She merely raised her hand, and a cluster of silver-white light appeared in her palm, swirling as it gradually coalesced into an image.
Netherworld.
In the darkness, chaos, and wailing souls, a familiar figure was climbing upward from the blood-red river.
Kratos.
He was dead.
Killed by Zeus himself, stripped of his Divine Rank, and cast into the Netherworld. Yet, even so, he never truly perished. His soul remained powerful, his will unyielding.
Driven purely by rage and a thirst for vengeance, he ascended step by painful step in the abyss of the Netherworld. There was no sunlight, no air, only countless vengeful souls and whispers of despair, yet he continued forward. His skin was scorched black by the flames of the Netherworld, but his muscles remained like iron. His hands clawed at the cliffs, nails cracking, blood streaming, yet he showed no sign of stopping. More terrifying was the rage in his eyes that burned hotter than the Nether fire.
It was this rage that supported his ascent. Here, there was no division between day and night, only endless nothingness and wails. The air was thick with decay and despair, souls floated in invisible chains, emitting low sobs. This was the resting place of the dead, the endpoint of souls, a place where even time seemed to stand still.
But Kratos refused to accept this fate.
He was no longer the War God, nor was he the Godslayer, but a ghost, exiled to the Netherworld, devoid of a body. Yet, even so, he did not surrender.
Rage was his only motivation. The souls here had lost all sense of self, becoming part of the Nether River, drifting eternally, never to be reborn.
But Kratos was different.
He still had memories, will, and unfinished vengeance.
"I will return to the Human World!"
Kratos stood atop a hill of piled corpses, beneath him countless wailing souls, reaching out with rotting arms, trying to drag him into the eternal abyss.
"Get away!"
He roared, swinging the Blade of Chaos fiercely, scarlet chains wrapping around his arms, and where the blade passed, souls dispersed like smoke. But quickly, more souls climbed out of the blood river, staring at him with empty eye sockets, emitting piercing shrieks—the laws of the Netherworld were rejecting him.
This was the abode of the dead.
But it did not welcome a Godslayer filled with endless rage.
Attempting to purify Kratos.
Of course.
The laws of the Netherworld did not succeed.
Kratos also resisted becoming a dazed ghost, he stepped forward, each step heavy as a mountain, the corpses beneath his feet making teeth-gritting crunching sounds. His skin was torn by the icy winds of the Netherworld, yet his muscles remained like steel, and the blood seeping from his wounds evaporated before it could fall, turned to steam by the searing fire of his rage.
"Zeus…"
He whispered the name, as if to crush it between his teeth.
He crossed a mountain.
Ahead, the Nether River roiled, its black waters teeming with countless struggling souls. There was no bridge across the river, no ferry, only endless despair.
Kratos did not hesitate, stepping directly into the river.
"Ahhh——!"
The waters of the Nether River pierced into his flesh like a myriad of sharp knives, corroding his bones, attempting to dissolve his soul in this eternal torment. But he merely clenched his teeth, plunging the Blade of Chaos deep into the riverbed, dragging his body forward step by step. From the river bottom, countless pale arms grasped his ankles, souls grinning, trying to drag him forever into the abyss.
"You think you can stop me?!"
He swung his blade fiercely, crimson light severing countless arms, the souls' shrieks echoing throughout the Nether River. But the pain did not lessen, the river's corrosion continued, his flesh began to fall away, exposing gleaming white bone.
Yet he continued forward.
Step.
After step.
Until he reached the opposite shore.
The Nether River roared behind him, but could no longer touch him.
Kratos looked down at his arm—mutilated flesh, exposed bones, yet the flames of rage burned at the wounds, flesh regenerating at a visible speed.
"Not fast enough…" he growled, lifting his gaze toward the higher regions of the Netherworld.
There lay the cliffs of Tartarus—steep as if cut by a knife, countless condemned Titans bound by chains to the rock face, their wails turning to thunder, echoing in the abyss.
