Some time has passed since Kratos was transported to this new world. His search for this powerful warrior Athena spoke of has given him time to explore. This land is not much different than the surrounding land of Sparta. The high walls of the canyon he is in remind him of an area outside of Sparta where young Spartans are sent on survival trials as part of their training. The survivors returned as warriors. Everyone else served as food for the wolves. Kratos and his brother returned as warriors when they were sent on the survival trial. They were the only ones to return. Kratos momentarily recalls the day that followed when his brother was taken by Ares, the very god he served and fought for, only to be later betrayed by him. Thinking about it spurs his ambition to end the gods’ reign over mortals.
Kratos continues down the canyon path until he comes to a village lying in ruin. Debris from destroyed homes, carts and other pieces of their livelihood littered the ground along with the bodies of the villagers themselves. He has seen destruction like this several times before. He and his Spartans have razed many villages in Ares’ name, leaving no survivors. As Kratos stepped closer, the devastation worsened. He stops when he feels something soft under his sandal. Moving his foot, he reaches down and picks up a doll. It is worn and tattered and partially blackened with soot. He looks at the doll longingly. Calliope liked dolls. She loved playing with them. She was happy. Her happiness made him smile. Her happiness used to make him smile. Looking at the bone white skin of his hands, Kratos is reminded of the day he ended that happiness. At once, the memories of that day flood his mind. He remembers the screams of his wife and child as he struck them down, the Oracle cackling wickedly and waving a crooked hand, Ares laughing triumphantly. Kratos throws the doll in frustration. He had no time to for melancholy. He is here to defeat a powerful warrior, nothing more. He continues onward.
Kratos approaches what used to be the village square. Here, there are even more bodies. Oddly though, unlike the bodies he passed in the village, the bodies here are more organized. Given their positioning, he figures that the people sought sanction here when the village was attacked, but from whom? The answer lies just ahead of Kratos. In the middle of the village square is a statue of a man set upon a pedestal. He needn’t any further evidence that this is the god the villagers worshipped. Most likely, they prayed to him for help in their hour of need. Needless to say, this god has failed. The scene is not unfamiliar to Kratos, for he and his army, severing under Ares, have decimated many villages in this fashion and killed all those who prayed to the other Gods of Olympus as punishment for not giving themselves to the God of War. But then the god he worshipped deceived and betrayed him, tricking him into murdering his own family. He then murdered that god and took his throne. The other Gods all soon turned against Kratos and have forsaken him. All those years of servitude were cast to the winds. Now he seeks their destruction and he will have his vengeance. If he has to murder this world’s god to achieve his goal then so be it.
Kratos steps toward the statue. The statue appeared to be yelling with rage. There have been many a time that he has done the same. It’s a shame all the villagers are dead; he would have forced one of them to call down their god so he can challenge him. No matter. If he guesses right, there has to be another village where this god is worshipped. Kratos gives the statue one more glance only to snort contemptuously and walk away. Gods, he thought, who needs them? He gets only a few paces when he hears what sound like crumbling stone. Kratos looks over his shoulder in time to see an orange glow emanate from the statue. He faces it fully as the glow grows in intensity. Cracks begin to spider-web across the statue, allowing more of the spectral light to shine through. Kratos wonders what is happening. Is the god coming to greet him? He reaches for the Blades of Exile. If this god is coming, he will be ready for him. In a burst of energy, the statue blows apart. Kratos lowers his arm with the Golden Fleece, having used it to protect himself. He stares at the statue that has become a man standing on the pedestal. Strange tattoos on his body glow ominously before fading away softly. The man drops to one knee as if he were exhausted. Is this really the god of this world, Kratos wondered.
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