Kratos stared at the shimmering essence rising from Aetherion's broken form. It pulsed with an otherworldly glow, twisting and coiling like smoke caught in a storm. The whispers grew louder as it hovered before him, seductive and insistent.
"Take me," the voice intoned, deep and resonant. "Wield my strength, and the gods of this realm shall fall before you."
Kratos hesitated. He had been deceived by such promises before, by the gods of Olympus and the Titans alike. Power always came with a price—a chain disguised as a gift.
Yet this realm was unfamiliar, and its gods formidable. He knew he could not fight them unarmed. Slowly, he reached out, his hand enveloped by the radiant energy. The essence surged into him, flooding his veins with molten fire. His scars glowed briefly as the power settled within him.
Images flashed in his mind—visions of a vast pantheon ruling over this realm with unchecked tyranny. Names echoed in his thoughts: Solinara, Goddess of Flame; Malgrin, Lord of Shadows; and Caelus, the Eternal King. Each was a towering figure of dominance.
Kratos clenched his fists, now tingling with newfound strength. The whispers faded, leaving him in silence.
"Let them come," he muttered again, his voice a growl.
In the distance, the temple loomed ever closer, and with it, the next trial.