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SM : [87] Brothers
🕑 Added 2024-05-01 16:00:18 +0000 UTCGentle waves lapped against the shore in successive layers.
The morning sunlight of Sparta gently brushed through the window grates, casting a brilliant hue upon the messy palace, imbuing it with a radiant charm.
Caenis, Atalanta, and Medea.
Three women, voluptuous, wild, or sheepish, all slept soundly on the wide bed, their bodies intertwined in less-than-graceful postures.
Traces of glistening saliva hung at the corners of the girls' mouths. Their originally immaculate attire was now in disarray, adorned with various suggestive battle scars, and their tender skin bore the remnants of crimson marks.
The black-haired youth reclined against the soft pillows, seated amidst the entangled embrace of the girls, gently stroking their silky hair, a faint smile playing on his lips.
In the gradually dimming chambers of his heart, a rare sense of fulfillment arose.
Yet, like a poison, it numbed Kratos's heart.
"...I wish to live peacefully, not only for the hatred I bear but also for the bonds that tie us together."
"After spending a few more years like this, perhaps I will truly become ensnared in indulgence, unable to extricate myself?"
"But alas, I... cannot stop."
His words murmured into the void.
The youth's gaze drifted over the tranquil and serene sleeping faces of the girls.
Caenis always slept the deepest, as she often expended the most energy.
Atalanta clutched the damp pillow tightly, curling up into a ball, inhaling the comforting scent, murmuring dreamily about some apologies to a goddess.
The young witch Medea's lips curled slightly, sucking on her fair fingertips, lost in some delightful dream... she, because this is her first night, had received the most care last night.
How he wished time could freeze at this moment, how splendid it would be.
The wise king's eyes drooped.
But alas, Kratos could not stop.
Spending more years like this, perhaps his pain would ease, and he would no longer be reluctant to abandon everything for revenge.
But... it could only be him, only Kratos.
He did not wish to repeat the fate of orginial Kratos. Thus, he could only continue to advance on the path of carnage, becoming so formidable that even Olympus would tremble beneath his blade.
Throwing on the disheveled white robe, Kratos gently freed himself from their embrace, treading on the slightly warm floor of the palace, and walked to the lush and bustling courtyard.
The sun hung high, and life flourished.
He lowered his gaze, surveying the city under his rule, surrounding the towering gates of hell. Sparta had been developed into an impregnable stronghold in the land of Greece.
Thousands of people poured in every day, ships incessantly came and went, trade flourished abundantly.
Everything in Sparta prospered.
But... it wasn't enough.
Kratos flexed his fingers slightly.
The air around his palm emitted a sharp whistle and a burst of noise.
He didn't know how strong his current power limit was because his physical strength had reached the limit of human potential... he hadn't exerted himself to the fullest in a long time.
Moreover...
"Aatrox, you've noticed, haven't you?"
He inquired silently.
His hoarse voice echoed gently in Kratos's heart.
"Ah... yes, your progress has been slowing down...you're nearing a plateau with just Alcides and the other maggots from hell as your sparring partners."
With Aatrox implanted within him, theoretically, there was no limit to his strength.
But unfortunately, after half a year... he was stuck again, unable to find opponents who could engage him in a fulfilling battle.
Even Alcides' current sparring, unless the great hero completely broke free from his constraints, fell into a thorough frenzy, and liberated himself from all trials... engaging in the most intense battle, where killing the opponent was the premise, they could not engage in the fiercest battles with each other.
Otherwise, if it was just the usual Alcides, even though he had been blessed by Kratos to become the chosen champion, his strength had increased several times over from before.
But it still wasn't enough to push Kratos into a hard-fought battle.
Kratos had to hold back his strength to avoid truly hurting Alcides, they were sparring partners, not enemies.
The wooden stake named the great hero had regressed sadly.
However, even in the conquest of hell, it was difficult to find opponents that could give Kratos a satisfying battle.
In theory...
Death, Darkness, Unknown, Fallen.
It was said that hell housed the most terrifying devils, embodying the deepest-rooted fears of all humanity, shrouding everyone's nightmares.
But in the long history of over a hundred years of struggle, these fundamental devils had never appeared... to the point where people began to doubt their existence.
Or perhaps.
The more powerful the devil, the closer their intelligence resembled humans... such beings, with rationality no different from ordinary people, would naturally understand the balance of pros and cons.
Even the War Devil had ceased it activities and hadn't appeared in the past six months.
In short.
The stakes he could find were almost exhausted by Kratos, but there was still a long way to go before he could reach the level of the gods.
For mortals, even demigods...
...he had become too strong.
Unless he ventured to the depths of hell, the so-called underworld, where he might find formidable enemies that could excite him, but Kratos couldn't possibly leave Sparta.
As for that idiot Ares, Kratos had erected a statue of a black-haired, big-breasted maiden for her, encouraging prayers and preaching every day. He even made various life-size dolls to distribute to the congregation, insulting her ultimate pride... but the former god of war hadn't even shown a divine prophecy!
You coward, you really know how to shrink your balls.
Kratos asked Athena in his dreams, inquiring about the conditions of Vergil and Ares.
The goddess of control simply didn't answer any questions, just smiling mysteriously and saying she was pregnant, in a way that was both amusing and ridiculous.
"Though I couldn't control you, Kratos."
The orange-haired goddess smiled gently in the dream, gently caressing her belly.
"But I've obtained your fiery 'heart' from you."
One could only say that Athena was quite good at disgusting people.
