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Odin’s sword cuts through Kratos's side like a knife through snow, and a scream tears through Atreus’s throat as he runs forward, hand outstretched as if he'd ever be able to stop the blade. His father’s eyes widen as he processes what has happened, but before he can leap backwards, push Odin away or do something, a pulse of bright and powerful magic explodes through his veins. This magic floods his entire being beneath his skin, turning the pale ashen color to a sickening green.
And, as Atreus watches, before he or Freya can do anything to help his father, Odin rips the sword from Kratos’s stomach. Red blood flies after it in droplets, raining down on the ground.
Kratos grips at his wound, grabs Odin’s wrist and breaks it, but that's all he can do before he stumbles, too much of his blood gushing out at once. He's not healing his wound, and it's not closing on its own and why isn't it closing? Odin yells with pain and draws back in a flash of light, kicking dust up as he does so.
Atreus finally makes it to his father’s side as Freya flings herself at the Allfather, possibly to distract him or out of her own pure rage. Atreus doesn't know and doesn't care as his knees hit the dirt, his hands flying out to uselessly fumble with Kratos’s stab wound. His father’s face is paler than usual, his eyes bloodshot as his life force drains out of him, unstoppable.
“No-!” Atreus gasps, choking on his breath and tears, face already wet as he openly cries. His hands are quickly drenched in his own father’s blood, deep crimson and forever stained. “No! Father!” He doesn't care that he's crying on the battlefield in front of the enemy, he doesn't care that he looks weak. His father is dying. “You'll be okay Father. I- I can heal you! I- I will- will heal you!” He feels his magic throbbing in his veins, but it won't leave his skin, won't flow from his fingertips or palms into his father’s wound. Instead, it falters and flutters, like an injured butterfly unable to take flight. “Come on- come on!” He's screaming, voice already turning hoarse from the volume. “Why won't- why won't it work?!”
A large, callused hand catches his wrist, and then his other, gently but shakily leading them away from the injury. Kratos’s sides heave as his life is literally draining from his body, yet his eyes are soft, his grip gentle as he stares up at his son.
“Atreus,” Kratos says, his voice firm and even, yet incredibly gentle. Atreus falters, sniffling as he meets his father’s eyes. An explosion sounds behind them, shaking the air with light and heat. “It is too late.”
With a start, Atreus shakes his head sharply, lips shaking. “N- no!” he exclaims, grabbing his father’s hands in return. His nails scrape at Kratos’s skin, but he hardly notices. He can only focus on the pain in his son’s eyes. His expression. He never wanted Atreus to be in so much pain nor experience this suffering, but he wouldn't turn back time because Kratos is the one dying. Not another of his children. And that may be selfish, but Kratos doesn't care. If Atreus would live, he would let Odin stab him thousands of times over. “No- I can save you. Hold- hold on Father!” He hiccups, nose running. Kratos’s heartbreaks. Seeing his child in so much distress is far more painful than this slow, agonizing death Odin decided to put him through.
He reaches up, cups one of Atreus’s cheeks to force their eyes to meet. Atreus pauses, breaths coming in and out sharply.
“You must fight on your own now,” Kratos says, his words hardening. He's running out of time; he can feel it. But he needs to know Atreus will survive this battle, without him. “You must survive this, my son. But do not do it for revenge. Do it so that you may live.”
Atreus shakes his head again, arms shuttering. “No, Father…” he says, much weaker this time. “Please don't die…”
Kratos is crying. He hadn't cried this much in a long time. He hopes it's not too evident, but he doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to leave Atreus alone.
But he knows. He knows it's his time. He's not healing from this.
“You are ready,” Kratos forces himself to say. His time is nearly up. His throat constricts, and he feels his organs shutting down. He shuts his eyes tightly before opening again, “I am proud of you.”
The last thing Kratos sees is his son’s wet, distraught face before his world fades to black, never to see again.
Atreus claws at Kratos’s skin, hoping to garner some reaction, to make him breathe again. He doesn't care about the fight anymore. He doesn't care about Ragnarok. He never should have pressured his father into finding Tyr. They never should have left their home. It's his fault his father is dead. His-
Freya lands in front of him, bloody and battered but still alive. She pushes her hands beneath herself, arms trembling under her own weight. She takes one look at Kratos and Atreus knows she knows. He doesn't care.
“See, Loki?” Odin says from behind him. Atreus stiffens at the god’s voice, grip tightening on his father's arm. “This could have all been avoided if you'd just listened! If your father hadn't been so stubborn! If you'd helped me!” His tone is raising, words shaking with his anger. Atreus’s jaws clench, and he turns so he can stare at Odin through the corner of his eye. His hands are raised, as if helpless to the situation. “I'm sorry, Loki! I never wanted things to come to this!”
-No. It is Odin’s fault. It is Thor’s and Heimdall’s and the Aesir’s. It is Sif’s, every single einherjar’s. Rage bubbles in the pits of his stomach before spreading throughout his veins like liquid magma, hot and burning. It's filling him up, ready to burst him at his seams.
