76 [76] Aatrox!
[On the battlefield of corpses and blood.]
[You have gained the name Kratos.]
[The destined name, belonging to a God Slayer, leaves you somewhat stunned and silent.]
[You slightly turn your gaze towards your side, where your two silver-haired sworn brothers sleep deeply in the arms of the lieutenant.]
[Dante, Vergil...]
[Spartans? Spartan lineage?]
[This Spartan, with that Spartan, as if in an instant, a subtle overlap occurred, followed by a strange sensation in your heart, both reasonable and slightly abrupt.]
[Type-Moon? Devil May Cry? God of War?]
[Dark Souls? Firelink Greatsword?]
[And various other bizarre things that may come in the future, along with the lingering shadow in your heart, named the subversive disaster of the warp storm...]
[Clearly concepts from different works.]
[But as if in a subtle, insidious manner, like the bottom logic being tampered and brushed, they blend, overlap, merge together...]
[Once again.]
[You feel a certain indescribable confusion.]
[What has happened to this world exactly?]
[This deepest perplexity and doubt, you bury deep within your heart.]
[You faintly feel that you seem to have touched upon some kind of answer.]
[But the distance to that truth remains extremely distant, like a chasm in the sky.]
[Leonidas carefully takes care of you three surviving infants, bringing you back to the Spartan polis.]
[The city-state of Sparta never built walls because the chests of Spartans were the impregnable Greek iron walls.]
[As the Spartan army slowly triumphs.]
[Being held in Leonidas' arms, you notice in the Spartan polis, there are also various traces of blood and fierce battle.]
[This devil attack seems to be of an unprecedented scale, as you can see corpses of devils and wounded warriors and residents everywhere in the city.]
[People discuss sacrifices and the situation of other city-states with worried expressions.]
[As the strongest fighting nation in Greece, the Spartan army also rushes to support their allies across the land.]
[Leonidas entrusts you to be placed in the palace, settling you three brothers. The King of Sparta leads the army once again onto the battlefield against the devils...]
[The battle against the devils continues fiercely for months.]
[Leonidas returns covered in blood, and this time, the turmoil is finally reluctantly quelled.]
[Counting the sacrifices of warriors, rebuilding the damaged homeland.]
[The Spartans mourn in sorrow and peace, welcoming a long-lost peaceful time.]
[Leonidas adopts you three as his foster sons.]
[From the age of two weeks when you could walk and speak.]
[The King of Sparta himself, physically robust, begins to personally teach you Spartan combat arts, experiences, and knowledge of hunting devils.]
[Although Spartan training is extremely harsh.]
[But you quickly learn what he teaches, displaying talents that even Leonidas, the King of Sparta, finds astonishing.]
[Among the three brothers, Vergil, the eldest, grows the fastest, the strongest, and the most robust.]
[At the age of eight, Vergil can wield a giant shield as tall as himself and thrust the heaviest iron spear in the Spartan army.]
[Younger brother Dante's physical strength is slightly inferior to Vergil's, but only slightly.]
[Compared to Vergil, Dante's reflexes are more agile, showing stronger talent for long-range hunting with bows and arrows.]
[However.]
[You, who Leonidas had the highest expectations for, as their older brother, have the most slender and weak physique.]
[Your strength is not even half of Vergil's.]
[Your movements are not as agile as Dante's.]
[Your figure grows slim and coordinated, 'weak' to the point that it doesn't seem like that of a Spartan.]
[Your face is gentle and beautiful, lacking the toughness that a warrior should possess.]
[Compared to the muscular brothers, in the Spartan evaluation system, your demeanor seems weak, almost like a girl.]
[That light and floating fist, rather than combat arts, it's more like dancing!]
[However...]
[Since childhood, whether bare-handed or with weapons, the two brothers have never defeated you even once, only barely achieving balance in one-on-one matches.]
[By the age of eight, in terms of swordsmanship alone, even Leonidas himself sparred with you using wooden swords or spears, only to be surprised to find that he couldn't gain any upper hand.]
[You, solely with your supreme skills, suppress the brute strength of Spartan blood, and your talent is not only displayed in battle.]
[Your world-wise wisdom, akin to knowing everything, surprises Leonidas.]
[While Spartans highly esteem combat prowess, everyone is considered a warrior of the gods, but, on the other hand... they are all crude men.]
[Without fighting, there is no survival.]
[This is the ancestral precept carved into every Spartan's bloodline.]
[This group of energetic men is difficult to manage finely. Even Leonidas, known for his majesty and bravery, feels a headache... he has always been respected for his own dignity and valor.]
[Since the age of thirteen, you have helped Leonidas, managing various political affairs within the Spartan city-state.]
[Due to years of battling devils, the casualties have been heavy.]
[As a result, the population of Spartans is now only about thirty thousand, a greatly unfavorable factor for the survival and reproduction of a race.]
[Under your advice.]
[Leonidas, against all opposition, has introduced exiled Pharisees and Helot people into the city, gradually expanding and enriching the population and ethnicity of the city-state.]
[You physically descend into the fields, teaching people hand in hand how to make barren land fertile, emphasizing the importance of fertilization and pest control, improving the crude farming techniques, and increasing grain production year by year.]
