Patience wasn't one of Murugan's strong suits. It was a character flaw that he vaguely recognised. But his stubbornness and ego were a flaw that superseded his lack of patience. Unfortunately, he was blissfully unaware of that.
On any regular day, you couldn't catch Murugan lounging in the house's library, which also happened to be Ganesh's study. So it came as a surprise that the boy came running in mere moments after Kratos had left and started to rifle through the texts strewn about haphazardly.
"What are you looking for?" Ganesh asked.
"Records of wars," Murugan mumbled as his finger traced through the scripts.
"Anyone in particular?" Ganesh probed further, though an inkling of an idea had spawned in his mind for the cause of his younger brother's sudden motivation.
"Any and all that- Wait!" Murugan stopped himself. He looked right at Ganesh and asked, "G-Guruji..." Ganesh noted that the word was spoken with great difficulty, "... he asked me to find records of wars where the Rules of Engagement established at the start were adhered to. Is it wrong if I ask you for help?"
Ganesh held back his laughter, tried his utmost to hold a serious expression and said, "Depends on whether he said it was a sole assignment or not."
"That... I don't know," Murugan responded in contemplation. "His exact words were to 'Find him ten records of wars where every rule is adhered to by both sides.' That doesn't sound like a solo assignment."
Unable to contain his mirth any longer, Ganesh let out a chuckle and said, "Looks like he's sent you on a wild goose chase."
"What do you mean?" Murugan probed in confusion.
"There are no wars where every rule is adhered to," Ganesh responded. "At least, none that I can remember. And I'm pretty confident about my memory. After all" he gestured to his face and said, "-Elephants never forget."
Murugan scrunched his nose and let out a sarcastic laugh at Ganesh's poor attempt at humour. He said, "That can't possibly be true. You're telling me that there are no wars, at all, across all the four realms, from the beginning of time till now, where the sides in conflict strictly adhered to the rules they laid out beforehand."
Ganesh shrugged and admitted, "There could be a few. But you are wasting your time by searching through those records."
Murugan returned an inquisitive quirk of his eyebrows.
"Large-scale wars, especially ones that span for more than a few days at best, are guaranteed to have a few rule breakers," Ganesh explained. "Statistically speaking, that is."
"That makes sense..." Murugan affirmed.
"So I would suggest that you go about the search in a more methodical fashion. If a record of war has a rule break, then find another that spans for a shorter duration than the last. Keep repeating this time-reduction-based filter search until eventually, you find a record with no rule breaks at all," Ganesh explained.
"What if, in doing so, you miss one that may have been free of rule-breaks?" Murugan argued.
To that, Ganesh returned a disinterested shrug and expressed, "That's the price you have to pay to optimise your search. Unless you want to sift through hundreds of millions of war records to find the one."
Once again, Murugan's impatience warred against his arrogance. Once again, his arrogance won. He waved Ganesh away and continued his brute-force approach.
Murugan was not accustomed to defeat. From the moment he picked up the spear and learned how to use it, he had never once lost to an opponent. The embarrassing defeat handed to him by Kratos had shaken him thoroughly, even though he hated to admit it. And although he recognised Kratos' capacity subconsciously, his ego was unwilling to relent. In fact, he hoped that by finding a record of a flawless war and disproving Kratos' theory, he would get the victory he so sorely desired.
It was childish, Ganesh concluded - the last remnants of immaturity that Ganesh hoped would be squeezed out of him by Kratos through their unlikely pairing.
Ignoring his brother's half-frantic and half-methodical search through the mountain of texts beside him, Ganesh picked up his veena and started to strum through notes as he searched for a pleasing harmony.
A loud cough interrupted his groove. Looking up, he saw Murugan glaring at him.
"I would appreciate some quiet while I conduct my research," Murugan said through his teeth.
"You're in my study," Ganesh responded smugly. "I'd appreciate some quiet while I'm playing my veena."
A growl escaped from Murugan, possibly an indication of relenting under duress.
And thus the sounds of strings droning and cloth, wood and pages turning melded into one symphony that progressed well into the night and bled into the following day.
The sun was just about to peek over the horizon, but Murugan had yet to find a record that disproved his Guru's claims. Frustrated, he picked up his spear and made his way to their meeting point.
"You are late," Kratos said as Murugan arrived a few minutes after sunrise. "And you came empty-handed."
"I could not go through all of the available records in time," Murugan admitted with a frustrated tone.
"So you could not find one," Kratos taunted.
"I said," Murugan yelled. He then took a deep breath to calm himself and continued, "I said, I couldn't go through them all in time."
This wasn't an admission of defeat. "So that's your excuse," Kratos emphasised with a smirk.
