Chapter 83 – The Shattered Stand
The plateau was dying.
Every crack widened like a wound that refused to close, bleeding fragments of light and stone into the endless abyss below. Each second brought another tremor, another lurch, another reminder that the Nine were not simply attacking—they were dismantling reality stone by stone, forcing Kratos and Atreus into a battle where losing ground meant falling into oblivion.
Shadows thickened across the surface in serpentine coils. Constructs rose from them, forming jagged bodies of fused void and splintered realm fragments. They marched with silent, terrifying purpose.
And at their center—towering, armored in broken throne metal, eyes burning red—a commander of the Nine advanced, every movement deliberate, measured, merciless.
Kratos tightened his grip on the Leviathan Axe. It glowed faintly, frost steam curling from its blade. His stance lowered into the poised stillness of a warrior who had survived gods, titans, and realms… but had rarely faced an enemy with such calculated precision.
Atreus stood slightly behind him, breath unsteady, fingers trembling on the bowstring. Threads of pure, controlled energy stretched from arrow to fracture—glowing strands that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. Each pulse of the fracture made the world feel too sharp, too loud, too heavy, urging him to let go, to unleash everything.
He fought that temptation with every second.
Xenara's wards flickered around the plateau edge. They had once stood tall and bright, but now they shuddered like dying flames in a storm. She hovered near the collapsing perimeter, glyphs rotating desperately in her palms.
"Another wave is forming!" she shouted, voice strained. "The rifts are widening—the Nine are splitting their forces to attack all sides at once!"
Kratos glanced at Atreus. "The moment wavers. Hold your focus."
Atreus exhaled sharply. "Trying."
The ground convulsed.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of shadow constructs erupted from fresh tears across the horizon. Their weapons clanged against stone as they converged, forming a unified front shaped by the will of the Nine.
The commander raised its void-forged blade.
The shadows marched.
Kratos moved first.
He charged headlong, axe ready, boots thundering across unstable stone. The first construct lunged forward, spear raised. Kratos shattered its form with a single, vicious swing, frost exploding outward. He pushed deeper into their ranks, carving a brutal path—but each strike, each kill, was met with two, three, five more rising from the rifts.
Behind him, Atreus anchored his stance, bow glowing as he drew. "Threads—bind!"
He fired.
Three arrows shot outward, connected by glowing strands that expanded on impact. They wrapped around multiple constructs, binding them together. Atreus pulled the threads tighter, compressing them to the point of rupture—then snapped them. The constructs imploded.
But the fracture pulsed harder from inside him, hungry, demanding to be used without restraint.
Atreus grimaced. "Stop… I said stop…"
Xenara turned sharply. "Don't fight the fracture with brute force! Redirect it—control, don't suppress!"
He nodded, sweat dripping down his brow. "I'm trying!"
The battlefield darkened.
The rifts grew taller.
The Nine's laughter echoed—layered, distant, cruel.
Kratos roared and smashed another construct down, frost exploding across the stone. He swung again, and again, parrying the commander's massive blade as it descended with devastating weight. Each clash sent shockwaves across the plateau, shaking loose more stone.
The commander's molten-red eyes stayed fixed—not on Kratos—but on Atreus.
Atreus felt the stare like a spear through the chest.
The fracture surged violently.
Release. Let everything go. End them. End their rifts. End the plateau. End everything.
Atreus grit his teeth. "No… not like that…"
The commander shifted, pushing Kratos back, carving a trench into the stone with its next strike. With unnatural agility, it blurred toward Atreus.
Kratos's eyes flared wide.
"Atreus!"
The commander appeared in front of the boy like a storm manifesting.
Its blade descended.
Atreus reacted on instinct.
He released the arrow.
The fracture surged—not fully unleashed, but enough to amplify the arrow beyond anything he'd crafted before. The air twisted, cracked, and the arrow exploded into a burst of threads that latched onto the commander's blade. The impact threw shadows backward, warping the ground, shattering half of the constructs in a single, blinding surge.
The commander staggered.
The plateau groaned under the pressure, a massive fissure splitting straight through its center.
