Divine Slaughter

Smoke curled in the air like serpents above the shattered ruins of the once-pristine battlefield. The trees were uprooted, the mountains cracked, and the skies hung heavy with tension as the aftermath of Edward's onslaught settled into a silence more terrifying than chaos.

Heracles lay in broken pieces, his mighty heart stilled. Hermes was gone—vanished in terror, abandoning pride for survival.

Now only Ares and Artemis remained. Blood streaked down Ares' temple, staining his armor. Artemis limped back into position, her face pale but resolute, clutching her bow with trembling fingers. The sight of Heracles' mangled corpse and Hermes' cowardly escape weighed heavily on them both.

Their eyes locked on the figure before them.

Edward stood motionless amid the ruin, his body still wrapped in the ghostly red streaks of war, muscles tense beneath his blackened Spartan armor. The chains on his Blades of Chaos clinked as if alive—restless, hungry. His expression was blank. But his eyes burned with an old, deep hatred that made the gods forget he was mortal.

This was no ordinary man.

Ares spat out a clot of blood and turned to Artemis. "Can you still move?" he asked, his voice gritty, edged with pain.

Artemis gritted her teeth. "Enough to follow Zeus's command," she said, eyes trained on Edward. "Even if it kills me."

A grin curled across Ares' bloodied lips. He leaned closer, voice low, whispering into her ear words she wasn't expecting.

Her eyes widened. "That's your plan? Are you going to throw away your pride as a god?"

Ares wiped the blood from his chin and gave her a look full of steel and survival. "Pride won't save our lives," he said coldly. "Just follow my words."

Artemis hesitated for just a moment before nodding grimly.

And then they moved.

Artemis loosed a flurry of glowing silver arrows that lit up the air, her form vanishing into the treeline as she fired from every angle. Each shot was aimed with divine precision. Arrows streaked toward Edward like raining meteors.

Edward twirled his blades effortlessly, deflecting them mid-flight with the clinks of clashing metal. Sparks flew in every direction, his arms moving with inhuman speed. His focus stayed fixed on Artemis, watching her try to dance from tree to tree, never staying still.

So he didn't notice Ares until it was too late.

But Ares wasn't rushing toward him.

He was behind Edward now—faster than before—making a beeline for the tall figure standing apart from the carnage.

Hippolyta.

She had stood at a distance all this time, her face grave, unreadable. Even as the gods fell around her, she hadn't moved. She wasn't a combatant today—just a queen, bearing witness.

Ares, bloodied and battered, lunged toward her.

Edward turned at the last moment, sensing the movement too late. His chains snapped mid-swing, and one blade was hurled toward Ares with roaring fire, but the god of war rolled under it.

Before she could react, Ares grabbed Hippolyta by the throat.

Her breath caught as his iron fingers clamped tight, lifting her off the ground.

Edward froze.

Chains rattled and the ground quaked beneath his feet. His eyes locked onto the sight—Hippolyta kicking, choking in the god's grip.

Ares' lips curled into a snarl, blood still running from his mouth. "Drop your weapons," he growled. "Or watch her die."

Edward stood still. The air around him seemed to crackle with heat. The Blades of Chaos remained firm in his grip, but his arms didn't move.

He didn't speak.

Ares hissed again, pulling Hippolyta's body closer to his chest like a human shield. "Surrender now. Or I will crush her throat and burn her city to the ground. You care for this woman, don't you?"

Hippolyta choked, her crown slipping from her head and falling into the dirt.

She turned her gaze to Edward.

Though the red war paint now marked his body, and death trailed in his shadow, there was no fear in her eyes. Only calm.

"Forget about me, Edward," she rasped, forcing her voice past the pressure on her throat. "Do what you must. Just protect my people once I'm dead."

A single tear slipped down her cheek, but her smile was strangely peaceful.

She closed her eyes.

Edward's jaw clenched. The grip on his blades tightened. But still, he didn't speak.

"You bitch!" Ares barked and shook her violently. "You would betray us—your own gods—for this monster? We'll burn Themyscira to ash! We'll—"

The words were cut short by the sudden tremor that spread across the ground.

Edward took one step forward.

Ares flinched.

The silence shattered.

The skies overhead darkened unnaturally, and the winds howled like wolves. The Blades of Chaos burst into flame—raw, licking, furious flame—and Edward's mouth opened as the deep, ancient voice returned.

Not just his own. But something older. Colder.

"I am the Ghost of Sparta," he said, his voice like a mountain grinding stone.

The flames reflected in Ares' eyes.

Edward's boots dug into the stone as he raised his blades.

"I have killed many gods." he said coldly, "But few can truly match your cowardice Ares. A pathetic excuse for a god."

****

Ares stood atop the shattered cliffside, seawater cascading down his blood-slicked armor. The once-proud God of War now trembled — fists clenched not in fury, but desperation. Blood poured from a gash above his temple, down his cheek, over his beard.