This display of a bad woman almost gave Kratos goosebumps all over.
With the power of faith within him, he could now resist the opponent's bizarre control ability to some extent, even without the pain of being pierced through the chest, he could freely come and go in dreams.
"Get lost."
Unable to obtain information, he simply kicked Athena's internet connection for tonight.
Unfortunately, the nightmares of the three furies continued to afflict his soul, still haunting him every night, making Kratos watch as Leonidas and Myrrine were killed over and over again.
He was almost numb to it all.
Or rather, all that towering rage had accumulated and fermented in the depths of his heart.
Sparta was flourishing, but the King of Sparta's power increase was gradually stagnating.
Therefore.
Kratos had to find another way to increase his strength.
"It's time to unleash your world-shaking wisdom, Kratos..."
Aatrox chuckled playfully.
"Last time, your world-shaking wisdom did indeed astonish me. What grand scheme can you come up with this time? Come, let me see..."
This question had been on Kratos's mind for a long time.
Now, with the whole of Greece abuzz with the name of Kratos, the God of Courage, his magical power was about to burst and overflow, almost unable to contain it, usually with Aatrox helping to consume it.
The timing was almost ripe.
So, Kratos didn't hesitate to say...
"Let's undergo modifications."
"Modifications?"
Aatrox became interested.
"What modifications?"
"The simple flesh and blood drive of humans is ultimately too inefficient, Aatrox... I've realized this from my brief time among mortals... the more you train your body, the more you'll find that there's a limit to the efficiency of the human body's operation."
"Oh?"
Hearing this proclamation.
Aatrox, the Vanguard of the Wandering Star, smiled with great interest.
"So, what do you mean by modifications, Kratos?"
Faced with this question.
Kratos answered firmly and decisively, word by word.
"I won't be human anymore, Aatrox!"
"Heh... hehehe, hahaha..."
Aatrox laughed hoarsely.
"I see, the frailty of flesh and blood can't defeat the gods of Olympus, so you want to modify yourself into a machine god?"
"My crest indeed has a machine form! But, you need to connect to the ark first..."
"However, if you want to modify yourself, I can provide you with in-depth guidance."
"I must say, this is a very wise choice."
"Flesh is weak... join the camp of synthetic ascension! You might even become my comrade, Kratos!"
Aatrox roared passionately.
But...
"Synthetic ascension?" Kratos scoffed. "Even a dog wouldn't choose that!"
"...Huh?"
"Use that non-existent brain of yours, Aatrox... Synthetic ascension? Using the technology of gods against gods? They would have a wealth of experience at their disposal, easily pinpointing my weaknesses."
If you can't beat them, join them.
That line didn't hold much weight here.
Because the original Kratos also went through this path, and it didn't go well.
Moreover, Olympians are now Machine Gods not pure gods born on this planet, if he took the path of synthetic ascension, it would be the same as him starting the game with level 10 but his opponent was already level 100 and experienced in the game, nothing good would come of it.
That was just one reason.
The more critical reason was... Kratos couldn't possibly abandon his own flesh and blood for the limited purity of mechanics.
"So..."
His black hair, as deep as ink, fluttered in the wind.
Standing in the courtyard atop the mountain, the young king smiled.
"Flesh is weak, but soul not."
The magical and divine power he held now was like the cream in last night's pastry, almost overflowing.
This readily available energy was much more practical than pursuing modifications for synthetic ascension, it couldn't be wasted.
In his usual battles, he could almost eradicate most enemies with just magical power, physical strength, and Aatrox form.
Kratos had been contemplating.
...What kind of magecraft or mystic code could he create with this surplus of magical power to make the most efficient use of it?
The operation of magical power.
This was the subject he had been studying most diligently in the Clock Tower.
Sandevistan was one of the results of his research.
Now, Kratos was trying to provide an answer to that question.
This was inspired by the magnetic fields from the comic series he read before.
"The flow of blood vessels, the movement of internal organs, the contraction and relaxation of muscles... the force of the body relies on various hormones and metabolic processes, and the conversion efficiency is simply too low."
The black-haired youth flexed his five fingers.
In Aatrox's stagnant gaze.
Kratos smiled and said softly.
"I want to use magic to replace all the strength of my body."
Now Kratos was very clear... the laws of the moonlit world were fixed by the Anchor of the Planet, like a thin layer of cloth.
But, these so-called anchored laws, he had already figured out, should be the mysterious side's laws, not the physical side's laws.
If the physical laws were also fixed by the Anchor of the Planet and changed with the times... then, the uniform speed of light in the solar system in the moonlit world could not be explained.
If the speed of light in the solar system was inconsistent with that on Earth, a dazzling light film visible to the naked eye would form on the surface.
However, such a phenomenon did not occur.
So, at least within the solar system, physical laws should be uniform.
Even in the moonlit world, there must exist the four fundamental forces of the universe: gravity, electromagnetic, strong interaction, and weak interaction.
All the power that humans could unleash with their bodies was essentially one of these four fundamental forces, the electromagnetic force.
If it were possible to break free from the limitations of muscles and rely on pure magical power to drive the body... then, as long as the magical power was powerful enough, Kratos' physical strength could be endlessly enhanced!
After carefully explaining his thoughts.
He smiled and made a conclusion.
"I will name this mystic code... Magic Propulsion."
Such a crazy idea.
It made Aatrox burst into laughter again!
"Interesting, Kratos! Brilliant! You truly live up to your reputation of possessing world-shaking wisdom! You, my friend, are truly fascinating!"