He's going to kill every last god and Aesir.
“But we can still work together, Loki,” Odin is still speaking. Why the Hel is he still speaking? He shouldn't be speaking anymore. “I know the answer to death, to life, to bringing someone from the dead back to life is inside of that tear. We can find that truth, together . We can bring your father back, but it has to be together.”
A growl starts in the back of his chest until it emanates from his throat, flooding the otherwise silent area. It's animalistic, horrifying and otherworldly. It's not a sound ever heard before, but it inspires terror in the three that hear it. Odin's voice dies in his throat as he finally catches Atreus's gaze, which is locked upon him, sharp and rage filled.
It resembles the expression of the God-Killer. The Ghost of Sparta. It captured the true essence of the unhinged, vengeful god’s youthful days, all turned upon Odin as another snarl ripped through Atreus’s thin form. His eyes flash dangerously, pupils thinning into slits.
Odin’s skin crawls, and he knows that he's failed. Loki will never help him willingly now, not after he'd killed his father. He has to switch gears and tactics. He’ll have to be forceful, force the young god to work for him whether he wants to or not.
But something in that look, that aura filled with warning stops Odin.
He has to escape. Now.
He raises his arms to summon his ravens to flee, and that's when Atreus snaps at his sudden movement. An inhuman roar explodes from Atreus as his skin tears on every part of his body, the length and size of it becoming far too great for his regular skin to hold it. He's transformed before into a bear and a wolf in the past, and while those changes had seemed painful, they had been swifter, smoother than this.
This is all at once as his muscles shred only to regrow over his popping bones as they too enlarge ten times his regular size. His jaws snap out of place and lengthen painfully, eyes popping to a much large size as his tailbone juts out of his back, whipping out to form a long, snapping tail. The skin on his back spreads over two of his ribs that arch up and outwards to form wings.
As this all happens, he's launching forward, suddenly much too big hands smashing down on Odin. This all happens in a split skin, Atreus’s blood pouring from the sky like red rain as the form of a large, hulking dragon of terror takes the once small god’s place. His body is nowhere near anatomically correct, even for a dragon, with some of bones poking out of his skin and scales and other muscles not large enough to properly move his suddenly gigantic size. He's a twisted form, but this twisted form seems to perfectly match the state of his mind. His roar is somehow bent similarly to the shape of his new body, shaking the air with an eerie scream of pain not of human or godly origin.
It sends a chill of horror down the spines of any that are unfortunately near, the air filling with an almost toxic smell. Atreus’s very rage becomes a toxic gas, making it difficult for anyone near to choke and gasp for the memory of clear winds.
Odin is unsuccessful in his teleportation as a huge foot tipped with glinting talons slams down on top of him. He's buried in the ground beneath his back, embedded in the palm of this dragon’s scaley and sharp palm. He's instantly drenched with his own blood mixed with Atreus and Kratos’s, skin becoming sticky with the red liquid and dirt surrounding him.
Atreus continues to scream, huge eyes dilating with pain and rage, large and jagged fangs smashing together repeatedly. His tail lashes through the air, wrecking every building it comes in contact with and slicing the flesh of any soul it hits. His wings beat at the air without giving him flight, sending tsunami-like gusts of wind outwards, decimating ranks of men and women and any gatherings of structures. His two back feets stomp on the ground, making it cave in and causing the earth to shake with quakes similar to those in Svartalfheim.
All in all, his very draconic being is destructive. The only area left unharmed is the ground where his father’s corpse lays and where Freya has stood, watching the destruction with horrified awe.
Finally, Atreus curls his talons in, scooping Odin out of the ground, only to throw him at his jaws. Before the Allfather can gather himself, he's repeatedly pierced by multiple fangs as Atreus snaps his maw down on him, drawing more of Odin’s blood. He shakes his head like a wolf with a bone, tossing Odin this way and that.
Odin finally gains his bearings and sends a blast of magic at the roof of Atreus's maw. Atreus roars with annoyance, jaws opening enough for Odin to roll free. He hits the ground, quickly getting to his feet. The entire while, Atreus’s eyes don't shift away from him. His chest begins to glow as he draws a gust of air into his throat, talons digging into the dirt.
Taking this lapse of attacks, Odin summons his magic, lifting himself from the ground with a tornado of green and red winds. He makes himself tall enough to be level with Atreus’s snout, gathering electricity and power to his hands.
He's both terrified and fascinated by Loki’s current form.
He wants it under his control. He will get it under control.
Odin attacks, shooting at Loki’s eyes and nostrils. The drake stumbles at the shock, knocking down a wall of stone when he backs into it. He shakes his head, opening his jaws to send out a blast of pure energy at Odin. The god catches it and sends it back at Loki, who lifts a misshapen wing to block it from hitting his face. He leaps, up and down, causing both the ground and winds to shift and shake and become unsteady. Odin falters and Loki snaps at the place he'd just been, before using his tail to knock the god from the air.