And at the top of the cliff was the rift leading back to the Human World.
Kratos began climbing again.
His fingers gouged into the rock, nails breaking, blood flowing down the charred cliffs. The icy wind of the Netherworld cut into his back like blades, trying to tear him down.
But he merely sneered.
"You Olympian bastards… think you can trap me like this?"
He exerted force, muscles taut like steel, forcibly dragging his body upward. Remnants of chains fell from him, crashing into the abyss below.
Above, a Netherworld eagle dove down, sharp beak aiming straight for his eyes.
Kratos grabbed the cliff with one hand, and with the other, he swiftly reached out and crushed the throat of the demonic eagle. Black blood splattered across his face. He licked the corner of his mouth, the fury in his eyes intensifying.
"Who else?!"
Kratos roared.
In the Human World, Ian and Athena were watching his feat.
After Kratos died, his soul entered the Netherworld. Although the Netherworld didn't offer much help from the Titans, he still managed to claw his way back to the Human World on his own.
"This is really a damn thing," Ian muttered, twitching at the corner of his eye. Although he roughly understood that this kind of thing wasn't too bizarre, as many Legendary Wizards had the ability to return from the Netherworld or the Illusion Realm to the Human World, he had never seen anyone like Kratos, who relied purely on brute force and rage to climb back.
Was it because the separate Netherworld carved out by the Olympian Gods in the Misty Illusion Realm was closer to the Human World? Regardless, Kratos' manner inspired mixed feelings.
The flesh on his body was completely decayed.
Yet his soul still had a chance to return to the Human World and revive—perhaps because he carried some mission, to bring about the twilight of the gods to the Main God of the Human World.
The wizards in the barn were utterly shocked.
They might not know Kratos, but they could feel that almost tangible violent aura—this was a monster that even Death couldn't bind!
"The War God!"
Many wizards mentioned Kratos with more fear than when they mentioned Ares.
The reason was simple.
Kratos was way more brutal than Ares.
Also.
Extremely ominous.
"Kratos will inevitably drag Olympus into the abyss, even if he's not targeting me, I will still be affected," Athena looked at Ian, her voice calm but with undeniable certainty.
She hesitated for a moment.
Still, she spoke.
"I am seeking your protection."
This was evidently a straightforward plea.
Boom!
The words struck the hearts of all the wizards like thunder.
A god... not only wanting to make a deal with a wizard... but this deal was actually a plea for protection?! The mysterious wizard that suddenly appeared before them... just how powerful was he?! Their gazes all turned to Ian, filled with awe, fear, reverence, disbelief... emotions mixed together, almost becoming tangible.
Their eyes were filled with awe and fear.
They finally understood why this mysterious wizard dared to challenge the Divine Hall head-on, why he could easily defeat those arrogant priests and knights.
Because this wizard was not just a powerful wizard. He might be—a being beyond the gods!
"Interesting."
To this.
Ian did not care about their emotions. He just looked at Athena, his eyes slightly narrowed. Across from him, Athena didn't seem to mind what the other wizards thought.
She wholeheartedly wanted to make a deal with Ian, even showing a bit of eager impatience.
"You think... I can protect you?"
Ian's tone carried a hint of surprise.
Athena met his gaze, her eyes as deep as the starry sky.
"All you need to do is speak..."
She said softly.
"And I will live."
Athens' voice remained as certain as ever.
Ian narrowed his eyes slightly.
"You seem more confident than I am?" His tone carried rare confusion, not entirely understanding what information Athena had related to him.
Upon hearing this, Athena's fingers lightly slid across the window lattice, the olive crown glinting coldly in the moonlight. Outside, a withered leaf swirled down onto the steps of the Divine Hall.
"You are the end of all things, the controller of fate. When you say 'will live,' death will detour; when you say 'will destroy,' even the river of time will change its course."
"Your words—are the will of fate."
Her voice suddenly turned ethereal.
In her pupils, the true form of Ian was reflected—a raven.