"No, the term 'genius' is not enough to describe you. I admire you! I cherish you! I really love this little monster of yours!"
"Don't flatter me with 'world-shaking wisdom' and 'love,' Aatrox, it's nauseating."
Kratos patted his eyeball resting on his chest, smiling.
"I need your assistance, Aatrox."
Kratos was well aware that he couldn't be considered a genius and didn't possess any world-shaking wisdom.
He was just standing on the shoulders of his past experiences, with countless works' power systems for reference.
Kratos considered himself, at most, someone... skilled at learning.
Knowledge was important, indeed.
But, the ability to self-learn was the most valuable wealth modern education had given him over the past twenty years.
"Don't get too excited yet, Aatrox, it's just an idea for now."
Kratos poured cold water on the enthusiasm.
Yes.
It sounded beautiful, but achieving this Magic Propulsion mystic code was incredibly difficult.
Even in the Age of Gods, the magical power comparable to that of gods was the most basic requirement. Kratos had to save up half a year's worth of faith before he dared to start trying... if it were the modern era, just dealing with the true ether's magical power source would be a headache.
And, the human body had so many drastically different functions.
Every inch of blood vessels, every muscle...
Even without considering the operation of the brain and nerves, the various parameters of the body accumulated were astronomical in terms of data. And all of this... Kratos had to meticulously replace with magical power.
Otherwise, his body might directly collapse.
This required an extremely large amount of computing power.
So, this amount of calculation...
"I'll hand it over to your terminal, Aatrox."
When envisioning this equipment, Kratos had already considered the various difficulties involved in its implementation.
His own computing power was not enough to support the Magic Propulsion for this body, but Aatrox might be able to.
"If it's you, there shouldn't be a problem, right?"
At his words.
Aatrox chuckled deeply.
"Hmph, so you've been planning to exploit me all along, Kratos. I'll try my best."
The young king, standing in the courtyard atop the mountain, with his dark hair made of magical power, fluttered slightly, emanating a deep and mysterious glow.
Behind him, a pair of soft wrists reached out, draping a cloak made of beast skin tanned over him.
Kratos reached out and grabbed Atalanta's hand.
"I'm not cold."
Without looking, he could tell which of his wives it was by touch, footsteps, or even breath.
The hunter's instincts had always been the most acute.
"I know you're not cold, but it doesn't hurt to put it on."
The cat's breath tickled his ears.
"Why aren't you sleeping, Your Highness? Morning exercise? There shouldn't be any state affairs keeping you busy lately..."
"...Of course."
The young king smiled and turned to gaze into Atalanta's thin green eyes.
"You keep me busy the most."
Looking into those deep crimson pupils.
The cat leaned in, kissing the king's lips, delicately sniffing, sensing the heat emanating from him.
Her tail wagged, swaying behind her.
"I always feel like I can never get enough of you, wanting to completely occupy you, but this selfish desire makes me feel ashamed."
"You are the King of Sparta, your burden doesn't allow you any leisure. Clearly, we are burdensome to you. Without us, your night's rest would be sweeter."
Being able to clothe him and speak such affectionate words, Kratos was touched, but it would be even better if the kitten's hand could hold his.
"My beautiful Miss Atalanta, how do you manage to say such sweet words and yet not stay still, touching me all over?"
Atalanta's delicate fingertips restlessly wandered inside the young king's white robe, teasing his proud heartstrings.
Last night, taking care of Medea, she was the one who didn't get fed enough.
"Not a cat, but a lioness hunting you, the fierce queen of all beasts."
"But you behave almost the same as a cat."
Kratos grabbed her tail, causing her body to tremble softly.
"Mmm...! Hah... hah... Ahaha..."
It was meant to clothe him.
But Atalanta ended up wrapping herself in it as well.
"...The vows this cat made over the years have all been broken by you, Your Highness."
"In that case, shall I bring Artemis down and have you apologize to her in person?"
"I haven't violated them, I just want... to be your cat for a lifetime."
The silver-haired cat, rubbing against the young king's ear, breathed softly.
"Lock... Atalanta away."
...
In a space filled with various precision instruments, reminiscent of an operating room but with a more futuristic touch.
The silver-haired, hooded physician glanced at the magic rune board in his hand for a moment, then respectfully presented it to the black-haired youth.
"All your bodily data is here, Your Highness Kratos."
Even Asclepius, the son of Apollo and the god of medicine, couldn't help but be deeply impressed by the concept proposed by Kratos.
This was Kratos's research institute, constructed at great expense.
Various artifacts and facilities excavated from the age of gods were transported here free of charge. Now, Asclepius led his apprentices in managing all medical research and patient care in Sparta.
"According to your Magic Propulsion concept, you want magical power to take over the operation of your body. But to do that, your body would literally have to... die once... this is extremely dangerous, and I strongly advise against attempting to directly take over your entire body."
"The human body is a very complex system, and any slight error could lead to paralysis or disruption of the nervous system, as with Alcides, where even a minor malfunction in the language system was not a trivial matter."
"This requires an extremely high level of computational power, so I recommend starting with just your arm, or even a single finger, to attempt to take control."
Facing Asclepius' suggestion, Kratos shook his head lightly.
"I'll be fine, don't worry... We don't have the luxury of time to try slowly."
A month had passed after he thought of this plan.
With Asclepius' examinations, Kratos had already transmitted all his bodily parameters to Aatrox.
Even if something went wrong, Aatrox would bring him back. Though he lacked a brain, he was very reliable.