His body had endured countless battles, but none like this. None that made him question the outcome before the fight was done.

Beside him, Artemis nocked another divine arrow. Her silver hair was disheveled, her pale skin smeared with ash and blood. Her breathing was strained, eyes locked on

Edward, who now stood alone — unmoving, unflinching — at the edge of the jagged battlefield.

The ground beneath Edward cracked with every step he took, dust rising around his boots as though the earth itself feared what approached. He rolled his shoulders, each joint snapping like grinding boulders, his body radiating an aura of blood-soaked wrath.

Chains rattled gently at his back — a cold, mechanical whisper that seemed louder than thunder in the gods' ears.

Ares gritted his teeth, raising his war axe. "I am the god of war!" he roared, chest heaving with effort. "I've ended nations! Burned empires to ash! What have you achieved!"

Edward's was silent but kept walking.

Artemis loosed her arrow — divine silver streaking across the broken sky like lightning. Then another. And another.

Three arrows struck Edward — one through the shoulder, one in the side of his chest, and the last pierced his thigh

But the Ghost of Sparta didn't even flinch. He just kept walking, slowly, steadily, dragging a heavy silence that made even the Olympians' hearts stutter.

Ares's jaw clenched. "I swear! Take one more step, and I'll—"

"Do it," Edward said softly.

Ares froze.

Edward tore the arrows from his flesh — the wounds already closing. His expression was cold, empty. The fury was not gone, but buried — simmering, waiting for the moment to erupt.

Then, as if acknowledging a voice only he could hear, Edward tilted his head and whispered, "Very well."

That was the last thing Ares heard before the world turned black.

Edward moved. He simply vanished.

The next moment, his fist connected with Ares's jaw.

Boom!

The impact sent shockwaves across the sea, shattering the coastline beneath them. Ares's body flew like a meteor, crashing through the waves, dragged violently into the ocean's depths. The water exploded outward in a massive geyser, steam hissing as the sea boiled where he landed.

Hippolyta, stunned, stumbled back — only to feel strong arms catch her. She gasped, looking up.

Edward held her. The Spartan fury still painted his face, but in his arms she felt warmth — a strange, defiant warmth beneath the cold rage. He didn't look at her, didn't say a word. But she leaned into him briefly, resting her head against his chest.

"I… I told you to forget me, yet you saved me. Thank you." she whispered, her voice trembling. "But I'll say this once."

He didn't interrupt.

"I shall wait for you in Themyscira," she continued. "When you've finished whatever this madness is. I never cared for ancient customs… But if you asked—" Her voice cracked. "—I would have accepted you as my husband."

Edward remained silent.

She stepped away, slowly, heart heavy. She ran away , not looking back. She didn't wish to show her vulnerable side.

After she left, Edward murmured to himself, pulling another arrow from his chest. "Maybe in another life… but not now."

Then he turned back to the battlefield.

Artemis stood alone now, divine light glowing from her bow. Her arm shook.

Across the sea, the surface erupted as Ares emerged — soaked, bloodied, enraged but visibly shaken. His helmet was gone. One of his eyes was swollen shut. His lip was split.

But he still stood.

Edward cracked his neck, his voice cold and final.

"Let's finish them before Hermes reaches Olympus."

Artemis loosed an arrow again, this time blessed with celestial flame — a roaring comet of divine energy. Edward's blade flashed upward in a clean arc, cleaving the burning projectile in half. One half detonated a cliff behind him; the other fizzled into mist.

He launched forward.

Artemis barely had time to move. She backstepped, firing arrow after arrow, the sky alight with silver. But Edward surged through them all, sprinting through the storm like death incarnate. When he reached her, she leapt, drawing a divine blade from her thigh.

Their weapons clashed mid-air — hers glowing with moonlight, his flaming with the fury of Tartarus.

Edward caught her wrist mid-swing and drove his forehead into her skull. A sickening crack rang out as her body was hurled backwards.

Ares came from the side with a thunderous war cry, slamming his axe down. Edward spun, parried with the Blades of Chaos — sparks flew. The chains wrapped around Ares's arm like a serpent, dragging the god in close.

They traded blows, furious, godly — fists shattering stone, weapons carving craters into the ground.

Ares roared and slammed his head into Edward's, but Edward didn't even blink. He grabbed the god's face with both hands and drove his knee into Ares's stomach — once, twice, thrice — until blood poured from the war god's mouth.

Behind him, Artemis lunged again with a hunting knife.

Edward caught her by the throat mid-leap.

She kicked, scratched — even screamed — but he didn't let go.

Ares tried to pull him off, grabbing his arm, only for Edward to hurl Artemis's body into him, sending both gods flying backward like ragdolls.

