Tales of the God of war

The first night in the village was restless. Kratos stood on the outskirts, his broad frame a shadow against the faint moonlight. The forest beyond loomed, alive with the sounds of unseen creatures. He did not sleep; his body had grown accustomed to such vigils. Instead, he scanned the treeline, the faint hum of chaos energy still present in the distance.

The village was quiet behind him, save for the occasional murmur of voices and the crackling of hearth fires. He could sense the wariness of the people. Even Fenrik, who had seemed bold earlier, kept his distance.

Kratos did not blame them. Trust was not something easily given, especially to a man who carried his kind of aura.

As the hours stretched on, a new sound broke through the forest's natural rhythm—a low, guttural growl. Kratos turned sharply, his senses sharpening. The noise grew louder, joined by the rustling of undergrowth. He stepped forward, unarmed but unafraid.

From the shadows emerged a creature unlike any he had seen before. It was massive, its body covered in jagged scales that shimmered faintly with chaotic energy. Its eyes glowed with an unnatural light, and its claws dug into the earth as it advanced.

The beast snarled, baring rows of jagged teeth. Behind Kratos, faint gasps came from the villagers who had begun to gather, drawn by the commotion.

"Stay back," Kratos commanded without turning. His voice carried an authority that silenced their whispers.

The creature lunged, its speed surprising for its size. Kratos sidestepped, his movements fluid and precise, and grabbed a thick branch from the ground. It was no weapon, but it would suffice.

The beast turned and charged again, its claws swiping at him with deadly intent. Kratos met the attack head-on, swinging the branch with enough force to shatter bone. The impact sent the creature sprawling, but it recovered quickly, its chaotic energy healing the damage almost instantly.

The villagers watched in awe and terror as Kratos fought the beast. Each strike was measured, each movement deliberate. Though unarmed, he fought with the ferocity of a warrior who had faced far greater threats.

The battle continued, the beast's strength seemingly endless. But Kratos was patient, studying its movements, waiting for an opening. Finally, he saw it—a moment of hesitation as the creature prepared to pounce.

With a roar, Kratos leaped forward, driving the branch into the beast's throat. The creature thrashed violently, its glowing eyes dimming as it fell to the ground, lifeless.

Silence followed, broken only by Kratos's heavy breathing. He dropped the shattered branch and turned to the villagers, their faces a mixture of awe and fear.

"What was that thing?" Fenrik asked, his voice trembling.

"A remnant," Kratos said grimly. "Born from the chaos that still lingers in this world."

The elder stepped forward, his expression grave. "And there will be more, won't there?"

Kratos nodded. "The Nexus left scars on this land. Creatures like this will rise until the balance is fully restored."

The elder's eyes hardened. "Then we will need you, Kratos. To protect us from what we cannot face alone."

Kratos looked out at the dark forest, where the faint glow of chaos still flickered. His path was no longer one of vengeance or conquest, but of quiet vigilance.

"I will protect you," he said. "For now."

And with that, Kratos resumed his watch, knowing the battles ahead would not end with dawn.