Chapter 77 – The Laughter of Gods
The sound came first as a whisper.
A ripple across the void, brushing against thought rather than ear. Then it grew into a chorus, layered, omnipresent, impossible to localize. It did not echo; it sank in, crawling beneath the bones, twisting the air itself with amusement and menace.
Kratos froze mid-step, the Leviathan Axe still in hand. Atreus's bow was raised, but the boy's breath had caught in his throat. Even Xenara's wards, glowing faintly in the twilight of the fractured horizon, flickered as though unsettled by something far older than the world.
"Do you hear it?" Atreus whispered.
Kratos did not answer. He only narrowed his eyes, scanning the horizon. Above, the fractured sky shivered, cracks widening in slow, deliberate pulses, as though reality itself were listening. The laughter was everywhere, yet nowhere. It came from Asgard, yes — but also from beneath, from within the void, from places older than any realm.
"It's… not just a sound," Xenara said, voice low and uneasy. "It carries will. Malice. Memory. The Nine… or something beyond them… they know the fall of the First Realm. And they revel in it."
Atreus swallowed hard. "You mean they're watching us? Already?"
"No," Kratos replied, voice measured but grim. "They are not merely watching. They are testing. The veil thins with every choice we make. Every realm that falters feeds their strength."
The horizon rippled. A faint, jagged glow appeared along the rifts that scarred the sky. In each fissure, shapes stirred — not solid forms yet, but outlines that promised shape and intent. Shadows, moving against shadows, a prelude to war.
And then, the laughter became a voice. Singular, terrifying in its clarity.
So… you have survived.
The words vibrated through the air and Kratos's bones alike.
You have fractured the First Realm… and yet, you remain standing.
Atreus's fingers tightened on the bowstring. "Who… who's there?"
You know me.
The voice was a memory made flesh, a sound both alien and familiar. Atreus's pulse quickened as he recognized the timbre: a combination of rage, amusement, and patience accumulated over millennia.
I have watched you grow from boy to heir. I have watched you bend the fracture without letting it break you. And now… I am pleased to see what remains of your courage.
Kratos's hand flexed on the Leviathan Axe. "Do not toy with us."
Toy? the voice hissed, playful and venomous at once. No. I am merely… curious. You have done what few could. And yet… you will not know the true cost until it comes to claim you.
The ground trembled underfoot. Shadows surged from the rifts, pooling into jagged, inhuman shapes. The laughter of gods became a chorus again, echoing from every fractured edge, every splintered horizon. They surged as one, a tide of intent and menace, shaping themselves into forms that should not exist.
Atreus fired an arrow instinctively, the shaft striking a shadow construct that dissipated into dark mist. Kratos swung the Leviathan Axe, slicing through others, but they reformed faster than he could strike, twisting, shifting, mutating as though the air itself was being rewritten by their presence.
Xenara's voice cut sharply through the chaos. "We are not prepared for this! They are feeding on the First Realm's collapse. Every shred of destruction, every pulse of fear— it amplifies them!"
Atreus's bow glowed faintly, the mark on his chest pulsing in resonance with the surge around them. "Then we fight… but how do we fight something that is not fully there yet?"
Kratos's eyes were steel. "We do not fight to destroy. We fight to survive. To endure. To keep the fracture from claiming everything."
From the fractured horizon, a figure stepped forward. Not one of the Nine. Something older, taller, with a presence that bent the air around it. The laughter ceased in an instant, leaving only a heavy, oppressive silence.
So… you are here.
Kratos swung the Leviathan Axe preemptively, but the figure did not flinch. It radiated power, bending the void to its will. Shadows recoiled instinctively, folding into themselves as if the entity commanded even the dark.
"You are… beyond the Nine," Xenara whispered. "Older. Stronger. Something… primordial."
The entity's gaze fixed on Atreus. You carry the fracture's song, boy. And I… am the echo it feared most.
Atreus's pulse surged. He felt the fracture inside him react violently, sensing a kindred force, or perhaps a rival. The Mark throbbed painfully, a warning of the danger pressing against them.
Kratos planted himself firmly. "We do not bow to echoes, shadows, or gods who have lost their way."
The being smiled, though its face was partially hidden in shadow. Oh… I do not require your bowing. I only require… acknowledgment. And perhaps a test.
The void around them shifted violently. Platforms buckled, stones floated, the sky tore further. Shadows coalesced into weapon-like forms, spires of black energy thrusting at the trio with precision. Atreus projected pulses of light to disperse them, but they kept coming, faster and sharper, feeding on his fear.
Kratos swung the Leviathan Axe again, each strike producing shockwaves that tore through the constructs. Yet even his immense strength could not end the assault entirely; the void itself seemed alive, bending, reshaping, attacking not just body but spirit.
Yes… fight, the primordial voice murmured, layered over the chorus of shadows. Test me. Test yourself. Endure… or be unmade.
Atreus's chest burned. The fracture pulsed, demanding release, offering the temptation to obliterate everything in sight. The shadows surged, converging in a massive wave, threatening to crush them. He could feel the raw, uncontrollable power of the mark calling to him.
"Do not!" Kratos's voice cut through his thoughts. "Control it. Focus. Endure. Survive."
Atreus clenched his fists, forcing the fracture to condense, shaping the pulse into controlled threads of energy. One by one, the shadow constructs were neutralized—not destroyed, but pushed back, broken enough to hold. The platform stabilized under their feet.
The primordial entity watched silently, seemingly amused. Clever… but this is only the beginning.
Another tremor. Another wave of energy. This time, the Nine themselves began emerging from distant rifts, drawn by the collapse of the First Realm. They had seen the fracture's influence, sensed its use, and were moving to reclaim what they could.
Kratos and Atreus exchanged a glance. No words were needed. They understood: the battle was no longer just survival. It was the opening of the Vein Wars in earnest.
Xenara's wards flared brighter, stabilizing the shifting platforms, giving them a temporary reprieve. We cannot last long like this, she said. If they unite… the fracture will overwhelm us entirely.
Atreus's eyes hardened. "Then we take the fight to them."
Kratos nodded. "Yes. But we must move carefully. Each step can either save a realm… or doom it."
The primordial entity raised a hand. Shadows surged forward in perfect formation, pressing like a living tide. The Nine's forms began to crystallize in the distant rifts, their power combining with the echoes of fallen realms.
This is your path, the entity whispered. This is the trial that decides whether your world stands… or falls.
Atreus felt the pulse of the fracture reach its apex, the temptation to release it entirely now unbearable. One surge could obliterate the Nine, the shadows, even the void itself. Yet Kratos's voice anchored him: control, not destruction.
With a single, deliberate act of will, Atreus channeled the fracture into precision threads, dispersing the wave of shadows without collapsing the fragile platforms beneath them. The void quaked, the Nine recoiled, and the primordial entity's laughter returned—soft, but edged with approval.
Interesting… resilient… and yet… you have only begun to understand the cost.
Far across the horizon, another rift tore open. From it, the corrupted fragments of the First Realm began rising—twisted, jagged, alive with remnants of its final moments. The battle was spreading, escalating, and the Vein Wars had truly begun.
Kratos lifted his axe, Atreus raised his bow, and Xenara flared her wards in unison. They did not falter. The darkness surged, the Nine advanced, and the primordial entity watched, amused and patient, ready to see who would endure.
The first realm had fallen. But the war… was only beginning.