War God's Mantle: Ascension: A litRPG Adventure
Author: Aaron Crash; James A. Hunter
Date: 2018-01-09 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Harem women sex urban fantasy tamer dinosuar ares greek god of war amazons amazon wonder woman virtual reality VR MMO litRPG role playing men’s adventure fantasy video game adaptations science ficti
Description: The gods walk again ... When Marine Corps pilot Jacob Merely crashes during a routine mission off the coast of Cyprus, he was sure it was game over. After surviving the crash and pulling himself onto the sandy shores of a long-abandoned island, however, Jacob unwittingly stumbles headfirst into the ancient ruins of a dead city. Unfortunately, he also stumbles into an age-old battle between good and evil-and he is now its newest recruit. The island once belonged to the Amazons, daughters of Ares, the God of War, and stood as the final bastion between the human world and the monstrosities of the
Publisher: CreateSpace Publishing
Rights: James A. Hunter and Shadow Alley Press

Contents

Summary

James Hunter's Mailing List

ONE Every Eight Hours

TWO Counter Attack

THREE Upgrades

FOUR Amazons and Minotaurs

FIVE World War Amazon

SIX Golems, Imps, and Meathead Morons

SEVEN Earl Echo Douchebag

EIGHT Candles and Nightmares

NINE Cheat Code

TEN Deep Down Underground

ELEVEN The Land That Time Completely Ignored

TWELVE Dinomythics

THIRTEEN Gone, Gorgon, Gone

FOURTEEN The Enemy of my Enemy

FIFTEEN Bite Me

SIXTEEN Dive-bomb

SEVENTEEN A Game of Cat and Mouse

EIGHTEEN Temple Run

NINETEEN Don’t Bug Me

TWENTY Temple of Doom

TWENTY-ONE Centipede Stew

TWENTY-TWO Inside Job

TWENTY-THREE Loot and Levels

TWENTY-FOUR Wait For It …

TWENTY-FIVE Band on the Run

TWENTY-SIX Out of Time

TWENTY-SEVEN Go Time

TWENTY-EIGHT Time after Time

TWENTY-NINE Time Flies When You’re Having Fun

THIRTY Time to Die

THIRTY-ONE End Game

THIRTY-TWO Homeward Bound

Books, Mailing List, and Reviews

Other Works by James A. Hunter

Other Works by Aaron Crash

Books from Shadow Alley Press

About the Author

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Special Thanks

Copyright

Summary

A Marine turned Greek God. An army of beautiful Amazons. An infernal enemy out to burn the world down.

It’s been three weeks since Jacob Merely crash-landed on the mythical island of Lycastia, and the newly minted War God finally has things under control. He’s grown into his power, built his city, and earned the respect of his gorgeous, hard-charging Amazons.

He’s not in the clear yet, though. Hades still lives, and the mystical sigil holding him at bay is rapidly failing. Worse, a horde of new enemies is battering Lycastia’s gates daily, slowly grinding down Jacob’s forces. But Jacob has a plan to get the upper hand. He’s learned about a legendary weapon buried in a prehistoric world deep in the bowels of the island. A weapon with the power to kill even gods. If he can defeat the weapon’s primordial guardians and subdue an exiled Titan, he might just be able to save the world.

But that’s an awfully big if …

James Hunter's Mailing List

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ONE

Every Eight Hours

Sunshine gleamed off the white marble walls of Lycastia City, which contrasted sharply to the swath of verdant green jungle in the distance. The rocky peak of the nearby northern mountain pierced the sky, looming over the rest of Lycastia like a monstrous stone tyrant. Off on the western part of the crescent-shaped island, the azure waters of the Mediterranean Sea lapped at the white sand beaches. A slight breeze kicked up from the west, brushing across my cheeks, carrying the scent of salt and flowers to my nose.

Beneath those smells, however, was something rancid and sour. I ignored that, though, breathing deeply, enjoying the momentary lull. A perfect day on a paradise island.

