CHAPTER 112 — THE WAR THAT CANNOT BE WON
The realms did not welcome change.
They resisted it.
Midgard cracked beneath their feet as Kratos led them away from the vanishing forest. The land groaned, not in pain, but in confusion—ancient laws straining under pressure they were never meant to endure. Snow melted in some places and thickened unnaturally in others. Rivers shifted course overnight. The world was trying to correct itself and failing.
Atreus felt every tremor.
The fracture in his chest pulsed steadily now, no longer violent, but aware. It responded not to danger alone—but to imbalance. Threads flickered faintly around his wrists, forming and dissolving like thoughts half-born.
"Father," he said quietly as they walked. "The realms don't want to adapt."
Kratos did not slow. "Nothing does."
Behind them, Tyr limped forward, leaning heavily on his spear. His face was grim, eyes darting constantly to the sky as if expecting it to tear open again at any moment.
"Gods are already responding," Tyr said. "Not all of them kindly."
Kratos stopped.
"Explain."
Tyr exhaled. "Messages. Signs. Omens. Some see the decay and fear extinction. Others see opportunity. They believe if the realms are thinning… power can be consolidated."
Atreus clenched his fists. "They want to rule what survives."
Tyr nodded. "And many believe you caused this."
Kratos turned slowly.
"Let them."
The Endurance of Worlds followed in silence, its silver裂 dim and fractured, like a guardian slowly realizing its age had passed.
"They will not merely resist," it said.
"They will oppose."
Kratos met its gaze. "Then they will learn."
The sky darkened again—but this time, it was not the First Hunger.
Lightning cracked violently as a portal tore open ahead of them, sharp-edged and furious. From it stepped a figure wreathed in blinding light—armor radiant, wings of pure energy unfurled behind him.
A god.
Atreus staggered back from the pressure alone.
"Father… that's—"
"I know," Kratos said calmly.
The god's voice thundered across the plains.
"GHOST OF SPARTA!"
The light dimmed slightly, revealing a tall, severe figure with a spear crackling with raw realm-energy.
"I am Elyon, Warden of the Upper Confluence," the god declared.
"And you have disrupted the order that sustains existence."
Tyr muttered under his breath. "He wasn't supposed to move yet."
Kratos stepped forward. "Order that allows annihilation is not worth sustaining."
Elyon laughed—a sharp, humorless sound.
"You broke judgment. You shattered restraint. And now the realms decay."
Atreus shouted, "That decay already existed! The Hunger just revealed it!"
Elyon's gaze snapped to him, narrowing dangerously.
"The child carries corruption," he snarled.
"A fracture that destabilizes reality."
Kratos moved instantly, placing himself between Elyon and Atreus.
"Speak again," he warned softly.
Elyon's wings flared wider. "You would shield the catalyst?"
"Yes."
The air shook.
Elyon raised his spear—not to strike, but to declare.
"Then hear this, Ghost of War. The gods will not adapt. We will not surrender structure to chaos. If realms must be sacrificed—so be it."
Atreus felt the fracture surge violently.
"That's exactly what the Hunger wants," he shouted. "You're helping it!"
Elyon hesitated—just for a moment.
Then his jaw hardened.
"Better chosen sacrifice than uncontrolled extinction."
Kratos' voice dropped to a dangerous calm.
"You mistake control for survival."
Elyon attacked.
Light crashed forward in a devastating wave. Kratos braced, Leviathan Axe roaring with frost as the shock slammed into him, carving trenches through the earth. Atreus fired instinctively, threads anchoring Kratos, stabilizing him against the force.
Tyr shouted, "Kratos! If you kill him—"
Kratos already knew.
Killing Elyon would prove the gods right.
So he endured.
He pushed forward through the storm of light, boots grinding into the ground, muscles screaming as frost met radiant energy in violent opposition. Elyon faltered, surprised—not by strength, but by refusal.
Kratos slammed the axe into the ground between them.
The explosion of frost forced Elyon back, wings flickering as he struggled to stabilize.
"I do not seek to rule what remains," Kratos said coldly. "I seek to ensure something remains at all."
Elyon hovered, breathing hard. "Then you are a fool."
Atreus stepped forward, threads weaving into a complex lattice around his hands.
"No," he said. "He's the only one not lying to himself."
The fracture glowed brighter—but steady.
Elyon stared at him.
"You feel it, don't you?" Atreus continued. "The Hunger doesn't care about your order. Or your power. It will consume you too."
For the first time, fear flickered in Elyon's eyes.
The Endurance of Worlds spoke.
"Opposition weakens the whole."
Elyon looked between them—Kratos, Atreus, Tyr—and finally lowered his spear slightly.
"This path…" he said slowly. "It will fracture prophecy."
Kratos nodded. "Good."
Elyon hesitated… then stepped back into his portal.
"If you fail," he said quietly,
"the gods will not forgive you."
The portal sealed.
Silence returned—but it was tense now, charged.
Atreus sagged slightly. Kratos steadied him.
"You held the fracture," Kratos said. "You controlled it."
Atreus swallowed. "Barely."
The Endurance of Worlds turned toward them.
"The war has begun," it said.
"Not of blades—but of belief."
Tyr looked out at the trembling horizon. "Gods will choose sides."
Kratos' eyes burned with quiet resolve.
"So will realms."
Far beyond sight, the First Hunger observed the clash.
Not with anger.
With interest.
For the first time in eons, survival was no longer predictable.
And inevitability… had learned resistance.