Chapter 60 – The First Forgotten World
The rift closed behind them with a soundless snap, leaving only a pale shimmer in the air where it had been.
Kratos, Atreus, and Xenara stood on a narrow ledge of gray stone that stretched over a void so black it seemed to devour the edges of their vision. The air was heavier here — thicker than it had been in any realm they had walked. It felt alive, pressuring their lungs and minds, whispering thoughts that were not theirs.
Atreus swallowed hard. "I… I can feel it. Everything is watching… even before it's awake."
Kratos' eyes narrowed, scanning the horizon. The ledge led to an expanse that defied logic. Jagged spires jutted into the sky like broken teeth, some ending in smoke, some in pale blue flames that flared and died without sound. The ground beneath their feet was solid enough to stand on, but it seemed brittle, like a glass shell that could shatter with a single misstep.
"This world," Xenara said, her voice low and measured, "was erased long before the Nine were born. Forgotten by gods, avoided by mortals. Its history… is death itself, folded into shadow."
Atreus glanced at her. "Then why are we here?"
She did not answer immediately. Instead, she looked toward the horizon. "Because the fracture led you here. Because your presence is a ripple that reality cannot ignore. And because something in this place… remembers you."
Kratos grunted, gripping the Leviathan Axe tightly. "Then we do not linger. We move forward and face whatever waits."
The ledge ended abruptly, giving way to a series of floating stone platforms suspended in midair, connected by fragile bridges of light that flickered under their weight. Atreus' pulse quickened.
"Step carefully," Xenara warned. "This world bends to those who understand its fragility. One misstep, and you fall — not into emptiness… but into memory."
Kratos ignored her and stepped forward. The bridge beneath him wavered, glowing briefly where his boots touched, then stabilized. Atreus followed, eyes fixed on the void below. Every step sent shivers up his spine. It was not fear — not exactly — but a premonition of consequences so vast they could not be measured.
Halfway across, the air thickened, pressing against them like a living wall. Xenara raised her staff, forming a thin protective dome that shimmered with blue energy. The dome distorted their vision, bending the floating spires around them and sharpening the edges of the abyss.
Then the first sound reached them.
It was low. Barely audible. A whisper rolling through the void. Not in words, but in meaning.
"Child… do you remember me?"
Atreus froze. His hands tightened into fists. The hair on his arms rose.
"Who's there?" he demanded.
A form emerged from the darkness. Not fully solid, not fully ghost, but unmistakable. A tall figure in tattered robes, its head crowned with jagged spikes of shadow. Its eyes were hollow, yet they glimmered faintly, reflecting something deep and ancient.
Kratos stepped forward, shield raised. "Show yourself!"
The figure did not move closer. It simply stood, suspended in midair, and spoke again.
"I am the first who was buried. Before the Nine. Before your kind. And you, Child of War, have awakened me."
Atreus' chest tightened. "Awakened you? I didn't even know you existed."
"Exactly. That is why you are dangerous. That is why I am here."
Kratos' voice cut through the tension like steel. "Then explain yourself before I end you."
The figure tilted its head, a slow, deliberate gesture. "I am not here to fight you — yet. I am here to observe. To test. To see if the one who carries the fracture is worthy of what lies beyond this forgotten world."
Atreus stepped forward, defiance in his stance despite the oppressive weight of the realm. "I don't want to be tested. I don't want your power, or your approval."
"You already have it," the figure said softly. "Whether you accept it or not, the fracture recognizes you. And so… the world watches."
The abyss around them stirred. Shadows crawled along the floating platforms like living ink, coiling toward Atreus, yet never touching him. The whispering voices multiplied, overlapping in a symphony of memory and warning. Some voices were soft, pleading. Others were sharp, demanding. All of them, unmistakably, were alive.
Kratos glanced at Atreus. "Do not let them reach you."
Atreus clenched his fists. The green aura began to flare faintly beneath his skin, responding instinctively. He could feel the presence — the gaze of something that had existed long before the Nine, long before the worlds had names. It was testing him, probing his mind, weighing his thoughts, measuring his will.