Xenara stabilized the edges with frantic glyphwork. "That was too much! Atreus, you must stay in control!"
"I—" Atreus panted, hands shaking violently. "I barely let it out. It's… stronger. Every time I restrain it, it grows."
Kratos rejoined them, gripping Atreus's shoulder firmly. "Strength uncontrolled destroys everything around it."
The fracture pulsed.
Hard.
Atreus winced. "I know… I'm trying…"
The Nine's commander rose from the rubble.
Its blade twisted, reshaped, becoming longer—more deadly.
The voice of the Nine echoed through the battlefield—deep, layered, chilling:
"You fracture the realms… and restrain their power? Foolish child. Power exists to be released."
The shadows surged again.
Dozens of constructs launched themselves toward Kratos and Atreus in a coordinated assault. The commander moved behind them, overseeing, guiding, adapting.
Kratos slammed the axe into the stone, creating a shockwave that staggered the front line. He leapt into the air, spinning, landing with enough force to crush several constructs beneath him. But for every one destroyed, more emerged.
Atreus loosed arrow after arrow, weaving threads that bound shadows and redirected rifts—but the power needed grew heavier, harder to regulate.
The plateau shook violently.
Cracks spread across its surface like spiderweb fractures.
"Xenara," Kratos barked, "can you stabilize the ground further?"
"No!" she yelled over the chaos. "The battlefield is reaching its collapse threshold! They're overloading the realm fabric itself!"
The Nine's laughter grew louder.
Atreus looked around in horror. "Then what do we do?"
Kratos tightened his jaw. "We end this wave. We survive. One breath at a time."
The commander advanced again—faster.
Kratos intercepted it this time, their clash sending sparks and frost into the air. The construct's blade shifted mid-strike, splitting into three jagged edges. It forced Kratos on the defensive. The Spartan blocked, parried, ducked, but the commander's adaptive weaponry cut deeper each time, matching him strike for strike.
Atreus fired at the construct's back, threads tightening around its legs, but it twisted unnaturally, cutting through the bindings with its shifting blade.
The fracture inside Atreus tremored, furious.
Let it out. One surge. Destroy them. Destroy everything.
He clenched his jaw hard enough that pain shot through his skull. "Not like this… I won't!"
Kratos's battle intensified. The commander's weight forced him backward. The Leviathan Axe met the void blade in a clash that erupted into explosions of frost and shadow.
But the ground beneath them shuddered violently.
A section of the plateau collapsed—just feet from where they fought.
Atreus's eyes widened. "Father!"
The commander seized the opening.
Its blade arced in a deadly curve—aimed for Kratos's chest.
Atreus didn't think. He fired an arrow laced with tightly bound fracture energy. The thread snapped outward and latched onto the commander's wrist, pulling it back just enough for Kratos to roll aside.
The blade tore through empty air.
Kratos sprang to his feet and slammed the axe into the commander's shoulder, sending it sliding backward across the stone.
Atreus gasped, clutching his chest. The fracture pulsed violently, punishing him for using it.
Xenara hurried to his side. "Your restraint is thinning. I can feel the pressure—if you lose control, even for a second—"
Atreus nodded weakly. "I know… but if I don't use it… we die."
Kratos heard him—and his voice came through the chaos like iron.
"Then use what you can control. Nothing more."
The shadows surged.
The rifts expanded.
The plateau groaned, shaking under the overwhelming force.
The Nine's commander rose once more, body crackling with void energy. It lifted its blade, pointing directly at Atreus.
"You will break."
Atreus swallowed hard. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
Kratos stepped between him and the commander, axe raised.
"No. He will endure."
The commander charged.
Kratos met it in a brutal collision that shook the battlefield.
Atreus steadied his bow.
Xenara raised her wards.
The ground beneath them reached its limit. Cracks widened, stone split, and fragments toppled into the abyss.
But they stood their ground—three against an army of shadows, three against the Nine's relentless assault.
The plateau teetered.
The rifts widened.
And as the chapter closed, the truth became undeniable:
Their stand was not about winning.
It was about surviving the fall of a realm.