[You invent various ingenious and clever tools, quickly spreading them under the personal demonstration of the King of Sparta, greatly improving the efficiency of labor in this era.]
[Your profound medical knowledge saves many Spartan warriors who would otherwise have been amputated or left to die. People used to pray for divine blessings to heal injuries, but in this turbulent age, it is increasingly difficult to get a response from the gods.]
[Under your thorough medical examinations, useful herbs are identified and cultivated, the importance of surgery and disinfection is emphasized, and the combination of magical healing and modern medical knowledge greatly improves the efficiency of priests in treating injuries.]
[You are also proficient in mathematics, weaving, craftsmanship, astronomy, geography, and various other disciplines... Any questions that scholars find difficult to answer, as long as they are brought to you, you can enlighten them.]
[As the most fundamental and crucial bottom-level governance, you spend half a month carefully drafting detailed and well-organized laws suitable for this era.]
[The Sparta law, after intense debate, quickly passed unanimously by the entire council... it thereby stipulated that even slaves could redeem themselves through labor, greatly boosting the enthusiasm of refugees.]
Refugees who no longer have a place due to devil attacks begin to gather towards city-states in Sparta because they hear about the wisdom of the King of Sparta's child.
[People's construction and prosperity proceed vigorously, and with each passing day, the size of the city-states under Sparta seems to become more prosperous.]
[As the territories expand and extend outward, the various city-states under Sparta gradually form a nested regional pattern.]
[The resident population has equalized, or even slowly surpassed Athens, surpassing that shining pearl in the hands of the gods, presenting a thriving scene.]
[Leonidas joyfully looks at this thriving and competitive scene.]
[He didn't do anything.]
[Just supporting his son from behind.]
[But, as years pass, the appearance of the city-states of Sparta has changed drastically, and his own name has become Father of the Wise Kratos.]
[Despite losing his own name as the King of Sparta, the red-haired middle-aged king, instead of showing his dignity, instead shows a proud and affectionate smile.]
[Miracle.]
[As your various accomplishments are widely spread, benefiting people gradually gather around you, regarding your arrival as a miracle and acknowledging you as the descendant of the gods.]
[In this age where everything is done under the guise of the divine, you have no intention of subverting people's beliefs.]
[Because gods are real, in this age of gods in Greece, this is not superstition... rather, it's a dialectical, materialist idea.]
[Compared to praying for the descent of miracles.]
[What you truly want to express is that it's better to rely on your own hands to achieve happiness and peace.]
[This is not an overnight process.]
[You will gradually change people's minds through practical, visible, and beautiful deeds.]
[Devil attacks are still occasional, but no longer on the massive scale of years ago, and days pass in peace.]
[The prosperous city-states of Sparta increasingly affirm you as the divine son descended from Olympus, blessed by the Wise Goddess Athena, possessing world-wise wisdom.]
[As your physique gradually strengthens, Dante and Vergil join the hunt against devils. At the age of just ten, they are already renowned devil hunters.]
[Because of your duties in handling political affairs, your personal hunts against devils are not as frequent as your brothers', but your command of the army brings about fewer casualties, benefiting the city-state more.]
[Your world-wise wisdom, along with Dante and Vergil's combat prowess, spreads your famous reputation gradually throughout the Greek land.]
[Due to your identities and your relationship, you are hailed as the Spartan Brothers.]
[Although among the three brothers, you, as the eldest, seem the most physically frail and introverted.]
[But whether in combat arts or knowledge, you are undoubtedly the worthy eldest brother.]
[The two younger brothers greatly admire you.]
[Although there is no blood relationship between you, yet your relationship is as close as real brothers, thicker than blood.]
[Leonidas looks on with satisfaction as you three grow day by day.]
[The heavy expectations placed on your three brothers' names seem to be gradually turning into reality day by day...]
Facing the sea, in the season when spring blooms.
In the courtyard of the Spartan palace, where spring is in full swing.
Flowers blooming, green grass lush.
A handsome, black-haired youth smiles gently.
Slowly, he lowers the hand covering his younger brother's eyes.
"Vergil, come...
"This is from me, a birthday gift for you."
Looking at the finely white chair in front of him, each joint intricately connected, created by Kratos himself.
"Is this..."
The silver-haired, muscular youth reaches out, running his fingers along the backrest of the chair.
A slightly dazed expression appears on his face.
Comfortable...
Kratos even went to the trouble of polishing it, making the chair smooth and comfortable to the touch.
"Is it for me... a chair? Kratos, it's an unusual design..."
"Yes, I noticed you've been studying hard lately, your neck must be sore."
The black-haired youth smiles, gently pushing his silver-haired, ponytailed brother into the chair.
"It should be comfortable to study now, don't you think?"
In Greece where the concept of ergonomics had not yet emerged.
People mostly sat on rudimentary chairs.
But they were just for sitting, far from comfortable.
Now, they were reclining in this white chair, designed with comfort as the perfect standard.
The ergonomic design, tailored to fit the human body, made Vergil let out a long sigh of contentment.
It's so strange...
But sitting on it feels so comfortable?!