The first figure spoke again, its voice like wind through cracked stone. "Will you take the first step, boy? Or will you hesitate, and let the fracture consume what remains of your courage?"
Atreus' hands shook slightly. Not with fear, but with anticipation. "I will not let it consume me."
The moment the words left his lips, the realm reacted. Platforms trembled. Shadows surged upward, forming shapes vaguely humanoid, vaguely monstrous, all coalescing into a swirling mass of intent. The first figure raised its arms.
"Then let the test begin."
Without warning, the shadows struck. Not at his body — at his mind. Atreus felt himself pulled inward, visions flashing behind his eyes: worlds folding and breaking, creatures unmade, skies cracking open, and yet… all centered on him. His aura flared brighter, repelling the intrusion, forcing the fragments back into the void.
Kratos' voice was steel and warning. "Do not falter, boy!"
Atreus roared, and the realm convulsed. Shadows scattered, platforms shook, and the abyss seemed to ripple like water in a storm. The first figure laughed, a low sound that carried the weight of eternity.
"Impressive," it said. "But this is only the beginning. You cannot control the fracture. Not fully. And the Nine will notice. The Nine will come."
Atreus straightened, his aura pulsing in response to the unseen currents of power. "Then let them come. I won't run from it."
The first figure inclined its head slowly. "Brave… and foolish. That is the combination I like. That is what makes the fracture dangerous — and why the boy might survive where others fail."
Suddenly, the world shifted violently. Platforms rotated, bridges of light flaring and snapping. Shadows rose again from the void, this time forming figures Kratos recognized — echoes of ancient warriors, erased from history, whose eyes now glimmered with fragmented memory. They were guardians of this forgotten world, and their purpose was clear: test, block, and break the intruder.
Kratos raised his axe. "We fight together. No hesitation."
Atreus felt the hum of the fracture resonate with his heartbeat. Not fear. Not rage. Awareness. The aura around him flared, casting light across the floating spires, revealing patterns etched into stone that no mortal had ever seen. Symbols of binding. Symbols of warning. Symbols older than gods.
Xenara raised her staff. "Do not underestimate them. This world remembers every failure."
The first shadowed figure lifted its hand. The whispers multiplied. Time seemed to stretch and twist.
Kratos and Atreus moved in sync, stepping onto floating platforms, dodging the first of the guardians that lunged from the shadows. Their movements were precise, guided by instinct and necessity, as the fractured world around them bent and threatened to collapse at every misstep.
And all the while, the first figure watched.
Its hollow eyes seemed to pierce not only Atreus' body but his very thoughts. It was studying him, judging him, and feeding the fractures of power that pulsed beneath his skin.
Atreus felt it — a pull, subtle but insistent. Something in this forgotten world desired him to act, to unleash, to push beyond his restraint. And yet… he held back. The resonance of the fracture spoke softly: patience. Observation. Discipline.
He understood, in a sudden clarity that was more frightening than the realm itself, that the real test was not survival.
It was self-control.
Kratos glanced at him. "Do not let it own you."
Atreus nodded, taking a deep breath. He could feel the fractured world thrumming beneath his feet, listening, waiting. The first figure inclined its head once more.
"Well… we shall see."
Then, without warning, the realm convulsed violently. Platforms collapsed. Shadows surged. And far beyond the horizon, faint points of light began to flicker into existence. The Nine were already moving.
Atreus tightened his fists, green aura flaring. "Let them come," he said. "This world… it will not break me."
Kratos placed a hand on his shoulder. "Good. Because what comes next… will test more than strength. It will test who you are. And whether you can survive being more than the boy the world expects."
The first figure stepped back into the darkness, leaving only the echoes of its voice.
"Step forward. The fracture watches. The Nine awaken. And the forgotten world remembers."
Atreus looked down at the shattered platform beneath him, then across the abyss.
Somewhere in the distance, the first of the Nine moved.
And the game — the war of gods, mortals, and forgotten beings — was far from over.