"It is not an excuse," Murugan argued. "That is the truth."
The two exchanged a charged glance before Kratos turned and sat on a tree stump nearby.
"I can break you," Kratos said. "Force you to yield and mould you into the warrior I want. It would be quick, efficient and effortless on my part."
"I do not think that is what you want," Kratos added, noticing the growing tension in the boy's stance. "I do not think your brother wants that either."
"Do you doubt my skills?" Kratos asked blankly.
"No," Murugan responded.
"Do you have confidence in yours?"
Murugan wanted to respond affirmatively, but his ego forbade him from lying. "To an extent, yes," he answered instead.
"Then what is stopping you from accepting my words?" Kratos asked.
"I..." Murugan stuttered. "I don't know."
"Then we will let things run their course," Kratos said with a sigh. "Continue your search. Find me a record. Take as much time as you want."
With that said Kratos left the boy to his devices
As his leg carried him, Kratos thought back to his conundrum. Just during their first spar, Kratos realised the kind of uphill battle he'd have to fight to bolster the boy's skills as a warrior. A lot could be learned from the way a warrior approaches combat because, in essence, it is a conversation between two combatants. And through their short bout, Kratos had gleaned all he needed to know about Murugan.
There was a level of rigidity borne of inexperience and immaturity that was holding Murugan back. He was a powerful warrior for sure, but his inability to adapt and strict adherence to an arbitrary code of honour was acting as a barrier that inhibited his instincts from becoming one with his theoretical skills. And although he was able to implement Kratos' teachings, it was only a partial attempt. It was the kind of half-hearted show a miscreant student would put up to get their teacher off their backs. Because once the instructor's back was turned, they would revert to their old mischievous selves.
The solution was in realisation. The level of stubbornness and arrogance instilled into Murugan's bones inhibited him from accepting advice from those whom he did not fully respect. While he accepted Kratos' superiority in combat, he did not see him as a totally superior warrior. And no amount of combat and subsequent one-sided victory could change Murugan's mind. In fact, even if Kratos implemented the same drills and sequences from his training days, no matter how gruelling and strict they may be, it would be ineffective in swaying Murugan.
The boy had effectively split the concept of the warrior into two halves. There was the half that entailed skill in combat, and the half that entailed skill in strategy. To him, Kratos was a superior combatant, but an untested strategist. And until Kratos could prove his superiority in the latter field, he would not be able to get through to Murugan.
This was why Kratos was doubling down on the task of finding the record of "The Perfect War". Kratos knew for a fact that no such thing could exist. As the veritable expert on wars, given that it was technically his dominion and divinity, he could claim with utter certainty that war was an inevitable component of any civilisation. And there is one universal truth of warfare - anything goes. It may start with a facade of civility, but it tends to bring out the absolute worst parts of humanity, devolving into an exchange of disgusting and inhumane tactics. The nature of war is an eternal fact; it is as inevitable and certain as death itself.
Kratos knew that it was only a matter of time until Murugan realised this as well.
___
Without anything to do for the rest of the day, Kratos strolled along the plains aimlessly. There was very little he could do to entertain himself, after all. Nonetheless, his mind kept steering in a particular direction, and it seemed as though his feet agreed as well. Within minutes, he found himself standing before the entrance to the Forest at the centre of the mountain.
Facing the dense shrubbery, Kratos' mind started to waver. His palms started to itch with a mix of anticipation and apprehension - the same emotions a recovering addict goes through when tempted with another fix. Although Kratos prided himself on his unbending will, the temptation was far too great.
Kratos decisively stepped into the forest. He followed Ganesh's earlier instructions and journeyed alongside the river. He pushed aside the distracting yowls and screeches echoing out of the shrubbery and ignored the infrequent illusory attacks inflicted on him by spectres bursting through the tree line. Interestingly enough, they never got within a few metres of the river, it was as if they were actively repelled by it.
He reached the gateway to the plateau and noticed that the large bull had already assumed its position of guardianship, hinting to him that the god who called himself Shiva was already there. Kratos avoided making eye contact with the bull and avoided the predatory stare bearing down on him while making his way cautiously through the pillars. He knew that the previous time, he was allowed entry due to the two kids vouching for him. He was uncertain if he would be allowed access once again, and so he observed the bull's reaction to his approach.
After making his way through, without a single twitch from the large animal, Kratos sped up his approach towards the plateau. Atop the elevated natural formation, Shiva had resumed his performance liberating the souls from the ash and sending them on their way towards the largest of the three portal agape above him.
Kratos found a rather large mound of ash and sat down as his eyes remained affixed to the performer's lithe and graceful movements.
