The ground was soaked. Not with blood alone—bits of flesh, mangled armor, and molten rock littered the field.
Whatever demons had come through that rift... they weren't going back.
Thor stood in the center, lightning dancing off his soaked arms. His red cape was torn, one gauntlet cracked. Dozens of Asgardian paladins surrounded him, bloodied but standing.
The air reeked of metal and burning bone.
Then—
BOOM.
The trees behind the clearing exploded outward.
Kratos.
His footsteps were heavy, breath controlled—but the rage behind his eyes sparked the moment he saw the field.
Atreus was right behind him, barely keeping up.
And behind them—several blurs landed one by one. Obanai. Sanemi. Kokushibo. Akaza. Even Doma, landing with an overly theatrical twirl.
And Muzan.
He landed last. Silent. Watching.
The Slayer arrived from a different direction, crashing down through the treetops with a thunderous step.
Thor's hammer lowered slightly.
"…Kratos," he muttered.
Atreus exhaled, "Father—"
"I know." Kratos' voice was tight. "It's him."
Thor took a slow step forward. "You ran. But not far."
Kratos didn't flinch. "I left that world. Not because of you. Because of what it turned me into."
Thor's eyes flicked past Kratos—and locked onto the Slayer.
A pause.
His brows lowered.
"…Who's that?" His voice was edged with curiosity. Unease.
Kratos didn't answer.
Neither did anyone else.
Because the Slayer didn't move. He just stood there. Silent. Watching.
Thor narrowed his gaze. "He doesn't speak?"
Atreus tried to step in, voice calm. "He's not your enemy. He's—"
"He doesn't need to be my enemy to be a problem," Thor said.
From the back, Doma leaned in toward Akaza.
Doma (whispering): "Do all gods have that angry dad energy or is it just these two?"
Akaza (grunting): "Shut up and keep watching."
Muzan took a slow breath and stepped forward.
"Looks like you brought something with you, God of Thunder."
Thor didn't turn. "What are you?"
"The one who rules this world's night," Muzan replied, calm but unnerving. "And you… you smell like a mistake."
Kratos shifted his stance, instinctively. He knew that tone.
But Thor didn't reply.
Instead, he turned his head to the carnage again.
"These demons," he said. "They're not mine. Not from any of the Nine Realms."
He crouched and touched a half-melted skull. The metal was fused into the bone.
"They're… built. Modified."
Mitsuri and Muichiro finally caught up, panting.
Mitsuri: "W-We tried to keep up…"
Muichiro: "They're all… so fast…"
Kokushibo remained quiet, swords still sheathed but fingers twitching slightly.
Then Thor stood again.
"If they weren't sent by you…" —he looked at Kratos— "…then who?"
Kratos turned to the Slayer.
Still silent.
Still unmoving.
But Kratos could feel it. The tension. That same question rising again.
Was it all tied to him?
Thor's grip on Mjolnir tightened. "I don't like unknowns."
Slayer finally moved—just a little. A tilt of the head.
Not an answer.
But not denial either.