Chapter 63 – The First Rift Breaks
The fracture hummed beneath Atreus' skin, a steady pulse that carried the weight of unseen worlds. The Forgotten World had grown quieter after the first trial — deceptively quiet. Shadows lingered in the corners of vision, and the floating platforms beneath their feet trembled with restrained tension, like a beast waiting to strike.
Kratos moved with careful precision, axe at the ready, scanning the horizon as if he could anticipate every ripple in the fractured realm. Xenara followed, her staff trailing thin strands of blue energy that danced across the void, stabilizing the platforms and holding the shadows at bay.
"They watch," Xenara whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft pulse of the fracture. "The Nine are not idle. Every decision you make, every hesitation, is measured. And the Forgotten World… it remembers everything."
Atreus swallowed, feeling the hum of the fracture intensify. "I can feel them," he said, voice low. "Not all, but some. One of them… it's moving. Faster than the others. I can sense it… closing in."
Kratos' eyes narrowed. "Then we prepare. Do not be caught unaware. The Nine test with more than strength — timing, patience, and will. They seek the moment your guard falters."
Before another word could be spoken, a rift tore open above them. The air itself seemed to scream, vibrating with an ancient resonance that pressed on their minds. Through the fissure, a form emerged — tall, regal, and ominous. Its armor was forged of shattered stars, each fragment pulsating with an inner light that warped the surrounding shadows.
"You carry the fracture," it said, voice deep and resonant, echoing across the platforms. "And it calls to what should not awaken. Child of War… you walk the edge of oblivion."
Atreus felt the pull immediately. The fracture surged beneath his skin, responding to the presence of the Nine. Whispers filled his mind, overlapping in discordant harmony, each one pressing, probing, tempting him to release control.
"I control it," Atreus said, voice firm despite the weight of the moment. "I am not its pawn."
Kratos' hand tightened on the Leviathan Axe. "Do not falter. Your strength is tested not just in battle, but in restraint. Do you understand?"
Atreus nodded, feeling the pulse of the fracture align with his intent. He could sense the presence of the Nine, but now, for the first time, the fracture guided him, not blindly, but in harmony.
The first strike came without warning. Shadows erupted from the void, coalescing into forms twisted and sharp, the remnants of beings erased long before the Nine's rule. They struck with precision, each movement designed to test Atreus' control, to challenge Kratos' strength, and to probe the synergy between father and son.
Kratos met the assault head-on, swinging his axe in brutal arcs, shattering shadow constructs into fragments of void. Atreus flared the fracture in response, dispersing the remaining shadows while stabilizing the platforms beneath their feet. Xenara's threads of energy wove a protective lattice, preventing the world from collapsing entirely under the strain.
But the Nine were not satisfied. The rift above widened, and another figure emerged — smaller, faster, almost fluid in its movements. Its form was obscured, yet the intent was clear: test, provoke, break. The fracture reacted instinctively, pulsing with green and gold light, seeking to defend, to strike, to resist.
Atreus clenched his fists, resisting the urge to let the fracture act independently. The temptation was overwhelming, a promise of unmatched power. But he held firm, directing the energy with conscious precision. Each pulse of the fracture became a tool, not a weapon, shaping the platforms, repelling the shadows, and countering the Nine's test.
The second figure descended onto the platform beside them, twin blades of darkness forming in its hands. Each strike sent tremors through the world, threatening to dislodge the floating platforms into the abyss. Kratos met the assault with brute strength, axe swinging in synchronization with Atreus' precise use of the fracture. Xenara's energy threads wove protection, their combined efforts holding the realm together.
"You are learning," the second of the Nine intoned. "But knowledge without endurance is folly. The fracture will tempt, and the world will test. Will you hold, or will you break?"
Atreus focused, letting the fracture pulse through him in perfect control. He could feel the fractured world responding, the platforms stabilizing, the shadows recoiling. Every movement, every strike, every pulse was deliberate. He was no longer reacting — he was guiding, shaping, mastering.
Then the rift above split violently. A third figure appeared, larger, more imposing, its presence bending the void itself. The air thickened, pressing against their minds, whispering doubts, fears, and temptations. The fracture pulsed violently, urging release, promising power, offering an escape from restraint.
Kratos' voice cut through the chaos. "Do not yield. Control it. Master it!"
Atreus inhaled deeply, aura flaring brighter than before. With a precise surge, he projected the fracture outward, not in uncontrolled release, but in harmony with his intent. The shadows shattered, the platforms stabilized, and the third figure recoiled, surprised by the precision and restraint.
Xenara's voice was calm but urgent. "You are beginning to understand. Control is not suppression — it is command. Let the fracture act with your will, not in place of it."
The rift trembled above, the Nine observing in silent judgment. Their presence was oppressive, ancient, and relentless. Each of their movements reshaped the void, forcing Atreus and Kratos to adapt constantly. Every step, every strike, every pulse was measured, recorded, analyzed.
Then the world itself reacted. The floating platforms quivered, and a deep rumble echoed through the abyss. Shadows from the void surged together, forming a colossal construct, a fusion of all the guardians they had faced. Its eyes glowed with the weight of forgotten worlds, and its voice reverberated through the realm:
"Child of War… you carry the fracture. But can you endure the burden of what you awaken?"
Atreus felt the pulse of the fracture align with his intent. He did not falter. He did not yield. Instead, he let the energy flow in concert with his will, projecting controlled pulses that reinforced the platforms and repelled the massive construct. The shadows reeled, uncertainty flickering across their form.
Kratos struck with the Leviathan Axe, splitting the construct in half, while Atreus flared the fracture to disperse the remainder. Xenara stabilized the crumbling platforms, weaving threads of protection that held the world together.
The first of the Nine inclined its head from the rift above. "Interesting. The child resists. The fracture responds not in chaos, but in harmony. Perhaps… he is worthy."
Atreus' chest heaved, aura pulsing in rhythm with the fracture. The Nine's attention was fixed entirely upon him now, their assessment complete but ongoing. The guardians retreated, leaving only the lingering pulse of the fractured world and the heavy weight of observation.
Kratos placed a hand on Atreus' shoulder. "You have learned restraint, but this is only the beginning. The Nine will not relent. They will escalate, test harder, and tempt stronger. Do you understand?"
Atreus nodded, green and gold aura flaring faintly. "I understand. I will not falter. I will master this… whatever it takes."
Xenara lowered her staff, blue light fading slightly. "The first rift has broken. The Nine have observed. The world will remember this day. But remember — every choice now carries weight. Every action will be watched. And the fracture… will continue to test you."
Above, the rifts shimmered faintly. The Nine had retreated for now, but their presence lingered, a constant, oppressive awareness pressing down on the fractured world. The abyss below pulsed with memory, the floating platforms trembling under the strain of untold histories.
Atreus looked out across the void, understanding fully for the first time that the war they had entered was not merely against the Nine — it was against the weight of forgotten worlds, against time itself, and against the fracture that now pulsed within him, demanding mastery, endurance, and vigilance.
The first rift had broken.
But the true trials were only beginning.