Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 337, Section 336: The Blood of the Godslayer
Night was still very low.

The ruins of Rhodes Island whispered in the wind.

The once glorious city is now nothing but ruins, the air thick with the stench of ashes and blood. The colossal statue stands silently beneath the sky.

The shadow of the Colossus of Apollo covered most of Rhodes.

Each of its movements caused an earthquake-like roar, crushing more buildings into dust, and the ground was littered with Spartan soldiers and Greek soldiers caught in the chaos of battle.

However, the majority of the dead were civilians. Their bodies lay silently in the ruins, as if still telling how fragile the lives of ordinary people were under the war between gods and men.

Ian arrived too late.

There was nothing that could be done to salvage the situation.

Kratos felt no pity for the civilians; he stood there like a statue forged in the fires of war. The scars beneath his bald head were like branding marks, and the deep wound at the corner of his right eye seemed to tell of past madness. His bronze skin was covered with the marks of battle, and his muscles were as bulging as rocks.

Every inch is engraved with the will of the Spartan warriors.

Ian also knew about this character.

Kratos was once an ordinary Spartan warrior who, in a desperate battle, was deceived by Ares, the god of war, and sacrificed his soul in exchange for power. When he discovered that Ares had used him to slaughter his innocent wife and daughters, the flames of revenge consumed his sanity. He killed Ares and ascended to the throne of the Olympian god of war.

However, it didn't end there. Kratos found himself bound by the shackles of sin—the ashes of the innocent people he had murdered were clinging to his body.

It will forever remind him of his past madness.

now.

Kratos was constantly numbing himself with war when he fell into Zeus's trap on this island, where Zeus set him up and lured him into an abyss from which he could not escape.

now.

The reason Zeus readily agreed to Ian's desire for the blood of the god-slayer was that he had originally planned to kill Kratos here, so using Kratos's blood to get rid of Ian was a convenient thing for Zeus.

“Someone wants you dead.” In this desolate land, Zeus stood atop the crown of the sun god statue, overlooking the battlefield below, and suddenly spoke to Kratos.

His voice was hoarse, yet it carried an irresistible pressure.

As he raised his arm, pointing to a shadow in the distance, Kratos whirled around, his gaze sharp as a knife, piercing the darkness. His pupils contracted slightly, revealing a blurry figure hidden within—a small boy, thin and frail, with a calm and insightful gaze that seemed otherworldly.

"A boy?"

Kratos narrowed his eyes, but soon he let out a cold laugh.

"Do you think I'd believe a lie like that?"

Kratos, of course, did not believe Zeus's words. After all, Zeus was a habitual liar. Just now, under the guise of helping him, Zeus had deprived Kratos of his divine power and poured all of it into the Sword of Olympus.

Kratos could not possibly believe anything Zeus said now—without hesitation, he raised the Blade of Chaos, roared, and charged at Zeus.

"You hypocritical old man! Your lies can't fool me anymore!"

"Just a clumsy trick."

Kratos spat out a mouthful of blood, the chains on his Chaos Blades rattling. He knew Zeus's lies all too well, as well as the calluses on his own palms. Muscle memory preceded thought; his body shot up like a taut catapult, his twin blades crossed in a death cross, slashing towards the crowned king of the gods.

Ian stood at a distance, watching this scene, a sense of irritation rising within him.

"Why are you dragging me into this?" he muttered under his breath. "That old man's heart is truly filthy."

But he didn't interfere. He knew this was a fateful battle between Kratos and Zeus, even though Kratos was no longer a god—it was ultimately someone else's family matter.

Kratos's war caused so many civilian casualties.

He is not innocent.

It wasn't worth Ian intervening to help. Fortunately, Zeus seemed to be just grumbling and didn't really want to use one wolf to devour another; he simply wanted to use Ian to mock Kratos.

"You still think you're the God of War?"

Faced with Kratos's furious attack, Zeus neither dodged nor evaded, nor even drew his weapon. He simply stood still, allowing the blade of chaos to slash at his divine body.

"clang!"

The blade slashed down.

Only a shallow bloodstain was left on Zeus's skin. His body remained indestructible, like an eternal stone. Not long ago, Zeus had tricked Kratos into giving him his divine power, reducing him to a mere mortal. Now, Kratos, though still possessing extraordinary fighting instincts and will, could no longer withstand a true divine attack.

“You are no longer a god,” Zeus said coldly, a hint of pity and a touch of pleasure flashing in his eyes. “You can’t even break through my skin’s defenses.”

Kratos roared and swung his blade again, but each attack seemed like a futile struggle.