Truly worthy of his wise brother, Kratos, inventing such an amazing chair with ease!
Watching Vergil's back as he fondles the armrest of the white chair, his excitement evident, Kratos's blood begins to stir.
If only he had a Yamato and a long trench coat...
It would be perfect.
The current Greek fashion trend, known as 'Heaton,' consists of loose-fitting, flowing robes.
In simple terms, it's draping a piece of fabric over oneself in various elaborate ways.
The folds accentuate the curves of the body.
But for the battle-hardened Spartans, they prefer to go shirtless, adorned with war paint, and clad in leather and metal battle skirts.
Only when facing devils do they don heavy armor to significantly boost their defense.
Kratos doesn't particularly like going shirtless.
So, he usually wears a well-tailored robe.
The combination of black hair and white robes gives him a strangely mesmerizing allure, a clash of contrasts that captivates.
As for Dante and Vergil... these two fighting brothers prefer the traditional Spartan attire.
Being shirtless is no big deal.
But, being shirtless without a trench coat is not Dante and Vergil!
Next time, he'll make clothes for his brothers.
Watching Vergil caress the armrest of the white chair with such excitement, Kratos feels satisfied with his gift.
"I'm glad you like it. But you might need a taller one soon."
"I love this gift! Thank you, Kratos!"
Vergil eagerly wants to take the white chair back to his room to study.
He admiring Kratos for his knowledge and strength.
He asked his brother how to become so perfect and got the answer: study.
So, instead of practicing combat skills, he started to enjoy reading books.
Books.
Another invention of his brother!
The magical creation known as 'paper,' is made from crushed straw, hemp, and discarded silk cocoons.
Due to its cheap materials, papermaking quickly spread.
But the real value lies in the knowledge written on it.
What Kratos writes, the priests dare not miss a word, carefully transcribing it with magic, although it's not very efficient and often takes half an hour to proofread a book.
So, the value of a transcribed book written by Wise Son Kratos has become almost as precious as a second-tier gold coin, an important export commodity for the Spartan city-state.
Looking at Vergil's white chair.
The other can't help but feel that the gift he gets from his brother carries more heartfelt meaning.
"It's just a chair. Hey, Vergil! Look at mine!"
With a voice that rings out, another silver-haired, non-ponytailed, handsome youth walks over, brandishing a gleaming iron sword in his hand, beginning to wield it in a showy manner.
"Wow!"
The iron sword, infused with magical energy, glows red all over.
Even the hilt is carved with a devil's skull.
Kratos knows what kind of things boys of this age like.
The design of this sword perfectly appeals to Dante.
"Isn't it cool? I named it Rebellion!"
"Cough... Rebellion...?"
Hearing this catchy name, the corner of Vergil's mouth curls up in a playful smile.
"So... what are you rebelling against, Dante?"
"Everything! Just rebellion for the sake of rebellion!"
"What a silly name."
Vergil smiles, stroking the armrest of the white chair.
"It doesn't seem as practical as... a chair."
"Heh..." Dante chuckles, "Are you just jealous of the gift Kratos gave me?"
"Me... jealous? Swords are everywhere, but this chair is one of a kind."
"Tch, what's with that expression! Let me sit in it too!"
"You wish."
Kratos smiles, watching his two brothers playfully bicker.
If only time could stand still like this forever.
But alas, it's just wishful thinking.
Because... this is the moonlit world's age of gods Greece.
Enjoying the tranquility of this moment.
Reinhard shifts his gaze slightly from the palace courtyard to the vast city of Sparta.
Σπάρτης (Sparta).
In Greek, it means fertile land.
And indeed, it is.
The fertile resources of Greece are on par with those once coveted by Britannia.
No, they're even stronger, much stronger.
Because here, not only is there the favor of the gods, but there is no looming threat of the age of gods decline.
Wild beasts roam the land, and various fairies flourish and reproduce.
Giants, dragons, monsters, mythical creatures...
They can be found almost everywhere.
The physique of an average adult here would easily become a champion fighter in modern times.
So, even though it's the era of ancient Greece, civilization and technology seem much more advanced than in fifth-century Britannia.
The person who originally named this city 'Sparta' probably never imagined that this name would one day become synonymous with iron and blood.
Under the governance of Wise Son Kratos, the overall area of the Spartan city-state has become staggering.
The four obas have been divided into four regions.
Near the Ionia coast, the commercial thoroughfare connects the city-states, with ships coming and going, transporting thousands of goods every day.
Further inland is the rebuilt urban area, once nearly destroyed by devil invasions... the Greek-style, pure white, clean architecture is made of stone, but because it's mythical stone, it has a self-cleaning ability.
Adorned with columns, emphasizing light and shadow, the white relief walls create a grand sense of sacredness.
And because of the spread of magic, every part of the building is infused with magical constructs, emitting sparkling light.
This is now the most prosperous and populous city area in Sparta, with bustling construction still underway, theaters, arenas, slave markets... the heights of various buildings are becoming increasingly towering.
Further up the hill is the Spartan magic district, where the magical content is even more abundant.
Although slavery still exists, places like Magic Video and Enchantment Workshop have begun to emerge.