"Ah... I am indeed very reliable, that's true. The previous sentence can be omitted."
Your Highness, what are you in such a hurry for?
Looking at the black-haired youth in front of him, Asclepius wanted to ask, but he held back.
The more you know, the less happy you are.
Don't ask what you shouldn't ask.
Facing Kratos' determination, Asclepius no longer tried to dissuade him, only nodding.
"Please be careful."
For Magic Propulsion to take over the entire body, the original electromagnetic force would have to be dissipated.
This was equivalent to stopping one's own heartbeat, blood flow, and the operation of various internal organs, just as Asclepius described... making oneself completely die once.
Lying on the monitored operating table, connected all over with various pipelines, Kratos took a deep breath and slowly closed his eyes.
Replacing the senses with the flow of magic, he began to introspect the condition of his own body internally.
From his heart, liver, lungs, and various organs to bones and muscles...
This body, which was incredibly robust, had a heart that beat fiercely like a drum, and the surge of blood was like the rush of the tide.
The adaptation and adjustment during this period had almost perfected Kratos' control over this body.
"Aatrox..."
"Ready, don't worry."
Hearing the reassuringly hoarse voice from the depths of his heart, Kratos took a deep breath and began, with a strong will, to cut off the operation of his own body.
In the operating room, the light on the monitoring equipment dimmed slowly, and various vital signs began to plummet rapidly like falling peaks.
Asclepius nervously watched Kratos' body, his breath seeming to stagnate.
Vitality, growing weaker and weaker.
In just a few seconds, Kratos' entire body had completely stopped functioning, and he became as stiff as a corpse.
"Beep..."
On the panel of the instrument, horizontal lines spread out completely.
He was dead.
One second, two seconds, three seconds...
The atmosphere in the room seemed to freeze like mercury.
Asclepius breathed heavily, his hand trembling as it reached for his staff.
If Kratos didn't wake up after one minute, he would immediately begin emergency treatment, but by then... it might be too late.
Half a minute passed.
Still no response.
Gritting his teeth, the white-haired youth suddenly grabbed his staff tightly, and the coiled serpents emitted a burst of green light... if something went wrong with Kratos, he couldn't afford to represent all of Sparta.
Asclepius was about to unleash the highest intensity of treatment.
Thud.
There was a sudden vibration in the room, causing his hand to go numb.
It was... a heartbeat.
In the somewhat stagnant gaze of the god of medicine...
"!"
All the instruments monitoring Kratos' condition suddenly surged, emitting a continuous and piercing alarm.
Click...
The pipelines began to tremble and spontaneously detach.
A violent and fierce force erupted within Kratos' unresponsive body, slowly filling him up.
A palpable aura, slowly rippling.
Under the influence of magic propulsion, the internal organs began to flex, contract, and expand.
As Kratos began to breathe, the intense invisible force filled his lungs, and the operating room seemed to be stirred by a storm as the equipment began to sway...
Vitality.
Heavy from the black-haired youth's body, it began to flow slowly.
Accompanied by the suffocating, earth-shaking gasps.
Kratos propped himself up on the operating table, slowly, inch by inch, sitting up. His palm directly left a deep indentation in the pressed area.
"Internal organs functioning normally."
"Nervous system functioning normally."
"Muscle groups ceased activity."
"Kratos... How do you feel?"
Aatrox's voice resonated softly in his mind.
"Very... strange. Very powerful..."
"I feel something, unlike anything before."
"At times... it's also a bit... unfamiliar."
Kratos' expression stiffened as he flexed his fingers.
In this state, he still possessed normal, even much sharper senses than before.
But, at this very moment, all his bodily activities were completely taken over by Aatrox's terminal, commanded by the mighty computing power, replacing the functions of his entire body.
In other words, he no longer needed the so-called 'muscle instinct' to do anything.
He only needed to 'think'.
Thoughts transmitted to the terminal would elicit corresponding responses from his body.
In this situation, if Aatrox wanted to fully control Kratos' body, it wouldn't require much effort at all.
But Kratos trusted it willingly with the computational power.
If even Aatrox couldn't be trusted, then in this land of Greece, Kratos would never find anyone else to trust.
In the eyes of Asclepius, filled with astonishment...
The black-haired youth, bracing against the surgical table, slowly turned his body and, with an extremely stiff motion, attempted to take a step forward.
Immediately, he stumbled and fell to the ground.
The glorious demonic sword appeared in Kratos' hand, piercing into the ground, supporting his body.
Just a thought.
And his body would automatically respond.
No need to command the muscles anymore.
It was... 'imagining' the flow of magic.
"Stay... away from me... Asclepius."
With the resonating vibration of his vocal cords, he uttered the halting words.
Adapting to this state.
Kratos stiffly took a step forward.
The first step was still stumbling, creating a deep pit in the ground.
The second step, however, appeared much steadier.
The third step, the fourth... he was already staggering forward.
One minute later...
Asclepius stared in shock at the chaos in the room, Kratos was already standing and walking around like a normal person.
Two hours later...
He could attempt to grasp an object without crushing it into powder.
Three days later...
Kratos stood by the coastline, in a specially chosen, distant, and coastal area away from the city-state.
The Argonauts stood in awe in the distance, watching the young king... punching toward the sea.
Bending his legs, lowering his center of gravity, and throwing a punch...
Though it seemed like an extremely simple action.
Kratos performed it incredibly slowly, incredibly seriously.
It was as if he were learning how to throw a punch for the first time, under the realm of magic propulsion.
