After the events of that day, Kratos renounced his servitude to Ares. Ridden with guilt, he sought the assistance of other gods to cleanse him of his sins. The others obliged, but stated a cost. And so, he turned from being a servant of one god to that of many.
Murugan became engulfed in a gruesome panorama of violence for what felt like an eternity, but was probably mere minutes. Never in his life had he seen such brutality. In fact, as an embodied observer, he was experiencing it live and in person. Murugan had never disembowelled, decapitated, eviscerated, stomped or quartered a person before. After seeing it live, he wasn't sure that he wanted to do it in the future.
It was nauseating... at first. Because he realised that amidst this bloodbath, there was a golden opportunity. Kratos' experience as a servant of the pantheon was far more profound than he had realised. Through it, he fought against enemies of greater calibre, ranging from mindless beasts to shrewd monsters. This allowed Murugan to gain a greater breadth of knowledge when it came to fighting enemies of varying sizes, builds and powers.
Till now, he had only confronted humanoids of a similar stature. He wouldn't know what to do when confronting a Rakshasa with many arms, or an Asura who could shapeshift into a bear. He wasn't sure if he would even be able to stand toe-to-toe against them.
But Kratos did. And Murugan quickly realised why. The man had a simple philosophy: if it could breathe, it could be killed - or to put it simply, nothing was unkillable. This was first an affirmation, and second, a motivation. No matter what the opponent was, if the objective was to kill them, then there was always a way to do it. What was missing was either the right kind of weapon or timing.
And so, this in turn highlighted another of Kratos' key philosophies, and one that he carried over from his time as a General, which was preparation. Even when fuelled by rage and bloodlust, Kratos rarely charged headfirst into battle without a plan of attack and a plan of escape. And even when he was thrust into a confrontation without a proper opportunity to prepare, he would always come out of it with the upper hand.
This was because of the third and last belief, which was that the "antidote is often found near the serpent". The idea is that the solution to a problem can be found in the environment where the problem presents itself; all it takes is a little bit of ingenuity and patience.
Ultimately, Murugan could catch the uneasiness and irritation growing in Kratos. He could sense that he was, once again, being sent around on wild errands, while his dreams were still filled with the shrill screams of his family.
Upon beseeching the Goddess of Wisdom, he was offered one final task that would grant him the liberation he yearned for.
___
Murugan did not understand why the universe itself was adamant about dissuading the world from hearing Kratos' words. The appearance of a storm of heavenly proportions that doused all noise was usually an indication of some extremely profound or dangerous knowledge. But from what he'd evaluated till this point, Murugan did not find anything of that sort. Sure, one could say that the insights he'd gleaned from Kratos' time on the battlefield held some profundity, but they didn't warrant the arrival of the storm.
As Murugan stood before the kneeling, bloodied figure of Kratos' lands' God of War, Ares, a sense of foreboding started to creep through him. Though it was ultimately drowned by the overwhelming rage he, as Kratos, was feeling at that moment.
"Remember, Kratos," the God sputtered, "it was I who saved you. In your time of greatest need."
Murugan smirked derisively and responded, "I haven't forgotten Ares, I remember how you 'saved' me."
While true, Murugan could also recognise that the God's actions weren't without a caveat. What Ares needed was a servant - someone to do his dirty work in the mortal realms. It just so happened that one was served to him on a silver platter. And he took advantage of it.
"That night-" Ares said, while trying to grasp at what remained of a fleeting hope of survival. Murugan knew that referring to the events that sparked Kratos' rebellion was a heavy gamble. One that Ares failed decisively because Murugan's rage boiled over a hundredfold. "I was trying to make you a great warrior."
"You succeeded!" Murugan said with an eerie chill in his voice. And before he could process anything, his arms moved, and the Blade of the Gods in his grasp was thrust through the downed God's neck and out through his spine.
With a decisive strike, a mortal had killed a God!
But it did not stop there, one after the other, Kratos worked through his land's pantheon, killing one God after another, each with an unrelenting and brutal efficiency.