There was no music playing. In fact, there was no sound at all. But the man moved with a rhythmic precision that evoked a melody within Kratos' mind. His heavy but quiet footfalls echoed like drums that accentuated the monophonic tune in his thoughts.
It was enthralling, and weirdly relaxing. But Kratos wasn't here to see the man dance. He was here for something else.
As Shiva continued his dance, Kratos' eyes alternated between the clouds of ash floating towards Shiva and his own body. He wanted to see his family again, even if it was for a short while.
___
Unfortunately, the opportunity did not present itself. After hours of uneventful performances, Shiva ceased his movements and made a graceful exit white coated thoroughly in ash.
He acknowledged Kratos' presence with a light nod before turning in the direction of the pool to cleanse himself.
With suppressed disappointment, Kratos left his perch and sauntered along the river, back to his temporary abode.
At the crack of dawn the very next day, Kratos found himself repeating the same schedule. Murugan hadn't yet found his "Perfect War". Kratos allowed him to return to his search. He was certain that even if the boy had finished perusing all the possible records available, he would still not readily accept defeat until his stubborn mind had settled and officially acknowledged it. It would take some time. But Kratos had all the time in the world.
He found his spot by the mound of ashes and resumed his observance of Shiva's performance while keeping an eye on his skin to catch any stray particles of ash leaping off of them.
And once again, he was disappointed to see the ashen layer on his skin remaining unchanged.
This process repeated itself for an entire week because Murugan refused to accept defeat. But Kratos could see the boy's resolve wavering ever so slightly with every passing day. This was until the eighth day when it dipped all the way to zero all in one go.
"You did not find anything," Kratos said to Murugan with a faintly annoyed growl. His patience had started to wear thin, so it was fortunate that the boy had realised the folly in his search.
"How can it be?" Murugan mumbled in disbelief. His eyes had glazed over with disappointment and appeared distant. "How can justice be warped so senselessly in the name of war?"
It was concerning Murugan just how conveniently people could fool themselves into justifying atrocities and crimes committed in the name of war. In fact, in most of the records he'd read, the side that agreed to a particular rule for engagement would be the first to violate said rule.
"Because that is the nature of war," Kratos explained. "It is not child's play - there are dire consequences to one's actions. When the threat of death is placed on the other side of the balance, you get to see people's true faces."
He looked pointedly into Murugan's eyes and asked, "Have you partaken in any wars, boy?"
Murugan jolted out of his distraction and squirmed sheepishly while eking out a denial.
Anger surged through Kratos at the boy's response. With a booming bark, he yelled, "With what authority were you arguing for the widespread application of Rules of Engagement in war without participating in one?!"
"You don't need to have had to participate in a war to be an expert on it," Murugan sputtered with both assertion and denial.
"It is people like you, the half- or ill-informed, who design these idiotic concepts like 'Rules of Engagement' and expect it to work in real life," Kratos admonished angrily.
The verbal dressing down caused Murugan to take a step back in surprise. "You sound like you've been in enough to make these judgements."
"Far more than you can count, boy," Kratos spat back.
A pause ensued as Murugan processed this new revelation. His gaze narrowed in contemplation as he asked, "Tell me about it, then."
"What are you talking about?" Kratos snapped back.
"The wars," Murugan repeated. "Tell me about them."
Kratos's gaze grew stiff before a mix of apprehension and rage flashed past. Without saying another word, he turned and left.
"W-Wait! Where are you going?!" Murugan exclaimed as he scrambled to keep up with Kratos' brisk pace.
"Out of my way, boy!" Kratos growled as he side-stepped Murugan, who was now blocking his path.
Surprised by Kratos' reaction, Murugan asked, "I thought you were supposed to teach me?"
"Narrating my life story is not a part of the deal," Kratos dismissed with a growl.
"I'm not asking you to tell me your life story, just your experiences from war," Murugan clarified.
If only Murugan knew that war and life were one and the same for any Spartan. All Kratos had known in his life was war. The battlefield was his home. So sharing his experiences from war was equivalent to sharing his life story.
___
His dinner that night was not delivered by the gana who usually served him but by Murugan himself. The boy bombarded Kratos with questions about his earlier dismissal, his tone more curious than confrontational. Though not forceful, the incessant questioning was childish and irksome. Kratos, unwilling to engage, simply closed the door behind the boy and let him exhaust himself.
This behaviour continued into the next day. Interestingly, Kratos discovered that the boy didn't pester him if he sat near where Shiva performed. It was either fear or respect, but whatever it was, it definitely gave Kratos some respite from the boy's ceaseless assault.
