God of War--The Official Novelization

by J. M. Barlog

  “Okay, we have the chisel, we have the rune. Can we go see the giants now?” Atreus asked, pulling up Mimir’s head.

  “Aye. Head back to the peak where you found me, and we will open the bridge.”

  “We go where we want, we do what we want, and now we’re gonna go see the giants! Nobody is getting in our way this time,” Atreus said.

  They continued, Kratos becoming more vigilant with each passing stride. Something felt wrong around them. He could sense it, yet could not identify exactly what was niggling at him.

  “Do you realize we will be the first gods to set foot in the land of the giants since Odin and Týr? That makes us important! But… what if we get to Jötunheim and there are no giants there either?” Atreus asked.

  “Makes little difference to us. Fulfilling your mother’s wish is what is important.”

  Silence returned for a time. Kratos was still uneasy about their surroundings as they progressed steadily upward toward the Midgard peak.

  “Why don’t you let me carry her from here?”

  Kratos continued without even acknowledging the request.

  “No,” he announced finally, delivering his response with such a sharp bite that it was meant to shut down any further requests.

  “Why not? We are almost there. And after all we’ve been through, you must believe I can handle it.”

  A silent Kratos refused to even look at him.

  “Fine. Carry her yourself,” said Atreus.

  The words cut deep into Kratos’ heart. Ruminating, Atreus continued in silence.

  Kratos accelerated to gain a few strides over his son, remaining silent.

  At a turn in the worn path through overarching branches of elm and willow, they abruptly stopped. Modi wobbled near a deep chasm that flanked their right, except he was barely recognizable beneath bruises and blood.

  Hunched over and limping with the aid of his sword, Modi approached. Through battered, swollen lips and labored breath, he did his best to force out his words.

  “Thor… Thor blamed me… me, for what you did to Magni. My own father called me a coward.”

  “Appears he did more than that. Move away, or we take up where he left off,” Atreus commanded, with no sympathy for the demigod.

  “I will kill you!” Modi said.

  Atreus only laughed when Modi attempted a hobbling step toward the boy. His beaten legs collapsed beneath him before he came within striking range. Helpless, he groaned, a useless heap of beaten flesh upon the cavern floor.

  Atreus stepped up to the struggling demigod and, standing with his head held high and legs in a defensive stance, he stared at the pitiful sight. Modi cowered, turning his gaze upwards, his face a display of sadness, desperation, and defeat.

  Without so much as a single word, Atreus unsheathed his knife, glanced over his shoulder to his father for permission, then raised the blade.

  Kratos seized his son’s hand as it reached the apex of its arc. “No. He is beaten… not worth killing.”

  “He must pay for what he said about my mother,” Atreus seethed.

  “I said no!” Kratos barked, with sufficient force to keep his son in check.

  He released the boy’s arm only when he sensed no downward force applied. Atreus accepted his father’s command, for the time being…

  “But we are gods. We do whatever we want. We administer the justice for the realm.”

  The words set Modi chuckling. “That is what I said… to your mother… before I gave it to her.”

  Kratos reached for his son’s arm. He was too late.

  “Now you die!” Atreus shouted.

  The lad expertly delivered his blade to Modi’s throat, watching with delight as dark blood spurted everywhere.

  “Boy!”

  Kratos yanked him off Modi while Modi gurgled something unintelligible. Drawing in his last breath and ounce of strength, he crawled desperately toward the chasm’s edge.

  Atreus allowed the swell of his anger to take full control. Without a sound, he tore free from his father, lurching forward to kick Modi clean over the edge and into the darkness below.

  “What are you doing?” Kratos said, grabbing his son’s shoulders.

  With an unnerving calmness, Atreus wiped the blade clean on the leg of his pants before gazing up at his father. There was something unfathomable there. Atreus was no longer the innocent child Kratos had sired.

  “Odin’s wrath will not be far behind…” Mimir started.

  “Enough about Odin and his whole stupid family. Is this not what we are meant to do as gods?” Atreus paused for a contemplative moment. “This is a much better knife than Mother’s,” Atreus added plainly.