The fairies and dwarves invited by Leonidas are skilled in a peculiar architectural style... stone stacking with a mechanical touch, with magical airships floating in the sky...
Even in the city, various phantasmal species intermingle with humans, such as lizardmen, catgirls, leopard people, and all sorts of fantastical creatures wearing exotic outfits.
It's eerie.
But also tidy.
It's a... weird yet harmonious beauty.
High-tech, ancient, and filled with various fantasy colors.
People always place their hopes in the lofty gods, basking in the gifts and blessings from the gods.
The thoughts of the vast majority of people are still ignorant and uncivilized, and the slave system prevails, with mysteries abound and redundant elements overflowing, yet it all appears prosperous and thriving.
Swords and Magic?
Or Cyberpunk?
Kratos can hardly find the right words to describe the style of this Greece.
If forced to say, it should be...
Grecian Magical Punk?
Moving further up from the urban area, one arrives at the magnificent palace courtyard of the King of Sparta.
And standing atop the highest peak of Sparta, there lies the solemn Temple of War.
... The Greece of the age of gods.
Truly a dazzling and prosperous civilization.
The black-haired youth gazes down upon the city-state under his rule, knowing that Athens is said to be even more abundant than his own domain.
Reinhard, now inhabiting a body named Kratos, has grown steadily for the past sixteen years.
His status panel... leaves him with a subtle feeling.
Yes... subtle.
[Name: Kratos Sparta
Strength: D
Endurance: D
Agility: C
Mana: C
Luck: EX
Noble Phantasm: ???
Eternal Arms Mastery: B
Your combat arts skills, in this era where the art of combat has yet to reach its peak, are undoubtedly unrivaled. They are not taught by others but are a concentrated manifestation of your soul's expertise.
Eternal Arms Mastery allows you to overcome the strong with the weak. However, unfortunately, your current physical attributes are too weak to defeat opponents whose strength far exceeds yours.
Magic Resistance: C
With the blood of Sparta coursing through you and the favor of the gods, you possess basic resistance to simple magic.
Crimson Fury: Not Awakened
You have not yet felt the surge of anger within you, as you have not embarked on the journey to slay gods.
Demonic Sword Companion: Not Awakened
The bloodthirsty demonic sword destined to be yours has not yet pierced through despair to reach you.
Limiter: Not Awakened
The heart known as 'humanity' still binds your restless soul.]
To sum it up...
...Mediocre.
This word truly reflects the strength of Kratos's current body.
When he was just eight years old, as the son of a White Dragon, he possessed the strength to punch through stones, boasting terrifying stats of three Bs.
Perhaps it's the lack of enhancement from an ultimate life form.
Now, at sixteen, his attributes are just slightly stronger than those of an ordinary Spartan warrior.
Although his combat arts skills allow him to triumph over the strong with the weak.
If he were to spar with Leonidas and exert full force, Kratos would surely lose, the gap in physical fitness is still too vast to overcome.
But well.
None of his three talents have awakened yet, so his current youth and stats are still within the normal range.
What puzzles Kratos the most is...
"Damn, Luck EX?"
When he saw this stat, Kratos was dumbfounded for several minutes.
How in the world did his luck become so high?
Did Counter Force dip its hand again?
Or perhaps...
Is the EX rank indicating the worst possible luck?
Shouldn't it be E- instead?
"There must be something fishy going on."
Kratos muttered this classic line.
After all, he's opened a hole in the Inner Sea of the Planet.
Could it be... because he's currently in a timeline before the hole appears, there's no hostility from Counter Force?
No, that's not it.
In his understanding, Counter Force is something that exists along the timeline... otherwise, there wouldn't be a need for Grand Sertvants to be summoned to intervene.
Why is the luck of Kratos so high?
After ruling out all options, Kratos could only think of one possibility.
"So... is it because of the devils?
"Or because... of that name, the Crimson Titan?"
Having grown up in the city-state of Sparta under Leonidas' tutelage,
Kratos now has a basic understanding of the situation in Greece.
He is actually quite knowledgeable about Greek mythology, having been exposed to it more than Celtic mythology.
It's just that...
The moonlit world's Greek history seems to have been slightly... changed?
Leonidas has told his adopted sons about the history of the gods recorded in Sparta.
In Kratos's personal understanding...
Initially, it did adhere to the development of Greek mythology:
Zeus leads the gods to overthrow the Titans, engaging in a fierce battle with Kronos.
The battle was said to be earth-shattering... until the ocean is dyed blood red.
But from here, things took a turn...
Dying Kronos wanting to drag all the gods down with him, activated a hidden backup energy source.
Sacrificing himself, he summoned a primordial chaos called Chaos, tearing open a huge rift to the otherworld.
From that rift in the otherworld.
Countless monstrous beings poured directly into Tartarus.
After that... Tartarus was thoroughly contaminated and transformed by the rift in the void... since then, it has become a devil lair and nurtured countless devils.
The titans imprisoned in Tartarus don't know what's going on anymore, but by now, no gods should care.
At first, the gods didn't think it was a big problem.
For thousands of years, under the rule of the gods, the long era passed peacefully.