Murugan couldn't help but ponder if there was a teaching moment in this needless bloodbath. Did vengeance need to be so thorough and unforgiving?
From Kratos' perspective, he could understand why he acted this way. He could understand the root cause for the man's hatred towards the divine - he had walked many miles in Kratos' shoes, after all. But after a certain point, the cruelty was far too much even for him to digest.
But before he could build a conclusion, a thought struck Murugan that gave him pause. In fact, it was less of a thought, more of a pattern he observed.
Who was it that killed the gods of Kratos' lands? Was it Kratos... or were they the cause of their own undoing?
A wild theory, but one that was making more sense the longer Murugan pondered it.
The world is driven by action and consequence, cause and effect - that is the universal, karmic truth. His brother would always tell him that it is incorrect to associate an actor with an effect, because for an actor to act, there needs to be a motivation.
"Everything happens to you for a reason," his brother would say. "In almost every single case, the reason is due to something you did previously. It may be hard to see at first, but with time and a growing perspective, things will become clearer."
If one could place the destruction of the Greek Pantheon as the effect, what was the cause?
___
Kratos' lips quivered as he ran out of words to convey. The skies above cleared and sunlight graced their backs once again, but the teacher and student remained stationary in the field.
He did not intend to reveal so much to the boy, but the compulsion to divulge had grown beyond his control. And with his weakened mental defences, Kratos had vomitted out what was practically his entire life story, including his massacre of the Gods.
He looked towards the boy with a sense of unease. He knew that the boy, who was already averse to him and had a strong sense of ethics, would no longer be willing to learn under him after seeing what kind of person he really was.
What he met, in return, was a blank gaze that wasn't exactly focusing on him. It was evident that the boy was in deep thought.
As he was about to nudge him, Murugan stood up abruptly and said, "I think... I need to take a break, Guruji."
Kratos was caught off guard by the lack of emotion in his address. Usually, there would be a faint tint of mockery whenever he was called that by Murugan. He nodded plainly because he wasn't sure if he could explain himself to the boy.
"I understand now," Murugan expressed. He then prostrated himself before Kratos, something he recognised as a sign of reverence, and left.
As he saw the teen's retreating figure, Kratos, who stood frozen in shock, thought, 'Why did I care so much about what he thought of me? And what did he understand from all this?'
___
The family of four always ate together. It was a rule established in the household that no matter what anyone was doing, at the exact moment his mother rang the notice of a major meal, everyone had to put aside what they were doing and gather. Not even his father was exempt from this rule.
The mealtimes were usually filled with chatter, primarily dominated by his brother as he narrated the events and findings of the day. Murugan would chime in occasionally, though he preferred to remain silent, much like his father, who very rarely spoke up, simply responding with hums, head shakes, or grunts. His mother never initiated a discussion, she only responded like his father. But her responses were more evocative and verbal.
"How are your lessons going?" A voice that was rarely heard during mealtime inquired, causing the ongoing conversation between his mother and his elder brother to halt altogether.
It took a moment for Murugan to realise that it was his father who had asked him the question.
"Eh?" Murugan exclaimed in shock. "Oh, umm... It's going... well."
"Is there something I should know?" His father asked.
'Was there ever anything that you didn't know that happened in Kailasha?' Murugan thought. This was, after all, the Realm of Shiva. But Murugan also knew that his father never lied, which meant that the query was genuine.
"Umm... I don't think so," Murugan responded, before shoving the last fistful of rice into his mouth. "May I be excused?" He asked, and after receiving two affirmative nods, he thanked Annapurneshwari for the meal, folded his banana leaf and carried it out to be disposed of.
___
Once Ganesh excused himself as well, all that remained were two: a husband and a wife. A father and a mother.
"Heavenly Stormclouds formed where Murugan was being taught by that man," Parvathy stated plainly. She didn't need to inform her husband of the happenings. But she did have to remind him sometimes that raising their children wasn't just her responsibility.
