The battlefield was a frozen wasteland of destruction. Snow had been blasted away, exposing jagged cracks and shattered earth. Uprooted trees lay scattered, their trunks splintered like matchsticks. The air was thick with frost and the fading echoes of battle.
Baldur stood amidst the wreckage, rolling his shoulders, smirk intact. Battered but unbroken. His unnatural resilience had carried him through every blow so far—but he was slowing.
Deimos and Kratos stood side by side, bracing for the next exchange.
Deimos' heart pounded, muscles thrumming with the effects of Mad Enhancement. Divine power coursed through him, his strength magnified beyond mortal limits. But unlike the wild, uncontrollable fury most would expect, his mind was clear. Focused. Sharper than ever.
Kratos was silent, his grip firm on the Leviathan Axe. Unshaken. Ready.
And Baldur?
He laughed.
"Hahaha... Oh, this—this is something else," Baldur muttered, brushing dust from his lip—though there was no blood. His excitement hadn't faded. If anything, it had grown. "The two of you are actually trying now."
Deimos' glare darkened. "We're going to end this."
Baldur cocked his head, amusement glinting in his eyes. "End what? I can't die. And you, kid—you hit harder than I expected, but it won't change a thing."
Kratos stepped forward, his voice heavy. "Then we break you."
For the first time, Baldur's grin faltered.
Then—
They moved.
Snow erupted as father and son charged.
Baldur barely had time to react.
Kratos struck first—the Leviathan Axe arcing through the air, its frost-coated edge gleaming. Baldur twisted, dodging just as the blade shaved past his ribs. He moved to counter, but—
BOOM!
Deimos appeared at his side, already mid-strike. His fist crashed into Baldur's ribs like a war hammer, sending a shockwave through his body. The impact launched him backward, feet carving deep trenches into the frozen earth.
Kratos was on him before he could recover.
The Axe swung.
Baldur blocked, catching the blade with his forearm, but the spreading ice bit into his flesh. He grimaced, shaking off the pain, twisting his body—
And drove an elbow into Kratos' face.
Kratos staggered—but didn't fall.
Instead, he caught Baldur's extended arm.
Deimos saw his opening.
He ducked low—a blur of motion—before ramming his shoulder into Baldur's gut.
CRACK!
Ribs snapped. Baldur coughed as he was lifted off the ground, momentarily airborne.
Kratos didn't let go.
He spun—using Deimos' momentum—and hurled Baldur across the battlefield.
BOOM!
Baldur crashed through a massive boulder, shattering it on impact.
Silence.
Then—from the wreckage—a low, ragged laugh.
Baldur rose.
But this time, he was slower.
His body was healing, but something was different. His movements were sluggish. His stance, off-balance.
Deimos narrowed his eyes. He's feeling it now.
"That all you got?" Baldur rasped, cracking his neck. Still smirking—but the bravado felt forced.
Kratos and Deimos exchanged a glance.
They saw it.
The damage was adding up.
Kratos didn't give him time to recover.
He rushed forward, axe swinging in a devastating arc.
Baldur raised his arms to block—
CRACK!
The impact shattered the frozen ground, sending fractures through the battlefield. Baldur gritted his teeth, knees buckling.
Kratos stepped back—his opening made.
Deimos surged forward.
Power roared through his veins. His muscles burned, his vision tunneled onto his target.
He cocked his fist back—then launched it forward with every ounce of divine strength he had.
BOOOOM!
The impact was thunderous.
Deimos' punch connected squarely with Baldur's chest, sending him rocketing backward—a blur before he slammed into the frozen cliffside.
The entire mountainside shook.
Dust and ice rained as cracks spiderwebbed through the rock. Baldur slumped forward, arms limp.
Then—
Kratos activated his Spartan Rage.
A guttural roar tore from his throat as flames erupted around his body, raw fury unleashed.
Kratos moved in for the kill.
He grabbed Baldur by the throat.
For the first time, Baldur didn't resist.
His limbs twitched weakly, his body too broken to fight back.
Kratos' eyes were cold, merciless. His voice, low. Final.
"No more."
Then—
CRACK.
With one swift motion, Kratos snapped Baldur's neck.
Silence fell over the battlefield.
Only the howling wind and the faint drip of melting ice remained.
Kratos released Baldur's lifeless body, letting it fall unceremoniously into the snow.
Deimos stood beside him, breathing heavily. His heart still pounded, but his instincts told him—
It wasn't over.
His gaze lingered on Baldur's corpse. He watched closely…
And he saw it.
A faint, almost imperceptible twitch in Baldur's fingers.
He's still alive.
Deimos clenched his fist—but said nothing.
He let Baldur fall.
For now.
Kratos turned away, exhaling slowly. The fight was over. He placed a heavy hand on Deimos' shoulder. "Come. We leave this place."
Deimos took one last glance at Baldur's body before nodding.
A storm of power coursed through him. Muscles tightened, bones hardened, his very essence shifting—no longer mere flesh, but something greater.
His vision blurred. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, louder than ever, each pulse resonating with newfound strength.
Then—
[Ding! Passive Enhancements Unlocked!]
→ Divine Body: His muscles, bones, and skin are now reinforced, granting near-immunity to conventional weapons.
→ Battle Instincts: An innate ability to counter and react to attacks without thought, moving purely on combat experience.
→ Pain Suppression: Injuries hurt less, allowing him to fight even when mortally wounded.
Deimos inhaled sharply.
His divinity was awakening.
It wasn't just raw strength anymore—his very nature was shifting beyond humanity.
And the system wasn't done.
[Ding! Skill Unlocks & Power Enhancements!]
→ Summoning of Labors: Can summon any of the past Labors of Heracles, gaining their abilities.
→ Mighty Blow: A single attack that concentrates all physical power into one devastating strike.
→ Herculean Grip: If he grabs an enemy, they cannot break free unless they vastly overpower him.
→ Divine Pressure: His very presence exerts an aura of dominance—weaker enemies hesitate, sensing his newfound power.
Deimos clenched his fists, testing his grip.
His strength had nearly tripled.
His body, harder to break.
His battle instincts, sharper than ever.
But Summoning of Labors…
His mind recalled the Twelve Labors of Heracles—each a feat that had pushed the ancient hero beyond limits.
The Nemean Lion. Skin is invulnerable to any weapon.
The Lernaean Hydra. Regeneration that healed wounds instantly.
The Erymanthian Boar. Endless stamina and resistance to exhaustion.
The Augean Stables. Purification of poison and corruption.
The Stymphalian Birds. Razor-sharp precision.
The Cretan Bull. Unstoppable power.
The Mares of Diomedes. Ferocity unmatched.
The Belt of Hippolyta. Enhanced combat mastery.
The Cattle of Geryon. Strength beyond Titans.
The Apples of the Hesperides. Divine endurance.
The Capture of Cerberus. Willpower and fear resistance.
If he could summon these powers at will—
Then his strength. It was evolving.