What if both of them are being used? Lloyd asks and that doesn't make any sense until suddenly it does. Kratos thinks of Mithos, eyes bright and shining with pride, a swirl of dull green having taken residence in his sapphire core crystal; Mithos, self-sufficient because he'd taken the shards of Martel's core and fused them with his own. Sylvarant stole the rest of Martel's shards. Is this how they're using them? How could they? How dare they!? Kratos chokes on his own bile, violently angry and sick all at once, a storm boiling inside of his chest. He hasn't felt anger like this since he was in resonance with Mithos last, years and years ago, and on cue his mind sings dark thoughts to him, because if they'd just burned humanity to begin with none of this would have happened--

He opens his mouth. Closes it. He's too angry to think, let alone speak. He slams the side of his fist against the nearest tree, the impact connecting with his forearm, as well. It stings, but the release of the tension in his core is welcome, and the pain is distracting enough he can manage slightly more coherent thought.

(You don't know if they did that for certain, Kratos. Maybe save your anger until there's actually someone to blame, actually a crime that's been committed.)

So he bites down his anger as well as he can, manages:

"It's-- possible. I know of a way."

He's too upset to articulate said way, words getting lodged in his throat and confusion painting his thoughts because he thought sure only Aegises were capable of meddling with core crystals like that, so how-- How did they manage to do something this twisted? (How dare they how dare they how dare they--) His vision blurs with his fury despite his efforts, heart hammering against his skull. His mouth contorts in a sneer, bitterness coating his tongue, a sharpness that borders on mania filling his words as he spits:

"Just when I thought humanity couldn't possibly stoop any lower!"

Breathe, Kratos. Breathe.