As Kratos and Mimir started trekking on their way to the massive temple in the center of the lake to reach Helheim, Mimir's eyes wandered repeatedly to the strange, curved swords strapped to Kratos's back.
Mimir had been looking at Kratos's back ever since they had entered the land beyond realms, his sharp mind piecing together a puzzle that he had been working on for quite some time.
There is a direct gate ahead that would lead them to the forge where Brok had set up his shop, which is closer to the roots of the Tree of Yggdrasil, the very mechanism that they would use to travel into the frozen wastes of Helheim.
"Do you have something on your mind?" Kratos, who was feeling the intense, burning stares of Mimir, suddenly asked Mimir.
He had felt the weight of Mimir's gaze ever since they started walking from the boat, and Kratos had initially decided to ignore it until he could not tolerate the scrutiny anymore.
"Are you a Greek, brother?" Mimir said in a straight manner, not caring about discretion anymore as he walked alongside the Spartan.
This question made Kratos stop dead in his tracks. He turned slowly to look at Mimir, who then took the silence and the intense glare as a solid confirmation of his words.
"So that is where I knew you from. You have a trait that has been bothering me since the beginning, something familiar in the way you carry yourself and the rage you suppress. You are the bloody Ghost of Sparta," Mimir added with a tone of realization. This statement caused Kratos's irritation to skyrocket immediately.
He had just encountered the haunting ghosts of every single being that he had killed back at his home, and now, the words of Mimir had reminded him once again of the title he despised.
"Do not call me that," Kratos reacted in an irritated, low voice, warning Mimir as if the words he had spoken were nothing but a vile insult.
"Do not mistake me, brother. From what I heard, the Pantheon had it coming, and they were far from innocent. But it is still a bit to take in. I knew you hated gods, but you really cannot stay away from them, can you?" Mimir said, as his disbelief could not be hidden.
He shook his head slightly, marveling at the fact that the man who brought down Olympus was standing right in front of him in the realms of the North.
"You must say nothing to the boy," Kratos said sternly to Mimir.
Mimir just sighed a little bit, as he knew this secrecy was the very reason why they were currently on this dangerous adventure, while Zelos had been left behind tending to the sick Atreus with Freya.
"Your secret, brother, is the reason why we are walking to the realm of the dead. I know how haunted your past is, but it is not a reason to sacrifice your current present and future with your son.
You might not feel it, but Atreus could feel the distance between you. You hated gods, and that hatred extends to all the gods, and that inevitably includes your sons," Mimir said with his profound wisdom.
He knew that despite Kratos's tough exterior and his stoic nature, Kratos would do anything for his own family, but his silence was hurting them.
"Do you think I do not understand that? I know the risk that he faces, but my past is not something to be proud of.
This weapon on my back, and the other weapons that are still buried under our house, are a keen reminder of who I used to be," Kratos said.
He finally vented what was weighing heavily on his heart, admitting that the Blades of Chaos were not a tool of triumph, but a badge of shame.
This statement just made Mimir silent. He does not know the entire situation of Kratos's life, and just knows the basics from legends and stories, but from what Mimir could deduce, Kratos had been heavily weighing on what to do for a long time.
The two just continued to walk in silence, the air growing colder as they approached the temple.
They came out of the gate, where they were led directly to the forge area, where Brok had set up his shop.
When they came out into the workspace, Brok, who had been deep in the zone in his works, hammering away at a piece of metal, suddenly felt a foreign magic enter the vicinity of his forge.
When he tried to look for the source, sniffing the air like a hound, he saw that the source of this strange power was resting on the back of someone he knew well.
"Hey! You reek of foreign magic," Brok said towards Kratos. He called out to him and walked slowly towards Kratos, wiping his hands on his tunic.
Kratos had just stopped near the counter, with Mimir standing faithfully on the side.
"Sweet Nanna's nethers, what are those...? I have never seen the like... That has got to be a family heirloom," Brok said, adding to his initial reaction.
His eyes were glued to the Blades of Chaos, as the magic that he had felt radiating from the back of Kratos was something that he had felt for the very first time in all his years of smithing.
"NO. Nor will it ever be," Kratos said with much conviction and venom, making it clear these were not treasured items.
However, Brok, who had been focusing entirely on the craftsmanship of the weapon, did not read the emotional message behind the words of Kratos.
"Son, my brother and I created Mjölnir for the big idiot... I know form and quality. And them... them is special. I say, where are the little turds? And why are you with this old goat?" Brok said as he explained his expertise.
But then, he snapped back from his initial attraction to the weapon as he noticed that Zelos, one that he owed a lot to, and Atreus, were missing from the group.
They were replaced with a horned figure that he had recognized from the past.
"Ah, how I have missed you, silver tongue dwarf," Mimir said with a laughing expression, enjoying the insult. Brok just ignored the pleasantry as he was still waiting for the answer of Kratos regarding the boys.
"Atreus has fallen ill. Zelos is tending to him with a friend," Kratos said without revealing the name of his friend. He does not want to bring any more trouble for Freya, especially with Kratos slowly learning the complicated life and experiences of Freya with the Aesir.
"What happened? Aesir?" Brok immediately became serious, with his tone dropping to its deepest level, showing genuine concern for the boys.
"No. The fault is mine... and my responsibility to make it right," Kratos said, as he cleared any misunderstandings about the cause of the sickness.
"We all gotta take responsibility sometimes, huh? Say, what can I do to help him? I can do things. You want me to tag along? I can swing a hammer if needed," Brok said as he offered his services to Kratos, showing a rare side of kindness.
"No, your work is here," Kratos answered, declining the offer.
"Where are you off to anyway?" Brok then asked, curious to see where the two would go in such a hurry without the children. He was answered by Mimir.
"We will go to the realm of the dead, Helheim," Mimir said. This statement made Brok shiver visibly, as he could not help but remember a distant, unpleasant memory of that frozen place.
"Shit, this is serious. Anyway, I will leave you be, but I will keep my eyes on things, in case you need something," Brok said.
This made Kratos nod towards Brok in appreciation. Kratos and Mimir then continued to walk past the shop towards the great doors that led to the Roots of Yggdrasil.
When they arrived inside the Realm Travel Room, Mimir looked at the entire structure with a sense of nostalgia, as if he missed it greatly.
He had been imprisoned for a century, and this room is one of the things that Mimir had often used when he was the ambassador for Asgard.
But despite the memories flooding inside Mimir's brain, his focus remained fixated on one thing.
"We should hurry, brother," Mimir said towards Kratos.
Kratos nodded and grunted in agreement. He approached the travel table and used the rune that Freya had given him as a key.
He slammed it down, causing the mechanism to spin and lock into place, opening the bridge to the realm of Helheim.
The two prepared themselves to enter a new, hostile realm to find what is needed for the remedy for Atreus's condition.