God of War (2018) - Entry 17: Tortures from the Past

Baldur appears behind us in a furious blur, striking with terrifying speed. He grabs a jagged spike of stone, stabbing it through my side and slamming me into the portal wall. The force knocks the wind from my lungs.

"Run!" I bark at Atreus, struggling to pull the stone from my body.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he looses a volley of arrows at Baldur, each one fueled by rage rather than aim. The boy I warned of arrogance has now become its embodiment.

Despite my injury, I force myself to my feet and engage Baldur. The battle is brutal, relentless. I land blows, but he matches each strike with his own savage rebuttal.

In the chaos, the unthinkable happens—the portal to Jotunheim begins to collapse. The realm travel bridge shatters amongst the collapse of light and stone.

The path is gone, our destination once again lost.

Atreus screams in frustration, devastated by the loss of the bridge to Jotunheim. “That was our only way!” he shouts.

From the debris, Baldur rises, bruised but smiling, amused by the chaos. “Well… that was spectacularly stupid,” he taunts, brushing dust from his tunic. I step forward and tell Atreus to run—that this fight is mine.

But Baldur’s venomous words find their mark. “Run? Again? Is that all he lets you do?” he sneers at Atreus. “Always hiding behind Daddy?”

Atreus, consumed by pride and anger, charges toward him.

I grab him mid-sprint, holding him firm. “You're not ready,” I say, locking eyes with him, hoping to ground him with the truth he still can’t see.

Instead, he turns and shoots an arrow directly into my shoulder.

Baldur bursts into laughter. “And I thought my family was dysfunctional,” he cackles.

Seizing the moment, Atreus lunges and drives his knife into Baldur’s arm. Baldur barely flinches and simply grips the Atreus, lifts him off his feet, and with unnatural speed, vanishes over the cliff’s edge with Atreus in tow.

I waste no time. Sprinting to the edge, I dive off in pursuit.

As I fall, I glimpse them below. Baldur is mounted atop a massive dragon and Atreus limp in his grasp. I aim my descent, stretching toward the beast's spiked tail, and just as it banks to the side, I catch hold.

Climbing up the tail, the wind whipping violently around me, I pull myself onto the dragon’s back. Baldur senses me and charges. We collide with force, grappling, fists flying, each trying to throw the other off.

He lands a brutal punch, I answer with a headbutt. My blades flash as I drive them into the dragon’s scales, anchoring myself during the shifting winds and frenzied flight. The beast roars in protest, banking wildly.

We trade blows, roaring above the world, locked in primal combat.

Just as I believe I have the upper hand and start to push him back, Baldur rises, grinning through bloodied lips, and with a powerful kick, sends me flying.

As I plummet through the clouds, the landscape rushes up to meet me but I spot Tyr’s temple far below. With no time to lose, I twist mid-air and raise my shield. The metal groans under the impact as I crash into the bridge, sliding in a burst of sparks before coming to a jarring stop.

Without hesitation, I sprint across the temple bridge toward the realm travel room. I know where Baldur is heading, to Asgard. He intends to deliver Atreus to Odin, and I will not let that happen.

Bursting into the chamber, I find them just as Baldur activates the realm bridge. Light surges upward as the mechanism hums to life. He turns, smug, victorious. “You’ve lost,” he says coldly. “The fury of all Asgard is about to descend upon you.”

He underestimates me.

“You are mistaken,” I growl, and with one swift motion, I drive the Bifrost into the mechanism, redirecting the bridge’s energy. The room erupts in chaotic light. The path changes.

A vortex of realm energy engulfs us and we are torn from the room.

We fall.

The sky opens into a maelstrom of frost and green flame. We’re not headed to Asgard but find ourselves descending into another realm entirely. I grapple with Baldur mid-air, wrenching Atreus from his grip and shoving him away just before we crash through the clouds and slam into the icy ground.

Helheim.

The air is frigid, the skies a haunting green. I rise from the debris and quickly locate Atreus, pinned beneath shattered stone. I pull him free and lift him to his feet.

Before he can speak, I fix him with a glare sharp as any blade.

“This realm, this nightmare… it is because of you,” I say, my voice low but laced with fury. “Your arrogance, your disobedience. This is not the path your mother wanted for you.”

His eyes fall. The fire behind them dims.

“You will remember this,” I continue. “You will remember the cost of letting pride guide your hand. You will honor her and abandon this path you are on. And this… this conversation is far from over.”

He nods, shame beginning to surface through the fog of ego.

I place a hand on his shoulder, not gentle, but firm. “Now. We find a way out.”

Mimir’s voice echoes hollowly as we take in the icy wasteland before us. “Of all the wretched corners of Helheim… this might be the worst. Helheim Landing. If we’re lucky, that ship over there might carry us halfway to the bridge temple. Not ideal, but far better than staying here.”