Indeed, that was the case... he was learning how to punch for the first time under the realm of magic propulsion.
Around Kratos, there were various huge craters resembling meteorite impacts, enough to make one's scalp tingle.
"How long has he been practicing here?"
"Five hundred and fourteen punches."
Alcides spoke softly, his curse now diluted by Kratos, and his speech much smoother.
"I watched Kratos throw five hundred and fourteen punches in total."
"At first, he couldn't control the force."
He said.
The great hero raised his hand, pointing to the half-shaved hillside beside the beach.
"Now... he's no different from a normal person."
Kratos lightly threw a punch.
In the slightly dimming daylight, serene and tranquil.
No explosion occurred.
"It's very... impressive..."
Walking, grasping, punching.
By now, he had mastered the basic activities of this body.
The realm of magic propulsion was indeed powerful, but the consumption was also extremely intense.
Even with the power of faith by his side, Kratos still had to control his force at ordinary times, or else exerting too much force might endanger his own life.
Not to mention the lives of other city-state residents, or even the lives of his wives.
"Next... is to try a full-powered punch, Aatrox."
"Don't worry."
Aatrox's lazy voice echoed around.
"If you can't withstand it, I can withstand it."
"Then... here goes."
Kratos turned his head, opened his mouth, and his vibrating vocal cords emitted a loud shout.
"Please, everyone, step back another hundred meters!"
Alcides held Jason with one hand and supported Asclepius with the other, carrying the twins on his neck, and jumped onto the cliff behind.
The purple witch Medea waved her staff and took Atalanta and Caenis, gracefully floating upwards.
Floating in mid-air, the silver-haired woman pinched the face of Atalanta with a choked sob.
"I can't accept this, I can't! Atalanta... sobbing..."
"Just last month, His Highness barely returned to the palace, and I was almost suffocated, and now..."
Atalanta pursed her lips, blushing, and propped open the hand of Caenis.
So annoying, she was suffocating too.
"His Highness said no attending to bed within a month."
"You kill me! Atalanta! You kill me!"
"You're too weak. If you were a bit stronger, would His Highness still have such concerns?"
"In this world, besides the goddesses of Olympus, who can withstand His Highness's fierceness, even the Earth Mother Gaia would open a hole!"
"Shut up if you don't know, shut up..."
Listening to her sisters' conversation.
The purple witch Medea sighed softly.
Atalanta and Caenis had at least tasted meat for over half a year, while she had eaten the least meat this month.
As a result, this month, the purple witch could only carry His Highness's clothes and generate electricity by herself...
Watching everyone back off from the coastline cliff.
Kratos turned his head and faced the sea.
He began to squat down slowly.
The muscles in his legs didn't exert any force.
But, the surging, even violent, force, powered by the immense magic from the terminal, poured out from under his feet, crashing towards the ground beneath him.
Boom!
The earth cracked, the ground trembled, and ripples spread out in all directions like waves, with large chunks of rock layers beneath the ground exploding and rising instantaneously, forming a rugged earth mound.
Amidst the pervasive dust.
Kratos poured all his strength into the punch, tearing through the sea surface and tearing through the sky.
The air was compressed layer by layer by the irresistible force, forming a shockwave that rapidly pierced forward, piercing through at least tens of thousands of meters away, bursting open the distant sea surface like a colossal wave.
Standing on the cliff by the sea.
Everyone felt a buzzing in their ears, their minds swaying, as if they had been run over by a bomb.
Watching the Ionia Sea, where the surging waves spread out to both sides, towering waves rose hundreds of meters high, finally calming down after the momentum.
Except for Alcides, everyone on the Argonauts was wide-eyed, as if they could fit a golden apple in their mouths.
The scorching flame magic lingering around Kratos slowly faded away.
Standing in the huge pit, Kratos let out a long breath.
Looking at the scene before him, the power of this punch.
Once from the War Devil, once shattered his home and family.
Like the Kratos of old, he could now return the favor.
...
[You are familiar with the realm of magic propulsion that drives your abilities. As the power of faith converges, the stronger your magical prowess, the greater your strength becomes... you no longer need any training.]
[However, your body and flesh still constrain your limits, so you eagerly seek worthy opponents, as each struggle further pushes your capabilities to new heights.]
[Hell is subdued, and Sparta flourishes.]
[With the continuous accumulation of the power of belief, each day you grow stronger than the last. Under the magic propulsion, your destructive potential is once again significantly enhanced, reaching a level comparable to that of the War Devil.]
[With the fame of the god of courage on your side, amidst battles against devils, your chosen ones continue to increase in number. The Spartan army champions alone could flatten the entire Greek land, and the day of revenge against Olympus no longer seems distant.]
[One month has passed, and you have completely adapted to mastering your abilities driven by magic. Your demeanor is now indistinguishable from that of an ordinary person.]
[The affairs of Sparta run smoothly, and your presence has become a pillar of strength for the people. Compared to the past, where you were required to oversee everything personally, you now enjoy a rare moment of leisure.]
[Enduring the anticipation of your three beautiful wives for two months, you are finally pushed onto the bed eagerly.]
[But as long as there is surplus magic, your stamina seems endless, quickly filling the bath to satisfy them thoroughly.]
[It seems that your mastery of magic propulsion has inspired Asclepius's research breakthroughs.]
[He presents a report showing that hell is essentially the Greek's Inner Sea of the Planet, and devils are a pure source of magical power. It seems feasible for humans to gain a 'devil transformation' state by transplanting devil hearts.]
