(Eon's broken essence gathered like a storm cloud, coiling unseen. His whispers slithered through the heroes' minds—cold, soft, poisonous.)
Eon (whispering):
"Let me show you… the monsters you truly are…"
(A searing pain knifed through each of them—visions and memories erupting like wounds torn open. Rage. Blood. Grief. All the ghosts of who they once were… and the horrors of who they might still become.)
Kratos's Nightmare
(Kratos blinked as blinding darkness faded into flickering orange light. He stood alone in the burned-out remains of his old Spartan home. Flames hissed and guttered along the shattered walls. The air reeked of scorched wood, molten metal—and blood. So much blood.)
(The floor beneath his boots glistened red, each step leaving crimson footprints. His breath fogged in the heat as he stared down at two small shapes lying motionless on the floor.)
(Calliope's delicate hand stretched toward him, limp. Lysandra's eyes were frozen open, glassy and accusing.)
(Kratos staggered forward, chest tightening as though a blade twisted between his ribs. His voice caught in his throat.)
Kratos (choking out): "…No…"
(From the shadows stepped a figure—the Ghost of Sparta. Chalk-white skin dusted in ashes, crimson tattoo twisting across muscle, chains coiled around his wrists like living serpents. His eyes blazed with cold, righteous fury.)
Ghost of Sparta Kratos (snarling):
"Look what you've become… weak. Soft.
You let go of your rage, your vengeance… and for what?
All that blood spilled… for nothing."
(The ghost's lips curled into a sneer.)
Ghost of Sparta Kratos (coldly):
"Did you think a son and a second chance would erase your sins?
Did you think a father's love makes you clean?"
(Kratos stared at his other self, his fists clenching and unclenching around the haft of the Leviathan Axe. His breath came ragged. A fine tremor shook his arms, as though the weight of his memories pressed down like mountains.)
(For a moment—just a moment—there was fear in his single good eye.)
Kratos (steadying himself, whispering to his own soul):
"I am not him. I am still here. I fight for my son, for what I choose to protect."
(As Kratos squared off with the Ghost of Sparta, the shadows around the burned-out home began to writhe. One by one, the figures of gods he had slain emerged from the dark—Ares, Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, and countless more. Their faces twisted and blurred, more like echoes than flesh, but their voices dripped venom all the same.)
Shadows (whispering, overlapping):
"God-killer."
"Patricide."
"Monster."
(They rushed him in waves, weapons and claws striking from every side. Kratos swung the Leviathan Axe in broad arcs, cleaving through the illusions with furious precision. Each one burst into ash and flame when struck… yet reformed in moments, circling him again. There was no end.)
(The Ghost of Sparta pressed the attack relentlessly, its Blades of Chaos clashing against the axe in a storm of sparks. Behind him, the shadows surged—clawing at his shoulders, dragging at his arms, biting at his flesh.)
(Kratos staggered, blood dripping into the crimson pools beneath him. For every phantom he struck down, three more rose. The chains of his old self rattled like the laughter of the damned.)
(The Ghost of Sparta took a step closer, chains rattling like bone against stone.)
Ghost of Sparta Kratos (snarling):
"You think you've escaped? You think your boy makes you more than this? You are death itself, and all of them—" (gestures to the endless swarm) "—will forever chain you."
(Kratos roared, slamming the axe into the ground in a frost-laden shockwave that scattered the shadows for a heartbeat. His chest heaved, one knee bent, sweat dripping into his beard. The shadows gathered again, closing in, until the whole world seemed nothing but his victims returning for vengeance.)