CHAPTER 105 — THE THRESHOLD OF THE NINTH
The path ahead was unlike any they had seen. The spiraling ascent of the Eighth Realm had ended, and before Kratos and Atreus stretched a void—black as the deepest night, fractured by faint veins of crimson and violet light. The air tasted of ash and old iron, heavy with a weight that pressed down on their lungs and minds alike.
Kratos' eyes narrowed. "This is it," he said quietly. "The Ninth Realm. The final step. Every trial we endured… every guardian we faced… it all led to this."
Atreus' fingers traced the bowstring, threads flickering faintly. "It feels… alive, Father. Watching. Waiting. Like it knows we are coming."
Kratos' grip on the Leviathan Axe tightened. "Then we move forward with purpose. Fear is a luxury we cannot afford."
The void was vast, a seemingly endless chasm suspended between jagged fragments of stone. Each fragment hung like a shard of the cosmos, floating independently, drifting slowly with currents of crimson wind. Shadows moved along the edges of these fragments, writhing and stretching, never attacking, but always observing.
From the center of the void, a spire rose, taller than any spire they had climbed before. It was fractured and twisted, obsidian fused with veins of red energy, pulsating with a heartbeat older than time itself. At its apex, a faint glow—pale and cold—marked the presence of the Ninth Heart.
Kratos spoke without turning. "Everything we've done… every scar, every wound… it was to reach that spire. But the Realm will not allow us to take it freely. Nothing here comes without cost."
Atreus swallowed, threads tightening along his arms. "I feel… echoes, Father. Echoes of those who tried before us. Their failures… their regrets… they're here."
Kratos' gaze hardened. "Then we do not fail. We endure, or we die trying. There is no other way."
They began the ascent. The floating fragments shifted with every step, requiring constant balance, precision, and unwavering focus. The wind howled around them, carrying whispers—old regrets, lost lives, voices of the fallen, attempting to gnaw at their resolve.
From the darkness of the void, figures began to emerge. Not physical guardians this time, but forms shaped entirely from shadow and memory. Each one reflected a failure, a loss, or a decision Kratos and Atreus had made in the past. A soldier who had died under Kratos' command, a friend betrayed, a life they could not save. Each shadow moved silently, reaching toward them, eyes hollow and accusing.
Atreus froze. "Father… they're… they're our past."
Kratos did not hesitate. "Then we face it. Step forward. Each one is a test—not of strength, but of resolve."
He swung the Leviathan Axe with precision, frost erupting, shattering the nearest shadow. The fragments screamed silently and dissolved into the crimson wind. Atreus fired arrows with threads, lashing and binding the forms as they surged, keeping them at bay.
But the shadows did not stop. They multiplied, shifting with every attack, their forms changing to reflect the deepest fears of Kratos and Atreus.
"You cannot save everyone," whispered one, voice like a knife in Kratos' skull. "You are a monster disguised as a god."
Kratos' jaw tightened. "Silence!"
Atreus' hands trembled, but he followed his father's lead. "We endure. Step by step."
The shadows began to converge, pushing the two forward, toward the spire at the center of the void. It was a slow, torturous march. Each fragment of the floating path threatened to collapse beneath their weight. Winds buffeted them from every direction. The voices of the fallen intensified, echoing endlessly in their minds.
Then, from the apex of the spire, a pulse erupted—a shockwave that shook the fragments, scattering shadows violently. A massive figure descended from the apex, the final guardian of the Ninth Realm. It was unlike any form they had faced. A colossus of living shadow and crystal, its body segmented like a machine forged from bone and night. Veins of crimson energy pulsed visibly beneath its surface. Its eyes burned with intelligence, not blind rage—aware, calculating, predatory.
"You have come far," it said, voice vibrating through the void. "Every trial you endured… every victory… it has led to this moment. But beyond this… there is only reckoning."
Kratos tightened his grip on the axe. "Then let us face it."
The guardian surged forward. Shadows and fragments of the floating path twisted and erupted around it. Its limbs moved faster than perception, striking with a precision that threatened to throw them into the abyss.
Atreus fired arrow after arrow, laced with threads, slowing its movements. Kratos struck with the Leviathan Axe, frost exploding with every blow. The guardian adapted instantly, twisting and moving in impossible ways. Each strike they landed made it stronger, sharper, more unpredictable.
"Father!" Atreus shouted. "Every attack… it's learning faster than anything we've faced!"
Kratos' voice was a blade. "Then we force it to learn faster than it can handle. Precision. Discipline. Strike with intent!"
He leapt onto the creature's torso, frost spreading with each step. The guardian screamed silently, tendrils of shadow lashing outward, slicing through the air like blades.
Atreus lashed threads around its limbs, yanking and anchoring, slowing its movements. Sparks erupted as frost met crimson energy, the air vibrating with raw power.
The guardian thrashed violently, trying to unseat them, but Kratos pressed the advantage, driving the Leviathan Axe into its chest repeatedly. The creature's form began to fracture, crimson veins cracking as fragments of shadow exploded into the void.
The pulse from the Ninth Heart intensified. Crimson energy surged outward, threatening to throw them from the floating path. Kratos braced, frost erupting, and Atreus' threads held the shifting fragments steady.
Finally, the guardian faltered. Its limbs twisted unnaturally as cracks spread across its body. With one final, violent swing, Kratos shattered its core. Frost and shadow erupted, scattering across the abyss. Silence followed immediately—absolute, oppressive.
The Ninth Heart hovered above the apex, pulsating violently. Its crimson glow pulsed, responding to their combined presence. Kratos and Atreus stepped forward cautiously. The path beneath them stabilized, the fragments settling into a precarious but steady bridge.
Kratos raised the Leviathan Axe. "The Realm tests more than strength," he said quietly. "It tests resolve, endurance, and the bond between father and son. Every choice… every step… matters. This is the final threshold. Step forward, and there is no turning back."
Atreus nodded. "I understand, Father. Together, we endure."
The Ninth Heart pulsed again. Light and shadow coalesced, forming a doorway at its center. The void trembled as the two approached. Whispers of the fallen swirled around them, not as threats now, but as warnings. Every step toward the Heart was a step deeper into the unknown, toward truths older than the Nine Realms themselves.
Kratos looked at Atreus, voice steady, cold. "Whatever awaits beyond… we face it together. Step forward."
They did.
The Ninth Heart opened, a portal of pulsing crimson and violet energy. The abyss beyond shimmered, reflecting not the world outside, but their deepest fears and darkest regrets. Every failure, every loss, every choice ever made stretched out before them like a shadowed mirror.
Atreus swallowed. "Father… it's showing us everything."
Kratos' eyes burned. "Then we endure it. Face it. And move forward. There is no other way."
They stepped through together.
The portal closed behind them, and the Ninth Realm awaited—ancient, merciless, and aware that the final reckoning had begun.