[His experiments with magical beasts have achieved preliminary success, and he seeks your approval for human experiments.]
[You allocate Sparta's condemned prisoners to him, never questioning whether power is good or evil, nor do you claim to be righteous.]
[Ethics and morality are deemed useless now... your people's happiness and peace of mind are paramount, and you have no hesitation in what you deem necessary.]
[No longer do you worry about devil incursions, nor the tragedies of family destruction... you now possess the power to protect Sparta and those you cherish.]
[The city-state thrives and prospers.]
[You contemplate schemes to conquer the underworld and the temple of war, seemingly entering a long-awaited, peaceful, and happy life.]
[You ask Caenis, Atalanta, and Medea if they want to choose an auspicious day for the wedding... you want to give them a status.]
[You no longer care if gods curse your fate or your wives... you would tear it apart with your own hands.]
[However... to your surprise...]
[You are vehemently rejected by them.]
["Ah... if Your Highness loves me, I am already satisfied. What more do I need as a wife?"]
[The silver-haired woman lounges lazily on the bed, proudly displaying her voluptuous curves.]
[Although she once fervently sought your hand in marriage, her proposal now seems indifferent.]
[You gaze at her face.]
[Caenis blushes and averts her eyes, her embarrassment spreading from her cheeks to her tanned neck.]
["Hate it! Your Highness, hate it! Let's see how you feel when you can't get what you want..."]
[You pinch Caenis's face and turn to Atalanta.]
[The cat-eared woman lounges lazily in your arms, her tail swaying casually behind her.]
["I refuse, I've pledged not to marry a mortal, Your Highness."]
[Good companions, indeed, to maintain their purity with nightly indulgences in cream puffs.]
[You massage her soft cat ears, hoping to make her yield, but she bites your finger fiercely.]
["I'm fierce, don't marry such a fierce kitty..."]
[Atalanta releases your finger and licks it ambiguously, her feline saliva moistening the faint bite marks.]
[You sigh and look at Medea.]
[The young witch blushes, unable to meet your gaze.]
["Mind your reputation, Your Highness."]
[Tsk. You sigh, suddenly remembering Medea's age...]
[...Wait a minute! This is Greece, isn't it common here?!]
["Really want to, but can't, Your Highness."]
["Don't get angry again, Your Highness."]
["Grow up a bit... okay, Your Highness?"]
[You sigh and open your arms in resignation.]
[Although they verbally reject you, they still push and squeeze into your embrace.]
[They know what burdens you carry, and they don't want to add to your psychological burden.]
["When hell is completely cleaned out, and you rescue your father, fiancée, and brother, when the day of true peace finally arrives, then we'll hold-"]
[You quickly silence them with your lips, entering the deepest level of permission.]
[A dreamless night.]
[Two more months pass, and you, with the intent to capture various named and intelligent devils in hell, brutally interrogate them. Starting from Sparta's gates to hell, you plan the route to the underworld.]
[In your dreams, you flirt with Athena, trying to subtly extract information from her, as she seems to be intoxicated by your superb skills, revealing much about the abilities of that god of war.]
[Of course, you don't believe a word Athena says and instead hand over the analysis to her subordinates led by Atalanta, who heads the intelligence department.]
[Caenis serves as Sparta's instructor, and Medea assists you in handling affairs.]
[Jason, as the governor of the port, controls all of Sparta's maritime hubs and trade routes. He seems very grateful to have Medea back, finally breathing a sigh of relief.]
[Alcides and Dante, as the chief and deputy generals, wield Sparta's military power, gradually forming a deep friendship akin to mentor and disciple. The great hero seems to have high hopes for Dante's combat talent, predicting that he will surpass himself in the future.]
[Asclepius's research gradually makes breakthroughs... successfully implanting devil hearts into ordinary death row inmates, allowing them to survive for half a day.]
[Everything progresses smoothly, busy yet exhilarating, and a year finally comes to an end on the Greek land, seeming to see hope for humanity's victory over devils.]
The night was cloudless, with stars twinkling brightly in the sky.
The prosperity of Sparta had expanded several times over from a year ago. The city was adorned with lights and decorations, and people wore smiles of contentment and joy on their faces, devoid of the solemn atmosphere from a year prior.
Today marked the fourteenth birthday of Kratos, the wise king.
Maintaining a vigilant watch over the defenses against hell, people joyously welcomed this day worth celebrating.
Kratos, the wise king with black hair, stood atop the mountain peak in the royal court, overlooking the myriad lights below.
At that moment.
Just like this moment.
The bounded field of the land communicated with the leylines, enveloping the entire Sparta. Even if the War Devil were to attack again, Kratos would ensure that they had no chance of returning.
"Father, look, I have managed our home very well."
The courtyard was bustling with activity and colors.
The red-haired man sat quietly under the moonlight, nodding and smiling at his son's efforts, as if praising his diligence.
In front of Leonidas, the wise young king with black hair quietly placed a bouquet of flowers, watching as his father's figure gradually dissipated.
"The day we reunite will not be too far away."
Just six more months.
Kratos' power of faith would reach its current limit.
He would then lead the most elite group of chosen ones to storm Mount Olympus, the temple of war, attempting to rescue Vergil, and then proceed to the underworld to save his father and fiancee's souls.
Under the cold moonlight.
The hands of his three wives simultaneously draped him with a warm cloak.
Medea, the purple witch, struggled to tiptoe, barely reaching Kratos' shoulder.
"Your Highness... Everyone is waiting for you."
Kratos turned his head.
His beloved wives stood before him.