"I couldn't hear what was being taught," Shiva replied. Not even He was exempt from the established rules of the universe.
"I didn't think my husband would," Parvathy said with a shake of her head. It was clear that her husband hadn't received the implied message. "Murugan is still in his formative years. Unlike Ganesh, he is very easily swept up by... novel ideas. As a woman and his mother, he may not feel comfortable discussing certain topics with me."
If her husband could not understand, then-
"I understand," Shiva replied as he stood up. But before he left, he turned to his wife and said, "You severely underestimate our youngest son."
Parvathy did not refute her husband to his face. That wasn't her character. But she didn't underestimate her son at all. The fact of the matter was that she knew the mind of a teenager better than most. Her husband, who had altogether skipped his formative years, definitely wouldn't know firsthand the chaos reigning within the mind of a teenager. He would also be oblivious to the highly pliable nature of a teenage mind.
While she trusted her eldest son's judgement, she was still not comfortable with her youngest son being taught by that man. Any person that the axe could tether itself to couldn't be upright. She feared that Murugan would gain his Guru's moral failings, whatever they may be, through osmosis and proximity.
There were many things Parvathy admired about her husband. His upright character, his aversion to falsehoods, his loyalty to his family above all else, to name a few. She frequently hoped that her sons would adopt those character traits.
But there were also traits in her husband that she did not find appealing. Such as his impatience and his inherent disposition towards rage that would often result in harm, Ganesh was a regular reminder of that. She hoped that these traits didn't make themselves known in her sons.
She didn't worry about Ganesh. For better or worse, he was a mirror image of her, albeit a lot less jaded. But Murugan was always a point of concern for her. He was, after all, part her and part her husband.
However, people weren't like fruits. You couldn't just excise the less than savoury parts of a person, like you could with an apple that is partially bruised. You either accept someone for who they are in their entirety, or you don't.
And Parvathy accepted her husband. Or she tired. But she didn't want to walk a tightrope with her sons.
Nonetheless, with the matter of Murugan's development, she had done her part in raising her concerns. The rest was up to her husband.
___
"What's gotten you so down?" Ganesh asked Murugan as he entered his study. He noticed that his younger brother was looking out the window, deep in thought. This wasn't something Ganesh thought his brother capable of.
"I am just thinking..." Murugan replied.
"Would you care to think out loud?" Ganesh probed.
"That maybe I've been a fool this entire time," Murugan expressed with an exhausted sigh.
Ganesh wiggled in excitement as he approached his brother and sat down cross-legged before him, "Oh, happy days! I never thought I'd have a deep and meaningful conversation with my younger brother in my lifetime. Come on now, expound!"
Murugan returned a mocking laugh. "I realised that I've been wrong about a lot of things. Morality, warfare, spearmanship in general... It's just a lot to digest."
"All of this from a single day's lesson?" Ganesh exclaimed. "What exactly did he teach you today?"
"He showed me much," Murugan responded. He wasn't sure if what he was taught could be shared, as there were rules with respect to such matters. "Needless to say, it was eye-opening for me. I realised that I've been living in an idealistic bubble. The world is far murkier than I realised. I understand that I need a shift in perspective. Thank you, brother, for giving me this opportunity and finding me such a capable teacher."
"Really now?" Ganesh said while humming in thought.
"Yes, I know that you are wise, brother, but I am certain that you are severely underestimating Guruji. He is... more dangerous and far more capable that he appears," Murugan warned with a frown.
"Now, you have me intrigued about the knowledge he shared with you," Ganesh murmured.
"Though I will say, that he is a lot like Father. Not just in appearance, but at his core, as well," Murugan stated with a bitter smile. "The only difference is that Father carries no regret, but Guruji is drowning in it."
As the brothers pondered on their conversation, a man hovered outside their room equally deep in thought. After lingering by the door for a few minutes, the man turned and left.