A battered vessel looms in the distance, frozen in a dock of jagged ice and twisted stone. Between us and it, the land crawls with Hel-Walkers, souls so lost they’ve become mindless shades of wrath and suffering. We move forward, blades and bow ready, cleaving through the frost-bitten dead. Yet the worst threat in Helheim is not of flesh and bone.

It is memory.

As we press on, the air thickens with spectral mist, and I sense Atreus falter beside me. Ahead, a ghostly and sharp vision manifests. Atreus watches in horror as he sees himself… standing over Modi’s broken body, knife slick with blood.

“That… that’s not me,” he whispers, eyes wide. “That’s not what happened.”

But it is. Hel doesn’t lie. It reflects the truth we try hardest to bury.

I say nothing.

Then, I hear it, deep and venomous, the voice of my father. Zeus. A memory I would burn the world to forget. But I keep walking. Atreus doesn’t know whose voice it is. And I don't tell him.

As we seek cover near a frost-bitten cliff, another scene unfurls before us. We crouch low as Baldur himself appears nearby, tormented by phantoms of his own making. The spectral images shimmer: Baldur and a woman. Freya.

His mother.

She pleads with him, her voice heavy with sorrow. “I did what I had to do… to protect you. You would have died!”

“You took everything from me!” Baldur roars. “Pain… pleasure… taste, warmth—gone! I feel nothing! I’d rather die than live like this!”

She reaches for him, trembling. “I did it because I love you—”

He rips away from her and storms off, voice venomous. “Then never see me again.”

The vision fades into the cold mist.

Atreus turns to me, stunned. “Freya… she’s his mother?”

I glance at Mimir, whose silence says more than words. He finally speaks, sounding genuinely bewildered. “I… don’t know why I never said it. Must’ve slipped right past me, which is odd… very odd.”

Atreus is quiet. For once, humbled by something larger than himself.

We move forward toward the ship, the weight of truths, both past and present, growing heavier with each step.

At last, we reached the ship, its hull groaning under the weight of ice and time. I moved swiftly, preparing the vessel. With a sweep of my Blades, I ignited the Hel bramble gathered along the stern. The cursed fire crackled to life, its unnatural heat filling the sails with rising air. The ship groaned and lurched forward, gliding slowly through the frigid mists of Hel.

Mimir, peering ahead, muttered, “To reach Tyr’s temple from here, we’ll have to go up... a waterfall.”

Atreus blinked. “A waterfall? But water falls down.”

“Aye,” Mimir said. “Which makes what we’re attempting rather... difficult.”

Atreus, thoughtful, then added, “The Vanir had ships that could fly. Maybe—”

“That ship was built to fly, lad,” Mimir cut in. “This one... decidedly wasn’t.”

Their words sparked an idea. I turned and struck the mechanism anchoring the bottom of the sail. With a sharp snap of wood and iron, the sail unfurled fully and catches the hot air like a parachute. Slowly, the ship began to rise, lifted by the blazing breath of Hel’s cursed fire.

But Helheim does not surrender its prey without a fight.

Suddenly, shrieks echoed from the mist and hordes of Hel-Walkers clawed their way aboard, swarming the deck. They attacked with one goal: to smother the fires that kept us aloft. If they succeeded, the ship would plummet into the abyss.

We fought with fury. Atreus fired arrow after arrow, each one a precise answer to their endless advance. I swung the Blades, carving through their frostbitten forms. Yet the fires dimmed as more walkers poured in, and then... the harpoons came.

Massive spears, chained to the cliffs, pierced the hull with thunderous impact. The ship groaned as it was yanked back, trapped in place. I grabbed the harpoons one by one, using my strength to dislodge them so we could rise again. The effort was relentless.

And then... Hel revealed its cruelest torment.

Spectral forms shimmered in the cold, two figures standing at the bow.

One was me. Younger, eyes filled with fury.

The other was Zeus.

My father.

The memory came alive in sickening detail: my fists striking him down, his body crumpling beneath my wrath. Atreus froze behind me. He was watching. He saw it all.

I faltered. My grip slackened. The fire dimmed, and more harpoons struck the hull, sending shudders through the ship. We were seconds from falling.

“Father!” Atreus shouted, grabbing my arm. “We have to jump! The temple’s just below!”

Snapped from my stupor, I looked into his eyes filled with fear and urgency, but also trust. I nodded.

Together, we leapt.

I raised my shield just in time, bracing us as we crashed through the stone ceiling of Tyr’s temple. We hit the ground hard, the shield absorbing most of the fall. The roar of splintering wood echoed behind us as the ship was torn apart, plummeting into ruin.

We had made it. But Hel had taken its toll.

I stood, helping Atreus to his feet. His eyes lingered on me, but not with fear, something deeper.

But this was not the time for answers.