He raised his hand and the sky split open. Thunder crashed down upon me in a torrent of lightning. But I emerged unscathed. My will parted the heavens, and the blinding bolts of fury faded into silence. I gazed up into the clear sky then my eyes fell upon Zeus's face, twisted with rage.
"How dare you," he growled, his voice brimming with fury impossible to ignore.
We clashed in a brutal battle. But this time, he fought differently seriously. No more games, no more tests of strength. He summoned lightning from his very flesh, unleashing a storm of blows upon me. His fists flew with ferocious speed. The fight turned into a maelstrom, chaos incarnate.
My spear tore through his flesh, but his wounds healed only slowly. His strikes carved into my body, each one draining my strength. My will held me upright, while the primal energy within me struggled to mend what was broken.
All around us, everything had been reduced to ruin temples, columns, statues. Stone was soaked with blood, mingled with dust and sweat. Our bodies screamed with pain, yet neither of us retreated.
After another thunderous blow, I drove a Spartan strike into his gut. He crashed to the ground, and I pinned him there with my spear. I rained blow after blow down upon his skull.
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But I did not stop. My hands were flayed to the bone, my body drenched in blood. I looked down my flesh was torn wide open, organs exposed beneath shredded muscle. Regeneration had slowed wounds barely closed. Zeus's body fared no better than mine. I fought on with all I had, refusing to let the fire of Olympus feed him with endless strength born of mortal faith.
"You think killing me will make things better?" Zeus rasped, choking on blood. Yet his voice did not waver. "Fool. Humanity will destroy itself, torn apart by its own endless strife."
He coughed, then added, "Do you know why I released the plague? It wasn't out of malice. The kings of Greece plotted to wipe out Sparta. War would've consumed all of Hellas. No one would've been left to stop the Persian horde. I made them fear. We would have healed the sick. Their faith in us would've grown stronger than ever."
I stared down at him. My voice was void of rage or regret only cold resolve remained.
"Perhaps. Humans are as steeped in vice as the gods. But they must learn from their own mistakes. They have the right to choose their future without the threat of divine wrath hanging above their heads."
"Foolishness," Zeus sneered, spitting blood. "They need a shepherd, not freedom. Wolves will devour every last sheep without someone to guide them."
"To become strong, one must know pain and suffering," I said. "A sheep that never leaves the pen will never grow resilient."
"Well then, strike. Or has your will failed you?" Zeus laughed bitterly. His wounds began to close slowly but surely.
I tore the spear from his body and raised it high, ready to drive it through his skull...
But another weapon intercepted my strike, knocking the spear aside.
"Stop! Don't do this," came Athena's voice. She stood between us.
"You said we should unite in the face of a common threat. But your words were lies," I said, contempt dripping from every syllable. "Human life means nothing to you."
"That's not true. I care for them. I love them," Athena replied. "But sometimes, sacrifices must be made."
"Sacrifices?" I hissed through gritted teeth. "Like the one where you left every Spartan to die in that canyon?"
"Yes," her voice trembled. She pretended it was a difficult decision. "They would have held back the Persian army at the cost of their lives. It would've bought us time to strike... to turn the tide of war."
"Then why did my brothers die giving everything they had while I never once saw you among them?" I said, leveling my spear at Athena.
I shoved her aside and lunged at Zeus once more. My strike nearly landed but I was too late. He had already healed, and in the next instant, a bolt of lightning struck me with deafening fury.
It hurled me across the shattered marble. I rolled through the rubble before coming to a halt.
When I lifted my head, the gods stood before me. Athena. Hades. Poseidon. They had all gathered.
They would not have their easy victory.
************************
Dark clouds gathered over Olympus. The air trembled with heat and thunder. The mountain itself seemed to groan, as if on the verge of collapse. Battles raged for days, unceasing and merciless, until finally, all fell silent.
Where once Olympus stood in glory, now only chaos and ruin remained.
The splendor of its temples, the divine halls of the gods reduced to rubble. Everything that once symbolized power and immortality now lay in dust, fragments of a lost age.
Upon a crumbling throne sat Zeus. His breath was ragged, weak. He clutched his right hand the only limb left untouched by the final battle. It had been a long time since he had felt death so near... or fear so real.
His eyes settled on the shattered remains of a helmet and a spear lying nearby. Weapons once held by perhaps his most dangerous enemy.
"Have you all finally quieted your manly pride and your need to swing fists?" Hera mocked with a smirk.
"I don't need your biting tongue, Hera," Zeus muttered, casting her an irritable glance.
"Hmph. Give a man an excuse to prove his worth, and you'll drown the world in blood," she said again, sipping wine from a goblet.
"Enough. Leave me," Zeus commanded. His eyes were tired, yet anger still simmered behind them.
Hera walked away without another word, her footsteps fading into the silence of the ruined hall.
Zeus turned slowly to Athena.
"Athena... Help Kratos kill Ares. And then make sure he gets rid of Atreus," he said in a hollow, final tone like a sentence passed.
*********************
A ripple shimmered in the air and a charred body dropped heavily to the ground. Faint breaths escaped cracked lips, and the chest barely rose. The right side of his body was nearly gone as if death itself had tried to burn it from existence.
His hand touched the earth, dragging across it weakly. His left eye, still open, stared at the sky. In it burned sorrow. And pain.
Atreus had not come to Olympus for answers. He came to burn away the agony within. He had never planned to return. He had come for vengeance even if it meant death.
To surrender and simply die that would've been weakness. A luxury he could not afford. There were still people in his world. People who believed in him.
How could he betray them by vanishing into silence?
"Atreus!" a voice cried out, full of worry and despair. Pandora rushed to his side, unsure of what to do.
"Pandora... take me to the mill... treat my wounds... let time heal me..." Atreus whispered faintly.
"Yes! Right away!" she exclaimed. She tried to lift him but could not.
"How...? I can't... I don't have the strength..." she whispered, falling to her knees beside him.
"Call someone... anyone... let them help..." Atreus murmured, closing his eye.
Pandora ran to the village to the people. They came quickly.
With care and reverence, they carried Atreus's broken body to the old mill. And as they laid him gently upon cloth by the hearth, they began to pray.
Not to the gods. To him.
Faint threads of belief reached out to Atreus. They touched his body, warmed his soul, and slowly began to mend what the gods had tried to destroy.