  Kratos’ gut tightened. What was happening? How could his son have changed so dramatically?

  There was no way for him to undo what he had done.

  “You killed against my wishes, boy. You lost control.”

  Atreus stared at him, empty, soulless. The very same expression Kratos had had so many years ago. “I must seek your permission to kill? Have you not been teaching me all along to kill as a god? You’re a fine teacher for the act of killing.”

  Kratos dropped to a knee, squeezing his son’s shoulders so tightly that it forced Atreus to maintain their eye contact.

  “I have been teaching you to survive. We are gods, boy, and that makes us targets. From now until the end of your days, you are marked. So I teach you to kill, yes… but in defense of yourself. Never as an indulgence.”

  “What about for justice?”

  An eerie silence hung between them.

  “Nobody cared about him anyways. What is the difference?”

  Kratos’ heart sank. “There are consequences for killing a god.”

  “Why should there be? How do you know?” When Kratos didn’t reply, he asked again in desperation, “How do you know?”

  “Watch your tone, boy. I will not warn you again.”

  Kratos released his son’s shoulders, Atreus rubbing the points where the pressure had been applied. He nodded and then jogged away, leaving his father behind.

  Kratos stared as his son ran off, no longer seeing the innocence of a young boy—instead seeing only the worst of himself. The sight crushed his soul. Faye would hate him for eternity for what he had allowed their son to become.

  The surrounding trees thinned to wide expanses of thatchy grass when they reached the peak. Kratos’ sense for imminent danger flooded his brain. Something was close.

  “Caution, boy. If the nephew found us, the uncle cannot be far behind,” Kratos said.

  “Good! I have a few words for him, too.”

  “No, you do not, boy. You leave him to me. Do you understand?”

  “I can’t learn if you won’t teach me.”

  “You do not heed my lessons.”

  “I have done everything you have asked. And all I wanted was the truth.”

  No response. The boy was prying into something Kratos refused to accept. Was he afraid that he would revert to that monster Athena had accused him of being? Did he choose evil, or was he forced into it? He thought about his own father. A moment later, he banished the thought. He stared unblinking at his son. What was he really seeing?

  “Where did you get those blades?”

  Horrible images of the severed limbs, the decapitated heads and the torsos oozing bloody entrails from Kratos’ past carnage flashed across his mind.

  “Why did you hide them?”

  His father refused to acknowledge him.

  “Fine,” he muttered after a time, then he diverted his attention to Mimir’s head. “Mimir, guess what. I know everything I need to know now. I have nothing else to learn.”

  “Uh? Congratulations?” Mimir said.

  Navigating about the summit, a half-dozen draugr emerged from a thicket before them. Atreus’ anger intensified; he dispatched his arrows in furious flurries, screaming in a rage, spending less time aiming and more firing, becoming more like the old Kratos in the way he dis
patched his enemies. Kratos recognized the signs that his son was sliding further down the path he had never intended for him. Was this his destiny? A future unalterable by anything he might try to do?

  “Boy, the rune,” Kratos said, once the threat had been neutralized.

  Atreus jabbed his fingertip with his hunting knife without the slightest flinch. Then, using his own blood, he sketched the Black Rune from memory on the Bifröst henge.

  “Carve along that.” Atreus indicated where he needed Kratos to carve using the chisel tip. Kratos traced the rune to activate the stone.

  Vibrant prismatic light burst in all directions as the Bifröst bridge opened. The brilliant light erupting from the open henge made everything pulse and radiate in an ethereal way.

  “This is it. Let’s go!” Atreus exclaimed.

  They approached the bridge, penetrating the intense energy emanating from its gate, and then backed up, shielding their faces as the gate began to open.

  “Wow! Jötunheim. We made it!” Atreus cheered.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it? Why, I remember once—” Mimir started.

  Before he might complete this thought, all color drained from his face. “Brother! Look ou—”

  Wham!

  Baldur crashed into Kratos from behind, ramming him face-first into the gate’s pillar with such force that it cracked the stone. The attack’s explosive force threw Atreus off his feet.

