The night was deep and dark.
Inside the barn, candlelight flickered wildly.
The wizards were utterly stunned. Each wizard stood frozen, breathing suspended. Their eyes were fixed on the figure silhouetted in the doorway. The figure was clad in silver armor and crowned with an olive branch diadem. Its eyes were as deep as the starry sky and radiated a suffocating aura of divine power:
Athena.
The goddess of wisdom had descended in person!
"We're finished," a young wizard stammered, his legs trembling so violently that he nearly collapsed.
"She must be here to settle accounts," an older wizard murmured, closing his eyes in despair and unconsciously gripping the hem of his robe with his fingers.
The wizards' faces turned deathly pale. Some were already mentally rehearsing their impending deaths, being burned to ash by divine punishment. Or turned into stone statues? Or cast into Tartarus for eternal torment?
Just as everyone believed the apocalypse had arrived, Athena's gaze swept past them and settled on Ian.
Her voice, though soft, carried with crystal clarity to every ear in the barn.
"As long as you keep me alive during the Twilight of the Gods."
Her words detonated like a bombshell.
They had expected to die today, either at the hands of the Temple Knights or by Athena's divine punishment. But who could have imagined that a god would negotiate with a wizard?
Absolute silence descended. Even the sound of breathing seemed to vanish from the barn.
The wizards stared wide-eyed, barely daring to believe what they had just heard:
Athena was seeking a bargain with Ian! They had never imagined such a thing in their wildest dreams, a true Olympian god appearing at their secret gathering!
Moreover, she hadn't unleashed divine punishment or demanded an explanation. Instead, she wanted to strike a deal with the wizards. A deal where she hoped they would help her survive!
'A God... bowing to mortal wizards?!'
"Are you betraying the Olympian gods?" Ian raised an eyebrow, his gaze fixed on Athena in surprise. A meaningful smile slowly curved his lips.
He could sense her deep-seated fear of the Twilight of the Gods.
Athena's expression remained calm, but her fingertips tightened imperceptibly for a moment.
"This is merely planning ahead. I see further than you imagine," she murmured. "The fall of Olympus is inevitable, and I simply wish to survive." Her voice rang with sincerity. She hadn't come to suppress these wizards or test Ian's strength.
She had come to seek survival.
The future was set in stone; the gods were destined to fall.
"You are indeed wise," Ian said with a smile.
He nodded thoughtfully. From a certain perspective, the future gods had already vanished, or, at least, Olympus had long crumbled into the dust of myth in his time. If Athena could truly foresee this, then perhaps her "wisdom" was more real than the legends claimed.
"I am not wise," She said calmly, as if discussing an approaching storm. "Rather, I refuse to let fear cloud my judgment."
It was not a decision that could shatter the very order of Olympus.
Just as the Titans were inevitably supplanted by the gods, the goddess of wisdom had clearly foreseen a similar fate.
"Many of my siblings, like our father Zeus, chose denial and concealment out of fear. They dared not confront the reality of the Twilight of the Gods."
"Because of this, you've witnessed our desire for control and our fear of wizards, all stemming from Zeus and my siblings' desperate desire to prevent the Twilight of the Gods. But I know the twilight is inevitable. When that day arrives, I refuse to become mere dust in the annals of history."
Athena's voice carried the weight of calm analysis.
Ian nodded in agreement.
He was well aware of the future. After a moment of contemplation, he looked at the still-shocked and tense wizards, then returned his gaze to Athena.
"Zeus despises wizards," he stated flatly. "Do you dare defy him?"
Athena chuckled softly.
"Zeus is too preoccupied with his own affairs," she replied, her voice tinged with sarcasm and weariness. "The souls of Sparta are about to claw their way out."
Athena now harbored not just a lack of respect for Zeus, but also a burning desire to see his downfall, whether he had slept around or not.
"You truly deserve the title 'Goddess of Wisdom,'" Ian sighed, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "At least you're far wiser than those blindly arrogant gods."
He sensed Athena's sincerity.
However,
"That Spartan believes you betrayed him. Don't you want to stop him from climbing out?" Ian remembered Kratos's desperate roar into the sky.
"I was merely manipulated by Zeus. I left myself some wiggle room and even helped the Spartan return. His wrath will be directed solely at Zeus," Athena said with her usual calculating precision.
