CHAPTER 126 — THE GODS DO NOT ASK
The first spear fell from the sky without warning.
It struck the earth less than ten paces from Kratos, shattering stone and silence alike. The weapon burned with condensed divinity—runic script crawling along its shaft like living veins. It did not vanish after impact.
It waited.
Kratos raised his head slowly, eyes scanning the heavens.
Atreus felt it then—the shift in intent.
"This isn't the Hunger," he said. "This is… judgment."
The sky split.
Light did not descend like mercy. It crashed like accusation.
Figures emerged from the rift—armored, radiant, ancient. Gods who had not walked the realms since before the Aesir fell. Their presence bent reality slightly, pressing down on the land as if existence itself was being audited.
Tyr's hand tightened around his staff. "They've come sooner than expected."
Freyr rose to his feet, jaw clenched. "They didn't even send envoys."
Kratos stepped forward, placing himself instinctively in front of Atreus.
"They never do," he said.
A voice rolled across the land—neither shouted nor spoken, but declared.
"KRATOS OF SPARTA."
The name carried weight. History. Blood.
A figure descended ahead of the others, landing with controlled force. He wore no crown, no extravagant armor—only layered plates etched with symbols of law, balance, and termination.
His eyes were cold stars.
"I am Aurelion, Executor of the Covenant."
Atreus' breath caught. "The Covenant's real?"
Tyr nodded grimly. "Older than the Nine. They exist to… prune threats."
Aurelion's gaze shifted to Atreus.
"And you are the variable."
Kratos' voice was iron. "Speak your purpose."
Aurelion did not look back at him.
"The realms tremble. A region erased. Causality bent. The Hunger adapts."
He finally turned to Kratos.
"You are no longer a protector. You are a destabilizing force."
Freyr stepped forward angrily. "You weren't here when we fought for survival!"
Aurelion's eyes flicked to him. "Survival is irrelevant. Order is eternal."
Atreus felt something inside him tighten—anger, fear, resolve twisting together.
"You want to cage us," Atreus said. "Just like Elyon."
Aurelion nodded once. "Containment has been approved."
The word hit harder than any weapon.
Kratos' fists clenched. "You will not take my son."
Aurelion tilted his head. "This is not a negotiation."
The gods behind him raised their weapons in perfect unison.
The Endurance of Worlds pulsed violently, its裂 widening.
"Probability collapse imminent," it warned.
"Conflict outcome unacceptable."
Kratos did not retreat.
He reached for the Blades.
"Then unacceptable outcomes are all I have ever offered."
The first wave came fast.
Light-beasts—constructs of divine will—rushed forward, blades singing with purity that burned the air. Kratos met them head-on, blades igniting, each clash tearing craters into the earth.
Atreus moved without thinking.
An arrow flew—sigil-wrapped, glowing with fractured fate—and pierced through one construct's core, unraveling it mid-strike.
But the recoil hit him immediately.
Pain lanced through his chest as the fracture flared violently.
"Argh—!"
Kratos turned sharply. "Atreus!"
"I'm fine!" Atreus gasped, forcing himself upright. "I can still fight."
Tyr shouted, "You're drawing too much through the裂!"
Aurelion watched calmly as battle erupted.
"Observe," he said to the gods beside him.
"The variable destabilizes himself."
Atreus heard him.
Something snapped.
"No," Atreus said softly. "I stabilize him."
The fracture blazed.
The world slowed.
Atreus stepped forward—and for a moment, reality listened.
Threads appeared to his sight, glowing faintly, vibrating with probability. Not destiny. Not prophecy.
Decision.
He reached out—not to sever, but to bind.
A shield of interwoven causality snapped into place around Kratos just as a god's hammer came crashing down. The impact shattered mountains—but Kratos stood unmoved within the weave.
Aurelion's eyes widened—just slightly.
"Impossible."
Kratos stared at Atreus. "Boy—what did you do?"
Atreus' voice trembled. "I… chose."
Blood dripped from his nose.
The Hunger stirred at the edge of existence, amused.
Learning confirmed.
Aurelion raised his hand sharply. "Enough."
The gods froze mid-attack, weapons locked in stasis.
He stepped forward, gaze locked onto Atreus.
"You are not merely reacting to fate," Aurelion said.
"You are authoring it."
Atreus met his stare, shaking but unbroken. "Then stop treating me like a mistake."
Silence stretched.
Then Aurelion did something no one expected.
He lowered his hand.
The gods disengaged.
"Containment will proceed," he said coldly.
"But not today."
Kratos did not relax. "Why?"
Aurelion turned away. "Because killing you now would teach the Hunger too much."
The rift began to close.
As he vanished, Aurelion's final words echoed across the land:
"Prepare yourselves. The next time we come, we will not aim for you."
"We will aim for what you love."
The sky sealed shut.
The battlefield lay in ruins.
Atreus collapsed to his knees, breathing hard. Kratos caught him before he fell.
"You disobeyed me," Kratos said quietly.
Atreus looked up, exhausted, eyes burning. "I saved you."
Kratos said nothing.
Then, slowly, he pulled Atreus into a rare, fierce embrace.
"You will surpass me," Kratos said. "And the world will not forgive you for it."
Tyr approached, dread heavy in his eyes. "They've declared you a living catalyst."
Freyr wiped blood from his lip. "So what now?"
Kratos looked toward the horizon—where gods would gather, where the Hunger waited, where choice itself was becoming a weapon.
"Now," he said,
"we stop reacting."
The Endurance of Worlds裂 pulsed brightly.
"New path required," it intoned.
"One where gods do not dictate cost."
Atreus steadied himself, rising slowly.
"Then we change the rules," he said.
Far beyond sight, the First Hunger listened.
And smiled.
Because for the first time since it was born—
It did not know how this would end.