Chapter 82 – Fractures of the Abyss
The plateau quaked under their feet.
Shattered stone tumbled into the void, lost to the endless darkness below. The air itself had grown thick and metallic, each breath tasting like ash and iron. Shadows twisted around every crevice, coiling and writhing with intent, anticipating every movement. The Nine were no longer just attacking—they were orchestrating a collapse, and the plateau itself was their instrument of war.
Kratos stood at the edge, Leviathan Axe in hand, muscles coiled like a predator waiting to strike. His eyes, cold and unwavering, scanned the battlefield. Every fragment of the plateau, every unstable stone, was a potential trap. Every shadow construct, every rift, was a potential death sentence.
Atreus crouched beside him, bow drawn, threads of controlled energy stretching from his arrows like delicate webs. The fracture pulsed violently in his chest, screaming, tempting, promising: One release, one strike, and the Nine fall. One release…
He swallowed hard. "It's… overwhelming. I don't know how long we can hold this."
Kratos's voice was steel. "Then hold it. Not for strength. Not for victory. For survival. That is all that matters here."
Xenara's wards flared brightly, straining against the shifting edges of the plateau. "They're coordinating! Every strike, every surge, every rift—this is a single, synchronized assault. Their goal isn't death alone. It's collapse. Total annihilation of everything we hold."
The Nine advanced. Shadows of fallen realms surged forth in waves, constructs wielding jagged weapons of fused void and stone. The largest among them, fused with fragments of the First Realm's throne, moved with an authority that bent shadows to its will. Its eyes glowed crimson, focusing directly on Atreus, and the fracture inside him trembled like a living thing.
Kratos stepped forward, axe raised. "We face it together. No hesitation. No fear."
The air trembled. The ground cracked. Rifts opened simultaneously across the horizon, spilling fragments of broken realms. The Nine moved like a living storm, shadow constructs splitting, multiplying, and striking in perfect coordination.
Atreus drew a deep breath and let the fracture flow through his threads. He bound constructs to the edges, dispersing them, keeping the plateau stable—just barely. Sparks of controlled energy danced along the cracks in the stone, holding them together, but every pulse of the fracture sent waves of temptation through him. Release it. End them. End everything.
Kratos swung the Leviathan Axe, meeting the largest Nine in brutal combat. Shockwaves tore across the plateau, shaking loose fragments of stone, sending them tumbling into the void below. The construct adapted instantly, its weapon shifting, blocking, and countering each strike.
From the horizon, more rifts tore open. Shadows surged forth with relentless precision, each wave pushing Kratos and Atreus closer to the plateau's edge. The air vibrated with the Nine's cruel laughter, echoing across the void. Yes… endure… resist… but know… collapse is inevitable.
Xenara's voice cut through the chaos. "You cannot hold them indefinitely! One misstep and the plateau collapses entirely!"
Kratos's jaw tightened. "Then we leave no room for misstep."
Atreus released a volley of arrows, each threaded with precise energy from the fracture. Constructs screamed, writhed, twisted, and then dispersed—but even as they fell, the Nine advanced, their attack unbroken, coordinated, and terrifyingly intelligent.
The largest Nine lifted its weapon, the blade pulsing with raw void energy. The air thickened, bending under the weight of its intent. Shadows twisted around it, coalescing into new constructs, striking at the edges of the plateau.
Kratos met its charge head-on, axe clashing with void-forged sword. Sparks flew, shockwaves ripped through the air, and fragments of stone shattered beneath their feet. Atreus focused the fracture, stabilizing the edges, but the plateau quaked violently with each impact.
The Nine's commander struck again, sweeping its blade in a wide arc. A section of the plateau collapsed, sending a chunk of stone plummeting into the void. Kratos leapt, axe spinning, cutting a path through a surge of shadow constructs, but more replaced those destroyed in an endless, suffocating tide.
Atreus's hands shook. The fracture pulsed violently, urging him to release its full power. One strike, and it's over. One strike…
Kratos's voice cut through the storm: "Control it! Restraint is strength!"
Atreus's fingers tightened on the bow. Thread by thread, arrow by arrow, he wove the fracture's energy into precise barriers, dispersing shadows, holding the plateau intact. Every pulse of the fracture was a temptation, but he endured, each thread a statement of control against the overwhelming tide.
From the horizon, the Nine's movements became almost choreographed, an intricate dance of destruction designed to destabilize, to wear down, to tempt Atreus into surrendering to the fracture.
Kratos struck with calculated fury, each swing precise and lethal, yet the Nine adapted instantly, every parry and counter a lesson learned from the last encounter. The battlefield was chaos incarnate—stone breaking, shadows writhing, rifts tearing open like wounds across the horizon.
Xenara's wards glowed brighter, pulsing with every surge of energy. "We cannot hold much longer!" she shouted. "The Nine are collapsing reality itself. Every strike weakens the plateau!"
Kratos glanced at Atreus. "We endure. Not for victory. Not for glory. For survival. You understand?"
Atreus nodded, chest burning, fracture screaming within him. "I… I understand."
The Nine surged again. Shadows pressed from all sides. The plateau trembled, cracks widening, fragments crumbling into the void.
Kratos swung the Leviathan Axe with measured precision, meeting the largest Nine in combat, shockwaves tearing across the ground. Atreus released threads of the fracture, anchoring the edges, stabilizing the battlefield with desperate care.
The air vibrated with the Nine's laughter, cruel and layered. Yes… endure… resist… but remember… collapse is coming.
The fracture pulsed violently, screaming for release. Shadows lunged at Atreus, seeking to exploit the tiniest hesitation. Every heartbeat, every breath was a test.
Kratos's voice cut through the chaos. "Endure! Survive! This is not defeat—it is survival!"
Atreus centered himself, drawing upon every ounce of control, threading the fracture into precise, binding energy. Constructs were restrained, edges held.
The largest Nine raised its sword again, shockwaves radiating across the plateau, threatening collapse. Kratos braced, axe ready. Atreus focused, threads dancing like threads of light through the shadows. Xenara's wards flared, fragile but holding.
The Nine advanced, relentless. Shadows multiplied, rifts opened, and the plateau quaked under the weight of coordinated assault.
Kratos looked to Atreus. "Hold! This is the line. Survival is all we have left."
Atreus nodded, bow steady, fracture pulsing under his control. "I'm holding!"
The Nine's commander pressed forward. Shadows surged. The plateau teetered.
And the Vein Wars had reached a brink from which there might be no return.