And then?

Then, the gurgling screech of a dying werewolf jerked me rudely back into reality. Sure this was a perfect day—at least it would’ve been if not for the monstrous forms hurling themselves against Lycastia’s high walls and heavy, fortified gates. Bunch of assholes—ruining an otherwise peaceful afternoon.

Not that I’d expected anything different, not from that dickhead Earl Echo Earl.

I glanced down to the war-torn fields in front of Lycastia City’s southern gate, which were a mixture of churned mud, brutalized corpses, and trampled grasses slick with gore. Sweat, blood, and jungle wafted up to me, dispelling the magic of the ocean breeze. After all, there was nothing more sobering than the scent of arachnaswine and musky werewolf BO.

The mewling werewolf was almost directly below me, one of his legs missing below the knee, an Amazonian spear impaling him through the guts.

That was a bad way to go, but the godstone buried in my chest burned with dark joy.

An arrow carved through the air a heartbeat later, drilling into the wolf’s head, putting him down for keeps. Good.

I didn’t have time to focus on him, though. Nope. There were more monsters to deal with. Always more monsters. This was the ninth attack in three days—a new wave battering against us every eight hours, just like clockwork. My Amazons were tired, wounded, pushed to their limits. And yet, we knew if we survived this latest attack, we’d only have eight hours to prepare for the next one. But I couldn’t afford to worry about that right now. No, right now, I needed to be here, present, my will sharpened to a razor’s edge as I cut my enemies down.

A small army of spindly-legged arachnaswine swarmed down from the tree line, their mandibles clacking as they moved. They were nasty creatures, one part wild boar, one part Toyota-sized black widow. Each had a piglike face with poisonous tusks, dozens of beady black eyes, a bulbous body, and a host of multijointed legs covered with bristly hair. Gross to the max, though admittedly, the meat was pretty tasty when fried up right. Tasted like bacon.

My Amazons hurled javelins into the horde of fangs and legs from the ramparts, sending them squealing to their deaths, but not before they unleashed thick streams of gossamer webbing, which clung to the outer wall like impromptu rope ladders. The spider pigs died easily enough, but those webs remained, and the werewolves took full advantage of them. They charged, their bodies protected by thick chainmail, hook-bladed polearms clasped in claw-tipped hands. In an instant, they were on the walls, using the strands of webbing to scale our defenses.

“Oil,” I barked, the command carrying in the air, relayed down the line of warriors. In seconds, huge pots of boiling oil were hauled up to the edge of the retaining wall running along the rampart and unceremoniously upended on the creatures below. Werewolves hit the ground in a rain of bodies, shrieking in agony as the oil burned away hair and chewed through the vulnerable skin underneath.

But once more, a new threat emerged.

Snake-tailed nagas slithered into view, hauling creaky wagons full of heavy boulders. The nagas looked almost like men but weren’t. Not really. Sure, they had human faces and olive skin, but they didn’t walk, instead slipping through the high grass on fat snake tails covered in onyx-black scales, their eyes the slits of cobras. Each wore a leather jerkin, carried a short recurve bow—an arrow-studded quiver strapped to their back—and had a short sword riding at their hip.

In front of them, a cohort of shield-bearing werewolves stood guard.

Moving with practiced ease, the nagas broke into groups of two, one unloading the formidable stones from the crude wagons, the other using their serpentine appendages to hurl the boulders at my southern gate, trying to smash through the vulnerable wood. Each one landed like a wrecking ball—stone cracking, wood groaning. Dammit. I’d have to fix that. Once more the godstone burned hot and angry in my chest, urging me toward violence. I hated when people dicked with Lycastia City. It was my town, dammit, and nobody was gonna mess with it.

“Archers. Ballistae.” I pulled my War Blade from its sheath, thrusting it forward. “Engage. I want those nagas dead.” The thwack of bowstrings snapping filled the air as arrows arced—

Only to be intercepted by a swooping squadron of old crone harpies.