Though his haven was short-lived. Because for some reason, two days later, Shiva did not show up to perform. And without his presence, there was nothing stopping Murugan from probing at Kratos.
Kratos assumed that it was probably just one day, but the absence extended into the next, and the day after that. As it progressed, Kratos found the plateau growing denser with ash as Shiva was no longer there to clear it away.
At this point, Kratos was certain that Shiva was doing this on purpose.
Luckily for him, though, Kratos found that Murugan had halted his annoying requests by the end of the week. Hoping that the bug had passed, Kratos continued training Murugan by taking him through some basic combat drills.
But unlike before where the boy absorbed the knowledge like a sponge, there was a sense of clumsiness in his movements and actions. Furthermore, he wasn't listening properly to Kratos' instructions - the boy appeared distracted.
In such instances, Kratos's paidonomoi would resort to corporal punishment, and knowing no other option Kratos did the same. A few strikes from a cane to the open palm, lower calf, or inner forearm were the most common points where pain was greatest with the lightest hit.
Yet the attempt was unsuccessful. The boy bit through the punishment without making a single sound. But it did not change his callous attitude.
Days passed like this, and Kratos could see that the boy wasn't making any gains. What was instilled one day was lost overnight leaving a blank and unreceptive slate the very next day.
This wasn't sustainable and wasn't bringing Kratos any closer to completing his end of the deal.
If it were anyone else, Kratos would have suspected that this was a plot to squeeze more information out of him. But Murugan's character wasn't like that. He wasn't one to scheme or deceive.
"Fine," Kratos declared one morning, seeing that the boy's applied effort had dipped below the minimal acceptable level - he wasn't even applying the force of his body in his swings anymore. "I will share with you, the details of an expedition I was involved in - one that I led as the general."
With just this one sentence, the boy's gaze brightened significantly. The sloth in his posture vanished in an instant and was replaced with the same vigour that drove him early on.
"What was the conflict about? Who were you fighting against? How did you become the general-"
Kratos raised a palm to halt the unrelenting barrage of questions.
"It was about contested lands. We were fighting against a neighbouring city-state," Kratos answered in quick succession.
"That's it? Just contested lands?" Murugan repeated with some disappointment in his voice.
"Wars have been waged for far less," Kratos responded. "Even if there is a justification for war, are all the soldiers walking into the battlefield with the same motivation?"
Murugan absorbed Kratos' question and pondered on its implication. And while he was ruminating on it, Kratos dug deep into his memories and fished out his very first memory as a general out on the battlefield.
___
Murugan waited with bated breath and his attention turned to a hundred per cent, ready to absorb every word as it left his Guru's lips. He could see apprehension colouring the man's face a shade darker, though it was difficult to make out through his already ghostly pale skin.
And yet, as soon as the man's lips moved, the world went mute.
A deafening silence smothered the world around him, which was shattered by a loud crack of thunder and lightning that doused the clear skies in a blanket of disastrous rainclouds.
The sudden change in atmosphere shocked both the teacher and student, as Kratos halted his narration almost immediately. And right as he did so, the skies turned clear and vibrant once again.
"What was that?" Kratos asked as he scanned the skies for the storm clouds that had just been there a moment ago.
"T-This-" Murugan stuttered in shock as his gaze alternated between Kratos and the skies above. "Could you please repeat what you said?"
With a frown, Kratos tried once again. He rifled through his memories once again and retrieved the story. And right as he opened his mouth to convey it, it happened again.
Dark clouds quickly covered the skies. The booming sounds of thunder and the crack of lightning resonated everywhere. The advent of the apocalypse made itself known, though only for a short moment. Kratos was smart enough to put two-and-two together. However, Murugan had deciphered the causation even before him.
"Sacred lightning," Murugan muttered. "T-This is impossible!"
"What are you mumbling about, boy?!" Kratos bellowed.
Murugan looked at Kratos with a gaze that he'd only seen in mortals who worshipped him - deep reverence and respect.
"Knowledge carries power," Murugan started. "It has the potential to change the world. But not all knowledge is of equal weight. Some that are more profound, so much so that truly understanding them can raise individuals beyond their limits, are recognised as such by the universe itself. The opposition by the universe is so severe that it disallows transmission of it in any uncontrolled form be it in writing or lecture."
"So I cannot share my experience," Kratos probed with a faint glimmer of hope in his heart.
"Not like this," Murugan responded with a shake of his head. "Not out loud."
He then took three steps forward, covering the distance between them. He leaned forward and moved his ears close to Kratos' lips. "You need to whisper it into my ears."
Kratos leapt back instinctively following the sudden violation of his personal space.
"I am not doing that," Kratos said matter-of-factly.