  Ripping the Leviathan axe from Kratos, Baldur hacked it into the God of War’s shoulder. When Kratos reached back for it, Baldur snared his wrist to wrench his arm beneath the axe handle, pinning it in place. Then he grabbed the back of Kratos’ head to slam it into the pillar again.

  “Miss me?” Baldur asked. A wicked smile contorted his face.

  “Run, boy! Cross the bridge!” Kratos yelled.

  A hastily aimed arrow pierced Baldur’s left cheek, the tip exiting through his right, leaving the shaft dangling in his mouth.

  “No! I’m a god, too! I can do this!”

  Atreus rapid-fired several more arrows as he advanced toward the fight, striking Baldur in the back and shoulder. Despite the direct hits, none caused any devastating effect.

  “Really?” Baldur garbled out of a mouth encumbered by the shaft.

  Atreus stopped a dozen paces from his target, leveling an arrow directly at Baldur’s temple. “Get off of him!” Atreus ordered.

  In a vicious sweeping motion, Baldur backhanded the boy, slamming him to the ground. Then he ripped the arrow from his face with disgust.

  “Ouch. He landed kind of awkwardly there,” Baldur mocked.

  “I will kill you!” Kratos screamed.

  “Ah, if only you could.”

  Kratos grabbed Baldur by the throat, unleashing a flurry of punches. Feeling none of them, Baldur shoved Kratos backward.

  An unstable boulder tumbled from above, landing beside Baldur. When another dropped, Baldur grabbed it, smashing it into Kratos’ face, stunning him. With Kratos motionless, Baldur seized the opportunity to grab the first boulder, which was sharp at one end, and impale Kratos to the gate pillar. Cracks spider-webbed across the rock.

  “Baldur, let ’em go. Take me instead. I will do whatever you—” Mimir pleaded, before getting Baldur’s knee in his face.

  “Shut up,” Baldur ordered the head. “I am an idiot. All this time, I thought I needed you,” he said to Kratos, “but the little one’s the brains. You’re just meat. My father’s going to get what he needs from the boy, no matter what it takes.”

  Baldur drove wild punches into Kratos’ head and face. Then he drove the shard deeper into the God of War’s bleeding gut.

  Twenty paces away, Atreus pulled himself back to his feet.

  Kratos issued a vile scream, filled with rage. He broke off the end of the protruding shard to allow him to push himself free. When Kratos doubled over in agony, Baldur stomped on his back. Kratos attempted to get his feet under him, but Baldur slammed him back to the ground and began beating his head from behind.

  Through the power of rage alone, Kratos surged to his feet and hammered Baldur with multiple punches to his face and gut. As Baldur retreated, Kratos charged, driving him with his shoulder into the gate pillar. The stone exploded on impact as the pillar finally gave way.

  “No!” Baldur and Atreus screamed simultaneously.

  The gate crumbled, crashing down in an explosion of light. Debris buried Kratos and Baldur as a billowing dust cloud rolled over them. Atreus clawed through the rubble, seeking his father. But Baldur was first to regain his feet. Standing unsteadily, he used a chunk of gate to keep himself upright. Without waiting to determine the fate of his father, Atreus drew his knife and advanced on Baldur.

  “You broke the gate. That was our only way to Jötunheim!” Atreus yelled.

  “Oh, you stupid sonofabitch!” Baldur said.

  It was at that moment Kratos pulled himself out of the rubble, got to his feet, then shoved the large boulder away that had toppled onto him.

  “Get out of here, boy!” His stare never left Baldur.

  “By all means, little boy, flee, like a frightened rabbit. Let your da do all the heavy lifting for you.”

  Atreus snarled, surrendering to his emotions as he charged recklessly at the Aesir god.

  Kratos intercepted his son a few paces before he reached their nemesis.

  “Let me go!” Atreus shouted.

  “Calm down, boy! You are not ready for this.”

  “I am ready!” Atreus screamed. He shoved his father with everything he had. Kratos, who instinctively responded to violence with more violence, shoved him back. In that second, Kratos realized he had allowed his inner rage to usurp control. He had taken his anger out on his son, something he had told himself a thousand times in the past he would never, ever do.

  Baldur burst into raucous laughter at their ridiculous father–son moment.