Zeus slowly raised his hand, clenched his fist, and the entire statue of the sun god instantly came to life.

Standing tens of meters tall, its entire body forged from bronze, every inch of its flesh imbued with ancient divine power. Suddenly, it raised its enormous hand and slammed it down upon Kratos!
boom! ! !
The ground exploded, dust flew everywhere, and Kratos was sent flying like a falling leaf, crashing heavily into the ruins, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

He wanted to resist, but the power no longer belonged to him.

"Look around you, Spartans." Zeus descended slowly from the sky, his steps heavy, each one seemingly crushing Kratos's last hope.

His figure was tall and lonely, his white robe billowing in the bloody wind, and the lightning in his eyes had solidified into a pale mist. "This is the price of defying the gods."

Zeus's voice seemed to come from a distant cave.

With a buzzing echo.

"You caused all of this! You used the divine position of the God of War to bind and curse me!"

Kratos knelt on one knee amidst the ruins of the fountain, the Blade of Chaos planted in the ground for support. His muscle fibers were like bowstrings stretched to their limit, every inch of his skin covered in tiny beads of blood—the bursting capillaries from the pressure of divine power. Yet he still raised his head, his bloodied gaze piercing through the swirling dust.

He threw his Chaos Blade once more.

however.

This time it was even worse than the last.

The moment the Blade of Chaos struck Zeus's chest, it didn't spray blood but instead produced golden sparks. The blade didn't even leave a mark on the god-king's white robes; instead, it caused Kratos's hands to split open. The moment the Blade of Chaos struck Zeus's chest, it didn't spray blood but instead produced golden sparks.

The blade didn't even leave a white mark on the god-king's white robe; instead, it caused Kratos's hand to split open. He was too weak now; his frail mortal body was simply incapable of wielding the blade against the god-king.

"You think these toys can hurt me?" Zeus breathed lightly, and Kratos was sent flying as if struck by a battering ram, crashing through three stone walls before coming to a stop.

"The divine power I bestowed upon you, I can naturally take back." He raised his right hand, and the colossus of the sun god simultaneously raised its left palm. "Now, I will show you true power."

As the giant hand slammed down, Kratos instinctively rolled to dodge. But a mortal body was too slow—the edge of the bronze hand grazed his back, instantly peeling away a patch of skin.

The sound of his spine hitting the stone slab was clearly audible as he crashed into the ground. Blood gushed from his ears, nose, and throat, pooling into small lakes among the rubble.

"Arise, Spartan spirit!"

Zeus's voice suddenly seemed very close. In Kratos's blurred vision, a pair of boots inlaid with lightning appeared, slowly descending to within a foot of his head. "Where is the arrogance you displayed when you slaughtered my temple guards? Where is the conceit you showed when you challenged Olympus?" Zeus's voice was full of mockery, carrying a sense of satisfaction at his perceived vengeance.

Kratos's knuckles twitched. Most of his tendons were severed, but some force deeper than muscles still drove his broken body. As he propped himself up on his elbows, broken ribs pierced the skin of his chest cavity, stark white against the air.

"For revenge," every word seemed to be stained with blood; "I can die a thousand times."

Zeus suddenly flew into a rage. He grabbed Kratos by the throat and lifted him up, the pressure of divine power causing Kratos's bones to creak and groan under the strain. "Revenge?" The king of the gods' face twisted into a horrifying grimace, his white hair standing on end like that of a Gorgon. "You have no idea what true revenge is!"

He slammed Kratos heavily onto the base of the Colossus of Apollo. The bronze surface dented into a human shape from the impact, and Kratos convulsed like an insect pinned to a specimen board.

Strangely, his consciousness was unusually clear at this moment—perhaps this was the dying brain bestowing its final mercy, for he saw the familiar Sword of Olympus materialize in Zeus's hand.

"You have betrayed the love I gave you." Zeus grabbed Kratos by the throat, lifted him high, and reflected the blood-stained face of the Spartan in his pale eyes.

"Open your eyes, Kratos," Zeus's voice boomed like thunder, "and see how you have led your people into the abyss."

Kratos struggled to lift his heavy eyelids, his vision blurred by blood, but he could still see—the sword of Olympus in Zeus's hand was emitting a blinding golden light.

Where the sword's edge pointed, the air distorted and the earth trembled.

"No...!" Kratos roared, but his voice was drowned out by the hurricane-like energy storm.

Zeus wields his sword.

In an instant.

A raging divine power swept across the entire island like a tsunami, cracking the ground, collapsing buildings, and tearing the sky into shattered thunderclouds. Ian stood on a high cliff in the distance.