His closest comrades sat at the banquet, waiting for him to take his seat.
The wise young king with black hair smiled gently.
"Let's drink a little more with everyone tonight."
"To victory!"
Glasses clinked in a fervent toast.
As if dispelling the chill of the night, the atmosphere warmed.
Without using magic to arrange the crimson wine, Kratos felt a slight intoxication.
His gaze gradually became trance-like, and the scene at the banquet seemed to overlap with his birthday two years ago.
That was the day Kratos lost everything.
Without warning.
Amidst the noise and warmth.
A gentle and polite knock on the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The standard three knocks.
Accompanied by the call of a young man.
Instantly, the room froze, and everyone's temperature seemed to drop.
"...Kratos, I'm back."
A loud crash.
Dante's hand slipped from the wine glass, sending it crashing to the ground.
The crimson liquid spilled, spreading thickly like blood.
Disbelief, astonishment, and anger filled the air.
Among the almost frozen expressions of everyone present.
Kratos slowly rose to his feet.
The long corridor ahead shimmered with light.
The flickering candles swayed, casting eerie shadows.
In the cool moonlight.
The figure of the orange-haired woman emerged slowly in the midst of the banquet, with a halo hovering above her head, her figure somewhat ethereal.
With an expression that seemed somewhat frozen.
Kratos tilted his head, looking at Athena in front of him.
Is this... a dream?
"It's not a dream, Kreedos, this is my projection."
For the first time.
Athena didn't smile.
On her face was an expression of solemnity, sorrow, and almost pity.
It made the young king's heart tighten involuntarily.
"Don't open the door, Kratos."
Athena shook her head, speaking with a mournful tone.
"Outside the door, it's not your brother."
Inside the banquet hall, everyone looked at this sudden appearance of a strange woman, bewildered and lost.
Looking at her illusion, Kratos burst out with a blood-red greatsword surging from his hand, swiping it to extinguish it.
Dragging Aatrox, Kratos walked towards the palace gate, slowly stepping through.
But Dante stood up, grabbing his brother's hand.
"Don't go! Kratos, Vergil couldn't possibly..."
"Kratos, I'm back."
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The crisp knocking sound.
It seemed to knock on everyone's heart.
"Outside the door, it's Vergil's aura."
Kratos said softly.
Making Dante's expression suddenly stiffen.
No one knew Vergil's aura better than Kratos himself.
Shaking off Dante's hand.
Dragging Aatrox.
Kratos walked towards the door, step by step.
"Something's wrong... Kratos, something's wrong-"
Aatrox warned him about this suspicious situation, but he got no answer from him.
Under the flickering light, Kratos slowly walked through the palace corridor.
But it seemed to be as long as a century.
The moonlight cast down.
The shadows of the trees in the courtyard seemed to sway and distort.
Everyone's gaze converged on him.
Kratos raised his hand and slowly pushed open the palace door...
Under the bright moonlight.
A silver-haired, muscular figure sat on a molten iron chair, his back facing this way.
Vergil slowly turned his head, tears flowing from his eyes.
"Kratos..."
"Vergil."
Kratos called out his brother's name.
"I'm back. Can I hug you?"
The silver-haired young man let out a choked sob.
But tears flowed from his eyes, seeming to try hard to blink, the pain, the despair, the cruelty, all flowed out.
Towards his brother.
Kratos slowly walked through.
Without warning.
The molten iron chair suddenly collapsed.
A blazing red longsword, surging with violent magic like molten lava, suddenly appeared in Vergil's palm, swinging backward violently.
Swish!
The burst of blazing sword light tore through the sky of Sparta's royal court, rushing straight into the sky.
Such a violent slash could even cut through a mountain...
Suddenly stagnated.
It was caught by Kratos' hand.
The blade and the flesh struggled tremblingly.
Fresh blood dripped down, emitting a burning scent, resounding sharply from Kratos' palm.
He clenched his hand tightly.
Clang...
Forged by the gods, this blade, which was enough to cut through a spaceship, was suddenly broken by Kratos' hand.
Bang.
The blazing tip of the sword was thrown to the ground at random.
Tears streaming down his face, Vergil opened his arms, and the fierce flames swept out and spread, turning into countless sharp blades, shooting towards Kratos like arrows.
Pfft...
Kratos raised his hand, and the blood-red giant sword pierced through Vergil's chest.
"Aatrox!"
He roared like never before.
"Understood!"
Kratos couldn't help but understand, if his brother Vergil appeared in front of him, then things were definitely not normal.
But no matter how much he was restrained, no matter how blessed by Ares, under Aatrox's crest influence, all curses would be lifted.
However...
However... there was something unexpected.
"I carefully planned this reconstruction, and yet you could last even a round against him... Kratos, your growth rate is monstrous, I can't let you continue to live freely."
Behind Vergil...
Shrouded in blood-red armor, a burly humanoid figure slowly emerged from the moonlight.
The God of War Ares.
In his crimson gaze, there was a playful cruelty, as he raised his hand, pointing towards the silver-haired youth pierced by Kratos.
Furious, as if the sun released burning heat, suddenly, from within Vergil's body, violent trembling brewed...
In an instant.
With Aatrox's reminder, Kratos understood Ares's intention.
"Self-destruct?! You motherfucker! You want to control my brother to self-destruct in front of me?!"
The blood-red flow surged mightily, covering the entire body of the black-haired youth with the armor. Kratos reached out and suddenly stabbed into Vergil's chest, pulling out the molten flame mechanism core, as if extinguishing a cigarette, crushing it abruptly in his palm.