However, with the complete contamination of Hell, Tartarus began to emit cracks, constantly opening up across the world, causing untold suffering for humans under the rule of various gods.
Each time a crack appears.
Countless devils, who prey on humans, surge out, ravaging the human world, grinding teeth and sucking blood.
The devils here.
Do not refer to the silly and cute creatures in mythology, with their red faces and fangs, or with heads of goats and legs of bulls, tempting mortals to their downfall.
Nor does it fall into categories such as succubi, incubi, rapists, enchanters, vacuum demons, or Voldemort.
Most of the nameless common devils are nothing more than foot soldiers.
Dealing with them in Greece during the age of gods is akin to facing a horde of weak monsters.
However...
In the midst of the devil horde, there are 'named devils'.
These are the most formidable adversaries.
Based on the experience and lessons learned from years of struggle and conflict between humans and devils...
It has been discovered that the collective fear of humans towards certain things can summon 'corresponding devils,' causing them to descend from Hell and wreak havoc on the human world.
Such fears.
Can be related to plants, animals, inanimate objects, tangible entities... or even some sort of metaphysical concept.
To illustrate, according to Kratos's understanding...
A devil born from the fear of 'groups' would be the Group Devil.
A devil born from the fear of 'pigeons' would be the Pigeon Devil.
The stronger, more widespread, and deeper the fear of humans towards certain things,
The more eerie abilities, destructive power, and tenacious vitality the corresponding devils possess.
The most challenging aspect is that
Those devils with 'names' cannot truly be killed.
Devils have incredibly tenacious vitality, and only destroying their hearts can truly annihilate them.
However...
As long as humans retain fear of their 'names'...
The devils will rise from Hell once again.
Eradicating human fear...
That is almost impossible.
So, every time a devil is slain, it's merely sending them back to the fountain for a bath, thus delaying their return.
And these are also basic common knowledge among the vast majority of people in Greek.
Since Tartarus was thoroughly contaminated and devils began to rampage the earth.
Humans have since acquired a common enemy.
Throughout Greece, in its majestic city-states, although relations have not been completely restored...
At least the disputes between them have diminished significantly.
Because, faced with devils, humanity's natural enemy,
Unity is essential for survival.
Leonidas is right.
Most of Greece's elite warriors today are outstanding devil hunters.
Some of these devils with 'names' may even manifest in human form.
However, even humanoid devils
Often have distinctive features in their cranial regions compared to regular humans.
This is also a common method devil hunters use to distinguish between humans and devils.
Devils will continue to rise from Hell.
While humans will perish.
In such a seemingly hopeless situation, in this endless struggle against devils...
The reason people can persevere is because... they yearn for the blessings of the gods.
If the gods were to emerge victorious.
Perhaps, they could sweep Hell clean.
Embracing such hope is what drives people to continue fighting.
The reason why it's said to 'emerge victorious' is because, at present, the gods are too preoccupied.
Over ten thousand years ago, a crimson meteorite with a flaming tail fell from an extraterrestrial planet, crashing onto the earth and giving rise to a crimson titan.
He destroyed Atlantis, wreaking havoc and slaughter upon various pantheons, and then launched attacks against Norse, Greek, Sumerian, and Egyptian pantheons.
Eventually, it is said that he was pierced and dispersed by a beam of light that pierced through the sky and earth, causing his fragments to fall all over the world.
At almost the same time devils began to rampage.
Fragments of the crimson titan stood up again in Greece, shaking Olympus to its core.
It is said that Zeus led the gods to once again disperse the crimson titan.
However, the crimson titan would rise again after a period of time, launching another assault on Mount Olympus.
The protracted war between the two sides has lasted for over a decade.
Now people are eagerly awaiting the gods' victory over the crimson titan, thereby freeing up their hands to save humanity.
The flickering flame of hope continues to sway.
"A meteorite dropped by an extraterrestrial planet, the crimson titan?"
Kratos cannot help but think...
"Could this be... the Fallen Empire?"
In Stellaris, the awakened Fallen Empire from the galaxy sometimes holds strong animosity towards other civilizations.
So...
The so-called crimson titan, which displays such obvious hostility towards the gods...
Might possibly be a small reconnaissance sent by the Fallen Empire?
With this in mind.
Kratos suddenly understood why the luck stat of his current Kratos body had reached EX.
"It's highly likely because the counter force was disrupted by that crimson titan..."
And the beam of light that destroyed the crimson titan should be...
...Excalibur.
Kratos immediately guessed that beam of light should have come from the Sword of Promised Victory, Excalibur.
Compared to the Excalibur swung by Artoria towards him...
Excalibur attack that hit the crimson titan should have been several times larger than the one that hit him.
So... this thing led to the weakening of the counter force to the extreme?
The Counter Force had no time to bother with him.
So... this is what causes his luck to be very high.
"Tsk, fortunes do change."
With the salty sea breeze blowing.
The black-haired youth squinted his eyes slightly, looking towards the distant coastline.
Considering the possibility of attacking the Counter Force when they're at their weakest.
The last time he attacked, it was just an opening that reached the Inner Sea of the Planet.