The arrows were deadly effective against the naga and werewolves, but the harpies had skin as thick as rhino hides. The arrows bounced harmlessly away as they darted in, slashing at me and my Amazons on the battlements. With an eight-foot wingspan, huge sharp talons, and the faces of haggard women—leathery from age—the harpies were damn deadly. We also had a lot of history, since they’d been the first monsters I’d fought on Lycastia. That was after my jet crashed through the barrier separating the mystical island from the rest of the world.

A dozen Stymphalian birds followed in hard on the heels of the harpies, hurling razor-edged bronze feathers at us. My Battle Wardens ducked under their shields almost as one. No reasons to screw around with those things, since they could sever an arm or leg with ease and were coated in white crap—literal shit—which was wickedly poisonous.

So far, our gate held, but only because of the formidable gatehouse which sat directly over the entryway. The gatehouse was a masterpiece of death and destruction, and more Metal than Metallica’s James Hetfield riding an iron dragon.

It had four heavy-duty, steam-powered ballistae—gigantic crossbows at each of the compass points—a trio of high-powered flamethrowers, and one Civil War era Gatling gun that could bring the thunder like no one’s business.

Best of all? The entire upper portion of the tower rotated using magic from the Thymos Crystals we gathered, so we could keep up a constant stream of fire while the Rune-Casters reloaded the siege weapons. And even if the invaders somehow managed to bypass the siege defenses and breach the outer gate itself, they’d need to trudge through a passageway that ran beneath the gatehouse, which dead-ended at yet another gate—a metal portcullis. And while they tried to break that gate down, my Amazons would dump oil and fire on them from the murder holes overhead. Brutal.

But if they took the gatehouse down … that would make it a thousand times easier to gain access to the city. So naturally, the boulder-hurling nagas had adjusted their aim to target the domineering structure. Huge boulders knocked off bricks, the tower shaking and swaying beneath my boots. And the werewolf cohort held the line with their shields, protecting the snake men from the arrows of my soldiers and our ballistae bolts.

Suddenly, I missed my generals, Myrina, Asteria, and Phoebe—having them around made life so much easier, but unfortunately, they were spread out all around the city.

Phoebe and Asteria were on the west side of the island, defending the sea gates from water-born centaurs that had emerged from the white-capped waves along with a pair of massive cyclopes dripping with seaweed. And Myrina was at the northern gate, bitch-slapping down a wave of land-based centaurs and a platoon of elite werewolves. I had no doubt they’d handle business like the fucking champions they were, but that meant I’d need to personally deal with the snake-men and their boulder barrage here at the southern gate.

A huge ballista bolt slashed through a new wave of werewolves climbing the webs, skewering them together. Another bolt crushed three arachnaswine scuttling forward in a mad rush. The entire gatehouse groaned and shifted clockwise, the next two ballistae raining death down while the Gatling gun engaged—clack-clack-clack—picking harpies from the sky. At the very top of the gatehouse, my archers with English longbows peppered the forces with a constant rain of feathered shafts.

Another boulder crashed into the base of the gatehouse, the whole structure shuddering from the blow.

Yep, time to put an end to that bullshit. Immediately.

Time to get my hands dirty, which meant using my god powers in this strange video game I found myself playing. The dying Ares hadn’t been able to give me his war god powers all at once, but we’d come up with a system where I could level up slowly. That way, the divine energies wouldn’t drive me insane. So now, I found myself in the real world, grinding out experience points, leveling up, building cities, creating people, and kicking ass as if I were in some awesome MMO.

With a hungry grin, I swung my legs over the edge of the gatehouse wall and dropped down into the thick of the fighting below. I landed like an asteroid, the ground cratering around me from my incredible weight. I’d gone from an average-looking guy of five eight and a buck seventy to a Greek god who stood over seven feet tall and weighed in at four hundred pounds, all of it muscle.

