed his temples, trying to steady his breathing. "The spear… it showed yours, too, You survived when no one should have. Alone."
He gave a faint laugh through his disbelief. "Guess stubbornness runs in the family."
Kassandra let out a shaky laugh of her own. "Seems so."
Silence lingered for a heartbeat — then Alexios looked at her, his expression softening. "Sister," he said at last, the word unfamiliar but right.
Kassandra blinked back tears, smiling through the pain. "Little brother."
They both started laughing — unrestrained, disbelieving, but full of relief. Alexios pulled her into a fierce hug, and Kassandra returned it without hesitation.
Their armor clinked, their weapons pressed awkwardly between them, but neither cared.
Their laughter echoed through the night, rising toward the heavens under the marble gaze of Zeus. The god of thunder stood silent, lightning frozen in stone, as if bearing witness to their reunion.
Atlas watched from a few steps away, arms folded, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips.
"Finally," he murmured, voice warm and low, "some peace in this endless storm."
The wind swept across the cliffside, carrying their laughter into the dark — a song of blood, fate, and family finally restored.
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