*Chapter 198: Welcome, God-Slayer!*

That name haunted his dreams!

That symbol, which had brought him over two thousand years of shame!

That woman, who caused him to lose just as he was about to achieve glorious victory!

Her!

She nailed Menelaus to the pillar of disgrace, from which he could never escape for the rest of his life.

If only that woman had died in Troy back then, it would have been the end of it.

He would have regretted it, but he wouldn’t have hated her. After all, the dead owe nothing.

But back then, Athena herself issued the oracle, confirming that the Trojan hero Kratos, who had slain the great hero, had taken her away.

This ruined the perfection of the entire Trojan War.

Later, Agamemnon ordered the massacre of the city, partly to vent his anger.

Even if he ordered the history books to be rewritten, it wouldn’t matter.

At least ten descendants of the gods who participated in the Trojan War still lived under the blessing of Ares. As long as they were alive, there was no point in Menelaus trying to change the history books.

Recently, Ares had issued an oracle, warning that revenge from the old gods was coming and urging caution.

Without this oracle, Menelaus never would have connected the invasion to Helen.

Now that Athena was involved, he treated the situation with the utmost caution.

When he personally led his team to Athena's Temple of Victory, there was nothing left.

"Your Majesty, there’s no trace of anyone! I mean, no one from either side." Even the best trackers couldn’t imagine that Atreus had brought two extraordinary individuals, plus Helen, and moved so swiftly they barely touched the ground.

As soon as Atreus entered the ruins of Athena's temple, he activated his mirror image, leaving no trace behind.

This should have been the end of it, but when science fails, theology takes over.

Unwilling to give up, Menelaus went to an Ares priestess that very night, asking her to perform a divination.

This was no vague, ambiguous reading; it had a clear target—Helen!

This time, the priestess came through.

"I… I can’t see her. She’s shrouded in the mist of fate. But I can confirm she has arrived in this world. She… she’s to the northwest!"

"The northwest?" The Greek emperor stared at the map of Europe in shock. "Germany? Or Austria? How could Kratos know… no, wait, if Athena’s involved, maybe this is…”

Menelaus decided to make an emergency phone call.

After a while, someone finally picked up.

"My…brother! You’d better have something urgent to tell me," Agamemnon’s voice was clearly unfriendly.

That was understandable.

His ancestral home, Mycenae, was near Athens, and he had essentially been driven out by his own brother. Even after a thousand years, the bitterness lingered.

"Kratos is back!" Menelaus' words instantly shifted Agamemnon’s tone.

"Wait! Are you saying that bastard who killed Achilles is back?"

"Yes! And it’s very likely he's allied with Athena."

This was a cruel irony.

Back then, the Greek army’s patron was Athena, while Ares supported the Trojans.

After the Trojan War, things changed, and both sides had new allies.

Could this really be the so-called 'strategy swap'?

"Are you sure?" Agamemnon asked again.

"I'm not sure, but you remember the oracle. We have to be on high alert for any surprises. If I’m right, they’re probably in Germany."

"Fine! I’ll help you gather everyone."

Meanwhile, a certain someone under the alias "Reinhardt" was casually strolling through the Hofburg Museum in Vienna with three beautiful women.

This world was the same as Atreus’s main world:

In 1909, the Holy Lance had been housed in the Austrian museum. But in 1912, a certain mustachioed man saw it. Standing before the Lance of Longinus, the man seemed mesmerized, as if obsessed with it.

He sensed an unknown power from the lance. After returning to Germany from Austria-Hungary, the man became obsessed with the Holy Lance, constantly searching for its history. He found records from the 3rd to the 10th century, learning that Catholic Roman Emperor Constantine I, and even the Ottoman Emperor, believed the lance held the power to control the world.

Later, the man managed to obtain one of the lance's three fragments.

In 1918, he hadn’t yet risen to power.

At this point, the Lance of Longinus was still intact.

But just because the lance was genuine didn’t mean anyone could wield it.

It was akin to the Sword in the Stone (the sword of fate used by the chosen king of Britain).

Normally, those without a divine emperor’s fate couldn’t even lift it.

The powerful aura of destiny would kill anyone who tried to forcibly take it.

Clearly, Atreus wasn’t an emperor.

However, people overlooked another condition...

Atreus confidently approached the silver box containing the Holy Lance, ignoring the museum guards, and silently opened the mirror dimension.

“Crack!” The irregular spiritual mirror separated the real world, leaving the guards mere decorations, even though they were just a few steps away.

In front of them, Atreus smashed the display glass and easily picked up the lance.

As he did, an immense and mysterious power emanated from the lance. It was probing, evaluating the one attempting to claim it.

It found no trace of royal destiny in Atreus. It seemed ready to curse this unworthy mortal.

But in the next moment, a power so ancient it had nearly forgotten it surged back.

It hummed joyfully.

*"Welcome, God-Slayer!"*

Next to Atreus, hearing the lance's happy hum, Penthesilea was a bit surprised. "That’s it?"

Diana sighed, "For a God-Slayer, this is a weapon of destiny."

She, too, had the right to wield the Lance of Longinus, but she already had a divine sword forged by Hephaestus. Each divine weapon had its own spirit, and she couldn’t abandon her sword for a lance tinged with the forbidden.

As Atreus grasped the lance, a commotion erupted in the museum.

Dozens of Greek officials appeared out of thin air. If it weren’t for the obvious Greek imperial insignias on their armor, the guards might have opened fire on these 'ancient warriors' clad in golden armor.

At that moment, seeing the suddenly empty display case, Menelaus shouted, "No! The lance is gone!"

"Are we too late?" Agamemnon cried.

"No! You’re just in time!" A large bald man stepped out from a fractured mirror-like space. Clad in divine bronze armor in a distinctly Greek style, he held a short blade in his left hand and a long spear glowing with mysterious light in his right.

His arrival sent shivers down everyone’s spine.

"Kratos!?"

(End of chapter)