† God of War †

【Ah, the memories... They're not all bad, you know. Some of them are... horrifying.】

Art ✎ Dimitris Iliopoulos

Kratos stood atop a rocky outcrop, overlooking the vast expanse of Midgard. The air was thick with tension, the promise of Ragnarok looming on the horizon. His son, Atreus, stood beside him, his gaze fixed on the distant mountains, his mind undoubtedly occupied with thoughts of prophecy and destiny.

As they traversed the rugged terrain, a figure emerged from the shadows, a silhouette against the dimming light. Kratos tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his axe. But as the figure drew closer, Kratos sensed no immediate threat. The newcomer approached with a steady, deliberate pace, their features shrouded in mystery. Kratos observed them with caution, his senses sharp and alert.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice low and gruff.

The figure remained silent, their presence a mystery. But there was something about them, something that stirred a sense of familiarity within Kratos. Atreus shifted uneasily beside him, casting a wary glance at the stranger. But Kratos held up a hand, silently signaling for his son to stay back.