Chapter 182: Unlikely Meeting
The night carried no peace.
Across Greece, whispers of the Spartan spread faster than fire. Villages barred their doors, cities posted soldiers at their gates, and still it was never enough. When Kratos walked, ruin followed.
The Blades of Chaos sang through the dark, their chains glowing hot from constant use. He tore through bands of men who dared bar his way, their shields shattered, their blood soaking into the dust. No army could match the fury that burned in his chest. His roar echoed across valleys, a sound more beast than man.
"ARES!"
The name left his throat again and again, each cry heavier than the last. It was no longer just rage. It was a vow carved into the bones of the world.
By the time dawn broke, he had left another town in ruins, its temple to Ares split in two. The people fled before him. Only silence remained when his chains stopped rattling.
Kratos stood alone in the wreckage, chest heaving, sweat and blood dripping down his scarred body. His eyes still burned red. His voice rasped. "Show yourself, god."
But no answer came. Only the hiss of the wind across broken stone.
–––
He moved on, wandering deeper into the wild.
The forests here were thick, their shadows alive with unseen things. Owls stirred, wolves followed at a distance, but none dared attack. Kratos walked, his blades dragging sparks against the rocks, his steps relentless.
Then the air shifted.
The forest grew quiet—too quiet. Even the wolves vanished into the brush. The leaves rustled with a weight that was not wind. Kratos slowed, his hand tightening on the chain of his weapon.
A figure stepped from the shadows.
Her hair writhed with living serpents, their eyes glowing faint green. Her face was hidden beneath a dark hood, but the hiss of scales betrayed her before she spoke.
"Spartan," the voice came, low, sharp, not without bitterness. "You walk loud. Loud enough to wake even the cursed."
Kratos’s eyes narrowed, his blades lifting. "Medusa."
The hood lowered, and her gaze burned back at him—once a woman, now something beyond. The serpents hissed, coiling like whips, but she did not attack.
"I heard the earth shake with your rage," she said, stepping closer. "I smelled the blood you left behind. You are not hunting mortals. You hunt Olympus."
Kratos’s voice was rough. "I hunt Ares."
Her lips curled faintly, not a smile, but something sharper. "Then we share more than a path."
Kratos growled, swinging a blade down into the dirt. "I need no ally."
Medusa’s snakes hissed louder, but she only tilted her head. "No? You are strong, Spartan. Strong enough to tear armies apart. But you will not stand long against gods alone. Even now, they watch you. They whisper about you. Athena plots already."
The name cut into him. His jaw tightened. "Athena..."
"Yes," Medusa spat, her voice thick with venom. "The same goddess who cursed me. Who bound me in stone and shadow because Poseidon’s lust ruined her temple. And what did Zeus do?" She stepped closer, her green eyes burning through the dark. "He punished Poseidon. He gave me control of what Athena tried to twist. This curse became my strength. The gaze that once damned me now obeys me."
Her snakes coiled tighter, her voice rising like flame. "But forgiveness? No. I cannot forgive Athena. And now... you burn with the same hatred I carry."
Kratos stared at her, his chest rising and falling, his voice cold. "You speak of hate. But hate does not build trust."
Medusa studied him. For a long breath, silence stretched between them. Then she said, steady, deliberate: "Not trust, Spartan. Purpose. You want Ares. I want Athena. Together, we can tear the veil of Olympus and take what we are owed."
Kratos shook his head, his chains rattling. "I fight alone."
Medusa’s eyes narrowed, her voice sharper. "And die alone? Is that what you want? You think your rage endless, but rage is fire—it consumes until nothing is left. You want vengeance? Then take it smartly, not blindly. Even the storm obeys the mountain it strikes against."
Kratos turned from her, his shoulders tense. "Zeus told me..." His words stuck in his throat before he forced them out. "He told me Ares would be mine. That he would guide me to it."
Medusa’s head tilted, her snakes swaying. "Zeus said this?"
"Yes."
She stepped closer, her tone shifting, less venom, more weight. "Then believe him. He is a god of his word. He kept his promise to me when no one else would. He punished Poseidon. He let me master the curse Athena tried to drown me in. He turned it to my strength. For that, I know he will not lie."
Kratos’s breath came heavy. His voice cracked low. "Still... I cannot forgive him. Or any of you."
Medusa’s eyes gleamed. "Nor can I. Forgiveness is for those who forget. We do not forget."
Her snakes hissed, the sound sharp as steel against stone. "But use his word. Let Zeus give you what you want. Take his path, then carve your own. If he would give you Ares, let him. When Ares falls, you will see what Olympus truly fears."
Kratos’s grip tightened on his blades. He turned his head just enough to meet her gaze. "And if your path crosses mine?"
Medusa’s lips curved faintly. "Then may the cursed and the broken test whose hatred runs deeper."
For the first time, something like respect flickered in his burning eyes. Not trust. Never trust. But a recognition of another scarred by Olympus, another forged in pain.
He gave no answer, only turned and walked deeper into the forest, his chains dragging behind him.
Medusa watched him vanish into the dark, her serpents quieting. Her whisper followed him, carried on the night air.
"Burn, Spartan. Burn. And when you do, I will be there to watch the gods choke on the fire they made."
–––
Far above, in Olympus, the storm shifted faintly. Zeus sat in silence on his throne, his gaze turning south, his thoughts heavy.
The Spartan walked closer to his fate. And now, the cursed gorgon walked beside it.
The storm thickened.
And Olympus trembled.