They crashed into a broken ruin, coughing blood and divine ichor. Artemis's bow snapped in half. Ares was on his knees, trying to breathe.

Edward walked forward once more.

Each footfall was death approaching.

Ares pushed himself to his feet, bleeding, teeth bared. "You think this is over?" he snarled, clutching his ribs. "You think killing us will stop Zeus?"

Edward didn't reply.

Ares pointed a shaking hand. "You're no god. You're no man. You're a monster."

Edward stopped just before him.

And smiled — the first expression he'd shown since the fight began.

"Maybe. But it doesn't change the fact you'll die here."

" Activate skill: Ghost of Vengeance."

The sky turned blood-red.

Ghost of Vengeance (A+):

Kratos cannot be bound by fate, mind-control, or divine influence. He has resisted the charms of gods, illusions of Titans, and even the manipulation of the Fates. Grants high resistance to mental interference and command spells, and allows him to resist "inevitable" effects.

The sea churned violently as Ares rose from the water, his war-scarred body soaked and steaming. His crimson armor was cracked, ichor oozing from his broken shoulder and the side of his face. His breath was heavy, nostrils flaring, fury simmering—but behind that rage was fear.

The same fear that had flickered in his eyes when Edward, or whatever this being now was, tore through Heracles like parchment.

Artemis landed beside him, her silver armor dented, golden ichor staining her side where Edward had punched clean through her ribs. Her bow was clenched tightly, her lips pale from the pain, but her eyes still sharp with defiance.

Edward stood before them, still and silent. The chains of the Blades of Chaos clinked softly in the breeze. His skin was like weathered stone now, streaked with the red markings of war. When he took a step forward, the ground cracked beneath him. Trees uprooted. Stones vibrated. Reality itself seemed to flinch.

"I'll take the front," Ares grunted, spitting blood onto the ground. "You aim at his head from back."

Artemis didn't answer. Her fingers moved with instinct, drawing arrow after arrow in rapid succession, each tipped with silver forged by Hephaestus himself. They glowed with celestial fire, blinding and divine.

But Edward didn't flinch.

The first volley struck.

Five arrows embedded into his chest and shoulders, one even slamming into his neck. Yet Edward didn't stop walking. His hands gripped the chained blades as his head slowly tilted toward Artemis.

Ares roared and charged, his warhammer appearing in a burst of flame. "DIE!"

He swung with the force of a mountain splitting in two. The hammer met Edward's side with a thunderous crash, but Edward didn't budge.

Instead, his hand lashed out, caught the shaft of the hammer mid-swing, and twisted. Ares screamed as the handle snapped in half like a twig, and Edward drove the jagged end into the god's gut, piercing through his armor and out his back.

Ares fell back, roaring, coughing blood.

Artemis launched into the air, wings of light erupting from her back as she hovered and fired a storm of arrows. They rained down like divine meteors, setting fire to the trees and exploding in blinding flashes.

Smoke filled the battlefield. For a moment, everything was hidden.

But then, Through the haze, Edward emerged.

His face was burned slightly, parts of his armor charred, but his expression hadn't changed. There was no emotions. Only cold, impassive judgment.

He hurled one of the Blades of Chaos into the air with terrifying speed. The chain unspooled with a screech, and the blade pierced through Artemis's wing.

She shrieked as the divine appendage shattered, and her body dropped like a comet. Before she could hit the ground, Edward yanked the chain.

She flew toward him—fast—and met his knee mid-air.

Crunch.

Her nose broke. Blood and ichor sprayed. Edward spun, grabbing her by the throat mid-spin, and slammed her into the earth so hard the crater widened beneath them.

Ares charged again, his own sword now drawn in desperation. "I AM ARES!" he bellowed.

But Edward didn't even turn.

He grabbed Artemis's ankle and swung her like a weapon, her limp body cracking into Ares with devastating impact.

Ares flew backward. His back slammed into a boulder with such force that it shattered into powder. Before he could rise, Edward launched toward him, blades spinning.

Splurt!

The first slash carved a deep scar across Ares's chest, revealing his beating heart. . The second took off one of his arms.

Ares screamed.

Edward kicked him in the face, sending him crashing into the trees.

Behind him, Artemis was trying to crawl away. Her leg was twisted, her face bloodied and swollen. She tried to summon her bow again, but her hands shook too much.

Edward walked toward her.

She spat blood. "You... you're no mortal..."

He didn't answer.

He gripped her by the scalp. She clawed at his wrist, trying to push him away, but it was like fighting a mountain. Her fingers bled.

"I am no ordinary mortal," Edward said softly.

Then, with a roar that echoed across the shattered forest, he pulled.

The scream that tore from Artemis's throat was primal. Divine. Her spine arched. Her eyes rolled back.

And with one final wrench—her head tore free from her body, vertebrae still attached, trailing golden ichor.

He threw it away.

Ares stared, wide-eyed, frozen in place.

