At The Top
A busy night ends as the sun rises over the city of Orario. Usually, the only district still stirring with activity after the sun sets is the Red Light District, but on this last night, nearly every district has seen some lurking night-goers. One of those lurkers still walks the streets as commuting adventurers and pedestrians peel themselves from their homes.
"Brother... I don't believe Raul was lying to you, but I think we should find a different strategy. You've been looking all night and haven't found even a single clue," Mimir's voice is barely audible as Kratos enters the river of souls.
Kratos grunts, trudging swiftly with no regard for the bodies bumping into him constantly. Annoyed eyes linger on his back with each bump, but the God pays them no mind, "I know..." he mutters, those brown eyes drifting skyward to that sky-piercing tower, "Raul... He said the man was on a path to the Tower, no?"
Mimir releases a long hum, "That is correct, but... If he did mean to travel there, then he could only have gone two directions; up or down," he responds.
Kratos responds with a nod unseen, and the God's brows suddenly furrow as he happens upon a certain building, "Eina... What is she doing?" he asks a question heard only by himself. Kratos nears the guild building, and the Half-Elf in question stands outside. Her bangs sway across her forehead as the woman seems to be looking for something.
Eina's green eyes finally find Kratos as he steps towards her, and the Elf raises her brows, "Oh, Kratos! There you are!" she exclaims, a tiny paper held tightly in her glove-covered hands.
The Spartan halts his steps, towering over Eina with a craned neck, "What is it? I have no time for conversation," he says.
Eina shakes her head and gazes up with pursed lips, "...I heard about Atreus... I just wanted you to know that the guild has been doing its part to help. I don't know if you've seen them, but me and a few other guild employees pinned missing person posters all around the city," she responds.
Kratos nods, "I have..." he says, "...Is that all?"
Once again, the Half-Elf shakes her head as those green eyes drift to the paper in her hand. Eina offers the paper slowly as if it held some plan to destroy the earth, "...This was on the front door when I came in this morning. I'm glad I'm always the first one here, or there's no telling who's hands this could have fallen into," she responds as the parchment is taken from her grasp.
Kratos stares at the folded white paper, opening it quickly to find three words scribbled loosely, "Kratos... fiftieth floor," the God mutters, a deep sigh raising and lowering his chest soon after. He crumples the paper and throws it to the street, turning to rejoin that river of civilization.
"Kratos!..." Eina suddenly calls, and the Spartan half-turns with a raised brow. The Elf sighs, a moment passing until she waves a hand slowly, "...Be careful!" she says.
The Ghost of Sparta nods, turning again with cold eyes focused on the Tower of Babel, "Well, that was convenient. It seems whoever we're dealing with is quite straightforward... Despite their rather shady doings up until now," Mimir says, the sarcasm in his tone obvious.
The Faerie's words are met with a grunt, and the incessant chatter of the city takes the place of silence. However, even with the lack of a body, Mimir feels that intense bloodlust and sees the passing souls now avoiding the duo, which is all the head needs for an answer.
Kratos travels swiftly through Orario, drawing curious eyes and side-eyed whispers. A usual detail by the God's standards, but these whispers are different:
"Isn't that Kratos, the new god in Orario?"
"Yeah, I looked at the notice from the Guild. Apparently there's only two members, and one of them isn't even an adventurer. They're just listed as an 'advisor'..."
"I swear I've seen him and a boy walk into the dungeon before. I mean, why else would he need all those weapons?"
These words and many other conversations with the same subject reach Kratos' ears, earning a vexed grunt from the man, "Can't say I'm surprised, Brother. We knew it would happen, and well... Here we are," Mimir says with a sigh of his own.
"All that matters is the boy. These people are not important..." Kratos responds as the stone plaza surrounding that tower comes into view, tan bricks leading to a wide staircase. Heavy footsteps soon meet those bricks, and the Spartan ascends the bricks alone, his mind empty save for the thought of seeing those blue eyes again.
"The note said the fiftieth floor, right?... But which one? I don't know if you remember, but I believe Hephaestus mentioned the Gods each had a floor of their own, so perhaps that is what was being referred to," Mimir says as he feels his carrier halt in that massive room between the dungeon and city.
Kratos hums, his eyes lingering on that dark entrance with the whisp of torches peeking through, "A trip to and from the 15th floor takes an entire day... I agree, it is impossible for someone to reach the 50th floor in such little time," he mutters, turning to the door to the side, "The only way is up."
The Spartan reaches that door quickly, and silence lingers behind the God's heavy footsteps. Kratos passes the weapons and items swiftly, those brown eyes nigh lifeless with no interest in the usual tempting sight. This continues until the man reaches that elevator, and those stainless steel doors slide open, the entire machine bobbing with the weight of two passengers.
Kratos grunts as he stares at glowing buttons, making out what seems to be a zero on the bottom right button. The metal clicks and those doors slide again, a subtle vibration buzzing the man's feet as the journey up begins. Above those doors, a square cut out in the metal shows the floor number, and the numbers click up like a combination lock with each floor passed.