And this time, if he can't eliminate the Counter Force... it would be the greatest insult to him and truly unworthy of the talent he possesses.
But he clearly needs to enhance his strength.
And his talent...
Crimson Fury requires anger.
Limiter requires fighting on the brink of death.
Both of these are difficult to control and are not stable enhancements.
Now, the best way for him to enhance his strength should be...
Demonic Sword Companion.
So...
Where should he go to find that destined demonic sword...
Forget it.
Let's not consider such troublesome matters.
Today is the birthday of the three Spartan brothers.
Kratos felt that he should, perhaps, relax a little, after such a long time.
With this in mind.
The black-haired youth turned his gaze back, smiling at his two playful brothers.
But without him realizing it...
At the distant end of the coastline, there seemed to be a looming haze of gloom, rising and converging...
...
The night was cloudless, the stars twinkling brightly in the sky.
Within the palace of Sparta.
A lively banquet was underway.
Today marked the birthday of the three Spartan brothers, a celebration that engulfed the entire city.
Leonidas laid out a grand feast, where residents from all over the city could set aside their tasks and join in the festivities.
At the head table...
The youths raised their cups in toast to the red-haired warrior.
Spartans were known for their love of drink, but there was one exception: the young man with black hair.
He simply couldn't handle alcohol.
You could say he's the type of person who would typically be the first to surrender at a drinking party and hand over his glass to someone else.
So...
"Just half a glass for me, Father."
With a slightly tipsy gaze...
The black-haired youth clinked his cup with Leonidas, taking only a small sip before his vision began to blur.
"It's rare for you to even drink half a glass, Kratos, hahaha..."
"I'm happy for you!"
The red-haired King of Sparta laughed heartily, downing his massive cup of wine.
"If Kratos can't handle it, then so be it. We'll drink with you, Father."
The silver-haired youths began to shield their older brother from further alcohol.
The atmosphere of the banquet was warm and joyful.
"In three years, you'll all be adults. Time flies."
Reflecting on this, the King of Sparta smiled and turned his kind eyes towards his favorite foster son.
"You're almost ready to stand on your own. Therefore..."
"For you, I want to entrust my most precious treasure, Kratos."
With these words...
Kratos couldn't help but smile wryly at the gesture.
After adopting three foster sons.
Leonidas had devoted all his energy to them, forsaking marriage and further children.
He treated them as his own.
However...
Leonidas had a beloved daughter with his deceased queen.
Named Myrrine, she was a red-haired, delicate-faced girl who sat beside Kratos with a shy smile, gazing at him with bold, passionate eyes.
Kratos couldn't meet her gaze.
Spartans valued strength and valor above all else.
And now, the young girls of the city couldn't help but have their hearts set on the black-haired youth.
Some men even began to dress like him, wearing white robes...
However, the burly, almost bursting muscles only provoke giggles from the girls.
But...
Muscles could be trained...
But character could not.
Kratos's integrity, wisdom, knowledge, and humility earned him the respect of all in Sparta, despite lacking the Spartan combat prowess.
Thus, everyone's aesthetic preferences began to shift towards him.
This often left Leonidas amused and exasperate...
"I..."
Kratos began, wanting to refuse.
He knew that this simulation would bring him face to face with an extremely challenging fate.
The name Kratos said it all.
No need to mention again how challenging Kratos' life is.
But...
"It's settled. This is not only my wish but also Myrrine's preference. Don't refuse."
With a smile...
The middle-aged foster father arranged the marriage for his daughter.
"On the day of your adulthood, I'll personally officiate your wedding."
What could he say?
Kratos looked at the red-haired girl.
She blushed, staring straight at him.
As she had done for the past twelve years.
Wiping his sweat during practice, assisting him in farming, holding the lamp for him while he wrote.
Kratos understood the girl's feelings.
From now on, they would treat each other as equals.
Nothing more needed to be said.
The black-haired youth could only smile and nod his head.
Dante and Vergil exchanged a glance, smiling brightly as they raised their cups in celebration for their brother.
The atmosphere of the banquet grew even more lively.
In Leonidas' knowing smile.
The two silver-haired youths lifted their slightly intoxicated brother's arm and guided Kratos towards the lookout tower of the palace courtyard.
The sky was high, the sea vast.
The brilliant stars of Greece sparkled in the night sky.
Kratos gazed at them, feeling a sense of stagnation.
Looking at the brilliant lights of the thousands of households below.
Swinging together, forming the name Kratos.
"We may not be skilled, and we may be foolish, but we know how to kill devils."
The youth Vergil scratched his head and laughed.
"If you want us to do handiwork, you might as well kill us."
"So, this is..."
Dante's forehead furrowed as he smiled.
"Our gift to you, Kratos."
"T-Thank you."
Kratos muttered absentmindedly.
He turned his head.
Leonidas, his foster father, and his childhood friend Myrrine, sat at the banquet, smiling at him.
Their expressions froze on their faces.
Frozen in Kratos's eyes.
In an instant...
All sound seemed to fade away.
Everything became silent.
As if a hammer struck a mirror.
The entire world in his eyes began to slow down.
Everything was shattered, crushed, destroyed...