However... unexpectedly...
In Kratos's enraged, almost trembling gaze,
A blood ring suddenly appeared around Vergil's neck.
The youth's head unexpectedly separated from his body, flying backward, instantly grabbed by that crimson-armored figure.
Self-destruction was just a diversion...
"Ares... when did he become so clever?!"
Aatrox's incredulous voice echoed through Kratos's mind.
"Ha..."
Rage.
Uncontrollable fury.
The blood-red spread, madness filled his vision.
In the scorching hot air, from Kratos's demonic form, there came a slow breath under the night of this palace.
"What a waste, Vergil, all my meticulous reconstruction efforts for you were in vain."
Ares swung the head in his hand.
His fiery divine power covered the wound on Vergil's neck, keeping the youth's life intact.
From that humanoid form within the blood-red armor, came a mocking voice.
"Kratos, Your brother... he's left with only this intact head now."
"Since it failed, then... until next time."
He smiled.
"I will present you with a better piece using your brother's head."
Rip...
Blood-colored wings suddenly appeared behind Kratos's back, unfolding violently.
At this moment of raging fury,
Athena's urgent voice resounded.
"Calm down! Calm down, Kratos!"
"Ares cannot lay hands on you! He's deliberately provoking you!"
The orange-haired woman appeared from behind Ares, not as a mere projection this time, but as her actual self.
"Athena!"
Facing her sister's revelation...
Ares suddenly roared.
Athena ignored him, continuing anxiously.
"As long as you don't unleash an attack exceeding a certain power against Ares, you won't be deemed a threat by Olympus' fleet!"
"That's right, Zeus is still protecting you! So Ares dare not lay hands on you! But if you attack him, even Zeus cannot continue to protect you! Even though Zeus is the flagship, he cannot defy the orders of our fleet's highest command!"
With crimson eyes.
Kratos exhaled slowly.
Behind him, the palace was in ruins, a scene of devastation.
The people of Sparta quickly gathered behind Kratos.
Ares, Athena.
In their words, the two great gods' identities were glimpsed.
"Athena..." Jason's expression was inexplicable, "Goddess Athena, how did you come to this appearance?"
The Argonauts was built with the help of Athena.
In his mind's eye, the goddess Athena was supposed to be a serene figure with purple hair, exuding gentleness.
As Kratos gazed at the head of Vergil, his brother, held aloft by Ares, a twisted expression of rage contorted his face.
He took a deep, heavy breath.
He shut his eyes forcefully.
"Kratos... calm down, Vergil is now-"
"Step back, get away! Kratos! As long as you remain rational, Ares can't touch you! I promise you, I will protect Vergil... I will-"
"Shut your foul mouth, Athena!"
A moment of daze.
In Kratos's eyes.
The visage of Athena underwent a transformation, resembling Myrrine's face.
She cradled their dream-born daughter, smiling at him, before being abruptly struck by Ares' sword, cleaving mother and daughter in half.
Twisted intestines.
The ground writhed.
Ares attacked Athena.
Seizing the opportunity, in that moment of distraction.
Squelch...
The bloodied sword was violently hurled, slicing through Ares' right hand, holding Vergil's head.
Watching this scene.
A mysterious smile played on Athena's face as her figure flickered and then dissipated.
Kratos's demonic form swiftly flew forward, catching his brother's head and tossing it towards his comrades behind him.
Rip...
The bloody wings spread out without hesitation.
Kratos remained calm.
Even in this surging, uncontrollable rage, he remained remarkably composed.
He couldn't fight in the city.
Kratos raised his hand, gripping Ares' face tightly, soaring with him and heading straight for the highest peak in Sparta.
In the reflection of the flight.
Crack.
With immense magical force, he crushed Ares' crimson and ferocious helmet under his palm.
Beneath the lowered visor, the scarred and elegant face of the dark-haired beauty emerged, smiling with a hint of wickedness.
Seeing this feminine face.
Even Kratos, in his fury, couldn't help but pause.
"What?!?"
Aatrox was even more astounded.
"Ares has truly become a woman?!"
In the night sky, amidst the clouds.
Squelch...
With a fierce and malicious grin, Ares raised her hand and stabbed through Kratos's abdomen.
Her divine power surged throughout her body as she violently swung him.
Boom!
Kratos's robust demonic form was smashed into the temple atop Sparta's highest peak.
A vast cloud of dust billowed out.
A halo of flames swirled behind his head, like a descending deity, as Ares slowly descended.
Her body exuded a lava-like heat, her divine power flowing and coalescing once more into her severed right hand.
"You distracted!"
"Kratos, fight with me! How dare you be distracted!"
Roaring and bellowing.
Ares spread her arms wide.
Above the firmament, a surge of blood-red light descended abruptly, enveloping her entirely. Crimson armor proliferated, her imposing figure nearly reaching the heavens. From within her ferocious arm armor, a colorful longsword slowly materialized.
The Sword of the War God, completely unleashed.
The Olympian god of war revealed a divine form never before seen by mortals.
"This is your end, mortal!"
Amidst the woman's maniacal laughter.
"Aatrox..."
"Full power release, magic propulsion..."
In Ares' somewhat sluggish gaze.
From the dust, amidst the towering and blood-colored demonic form, a lowered line of sight met the gaze of the slightly shorter Ares.
"Ares."
"I hope you can let me..."
Layered voices.
From that grim and bloodthirsty visage, a slow ripple spread out.
"Just have a little fun."
