As soon as he finished speaking, Kratos withdrew the hand that had been gently caressing Lysandra's lower belly.
He placed both hands on the blood-red tattoo covering his body.
As he lightly pressed against his tattoo, Kratos continued.
"That happened before I joined the youth corps.
My brother was mercilessly taken from before my eyes by the god I had always trusted and revered!
From that day on, I no longer held the same respect for him.
In order to stand before him, in order to ask him personally what fate had befallen my brother—
For that alone, I trained desperately, becoming the finest and strongest of the Spartan Warriors!
But as I traveled farther and farther, as my achievements as a warrior grew greater and greater—
More and more people died by my hand, and countless corpses entered my dreams.
Gradually, I realized that I could no longer remember Deimos—my brother's face.
When I realized that, I tried desperately to recall the last impression my brother had left me: the red birthmark that had grown on his body from the day he was born!"
At this point, Kratos patted his shoulder with his right hand, and the blood-red tattoo leaped endlessly with his movements.
At the same time, Kratos continued.
"They call me the Soul of Sparta because my brother's soul will forever remain in my heart!
They call me the Fire of Sparta because my brother's mark will forever burn upon my body!
And before this, I had never spoken to you about any of it.
Lysandra, forgive me. I simply did not want you to feel burdened."
"I know!"
Listening to Kratos's explanation, Lysandra nodded in understanding.
As she smiled and comforted Kratos, she gently stroked her belly with her other hand.
"Darling, I am already very