Piece by piece.
It crumbled away.
The grand Sparta palace.
In the bewildered and dazed expression of the black-haired youth.
It was all crushed, overwhelmed, collapsed.
A violent gust of wind.
Brushing against Kratos's forehead.
Everything before his eyes shattered and disappeared.
The thunderous, brain-rattling buzzing finally penetrated his mind.
The palace before his eyes.
Was reduced to rubble in an instant.
The moonlight was pure and bright.
The cries and screams of people, even before they had a chance to sound.
No one was aware of what had happened.
In the blink of an eye.
Everything was crushed, destroyed.
Kratos stared blankly.
Supported by his dazed brothers Dante and Vergil, he turned his gaze away.
From the distant coastline.
A trail of destruction, a violent force that had crushed and shattered everything, stretched for tens of thousands of meters on the ground, piercing through the palace of Sparta with precision.
On the surging waves of the sea.
A figure as tall as a mountain, adorned with countless human skulls and carrying various weapons of war on its back, lowered its arm that had thrown a long spear and began to dissipate inch by inch.
The rift of Hell began to open.
In the city of Sparta, explosions erupted, igniting flames everywhere.
The screams of people and the roars of warriors echoed around.
In the burning, familiar air...
Kratos stood silently, lowering his gaze.
Before the onslaught...
Standing in front of him was Vergil.
The silver-haired youth was covered in blood.
His limbs looked twisted like a bundle of rags after being swept over by the violent shockwaves.
"...Kratos, are you okay?"
Vergil said with a smile, hoarse and weak, his body softened and collapsed straight down.
"Vergil!"
Dante rushed forward, lifting Vergil's body.
Kratos remained silent, still lost in thought.
Amidst the burning, nerve-wracking chaos, the sound of hooves echoed.
Clack.
Clack. Clack. Clack...
Through the dispersing dust and smoke, two majestic white horses emerged.
Riding on them were strange figures clad in blood-red armor and a woman with orange hair, her head seemingly haloed with a circle of light.
They halted their horses, standing still.
"You guys are really lucky..." The blood-red figure, his eyes dripping with blood, exclaimed.
"None of you died."
Hearing this, the woman with orange hair couldn't help but smirk.
"Perhaps this is... fate?"
The blood-red figure raised his hand.
In an instant, the silver-haired youth lying on the ground, his body mangled like a rag, was lifted by the figure's palm.
"The strongest of the Spartan brothers will completely destroy Olympus."
With an olive wreath adorning her head and a concentric ring swirling in her amber eyes, the woman with orange hair on horseback lowered her gaze slightly.
"This is the prophecy Zeus obtained from Moirai."
"So..."
The burly figure enveloped in red armor, his voice hoarse yet somewhat playful, spoke up as he slowly raised the robust form of the silver-haired youth.
"Is this kid it? He's going to destroy Olympus?"
"Seems like it."
The woman with orange hair holding the reins of the steed replied, a smirk playing on her lips.
"I can feel it... I can feel the astonishing power contained within him..."
"It's a ferocity that could tear apart both the world and hell."
The figure in the red armor shook his head disdainfully.
"Then should we just kill him?"
"Take him back... He's such an interesting little fellow. Don't waste him."
Listening to the casual yet decisive conversation between the two.
Dante slowly lifted his gaze.
His expression, contorted and ferocious.
"Who are you...?"
No one paid him any attention.
The crimson-armored figure and the orange-haired woman, carrying Vergil's battered body, turned the horse's head.
"Give... Vergil back to me!!!"
Bang!
Dante roared and charged forward.
But with a casual wave of the red-armored figure, he was swiftly knocked down, falling to the ground, blood dripping from his right eye socket.
"Argh..."
His body wracked with agonizing pain as if his bones were shattering.
Dante vomited a pool of blood, mixed with visceral chunks.
The black-haired youth silently watched the two figures on horseback.
His dear brother was bound and fallen.
Despite everything.
Kratos still... stood in place.
His voice trembled like hell.
"Athena..."
"Oh?"
As if hearing the black-haired youth, the hoarse voice.
The orange-haired woman with a haloed with a circle of light on her head slightly turned her amber eyes.
"You recognize me...?"
"Heh, such a countenance has never been seen before."
"Kratos... huh?
"You're truly interesting."
Rage.
Rage, spreading in his chest.
The dissipating dust swept away by some invisible force.
The ground beneath his feet seemed to tremble.
The scattered gravel on the ground trembled incessantly.
"The Spartan Rage..."
"Truly a divine gift."
"But...
"...it is something given to you by us."
Saying so.
A pleased curve formed on the orange-haired woman's lips.
"Still want to resist us, huh?
"Courageous little fellow."
"Or just kill him..."
The armored figure said impatiently,
"Athena, he's recognized you..."
"No, let him live."
Athena said with a smile.
"It's been so long since I've seen such an interesting little fellow."
"If he can survive, it's his destiny."
She casually withdrew her gaze.
"Go back quickly... the vanguard of the wandering star is gathering again."
"Leave them here to fend for themselves."
The majestic white horse turned its head.
Clack.
Clack. Clack. Clack...
