A crimson twilight bore witness, as Kratos’s boot touched the scorched metal of a ruined landing-pad on a world far beyond his realm—a hive-planet once vast, now crumbling beneath the weight of war. The sky bled orange, ash rained like grief, and the distant howl of las-cannons echoed the ghosts of ancient rebellions. “Boy,” he muttered automatically, glancing at the strap of his Leviathan Axe, its runes faintly flickering with the residue of his mythic wars.
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