___
Kratos's night was sleepless, as it usually was nowadays. But this time, he didn't have to force himself to stay awake since his rampant thoughts did the work for him. He considered running away in the middle of the night. But where would he go?
And what really confused him was the cause of his urgent need to evacuate.
Shame was something Kratos thought he had discarded long ago. It belonged to those who still believed they could be judged. He had assumed that he was beyond that. He had accepted that he was a villain, and he had learned to live with it. But in that moment, as Murugan prostrated himself before him and left without another word, Kratos felt exposed in a way he had not felt in years.
It was not fear. Fear implied a concern for consequences, and he had already accepted his. It was not guilt; guilt was a weight he had carried for so long that its presence was as familiar as his own breath. No, this was something sharper, something deeper. It was the sudden awareness that, in Murugan's eyes, his past was laid bare, stripped of all the justifications he had carefully constructed.
Murugan had seen what lay beneath. And yet, he had not recoiled. He had not condemned. He had simply... understood.
That understanding was far more terrifying than any accusation. If the boy had scorned him, Kratos could have lived with it. He had been scorned before. If the boy had walked away forever, Kratos could have borne it. He was used to loss. But this? This silent acceptance? It unsettled him.
His chaotic thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a series of knocks. He jerked out of his dissociated state and realised that the first rays of the sun had already peeked past the horizon; it was the break of dawn. He slowly got up from his mattress and approached the door.
As he opened it, he was surprised to see Murugan standing before him. The shock was only momentary, as his warrior training kicked in almost instantly.
"What is it that you want?" Kratos asked in a low rumble, though it was merely an attempt to exude confidence while his inside were churning with anxiety.
"I wish to learn, Guruji," Murugan responded with unwavering conviction.
"What do you wish to learn?" Kratos followed up.
"Everything," Murugan declared. "Be it spearmanship, strategy and tactics, or even logistics. I want to learn everything that you know and can teach me. I realised that everything I know is built upon a blatantly poor foundation - one that has further rotted under my sheltered and idealistic lifestyle. And no matter how much I try to bolster it by patching up my shortcomings, I can never be as robust as someone who has learned things the right way."
"If it is your wish to be trained the way I was, I think you are sorely mistaken about what the 'right way' is," Kratos said with a wry grunt.
"I do not wish to undergo the same training you did," Murugan affirmed plainly. "Are you satisfied with the person your training made you? No, I do not wish to tread the path you have and make the same mistakes you did. I do not wish to retread my own path either, that would just be inefficient."
Kratos narrowed his gaze and growled contemplatively. "I will ask again, what is it that you want, boy?"
"What you showed me yesterday gave me a lot to think about," Murugan started, causing Kratos to flinch. "There are a lot of things in this world that I used to take for granted because I haven't experienced it first-hand. That was my immaturity - my naivete."
"I then realised that I could continue to live in ignorance, wallow in my naivete, or I could grow out of it and become better," Murugan expounded. "I choose the latter."
"Even after... all that you saw yesterday... You still wish to learn under me?" Kratos probed. He was still in disbelief that the boy hadn't dismissed and denounced him.
"Maybe if you had narrated your past to me, this conversation would have gone a different way," Murugan explained. "But I have actually lived through your past and experienced it from your perspective. In fact, last night, I spent a good deal of time thinking over all the decisions you made. And while I thought myself a better person, I realised that I would make the same decisions you did in every turn."
"Maybe that is saying something," Murugan followed up with a dry chuckle. "If you were sent back in time with all the knowledge and wisdom you have right now, would you make the same decisions you did?"
"No," Kratos responded without a second thought. "I would have let myself die on that battlefield."
"And now, if I end up in a similar situation-"
"If you end up in a similar situation, I would be very disappointed," Kratos interjected. "I was a fool to have underestimated the barbarian horde. My continuous victories went straight to my head, and I was drunk with hubris. You should know that by now."
Murugan revealed a mischievous smile and snapped his finger, "Exactly! WE have already made that mistake once, why should we repeat it? So, what do you say, Guruji? Are you interested in making some new mistakes with me?"
