CHAPTER 124 — WHEN CHANGE DEVOURS ITS MAKERS
The realm adapted too quickly.
That was the mistake.
At dawn, Vanaheim did not wake to decay—but to excess. The forests surged overnight, roots tearing through stone, vines crushing ancient roads, canopies swelling until light itself struggled to pass through. Rivers burst their banks not from flood, but from overabundance, drowning settlements that had stood for centuries.
Life exploded.
And where life exploded without balance, death followed.
Kratos stood at the edge of a shattered village, the air thick with rot masked by flowers blooming far out of season. Bodies lay half-consumed by accelerated growth—vines threaded through ribs, bark fused with flesh.
Atreus turned away, bile rising in his throat. "This isn't survival," he whispered. "This is… gluttony."
Tyr knelt beside a corpse, his expression grim. "The realm tried to outrun the Hunger."
Kratos' fists clenched. "And tore itself apart doing so."
The Endurance of Worlds hovered nearby, its silver裂 flickering erratically.
"Uncontrolled adaptation is indistinguishable from collapse," it said.
"Balance requires restraint."
Atreus' fracture pulsed painfully. "I felt it when the flow surged. Something… pushed it."
Kratos turned sharply. "What?"
Atreus swallowed. "A god. Someone helped the realm overcorrect."
The air shifted.
A presence revealed itself among the twisted trees—subtle, deliberate. A tall figure stepped forward, skin patterned like living bark, eyes glowing with emerald fire.
"Someone had to act," the god said calmly.
Tyr stiffened. "Freyr."
The Vanir god spread his hands. "The Hunger measures stagnation. So I removed it."
Atreus stared. "You didn't remove stagnation. You removed control."
Freyr's jaw tightened. "People were dying."
"And now more are," Kratos said coldly.
Freyr turned to him, anger flaring. "You told us to adapt!"
"I told you to endure," Kratos replied. "Not to indulge fear."
The ground groaned beneath them as roots continued to spread, cracking stone, crushing what remained of the village.
Atreus stepped forward. "You forced growth beyond purpose. The Hunger doesn't see this as strength—it sees waste."
Freyr hesitated.
Far above, the sky darkened unnaturally.
The First Hunger noticed.
Reality shuddered as a portion of the forest vanished, swallowed cleanly. No fire. No sound. Just absence.
Freyr staggered back. "No—no, I gave it what it wanted!"
Kratos' voice was iron. "You gave it proof that adaptation can be reckless."
The Endurance of Worlds dimmed further.
"The Hunger responds not to motion alone—but to sustainable variance."
Freyr looked at Atreus desperately. "Fix it."
Atreus clenched his fists, threads flickering wildly. "I can't undo a realm forced out of rhythm."
The ground split again—closer this time.
From the void stepped others.
Gods.
Sustainers.
Elyon stood among them, wings flared, eyes blazing with vindication.
"This is what your chaos brings," he thundered.
"Unchecked change. Ruin."
Freyr turned on him. "You sealed realms and starved them!"
Elyon sneered. "And you drowned yours in excess."
Kratos stepped between them.
"Enough."
The gods fell silent—not out of respect, but tension.
Kratos scanned them all. "You are not fighting the Hunger. You are competing with it."
The sky rippled violently now. The void widened.
The First Hunger spoke—not directly, but through absence.
Another section of the realm vanished.
Atreus cried out as the fracture burned fiercely. "It's accelerating! It's learned something!"
Kratos grabbed him. "What?"
"That adaptation without unity still creates imbalance!"
The Endurance of Worlds spoke urgently.
"Fragmented change increases consumption probability."
Elyon raised his spear. "You see? His plan fails."
Kratos met his gaze. "No. Yours does."
He turned to Freyr. "Can you slow the growth?"
Freyr shook his head, voice breaking. "Not without killing the realm."
Kratos closed his eyes briefly.
Then he spoke.
"Then we cut it loose."
Atreus' eyes widened. "Father—"
"We isolate the infected region," Kratos said. "Sever its connection before the Hunger takes the rest."
Elyon smiled grimly. "Sacrifice."
Kratos glared at him. "Containment."
Tyr swallowed. "That region holds thousands."
Kratos' voice did not waver. "If we hesitate, it will hold none."
Atreus trembled. "You said we wouldn't choose who dies."
Kratos looked at his son.
"We choose who lives."
The decision settled heavily.
Atreus raised his hands slowly, threads weaving with painful precision. The fracture screamed—but obeyed.
Silver-gold lines carved through the realm, isolating the overgrown region. The earth screamed as connections snapped. The sky tore—
And the Hunger struck.
The isolated land vanished instantly.
Gone.
Silence followed.
Freyr fell to his knees, shattered. Elyon lowered his spear slowly, shaken despite himself.
Atreus collapsed into Kratos' arms, sobbing silently.
Kratos held him, jaw tight, eyes burning.
The First Hunger withdrew—satisfied.
But not victorious.
The Endurance of Worlds spoke softly.
"You have learned the cost of guiding change."
Kratos stared at the empty horizon.
"And it will cost more."
Far beyond the realms, the Hunger shifted—no longer merely observing.
It was adapting too.
And for the first time, it understood something vital:
Kratos would sacrifice worlds to save existence.
Which meant—
The game had changed.