What Level?

Atreus grunts as a burlap sack is pulled from his head and his body is dropped to a stone path, "Ow..." The boy rubs his backside with a wrinkled forehead, "...Im pretty sure a 'meeting' doesn't include any bags," he mutters as he scans his surroundings. A courtyard with a finely trimmed lawn fills his vision, and quartz columns support a pavilion above Atreus' head. The stone path beneath the boy extends in all four directions, leading to vivid gardens and temple-like structures. A wall surrounds the entire area, white stone that stands at least ten feet tall.

Atreus furrows his brows as he finishes his inspection, and his eyes drift to the people towering over him. The boy stands, wiping the dust from his backside as he sighs, "Where are we now?" he asks.

Ottar and Freya both stare at Atreus, and the latter hums, "Don't worry about that," The Goddess responds with a teasing smile, "Are you ready now?"

Atreus raises his brows as he returns a gaze to the Goddess, "Uh... I guess so? You said we were gonna train, but how?" the boy responds.

Freya nods with that same smile, "Why do you think my beloved Ottar is here?" she says, patting the massive man's shoulder.

"Okay..." Atreus mutters as he looks at Ottar. The brown-haired man returns the stare, his face seeming to be stuck in a frown as his tanned skin shines in the light leaking under the pavilion, "What level are you?" the boy asks with furrowed brows.

"Seven," Ottar responds with quick words.

The Little Jötun gasps, "You're the level seven!?" he exclaims with curled lips and a sparkle in his eyes, "How long did it take you to do it?"

Ottar hums, his eyes roaming to the sky exposed under the Pavillion as he thinks about his answer, "...It's been nearly twenty years since I joined my Goddess," he mutters as those rust-colored eyes return to the boy.

"Twenty years..." Atreus mutters with wide eyes, "...I haven't even been alive for that long."

Freya suddenly giggles as she witnesses the conversation between the two men, "Who knows how long it'll take you though? There's a boy around your age that just reached level two... In two months," she says.

"Really?" Atreus asks as he looks at Freya, "Who is it?"

Freya merely shrugs with a raised brow, "Maybe you'll meet him one day... Anyways, why don't we get that training underway so I can tend to other matters? Ottar? Why don't you show Atreus here what real training looks like," the Goddess responds.

The burly Boaz man nods, turning and stepping onto the soft lawn surrounding that pavilion, "Follow me," he calls, and Atreus follows the command, his eyes darting to every visible possible escape route as he walks. The boy had been searching for a way back to his father since being put in this situation, but every time he had tried, a pressure like an elephant would set on his chest. With the information that had just been given to him, it seems the elephant stands before him now.

Ottar reaches behind his back, and a glove-covered hand grips a sack. Two handles jot from the bag as it flies through the air and falls into Atreus' hands. The boy stares at the bag with furrowed brows, noticing a string wrapped around the neck. Atreus pulls the string, and the bag falls to reveal the Blades of Kindling, "Oh..." he mutters, clipping his chains to the blades.

The blades hang lazily from the Little Jötun's hands as his gaze trails to Ottarl, "So... What exactly are we doing? Is it a duel or..." Atreus asks with furrowed brows.

Ottar grunts in response, his skin-tight shirt stretching as he reaches to his back again. A massive blade hangs like an extension of the man's arm, the blade so ignorantly long that it grazes the sun-soaked grass. The Boaz stares at Atreus with that same stoic expression, "...Try to keep up," his deep voice lingers as the man bolts towards his opponent.

Atreus bends his knees, his eyes focused on the man as he readies himself for an attack. The boy feels confident that he can handle himself, but as that massive blade suddenly fills his small vision, the boy remembers who exactly he is dealing with. The Jötun crosses his blades above his head, and a force that nearly buckles his knees falls a moment later.

Ottar stares at the wide-eyed Atreus and grunts as he finds his opponent still standing. The massive man pulls the blade quick, and a raised boot booms against Atreus' chest. The boy is sent to the lawn, rolling to his knees several feet away from his previous position. Atreus raises a hand to his chest with wide eyes, his breaths unsteady as he struggles to find air.

A moment passes, and Atreus finds that air he had been so desperate for. He looks up as footsteps vibrate the lawn, and that blade meets his gaze again. Ottar slams his sword to the grass, and his eyes find Atreus rolling to the side, a flame burning in the boy's eyes as his feet meet solid ground again, "RAAH!" The Jötun releases a battle cry with a spin, releasing those blades from his grip. A purple flame suddenly bursts from the steel, and Ottar leans back with wide eyes as chains rip the burning blades inches from his face.

