The next morning, before the sun had fully risen, Deimos stood outside, shirtless, his breath visible in the cold air. His muscles tensed as he lifted a massive boulder, one more than twice his size, as big as a troll. His bare feet pressed into the frozen earth as he slowly raised the rock above his head.
Kratos watched from a distance, arms crossed. No words of encouragement. No looks of concern. Just a silent observation.
Deimos gritted his teeth, feeling his arms tremble under the weight. Then, with a deep exhale, he pressed upward, holding the boulder high before slamming it down with a thunderous impact. The ground cracked beneath it.
Still not enough.
He stepped forward, ready to lift the boulder again—
"That is enough," Kratos' voice cut through the cold morning air.
Deimos barely spared him a glance. "Not yet." He bent down, gripping the rough edges of the stone. "I need to keep going."
Kratos stepped forward, his shadow looming over Deimos. "Your body has limits."
"I can push past them," Deimos shot back, his jaw tightening.
Kratos studied him for a long moment. "You wish to train longer in the morning," he said slowly, eyes narrowing, "so you are free in the afternoon. Why?"
Deimos hesitated, fingers tightening around the boulder's surface. His father was not one for pointless questions. He always saw through everything.
Kratos took another step forward, his deep voice steady but firm. "Why are you pushing so hard?"
Deimos exhaled sharply, his frustration bubbling over. "Because I don't have time, Father."
Kratos' gaze hardened. "You have more time than you realize."
"No, I don't!" Deimos turned to face him fully, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. "You don't see it, but I do. Mother—she's getting weaker. Every day, it's getting worse. And I can't—"
He cut himself off, swallowing the lump in his throat.
Kratos' expression remained unreadable. But he was listening.
Deimos clenched his fists. "I want to be strong enough to protect this family before it's too late. Before something happens and I'm not ready. So yes, I train harder. I push past my limits. Because if I don't, I'll regret it."
Silence stretched between them.
Then, Kratos sighed. It was quiet—barely noticeable—but it carried weight.
"You believe strength alone will stop what is coming?" His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it.
Deimos' jaw tightened. "If I am strong enough, I can change things."
Kratos stepped closer, his towering presence almost suffocating. "You believe I was not strong enough to protect my family?"
Deimos froze. His father had never spoken about his past—not in full. But he knew. He had seen the memories. The horrors Kratos had endured.
The weight of that question pressed against him.
"I didn't mean it like that," Deimos said, his voice quieter now.
Kratos stared down at him, his gaze unrelenting. "Strength alone is never enough, boy."
Deimos exhaled sharply, trying to suppress his frustration. "Then what else am I supposed to do?"
Kratos was silent for a moment. Then, he spoke, his voice low but firm.
"Train. Grow stronger. But do not let your fear make you reckless."
Deimos' fists remained clenched at his sides.
Kratos continued, "If you break yourself now, you will not be ready when the real trials come." He paused, his piercing gaze holding Deimos in place. "And they will come."
Deimos lowered his head slightly, the fire inside him still burning, but tempered by his father's words.
Kratos let the silence linger before he gave his final words.
"Take the time you have. Spend it wisely. Not just on battle, but on what truly matters."
And with that, Kratos turned and walked away, leaving Deimos standing in the broken earth, staring at the boulder at his feet.
He clenched his jaw.
He understood.
But that didn't mean he would stop.
It only meant he had to train smarter.
That evening, Deimos found himself beside Faye, helping her chop vegetables for dinner. It was a simple, quiet moment, but one that felt heavier than it should.
"You've been pushing yourself harder than usual," Faye said, glancing at him with a knowing smile.
Deimos shrugged. "I need to be strong."
"You are strong," she said, placing a hand on his. "But remember—strength is not just for fighting. It is for protecting, for understanding when to stand and when to step back."
Deimos looked down, his grip on the knife tightening. "I know," he muttered.
Faye watched him carefully before sighing. "Come with me."
They stepped outside, where the night sky stretched infinitely above them, stars glimmering like distant flames. The cold wind brushed against them, but Deimos barely felt it.
Faye knelt and picked up a handful of snow, letting it slip through her fingers. "The world is full of things you can't control, Deimos. Even the strongest warriors cannot change everything."
Deimos swallowed hard. "I don't want to lose you."
Faye's expression softened, and she placed a hand against his cheek. "Oh, my dear son… You won't. No matter what happens, I will always be with you."
Deimos felt his chest tighten, but he refused to show weakness. He wouldn't cry.
Not yet.
Instead, he simply nodded. "Then I'll make sure I don't waste the time we have."
Faye smiled. "That's all I could ever ask for."
As they stood together under the night sky, Deimos silently made a vow.
"I PROMISE YOU, MOTHER, I WILL NOT LET ANYONE DICTATE THE PATH THAT I AND MY BROTHER WILL PICK, I WILL MAKE SURE TO HONOR YOUR NAME". Deimos said to himself while standing beside Faye.
Faye placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze before turning toward the cabin. "Come inside, Deimos. It's late."
Deimos exhaled slowly. "In a minute."
She studied him for a moment before nodding, her eyes filled with understanding. Then, with a final smile, she disappeared into the warmth of their home, leaving him alone in the cold.
Or so he thought.
A familiar voice broke the silence.
"You've been acting weird lately."
Deimos turned to see Atreus standing near the door, arms crossed. His younger brother's expression was puzzled but not confrontational. He wasn't accusing Deimos of anything—he was just trying to understand.
Deimos sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Go to bed, Atreus."
Atreus frowned. "Not until you tell me what's going on." He stepped closer, his breath visible in the freezing air. "You're training harder than usual, you're spending way more time with Mother than before, and you keep looking at her like…"
He hesitated.
"Like what?" Deimos challenged, his tone sharper than intended.
Atreus shifted uncomfortably. "Like you're… worried about something. Like you're scared."
Deimos looked away, his jaw tightening. Atreus wasn't wrong.
But he couldn't tell him the truth. Not yet.
Atreus sighed, kicking at the snow beneath his feet. "If something's wrong, you can tell me, you know? I'm not a kid anymore."
Deimos glanced at him, really looking this time. His little brother.
Atreus was still young, still innocent. He didn't know. He didn't see what Deimos saw.
Not yet.
And Deimos wasn't ready to take that away from him.
"Nothing's wrong," he finally said, forcing his voice to be steady. "I just… want to be stronger."
Atreus frowned. "You're already strong."
"Not strong enough."
Atreus narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. "You're lying."
Deimos sighed, shaking his head. "Atreus, drop it."
"But—"
"I said drop it."
Atreus flinched at the firm tone, his expression flickering between frustration and confusion. Deimos had never shut him down like this before.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then, Atreus looked down, scuffing his boot against the snow. "...Fine."
Deimos expected him to storm off, maybe throw a glare his way. But instead, his little brother just looked… sad.
"Just don't shut me out, okay?" Atreus muttered before turning and heading back inside.
Deimos watched him go, a heavy weight settling in his chest.
He hated lying to his little brother.
But some truths were too cruel to share.
At least, for now, and he did not think Atreus was yet ready.