"Can he truly return?"
Ian remained skeptical. According to the legends he knew, Kratos would need the help of the imprisoned Titans in the Underworld to escape.
However...
Ian had already slain all the Titans. The only remaining female Titan, Claire, was a Seer Titan, so it was highly unlikely that the gods would imprison her at this point.
If the gods had imprisoned her, the female Titan's quest would be to rescue her, not collect epiphyllum nectar.
Athena smiled faintly at Ian's curiosity but remained silent. Instead, she raised her hand, and a silver-white radiance materialized in her palm. As the light swirled, it gradually coalesced into an image:
The Underworld.
Darkness, chaos, and wailing souls churned in crimson rivers within that boundless abyss. Within that boundless abyss, a familiar figure climbed steadily upward, step by step.
Kratos.
He was dead.
Slain by Zeus's own hand, stripped of his Divinity, and banished to the Underworld. Yet even in death, he had not truly perished. His soul remained powerful, his will unwavering.
Driven by pure rage and a thirst for revenge, Kratos clawed his way through the depths of the Underworld, step by step. There was no sunlight or air, only countless resentful souls and despairing whispers.
Yet he pressed onward. His skin was scorched black by the Underworld's flames, but his muscles remained coiled like steel. His hands gripped the jagged cliffs, his fingernails cracking and blood streaming, but he showed no sign of stopping. Even more terrifying was the burning fury in his eyes, hotter than the Underworld's hellfire itself.
It was this fury that sustained him as he ascended. Here, there was no day or night, only endless nothingness and wails. The air reeked of decay and despair. The souls of the dead drifted in invisible chains, emitting low, mournful groans. This was the final destination for the deceased, the terminus of souls, a place where even time seemed to stand still.
But Kratos refused to accept this fate.
He was no longer the God of War or the god-slayer but rather a disembodied spirit banished to the Underworld. Yet, even in this diminished state, he refused to surrender.
Rage remained his sole driving force. The souls here had long since lost their identities, becoming part of the River Styx and drifting with its currents. They were doomed to eternal stagnation.
But Kratos was different.
He still retained his memories, his will, and his unfinished vengeance.
"I will return to the mortal realm!"
Kratos stood atop a hill of corpses, his feet trampling countless wailing souls. They reached out with their rotting arms, trying to drag him into the eternal abyss.
"Get out of my way!" He roared, slashing down with savage force with the Blades of Chaos. Crimson chains coiled around his arms, and where the blades passed, souls scattered like dust.
But more souls quickly clawed their way out of the River of Blood. Their empty sockets were fixed on him, and piercing shrieks erupted from their mouths. The laws of the Underworld were rejecting him.
This was the realm of the dead.
Yet it did not welcome a god-slayer consumed by endless rage.
It sought to purify Kratos.
Of course.
The laws of the Underworld failed.
Kratos resisted becoming a mindless soul. He strode forward, each step as heavy as a mountain, crushing corpses underfoot with bone-jarring cracks. The Underworld's icy winds tore at his skin, but his muscles remained coiled like steel. Before the blood could drip from his wounds, it was scorched dry by his burning fury.
"Zeus..."
He muttered the name as if grinding it between his teeth.
He crested another mountain.
Ahead, the River Styx churned, its black waters teeming with countless struggling souls. There was no bridge and no ferry, only endless despair.
Without hesitation, Kratos stepped into the river.
"Ahhhhh..."
The Styx's waters pierced his flesh like a thousand sharp knives, corroding his bones and attempting to dissolve his soul into eternal torment.
But he merely gritted his teeth and plunged the Blades of Chaos deep into the riverbed, dragging himself forward step by step. Beneath the surface, countless pale arms grasped his ankles. Malevolent spirits grinned as they tried to drag him down into the abyss forever.
"You dare stand in my way?"
With a violent swing of his blades, scarlet light severed countless arms. The shrieks of the damned reverberated across the Styx. Yet the agony persisted. The Styx's corrosive power continued eating away at him, peeling his flesh to reveal stark white bone.
Still, he pressed on.
One step.
Another step.
Until he finally reached the opposite bank.
The River Styx roared behind him but could no longer touch him.
Kratos lowered his head to examine his mangled arm, a bloody mess of exposed bone. Yet flames of rage burned the wounds and flesh regenerated visibly.