"Ah! He's here, Brother! It's small, but I can feel the boy's presence above us," Mimir's thick accent echos through the claustrophobic space suddenly.
The floor clicks to forty, and Kratos hums, "There is another presence with him... And they are strong," he says with short words.
"I reckon we'll see exactly how strong they are... Well, at least you will," Mimir responds.
The Faerie's words are met with a ding, and those stainless steel doors slide again. Kratos steps into a white hallway, passing large windows lining the walls, "Oh, Lord. We're, uh... We're quite high up, aren't we?" he says with a nervous chuckle, his glowing eyes just high enough to witness the view of the entire city and green tree tops surrounding the tall walls.
The Spartan is silent despite Mimir's words, and as he reaches a door at the end of the hall, the God notices a strange electronic device with a red screen. Kratos tugs on the door to find it locked, however, the man takes a step back and raises his leg. A boot smashes the wood, and the door flies from its hinges and into the room before him.
The Greek God enters the room, and his eyes widen as those brown eyes meet icy blue, "Atreus!" he calls.
"Father!" Atreus responds with eyes just as wide, bolting from a sofa as a smile plasters to his lips, "How did you-" the boy begins to speak, but his movement is halted by a large hand.
Ottar stands from a loveseat as he holds an open palm to Atreus' chest, those rust-colored eyes focusing on Kratos' scowl, "Who are you?" the God hisses.
Ottar grunts, stepping in front of the Little Jötun, "I am Ottar... A child of Freya," he responds with a voice as deep and fear-inducing as the man before him.
Kratos pauses, his hands tightened to fists as his vision darts between Ottar and Atreus. A moment passes, and the Spartan finally focuses on the Boaz, "Freya..." the man grimaces, those eyes soon returning to Ottar as the flame inside grows in intensity, "...What are you doing with my son?" words like knives flow through the room.
"I mean to make a deal with you... I would give your son back right here and now, but I have conditions that must be met," Ottar responds.
Kratos scoffs, his eyes now glued to the man, "And what are these conditions?" he asks.
Ottar nods, holding the intense gaze of the Greek God with little effort, "Freya is someone that I will follow for the rest of my life, but... She does not always make the best decisions. She ordered me to take your son, and I did... After some thought though, I found that Freya is in over her head, but she will never acknowledge that..." the man responds.
"Be quick with your words..." Kratos suddenly hisses, waving a disinterested hand through the air.
Ottar pauses for a moment, and after a quick glance at the boy behind him, the man opens his mouth, "...I ask that you do not take revenge on my goddess. She will be... infuriated, but she cannot do much without the help of her children," he says.
Silence falls, and that intense gaze continues. Kratos drifts his vision to his son, and the boy shakes his head, those blue eyes gushing with determination. The Spartan nods, and those brown eyes trail to Ottar again, "...I am afraid that is not possible. Your goddess must learn that there are consequences to her actions... And the city must learn that there are individuals better left unbothered."
Ottar sighs, "...You would not change your mind?" he asks with furrowed brows.
Kratos shakes his head, and a strange thought enters his mind. The God sees himself in those rust-colored eyes, a past of regret and bloodshed entering his vision, "What is your name?" he asks.
"Ottar..." The Boaz responds with raised brows.
"Ottar..." Kratos mutters, "...It appears this conversation will not peacefully, so I will give you wisdom in case you survive this battle... Blindly following in the footsteps of a god will lead to nothing but loss and agony. Remember that if you find yourself living to see another day," he says.
The Boaz listens closely to those words, and he grits his teeth, suddenly drawing that massive sword from his back, "Do not speak as if you know my Goddess..." he scowls at the god before him, but out of nowhere, his thigh begins to burn with an injury.
Ottar looks down to find a small knife tugged from his leg. Atreus wipes the knife against his tunic and sprints towards his father, but a fist to his ribs sends him somersaulting across the room. Splinters of wood fly across the room as the Little Jötun slams into a couch, and he leans up moments later with a pain-induced groan.
"Atreus!" Kratos stares at the boy with wide eyes, but a pale hand rises in the air after a moment, and the God snaps his neck to look at Ottar. The Spartan bolts forward, and his opponent does the same. Kratos grimaces as that massive sword fills his vision, and metal clanks as the blade slams into that golden shield.
The God grunts as he parries the attack, causing Ottar to nearly lose his balance with his blade thrown back. The Boaz regains his footing quickly, only to be met with the edge of that shield. The cold metal cracks Ottars nose, and the man is sent flying through the wall.
The shield disappears into Kratos' forearm, and the god turns his head to look at Atreus. The boy stands and dusts himself off, raising his eyes to his father. The Spartan raises his brows, "Are you alright?" he asks.
The Little Jötun nods, "Yeah, I'm fine," he responds with focused eyes.
Kratos returns his own nod, "...Come then..." he mutters, tossing that double-sided spear to the boy, "...Show me the control you told me of," Ottar shows himself again, and the blade meets bare hands.
The weapon finally rejoins its owner, and Atreus nods with a smirk, "Yes, Father!"