CHAPTER 104 — THE HORIZON OF OBLIVION
The Eighth Realm stretched before Kratos and Atreus like a wound in the cosmos itself—endless, jagged, and unwelcoming. The plateau beneath them had hardened into blackened stone, jagged spires rising from the abyss below, twisting and writhing as if alive. The wind carried a whispering chill, voices of the fallen curling around them, testing their resolve with every step.
Kratos' breath puffed in small, frost-filled clouds. He scanned the horizon, eyes cold and sharp. "This Realm," he said, voice like steel, "grows darker the higher we climb. Do not mistake survival for victory, boy. Every step forward demands more than strength. It demands… everything."
Atreus tightened his grip on his bow, threads flickering along his arms like restless fire. "I can feel it, Father… the air itself is heavy. Every breath feels like it's trying to drag me down."
Kratos' jaw tightened. "Then fight it. Do not let the Realm claim you before the battle begins."
They advanced. The ground beneath their feet cracked with every step, red veins pulsing faintly through the stone. Shadows clung to the edges of the plateau, twisting into forms both grotesque and familiar. Eyes stared from the darkness—some empty, some burning with silent accusation.
From the edge of the horizon, a figure emerged. It moved with an elegance that belied its intent. A guardian, taller than any they had faced before, cloaked in darkness that seemed to devour the very light. Its body was segmented, armored in obsidian plates fused with crimson veins. Each step it took sent ripples through the stone, forcing Kratos and Atreus to steady themselves against the shifting ground.
"You continue," it said, voice smooth, resonating like a low hum in the bones. "Against every warning, against every shadow of doubt… you advance. Why?"
Kratos' voice was deadly calm. "Because to stop is death. And to flee is worse. This Realm tests us… and we endure."
The guardian extended long, jagged limbs tipped with red crystal, reaching toward them. Shadows pooled beneath its feet, writhing as if alive.
Atreus fired a volley of arrows, threads lacing each one with frost. The guardian's limbs moved faster than the eye could follow, deflecting the projectiles with precise, terrifying control.
Kratos leapt forward, Leviathan Axe in hand, frost erupting on impact. The guardian staggered slightly, but its form rippled, reforming with unnatural speed.
"Every attack strengthens it," Atreus shouted, dodging a sweeping strike. "Every strike we make… it adapts!"
Kratos' eyes burned. "Then we strike with purpose. End it before it learns too much."
He drove the Leviathan Axe into the guardian's chest, frost spreading violently across its segmented plates. Shadows screamed silently, coiling upward like smoke, but Kratos held firm.
Atreus' threads lashed out, yanking jagged limbs into cracks in the plateau. Sparks exploded where the frost of the axe met the guardian's crimson veins. The creature shrieked, a soundless roar, twisting violently as its limbs attempted to crush them.
The wind howled, carrying whispers—old regrets, fears, and memories Kratos had tried to bury. "You cannot protect him forever," the voices hissed. "All paths lead to failure."
Kratos' jaw tightened. "Silence!"
Atreus' eyes flared with determination. "I am not afraid!"
They moved together, rhythm and intent synchronized. Kratos struck again, the Leviathan Axe shattering the guardian's upper limbs. Atreus lashed threads around the remaining limbs, yanking them into jagged stone as the creature faltered.
The guardian roared silently, the abyss below it widening. Shadows surged from the cracks, writhing upward, attempting to drag Kratos and Atreus into the void.
Atreus fired a rapid series of arrows, threading them into the shadows, tearing them apart. The wind twisted violently, attempting to unbalance them, but they pressed forward.
Kratos' voice was sharp, commanding. "Now, Atreus! Strike its core!"
Together, they launched the final assault. Kratos leapt onto the guardian, driving the Leviathan Axe deep into its chest, frost spreading violently. Atreus' threads coiled tightly, yanking the creature's limbs toward the fissures in the plateau. The guardian screamed, tendrils lashing frantically, but their combined force held.
Cracks ran through the guardian's body, glowing veins of crimson bursting violently. The shadows around the plateau recoiled, as if fearing the power of the strike. The guardian staggered, twisting violently, then imploded—shards of obsidian and shadow scattering across the plateau and into the abyss below.
Silence followed. Not peaceful, but heavy, oppressive. The wind died. The whispers faded. The Eighth Heart, pulsating at the center of the plateau, throbbed violently, responding to their victory.
Kratos exhaled slowly. "This Realm does not yield easily. It measures more than strength… it measures will. Resolve. Purpose."
Atreus stood beside him, threads dimming. "Father… we did it. We survived it."
Kratos did not look relieved. "We survived the guardian," he said, voice low, lethal. "The Realm itself is not finished. The Heart is still alive. And every Realm grows stronger the higher we climb."
The plateau began to shift. The fissures widened, red veins of light pulsing with the heartbeat of the Realm. The Eighth Heart rose slightly from the ground, floating as if aware of their presence. Shadows swirled around it, forming humanoid shapes, twisting and writhing in silent agony.
Atreus' voice was tight with tension. "It's… watching us. Judging us."
Kratos' eyes narrowed. "Then we will not falter. Step forward. Together."
They approached the Heart cautiously. Every step sent ripples through the plateau, the fissures expanding, threatening to swallow them into the abyss below. The shadows flinched at their movement, but did not attack—yet.
Kratos raised the Leviathan Axe. Frost spread along its blade, ready to strike. "This Realm tests endurance, Atreus. It will not forgive hesitation. Do you understand?"
Atreus nodded. "I understand. We endure. Or we die."
The Heart pulsed violently, the red veins flaring in response to their determination. Shadows twisted into more solid forms, humanoid figures reaching for them, testing their focus and resolve.
Kratos swung the Leviathan Axe, frost erupting, shattering the nearest shadow-form. Atreus fired arrows with threads, lashing at limbs and bodies as the shadows attempted to bind them.
The Eighth Heart reacted violently. Pulses of crimson energy surged outward, shaking the plateau and threatening to throw them into the abyss. Kratos braced, striking again and again, frost erupting with each swing. Atreus followed, threading arrows into the shadows, keeping them at bay.
Minutes—or hours—passed. Time itself seemed meaningless. The Realm tested them relentlessly, pushing their bodies and minds to the absolute limit.
Finally, the Eighth Heart faltered. Crimson veins cracked. The shadows screamed silently, dissipating into the abyss. The Heart trembled violently before shattering into fragments of light and shadow.
Silence fell. The plateau stabilized. The wind died. The whispers faded. The Realm itself seemed to exhale, acknowledging their endurance.
Kratos and Atreus stood together, frost and blood clinging to their bodies. Every muscle burned. Every breath was a struggle. Yet their resolve remained unbroken.
Kratos' voice was low, firm. "The Eighth Realm tests more than strength. It tests the mind, the will, and the bond between father and son. Remember this—every step forward demands everything. There is no room for doubt. There is only forward."
Atreus nodded. "I understand, Father. I will not falter."
The path forward narrowed once more, spiraling upward into a darkness denser than any they had faced. Shadows lingered at the edges, watching, waiting for the slightest sign of hesitation.
Kratos tightened his grip on the Leviathan Axe. "Step by step, boy. We endure. Or we die trying."
The crimson wind whispered around them. The Eighth Realm was patient. Merciless. Hungry.
And Kratos and Atreus pressed forward, together, into the unknown.