"How else will you share your experiences?" Murugan responded with a confused raise in his tone.
"Drop this matter now," Kratos declared.
"No, no no!" Murugan exclaimed anxiously as he stopped Kratos from leaving. "Look, it's not that bad. Don't tell me you've never whispered into another person's ear before."
"A Spartan does not whisper," Kratos responded.
"It's innocent!" Murugan reasoned. "Come on... Please? I promise I won't tell anyone that you whispered into my ear if that's what you're worried about."
With an affronted scowl, Kratos bore down on the lad. And after a rather intense internal debate, Kratos decided that there wasn't any harm in it.
And so, he leaned forward and in an uncharacteristically soft voice - that grated at his vocal cords - Kratos expressed his past.
___
What Kratos thought would be a single story turned out to be much more than that. In narrating his experience from his first war as the general of the Spartan army, leading a measly squad of 50 soldiers, Kratos quickly lost himself in his memories.
He recollected the struggles he went through, the mistakes he made, the comrades he befriended and lost. All of it was like a theatre play that unfolded before him, where he was the protagonist.
His early years as a general, even with his splendid record, were filled with failures and loss. None too severe, but significant enough to make a difference. Because losing a few men out of fifty was a lot more than losing the same amount from among a thousand or more. Kratos had to learn to be more strategic in his approach, prioritising the safety of his men above the success of the mission.
That went against the Spartan doctrines, but it was the only way to go, and Kratos took a gamble on it. Unlike his more risk-taking counterparts, Kratos adhered to an uncharacteristic level of conservatism in his early years. And while his contemporaries chided him, none had lived as long as he had as their hubris got them killed before time did.
With each new story he narrated, Kratos grew wearier and dismayed. The memories he was reliving were not pleasant, after all.
___
Murugan flinched as his palm closed around the man's throat. The muscles in his forearm were taut like coiled steel. The man's face contorted in terror with a mask of desperation as his fingers scrabbled uselessly against Murugan's iron grip. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid smoke of burning wood and leather. Murugan's breath came in short, controlled bursts. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions - rage, determination, and a strange, detached clarity.
The man's struggles grew weaker and his movements sluggish. Finally, a muffled crack echoed through the tent. The body went limp, collapsing to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Murugan stared at the corpse with his hand still tingling with the residual heat of the kill. He felt no triumph, only a cold and hollow satisfaction. This was war.
"General!" A voice called out in a language Murugan didn't know but fully understood.
At that moment a loud explosion rattled Murugan. He looked out the window of what appeared to be a tent and saw a dark red plume of fire billowing into the night sky.
He turned to face the voice that had called him and was met with a soldier. His leather and brass armour glinted in the dim light of the oil lamps. The man's face was streaked with soot and sweat and his eyes were wide with urgency. "The detachment targeting the enemy's logistics has completed their mission. The enemy will be here soon - they're swarming toward the command centre."
Murugan's jaw tightened. "Do not teach me," he growled as he stepped over the corpse, his voice low and dangerous. The lieutenant flinched but held his ground.
With a commanding tone, Murugan continued, "We cannot defeat them in a frontal assault. We are outnumbered. If victory is not assured through force, then it must be achieved through other means."
Murugan pulled out a dagger as he knelt next to the corpse. And with haphazard movements, he started to get to work on the man's face.
"If they enter the battlefield with courage we will lose, if they enter with fear then they will have defeated themselves," Murugan explained. He carved out the man's eyes and removed the two orbs that remained lifeless. He pulled out his tongue and cut it with a single slicing motion. Then off came his nose and two ears. Then, with a scraping motion, Murugan removed the man's scalp.
Murugan did not know the purpose behind such blatant desecration of the corpse, but the moment the question formed in his mind the answer arrived along with it. It was to send a message. And the message was fear.
"What was our strategy, lieutenant?" Murugan asked as he stood up.
The man straightened, and with a steady voice despite the tension in the air, he said, "To cripple the enemy by taking out their logistics and high command."
Murugan nodded. His gaze drifted to the tent's entrance, where the distant glow of fires painted the horizon in shades of orange and red. "One objective has been accomplished. The other shall be soon. Stick to the plan. Proceed with the distractions. I will handle the rest that comes here."
As the lieutenant saluted and hurried out of the tent, Murugan retrieved his spear and shield. He took a moment to steady his breathing as his mind raced through the possibilities, the contingencies, and the inevitable bloodshed. As his gaze moved around the tent, it landed on a silver plate clattered on the ground.
In it, he saw his reflection. And what he saw wasn't his own face, but his teacher's.
But what shocked him was that although the red birthmark remained in place, his face wasn't ashen and pale.