"I do not like that phrasing," Kratos responded with a faint smirk.
Murugan let out a vibrant laugh. He then prostrated himself once again before Kratos and declared himself as his Shishya - Disciple.
___
Kailasha was Shiva's realm. In a way, it was an extension of himself. He could see and hear everything that occurred in his realm. But he didn't need to do that - he didn't like doing that. All those who roamed his realm were those whom he trusted.
He trusted his wife, he trusted his children, he trusted the animals and trees, he trusted the Ganas that acted as the land's caretakers, and weirdly enough, he also trusted the Bhootas - malevolent spirits - that inhabited the forest at the heart of his realm.
He trusted them... to behave a particular way. Shiva believed that everyone and everything had a core character, a set of traits that defined who they were. Upon gaining intimate knowledge about this core character, one could draw an imaginary boundary of expectation within a realm of possibilities that defines how the individual will behave given any circumstance.
As long as people remained within that boundary, he didn't care.
Then again, he didn't care if people left the boundary either. People should be free to make whatever choices they wanted, as long as they were ready to live with the consequences of their choices. He sure as heck had to live with his. And except for one, he regretted none of them.
It was different with his family, though. He wasn't oblivious. He was aloof, sure, but Shiva was observant. Contrary to his wife's beliefs, he knew the precarious situation his youngest son was positioned in. Although he trusted Ganesh's intuition, as a father, he was faintly sceptical about leaving the education of his youngest son in the hands of a practical stranger who wasn't even from these lands.
He knew just by one look who this man was. He didn't know his identity, but he knew of his arrival in these realms. Ganga carried many stories amongst the dead, and while her physical waters converged into the oceans, the spirit travelled upstream. And the stories, along with the dead, would ultimately find their way to him. One such story happened to be a minor dalliance enacted by Ganga herself against the natural order - the rescue of a dying man ejected from the chaos between the realms. A stranger, and unknown, filled to the brim with uncertainties.
Shiva, as always, was half-interested to see how things would play out - that was his true nature, after all. But as a father, he was also half-worried about how this new variable would introduce instability into his domain.
Had his wife not subtly urged him to check up on Murugan yesterday, he would have succumbed to his nature and let things play out. But his wife had a point. He couldn't just leave his son's education to probability and free will. As a parent, he was afforded a particular level of control over his son's trajectory.
And so, with the intention of probing and guiding his son, he approached him. But upon overhearing the conversation between his sons, he dropped the idea.
This was because he caught a hint of growing uncertainty in Murugan's mentality based on the way he spoke. Based on his experience, Shiva knew that this type of behaviour was a prelude to a greater turmoil. One that would ultimately require Shiva to adjust his boundary of expectation when it came to his son.
People rarely change. Only special, extenuating circumstances warranted a change that could extend into a person's core character. Such life-changing extenuating circumstances were even rarer and far in between, and often they followed something ruinous.
So whatever the man had revealed to Murugan had been 'life-changing' enough to trigger a significant change in his core character.
When Murugan approached Kratos that morning, Shiva, for the first time in his life, decided to eavesdrop on his son using his dominion over Kailasha. And just as he'd anticipated, the anxiety and confusion in his son's eyes dissipated altogether and got replaced with the resoluteness of a man worn out by the times.
Gone was the air of childishness that usually lingered around him, and it was replaced with an aura of steadfastness and humility.
His son had changed, seemingly overnight. And from the looks of it, for the better.
Shiva immediately dispersed his senses that were targeting the interaction between a Guru and his Shishya. He did not need to know more, he was already feeling squeamish after his earlier indiscretion.
Nonetheless, his son's sudden maturity was a welcome surprise.
Shiva prided himself as someone who wasn't so easily surprised. To be surprised, one had to carry certain expectations from life. For someone as aloof as he was, that was an impossibility. So the rare few times it did happen, Shiva cherished it dearly. And to those who managed to surprise him, he would reward them handsomely.