The robes fluttered wildly in the raging energy storm.

"Hiss, what terrifying magic, or rather, divine power. Sure enough, on the path of the gods, the longer one lives, the stronger one's divine power becomes." Ian could feel the restless divine power in the air.

He cast a spell.

Protect yourself.

It also protected the few remaining civilians in the city. At the eye of the storm, countless Spartan warriors were engulfed by the golden light. Their armor crumbled under the divine power, their flesh evaporated in the energy, and not even a final scream remained—in an instant, the once valiant Spartan army was reduced to ashes scattered across the sky.

Kratos' pupils contracted violently, and a broken wail escaped his throat. His warriors, his people, the Spartans he had sworn to lead to glory... now, all because of his rebellion, had been wiped out by Zeus.

“This is the price of defying the gods.” Zeus’s voice was icy cold. “Remember their deaths, Kratos—their blood is all on your hands.”

Kratos's knuckles trembled with rage, but his body was already mangled beyond repair, stripped of even the strength to struggle. Zeus reveled in his despair, and the sword of Olympus in his hand gleamed coldly once more.

"And now, it's your turn."

Zeus's white eyes were filled with cruelty.

"You're scared," Kratos suddenly laughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth to his chest. "That's why...you want to kill me."

Zeus's sword-wielding motion paused almost imperceptibly. That momentary hesitation allowed Kratos to lunge at the king of the gods with his last ounce of strength. Without weapons, without tactics, it was pure, beastly biting—his teeth actually embedded themselves in Zeus's wrist, golden divine blood splattering on his face.

It was warm and scalding hot.

"You filthy beast!" Zeus roared, swinging his arm. Kratos was flung into the air, where he was met by the Sword of Olympus, which was already waiting there.

The sword tip pierced Kratos' chest with pinpoint accuracy.

Time seemed to stand still. Kratos hovered over the sword, watching his blood flow down the grooves carved into the blade, those grooves thirstily absorbing his life force. Zeus's face was close, and a flicker of emotion finally appeared in his pale pupils. Was it pity? No, it was something more complex.

"Athena is right."

Zeus's voice suddenly grew weary, "Some destinies, even the gods cannot escape."

As Kratos turned the hilt of his sword, he felt his internal organs being shredded by divine power. "But at least for today, the prophecy will not come true."

A blinding white light erupted from the sword. Kratos felt himself falling, through rocks, through lava, through countless wailing souls. And then, what came into view.

It was that boy high up—the figure that Zeus seemed to fear immensely.

Who is he?
Kratos didn't know.

All he knew was that his will had fallen silent.

It was as if my ears had been silenced.

They couldn't hear what the boy said after he floated to the ground.

The storm subsided, and the dust settled.

Ian's figure drifted down from the high cliff like a falling leaf, his black robes fluttering gently in the lingering wind. His boots touched the ground silently, and his silver-gray right eye narrowed slightly as he looked at Zeus, who was still suspended in mid-air.

Why were you pointing at me just now?

Ian’s tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable air of accusation.

Zeus was silent for a moment, the Sword of Olympus in his hand still gleaming with a dangerous golden light, but in the end, he withdrew his divine power, the light of the sword gradually dimming until it disappeared completely. He slowly descended to the ground, the dust on his white robe automatically dissipating, as if even the land dared not desecrate the robes of the god.

“The blood of the god-slayer is here.” Zeus did not answer Ian’s question directly, but simply raised his hand, palm down, toward Kratos’s withered body.

Kratos's body was already cold, his skin ashen, and his muscles atrophied. But as Zeus's divine power drew him in, the blood remaining in his body began to writhe like a living thing, seeping from his wounds, from his pores, and even from the depths of his long-stopped heart, gathering into a thin, scarlet stream that spiraled upwards and finally condensed into a dark red ball of blood in Zeus's palm.

Zeus took a crystal bottle from the void, its surface engraved with ancient runes. Blood flowed into it automatically, churning within, as if still carrying Kratos's rage and resentment from his lifetime.

"take it."

Zeus handed the bottle to Ian, his tone indifferent, "Here's what you wanted."

Ian took the bottle, looked down at Kratos's corpse, then looked up at Zeus, and suddenly chuckled.

"I think he will come back."

Zeus frowned slightly, a hint of impatience flashing in his eyes.

“That’s because you overestimate my son,” he said coldly. “Mortals are mortals after all; once they’re dead, they’re dead.”

It's clear that the God-King is very confident.

Ian shook his head.

He put the crystal bottle into his pocket.

He felt like a villain.

really.

Getting involved with these gods is never a good thing.

(End of this chapter)