  “Boy, I—” Kratos started.

  Atreus adroitly drew his bow, nocking an arrow without giving it due thought. “Þruma!” he shouted.

  He released the arrow at his father. The impact of the projectile propelled Kratos backwards, smashing him into what was left of the gate and forcing him to his knees.

  “And I thought I had a fucked-up family.” Baldur offered a theatrical clap.

  Abandoning all control, Atreus charged Baldur, brandishing his knife. Vaulting off a nearby rock, Baldur snared the lad by the throat, suspending him at arm’s length. Atreus futilely stabbed at Baldur’s forearm, but the Asgardian face indicated he felt absolutely nothing.

  “You should feel so lucky that I can’t kill you right now.”

  “No,” Kratos said weakly.

  Baldur simply stared at the knife embedded in his forearm. “Your da is right, boy. You are far from ready.” He smirked. “Now, would you be so kind as to hold this for me.”

  Withdrawing the knife from his forearm as if it were nothing more than a thorn, he chopped it ruthlessly into the boy’s shoulder. Atreus screamed from an electrifying pain tearing up his neck into his brain. Panic overtook his face, and for a long moment, his breathing ceased. He felt about to retch his empty stomach.

  Baldur turned a demonic gaze to Kratos on his right, offering a haughty smile before giving a wave. Then, grabbing the boy with his free hand, he tucked him under one arm, carrying him like a rolled-up sleeping blanket. He turned and gave Kratos a furtive glance before dashing for the edge of the mountain—leaping off into the blue before Kratos could regain his feet.

  “Atreus!” Kratos screamed.

  He forced himself onto shaking legs. Wasting not an instant for contemplation, he raced to the edge to leap off.

  “Atreus!” Kratos wailed, spreading his arms wing-like to catch as much of the updraft as possible. The fierce wind caught his torso, stabilizing him after the initial drop from the edge.

  Below, Baldur, still carrying the boy, landed on the back of a monstrous green dragon that swooped upward, away from the mountain.

>   Kratos angled right, dampening his wind resistance to increase his speed. He needed to reach them before the dragon gained altitude. Seconds later, he slammed into the dragon’s broad, scaly tail. Instinctively, he drew the Blades of Chaos, flinging them at the dragon’s neck, where they successfully pierced thorny flesh to take hold. The great beast would now keep Kratos airborne. Yanking hand over hand on the chains, the God of War propelled himself forward toward Baldur.

  “Did you think I would ever allow you to take my son?” he growled with an unexpected calmness to his words, seizing Baldur’s neck.

  In order to defend himself, Baldur had no choice but to release Atreus, who slid helplessly along the dragon’s back.

  “Father!”

  Kratos was forced to release Baldur, to swing his weight rearward on the dragon in order to save his son. He shot an arm out just in time to snare Atreus’ wrist.

  “Grab onto a thorn,” Kratos yelled above the wind roaring over the dragon’s back.

  Atreus twisted to press his chest against the beast. When he did, his hand slipped free of his father’s grasp.

  Before Kratos could regain his hold, Atreus slid away.

  “No!” Kratos groaned in agony, watching his flailing son flutter away.

  Baldur released his grip on the dragon’s back to slip closer to the God of War.

  Nearing the dragon’s tail, Atreus threw his arm out in a last-ditch effort to keep from being thrown from the beast. Latching onto a spine at the tail’s base, he threw his other arm over it to cling to the creature’s back.

  Before Baldur could reach Kratos, the God of War shook one of the blades free from the dragon’s flesh, swinging it wildly in an attempt to keep Baldur at bay. But Baldur desired the boy more than the God of War. As he worked his way past Kratos, he twisted in a way that allowed him to slide on his back toward the tail.

  Kratos whipped his blade, burying it into the dragon’s neck at the base of the skull. The majestic wings fluttered chaotically in response. The beast’s head slumped as the dragon degraded into a death spiral toward the caldera temple below.

  Baldur decided in that moment that he had a better chance of reaching the God of War than the son, so he pulled himself back toward the dragon’s head, surging in the last second to latch onto Kratos’ ankle.