The two men stood face to face, both with very different beliefs. Kratos, the stoic and reserved Spartan warrior, known for his immense strength and fighting prowess; and Asura, the fiery and impulsive demigod with anger issues.
Kratos spoke first, his deep and authoritative voice cutting through the tense air, "You think your rage and anger are assets, that they make you stronger?"
"They make me alive," Asura snarled, eyes blazing like cracked coals. His fists trembled, wreathed in flickering crimson energy. "You sheathe your blade and whisper about control—but I feel! That’s power!"
Kratos didn’t flinch. He slowly unbuckled his vambraces, letting them clatter to the stone. “Then let us see,” he said, voice low as grinding stone, “if fire can burn without consuming the hand that holds it.”

Asura lunged—wild, furious arcs of flame tearing through the courtyard—but Kratos moved like winter: precise, inevitable. A sidestep here, a parry there—not with steel, but open palm and pressure point—until Asura overextended… and Kratos swept his legs with a single pivot.

“You fight to dominate,” Kratos said calmly as Asura spat blood onto cracked earth. “I fight to protect. One is strength forged in duty—the other? Just noise.” He extended no hand for aid—only a gaze heavy with truth: “Anger untempered doesn’t make you strong—it makes you blind.”
"You think you're better than me?" Asura growled. "You, with your talk of restraint and rules? At least I stand for something!"
"What do you think it is you stand for?" Kratos asked. "Yourself?"

Asura glared but didn't answer.

"There's more to being a man than taking what you want. There is duty."

As Asura glowered silently, Kratos stood and turned away.

"We must be better men," he said, striding across the training grounds. "You may despise my words—but they are true. To be a man is not to rule with wrath or violence, but protect and serve… Women speak. Men must listen!"