Carrying the young Vergil.
Their figures slowly dissipated into the dust.
Screams.
Roars.
The cracks of Hell opened in unprecedented scale, mercilessly grinding and slaughtering the unsuspecting celebrants in Sparta, leaving bloody carnage everywhere.
Kratos raised his head, gazing at the pristine moon above the sky.
Moonlight.
Veiled by dark clouds.
He cast his gaze downward.
His younger brother, Dante, collapsed at his feet.
The entire palace, crushed and shattered, left nothing but ruins and debris, not even a single intact corpse to be found.
A solitary figure, abandoned by the world.
Standing amidst this desolate moonlit wasteland.
Flesh grinding.
Teeth gnashing.
The scent of fresh blood permeating the air.
The wet, slick sound, reminiscent of worms slithering on the ground, crawled from all directions.
Devils and monsters.
Twisted skulls.
Gnashing fangs.
Madly darting eyeballs.
Various grotesque devils, drooling from their mouths, crawled forth, encircling the dark-haired youth.
Their eyes.
Swirling with bloodlust.
The God Slayer known as Kratos.
Expressionless, slowly, from the ground, picking up Rebellion meant for his brother, Dante.
In this moment.
He was left with only one kin, Dante.
He wanted to howl...
He wants to roar...
But is it useful?
Kratos closed his eyes.
The intense fury trembling within his heart.
Yes. It's useful!
"ATHENA!!!"
Under the moonlight.
Blooms of blood.
Splitting.
Severing.
What are devils?
Just shattered fragments.
The violent intestines gushed out in piles, Kratos, like a meat grinder, crazily tore apart everything that dared to assail his brother.
The bone-chilling cold.
The icy raindrops.
Torrential downpour, yet rain couldn't wash away the thick, hellish blood.
The oppressive sky of dark clouds.
Suddenly streaked with blood-red lightning.
Boom!
The scarlet lightning crashed down, striking the distant shoreline lost in the storm.
As if both land and sea trembled together.
The crimson titan, slowly rising from the sea level, step by step, trampled upon the Olympus mountain.
Amidst the thunderous roar, blood rained down.
Torrential rain poured, as if the sky wept.
Before the ruins of the Sparta palace.
The black-haired youth, bathed in blood, crushed everything before him like a millstone.
The fine iron sword in his hand sliced through the devils' bodies, annihilating their hearts.
The blade slashed through flesh and bone.
Finally, emitting a scream of unbearable burden.
Crack.
Rebellion.
Named so and given to Dante, shattered in Kratos's hand.
Under his foot, Dante with eye sockets soaked with fresh blood and the barely breathing, grasped his ankle.
"Kratos... flee quickly."
Kratos clenched his fists.
If there were no swords...
...he still have... his hands.
Bones were being broken.
Flesh was being crushed.
The skin on his arms, continually torn and rotting under the corrosive saliva of devils, revealing the stark white bones beneath.
No roaring.
No yelling.
Crack.
Kratos tore off the bone from his left arm, piercing the sharp end into a devil's eye.
Squelch.
Blood splattered.
The black-haired youth, drenched in blood, stood before his brother like a god of death, the devil corpses around him piled like mountains.
Yet...
Too slow.
Too slow to kill.
Blood had already smeared his pupils and eyeballs, everything he saw tinged with crimson.
Leg bones were already broken.
The youth's barely surviving left eye, weeping and wailing, watched his elder brother's figure collapse and kneel before him.
"Kratos..."
Endless grotesque creatures surged like a tide.
As if they would swallow his figure whole.
In the midst of everything crumbling, everything collapsing.
A crimson titan shaking Olympus was suddenly pierced by a blazing beam erupting from the earth.
Bone-chilling winds.
Icy raindrops.
The youth, trembling, weakly supported his body.
Everything seemed to slow down.
Infinity high sky.
Blood light descending.
Hiss...
A broken, crack-covered, bloodied giant sword, as tall as a man, suddenly pierced through the devil's head that had just torn down, impaling the fallen black-haired youth and the flesh before him.
Kratos vomited blood, staring blankly.
Staring at the shattered demonic sword with eyes embedded in its hilt.
That weak, seemingly about to close eye, and his own gaze met hazily.
I'm going to die.
Are you going to die too?
That dim, almost extinguished gaze.
Conveying the will of the sword.
It thirsts.
For human blood.
"So that's it..."
Kratos coughed.
He hoarsely, coughingly laughed.
"This is... a covenant."
"I'll let you... drink my blood."
"In exchange, let me wield your power."
The barely surviving, blood-drenched right hand.
The black-haired youth gripped the broken hilt.
Like veins, sinister patterns, extending from the sword, climbed up Kratos's arm, spreading towards his heart.
Bursting out, like a tide of blood-red lines.
Forming Kratos's new arm, new bones, new flesh.
Dante stared blankly and dully.
Looking at his black-haired brother before him, covered in a blood-red armor that enveloped his entire being.
"Tell me, your name..."
Kratos asked silently.
"Name...?"
Then, from the depths of his heart, a hoarse roar slowly rose.
"I am... the god slayer..."
"Aatrox!"