"You... you monster... she was my sister!" he howled.

Edward slowly turned, his face unmoved.

"You used her. Just like you used everyone else."

With a scream of madness, Ares rushed again, dragging his broken body toward him. "I AM THE GOD OF WAR! I AM WAR INCARNATE!"

Edward's blade swung.

It cleaved through Ares's knee, severing his leg. Ares fell to the ground, face-first.

But he didn't stay down.

He tried to crawl—scratching at the dirt, blood pouring, his body wrecked.

Edward stood over him.

"No," he said. "You are nothing."

Then, he grabbed Ares by the skull, lifted him into the air—

—and began to smash.

Once.

Twice.

The third time, the ground cratered. The fourth, bones gave way.

On the fifth, golden blood sprayed in all directions.

By the sixth, there was no head left. Only pulp and mangled brain tissue.

Edward dropped the body with a snort, now just twitching limbs and shattered metal.

He stood in the middle of the carnage, panting lightly. Blood covered his hands, his armor, the blades.

He looked up to the sky.

"Two down," he murmured. "More to come."

The silence was absolute.

Only the wind moved now—whispering through the shattered trees, through the corpses of gods.

And Edward—Avenger, Ghost of Sparta—stood alone.

Waiting.

*****

Here's a servant profile for Kratos I came up with. Post God of War 3.

Servant: Avenger

True Name: Kratos

Alias: The Ghost of Sparta, God-Slayer, The Broken God

Source: Greek Myth (Reimagined – God of War Series)

Region of Origin: Greece

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Gender: Male

Class Skills:

1. True Name Revelation (EX):

Kratos' legend is unavoidable. Even those unfamiliar with the gods of Olympus feel a primal fear and recognition when standing before him even if they don't know him. His name echoes in divine memory — a warning to all who claim godhood.

2. Magic Resistance (B+):

Due to divine blood and endless exposure to gods and titans, Kratos exhibits powerful resistance to magical effects. High-Thaumaturgy and ritual spells are significantly weakened against him.

3. God Slayer's Authority (EX) – Class Exclusive:

A twisted inversion of Divine Authority. Kratos possesses the right to judge gods, strip them of privileges, or negate their domain-based abilities. Against Divine Spirit-class enemies, he receives bonus parameters and advantage in mental resistance, durability, and aggression.

🛠️ Personal Skills:

1. Spartan Rage (A):

When wounded, humiliated, or pushed beyond limits, Kratos channels a berserker-like fury. Temporarily increases Strength and Endurance, granting superhuman bursts of violence. Cannot be maintained for long — risks sanity.

2. Ghost of Vengeance (A+):

Kratos cannot be bound by fate, mind-control, or divine influence. He has resisted the charms of gods, illusions of Titans, and even the manipulation of the Fates. Grants high resistance to mental interference and command spells, and allows him to resist "inevitable" effects.

3. Remnants of Olympus (B):

Even after casting off his godhood, Kratos retains fragments of divine energy — enough to surpass normal Servants. His regeneration, speed, and strength are beyond mortal limits. However, these fragments are unstable and fade with prolonged battles unless recharged through conflict.

Ἀναίρεσις Θεῶν – Anairesis Theon"The Undoing of Gods"

Rank: EX

Type: Anti-Divine / Anti-World

Range: 1–30

Targets: Divine Spirits, Demigods, Pantheon Constructs

"Let the heavens bleed."

A manifestation of Kratos' entire myth — not a single weapon, but a pantheon-breaking concept. This Noble Phantasm represents Kratos' feat of slaying the entire Olympian pantheon: Ares, Poseidon, Hades, Helios, Hermes, Hera, Hephaestus, and finally Zeus. When invoked, he manifests all the divine tools he once wielded — Blades of Exile, Nemean Cestus, Claws of Hades, and more — surrounding him in a vortex of divine hatred.

Activating Anairesis Theon allows Kratos to enter a divine execution state, where all strikes are guaranteed criticals against enemies with divine blood or domains. This Noble Phantasm grows stronger depending on how many divine enemies are present.

Against true gods, it doesn't just wound — it erodes their divinity, burning away their conceptual immortality.

Λήθη και Ελπίδα – Lethe kai Elpida"Lethe and Hope"

Rank: A

Type: Anti-Self / Anti-Fate

Range: Self

Targets: Kratos

"I release what I never deserved… and embrace what I was never given."

Kratos' final act — when he impaled himself with the Blade of Olympus to unleash the power of Hope — lives on as this Noble Phantasm. It is a reflective, paradoxical Noble Phantasm that allows Kratos to temporarily transcend his own karma.

Once per battle, Kratos may negate his death, resist fatal damage, or purge all status effects at the cost of locking Anairesis Theon for the remainder of the battle. The act of choosing to preserve life over vengeance is what gives this Phantasm its power.