Metal clanks as the blades fall to the ground with that flame extinguished, and Atreus pants with the chains still gripped tight in his hands. Silence falls as an intense gaze is exchanged between the men, and Ottar hums, "That's what the chains are for..." he mutters.

Atreus continues to pant, and the chain clanks as the boy wipes a hand across his sweat-covered forehead, "What?" he asks.

"The chains... I wondered if they served a purpose. I see that they do now," Ottar responds.

"Oh..." Atreus mutters, standing straight as those blades slide towards him over the grass. The boy grips the blades again, and as heavy footsteps approach on queue, a question pops, one that baffles even his own mind, 'Father was clearly not even trying, and he still moved faster and hit harder… How much was he really holding back?'.

The thought lingers, but a fist changes that quick. Atreus rockets over the lawn, and the 'real training' continues...

—-

"I admit; I had not foreseen you seeking help from another god, Brother. It's tragic that it's come to this," Mimir sways from his usual spot as a shiny wall reflects his glowing eyes.

"I do not have many other options," Kratos mutters, the shake of the elevator vibrating his body.

"Oh, I completely understand, Brother. It's just… Do you think she'll actually be any help?" The Faerie responds with doubt in his tone.

The Spartan hums as the elevator dings, "I do not know… She is important to the city though, and she may have information that could be of use," he says as red carpet and large paintings are revealed before his eyes, torches lining the walls and throwing light upon a door at the end the hall.

Mimir chuckles, "Sure, sure... She must be in your good graces if your willing to meet her on your own accord though," he says.

Kratos grunts as he reaches that door, "She is... Tolerable," The God mutters, raising his arm and knocking on the door.

The knocks echo through the short hall, and a moment later, the door opens to a crack to reveal squinted crimson eyes. The door suddenly slams closed again, and Kratos waits with furrowed brows as muffled thuds vibrate the walls, "...Maybe we caught her at a bad time?" Mimir asks with a nervous chuckle.

Suddenly, the door swings open again, and a huff reaches Kratos' ears, "Ah, Kratos... What are you doing here?" Hephaestus asks with furrowed brows, her usual dress shirt left open to reveal a sweat-stained tank top. Her scarlet hair is damp at the ends, and soot stains her cheeks.

Kratos pauses for a moment as his eyes drift from head to toe, "...Have I interrupted you in something?" he asks.

"Yeah..." Hephaestus mutters, suddenly raising her brows as she raises an open palm, "...I mean, No, it's fine!... Please, come in," she responds with a hand gesturing to the room.

The Spartan nods, stepping through the threshold as the temperature suddenly rises, "Are you working on new wares?" his deep voice flows as the man glances at the open entrance to Hephaestus' shop.

The door closes gently, and the Goddess walks past Kratos with a hum, "Yep. I just finished the mold for another prototype... If it brings you any comfort, I'm waiting for the material to cool right now, so you didn't interrupt much," Hephaestus responds, glancing back at the Greek God as she stands in the shop doorway, "You coming?"

Kratos follows the twitching backside of the Goddess, and meets her crimson pupils as Hephaestus leans back on that large stone slab beside him, "So... Uh, where is Atreus?" she asks with furrowed brows.

The Spartan sighs, leaning on the stone table with Hephaestus as her eyes focus on him, "He's been taken from me... I thought of many that I could ask for help, but there is no one I can trust like you. I... Do not know what to do," he responds.

Hephaestus stares at Kratos with wide eyes, "Oh, I..." her eyes drift to the ground as she imagines the anguish the God must be feeling at the moment. Just as she had told Atreus the last time she had seen the boy, Hephaestus' mindset has changed when it comes to her children. Just the thought of one of her children being taken creates an empty pit in her stomach, and even though Atreus is not her child, she finds that pit forming anyways.

The Goddess raises her eyes to Kratos, and the man seems to be lost in thought, staring into space with melancholy in his eyes. Hephaestus sets her hand on a pale shoulder, her hand like that of a child compared to the massive shoulder of Kratos, "...I'll try my best to help you in any way I can, Kratos... I can promise you that," her soft voice floats through the dark room.

Kratos slowly rips his eyes from the wall, and they meet those bright crimson eyes, like a blood moon high in the night sky. The God nods, a low hum vibrating his throat, "...Thank you," he mutters.