Dirt flies into the air every which way as Odin hits it, leaping backwards as Loki slams his feet into the ground. Odin summons his ravens, using them to flood Loki’s face and field of vision to distract him. Loki roars with annoyance, snapping at them as Odin circles behind the dragon, sending a spear of magic at the large back of this beast.
Loki stumbles as the spear hits him in the center of his back, yet the tip of it somehow doesn't break through his scales. Odin’s remaining eye widens comically; that spell is supposed to be able to tear through anything. Yet it slips down Loki’s side like water off of the feathers of a duck.
His ravens disperse and gracefully, like a snake, Loki twists around, lifting a hand to smack Odin out of the air once again. Odin catches himself at the last second before crashing, but Loki chases after him, teeth gnashing as he snaps at him.
“Loki!” Odin screeches, his patience beginning to wear thin. He decides to try and use the boy’s heart against him, because Loki has always shown to care for the lives of the innocents, of the lives on the side of great battles like this. The dragon pauses, nostrils flaring. “Look around!” he motions with his hands at the destruction Loki has wrought. Large, slitted eyes follow his movements, observing the wreckage. “Can't you see? You're killing people! You need to stop! Your father wouldn't want this for you!”
He made a mistake.
As soon as Odin mentions Kratos, Loki’s eyes flash like they had prior, and another screaming roar shakes the very air. Loki launches forward much faster than before, and with his injuries slowing him, Odin is unable to move in time as jaws snap down around him once again. Fangs pierce his flesh and skin, bones snapping like sticks under a child’s feet.
Loki tosses his head back, flinging Odin into the air. A split second later, the glowing in his chest explodes outwards in a burst of pure magic, burning and freezing and ripping and mending and stinging and cooling and everything at Odin’s skin all at once.
It floods his entire being, leaving nothing devoid of Loki’s magic as it swallows him whole. It eats at him until nothing is left, not even his very soul, as if he'd never existed.
He would never learn what is in the tear anymore.
As Odin ceases to be, Atreus throws his head back once more, roaring so loud it bursts the eardrums of the mortals and any beings lesser than the Aesir. His tail lashes, hitting the ground blindly, sending rocks and debris flying across the sky like comets. He has no recognition in his eyes, only pain and rage.
That is, until his eyes dart to where Freya has positioned herself over Kratos’s body. She'd grabbed Mimir from Kratos’s belt so that he too could witness Atreus’s rampage. When he looks there, his vision clears enough to not see Freya as an enemy. He lowers his head, his breath sending gusts out enough to buffer Freya. She turns her eyes down as his face nears her, eyes watering from his breaths alone.
A low rumble sounds in Atreus’s throat and chest as he stares at his father, tilting his head to one side like a confused wolf. A wolf that is confused as to why its owner isn't waking up the next day after passing away in their sleep.
Freya frowns deeply, pain blossoming in the back of her throat like a hot liquid. She looks back up at Atreus as he sniffs at his father, as if he'd forgotten his father had been killed while in this form. She lets out a shaky sigh and raises a hand, resting it on the tip of Atreus’s snout.
“Atreus…” she says, her voice a tight whisper. She'd never forgiven Kratos, and she never will, but he'd been trying. All he'd wanted to do was protect his son and those he cared for. In the end, he succeeded. But she'd also known he'd never have wanted to leave his child behind like this, even if it did mean Atreus will survive. She could sympathize with that. “Oh, Atreus.”
She's about to say more when einherjar surround them, shouting and yelling at Atreus for daring to kill their god. Atreus’s pupils once again turn to slits, rage taking back over his mind. He tears his head away from Freya, screaming, swiping and whipping at the undead warriors.
A sob breaks from her chest, and she looks back down at Kratos’s face. It looks as if he's sleeping. The thought only makes her choke.
She rests a hand on top of Kratos’s head. She glances at Atreus as he kills einherjar and Aesir alike, uncaring as his twisted and broken body jolts every which way painfully; a true mirror of his anger and rage and pain.
She remembers a prior conversation she'd had with Kratos, and an unspoken promise between them. She leans forward, pressing their foreheads together.
“I promise to care for him,” she whispers, like a secret between them, “to the best of my abilities.”
The air shivers, as if sealing the promise.
She lets out another heavy sigh and turns her attention back to the carnage Atreus is wreaking, swallowing heavily. “No matter how difficult it will obviously be,” she finishes saying. Wihout a word, she sets Mimir to the side on the ground and leaps into the air, turning to her falcon at the last moment.
Atreus continued to rage, tears like waterfalls gushing from the corners of his eyes, screams of pain and sorrow deafening anyone who had still retained their hearing.
He will destroy the Nine Realms for stealing his father from him, even if his father had tried to teach him otherwise. He no longer cares. He is going to kill every living and dead soul in existence.