"Not fast enough," he growled, lifting his gaze toward the higher reaches of the Underworld.
The cliffs of Tartarus loomed before them, sheer as if carved by a blade. Countless Titans were shackled to the cliff face, their anguished howls echoing through the abyss like thunder.
At the summit of the cliffs lay the fissure leading to the Human Realm.
Kratos resumed his ascent.
His fingers dug into the rock, his nails cracking and blood streaming down the scorched cliff face. The Underworld's icy winds sliced at his back like blades, trying to tear him loose.
But he merely sneered.
"Do you think this can hold me, you Olympian bastards?"
With a surge of strength, he dragged his body higher, his muscles tensing like steel cables. Fragments of chains broke free and plummeted into the abyss below.
Above, a Hellhawk swooped down, its razor-sharp beak aimed at his eyes.
Kratos gripped the rock wall with one hand and lunged out with the other, crushing the Hellhawk's throat. Black blood splattered across his face as he licked his lips; the fury in his eyes intensified.
"Who's next?!" he roared.
In the Human Realm, Ian and Athena watched his heroic feat unfold.
After his death, Kratos's soul entered the Underworld. Though the Titans offered him no aid there, he was now clawing his way back, step by relentless step.
"This is some fucking bullshit," Ian muttered, his eye twitching. He understood that such feats weren't unheard of; many legendary wizards could return from the Underworld or Illusory Realms. However, he had never seen someone like Kratos, who relied solely on brute force and unbridled rage to claw his way back to the living world.
Could this be related to the separate Underworld that the Olympian gods carved out in the Twilight Zone, which lies closer to the human realm? Regardless, Kratos's sheer tenacity left Ian speechless.
His physical body had completely rotted away.
Yet, his soul still had a chance to return to the Human Realm and be resurrected, perhaps because he was on a mission to bring about the Twilight of the Gods to the Main God of the Human Realm.
The wizards inside the barn were utterly stunned.
They might not have recognized Kratos, but they could feel the savage aura bursting through the projected image, that of a monster not even death could restrain!
"God of War!"
Many wizards spoke of Kratos with even greater fear than they did of Ares.
The reason was simple. Kratos was far more brutal than Ares.
Moreover,
He possessed an utterly malevolent power.
"Kratos will inevitably drag Olympus into the abyss. Even if he doesn't target me directly, I will be affected," Athena told Ian, her voice calm yet radiating unwavering certainty.
After a moment's hesitation, she continued.
"I seek your protection."
This was a direct and explicit plea.
Boom!
The words struck the wizards' hearts like a bolt of lightning.
Was a god not merely proposing a bargain with the wizard but actually making a desperate plea for protection? Just how powerful is the suddenly appearing mysterious wizard?! Their gazes snapped toward Ian, a chaotic blend of awe, fear, reverence, and disbelief nearly materializing as tangible energy.
Their eyes were filled with both reverence and terror.
They finally understood why this enigmatic wizard dared to confront the Temple of the God of War head-on and why he could effortlessly crush the arrogant priests and knights.
Because this wizard wasn't just a powerful wizard. They might be an existence transcending even the gods!
"Intriguing."
However, Ian remained indifferent to their emotions. He merely narrowed his eyes slightly and studied Athena. The goddess, for her part, seemed completely indifferent to the wizards' opinions.
She was consumed by a desperate desire to strike a deal with Ian, her eagerness bordering on impatience.
"You think... I can protect you?" Ian asked, surprised.
Athena met his gaze; her eyes were as deep and unfathomable as the starry sky.
"You only need to speak the words," she murmured. "And I will live."
Her voice remained unwavering in its certainty.
Ian narrowed his eyes slightly.
"You seem more confident than I am," he remarked, a rare note of bewilderment in his tone. He couldn't quite grasp what Athena knew about him.
In response, Athena traced the window frame with her fingertips, the Olive Branch Diadem gleaming coldly in the moonlight. Outside, a withered leaf swirled down and landed on the temple steps.
"You are the end of all things, the master of fate. When you say 'I will live,' death itself will detour. When you say 'I will destroy,' even the river of time will change its course."
"Your words are the will of destiny itself."
Her voice suddenly took on an ethereal quality.
In her pupils, Ian's true form was reflected... Raven.
(End Of This Chapter)
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