I crouched and snarled, my fingers tracing the ground as I raised the War Blade, electricity dancing across the surface of the sword. That was the sword’s Lightning Blade effect, which I’d unlocked at level six—just one of the many special abilities the sword had in its arsenal.

A werewolf wielding a curved scimitar lunged toward me, lips pulled back from jagged fangs. I shot forward, blade screaming through the air, and I hewed through the creature, cutting him clean in half. The amount of damage I was dishing out was sick. My muscles flexed under my armor, due in part to a ring on my finger. The Might of Hercules boosted my strength by a juicy five points. Between my own raw power, the ring, and the sword, the mangy wolf didn’t stand a chance. Blood and entrails slapped the gore-slickened ground.

A naga hissed and fired an arrow at me.

I leaned to the side and let the arrow slip by my ear. It struck a spider-pig that had leapt from the wall in a vain attempt to stab me in the back with its poisonous tusks.

I wheeled left, deflecting another five arrows off my bronze shield, then spun right and lopped off an encroaching arachnaswine’s legs, leaving the creature scuttling around on four limbs—all on the same side of its body. It went snout-first into the dirt. Hard to fight when you can’t stand. I twirled the blade in a vicious arc, cleaving its pig-headed skull.

The gem in my chest burned like magma, filling me with fierce pride, urging me on … to maim … to kill … to revel in the chaos and bloodshed. The godstone was the power of Ares—what remained of his divine essence—and holy shit did it love to fight. Because, duh, god of war.

With a roar, I charged the line of shield-bearing werewolves defending their snake-tailed, boulder-flinging buddies. I pulled up my combat interface and triggered my Fury ability with a thought. The skill came from my Path of War Skill Tree. It cost me twenty-five Essence Points, but I could afford it. As a level-twenty god of war with 109 Intelligence, I was creeping up on 400 Divine Essence Points—393 to be exact—and I could regenerate 173 points an hour.

Red power and white-knuckled adrenaline surged through me as Fury took hold like a pit bull.

My physical attack damage, health regeneration rate, and armor rating shot up in an instant, increasing 1% for every 1% of Health lost in battle. Rage filled every inch of my being as Werewolf swords slammed through my skin. I didn’t care. Those wounds healed as I pressed in, cutting through fur and meat. I chopped through shields, severed limbs, split skulls, and rejoiced in the battle.

A werewolf pikeman surged forward and sliced my leg with his spear. In retaliation, I cut off his arms before following up with the coup de grace—taking off his head with one clean swing. Finally, I’d broken through the front line and the nagas were before me. I whirled, dropped to a knee, and sliced through the tail of a snake man trying to entangle me.

Mission accomplished! But other enemies were closing in.

Sticky webbing caught my arm, but I was strong enough to pull the pig up close then smash it to pulp with my shield.

The horde of mutated myths had turned from attacking the wall to come after me, which made sense. After all, if they took me down, the game was over. The lives of my Amazons were tied to me and the godstone in my chest. If I died, they died, and Hades would rise from the rift inside the Temple of Hades on the southern tip of the island. From there? Well, he and his dark armies would take over the world.

Ares—in his blood feud against the god of death—had sealed the rifts on two other islands, Themiscyreia and Chadesia. But on Lycastia, he’d screwed the pooch. Hard. The sigil on his statue in the temple at the center of Lycastia City was barely holding. When I’d taken down the titanic cyclops, Polyphemus Omega, during the Boss fight against Praxidike, the statue of Ares had been irrevocably damaged and the seal with it. Big problem. No easy solution. And only a matter of time before the sigil failed entirely.

A hundred enemies pressed toward me, surrounding me, and yeah, they thought they had me, but I was the god of war, and while I wasn’t Ares, I had some tricks up my sleeves.

Murky black clouds swirled in the heavens above, shadowing the blue skies until it felt like dusk instead of noon. The smell of ozone drifted down, and the unmistakable feel of electricity arrived with it. I’d already used my shockwave ability eight hours prior, but I still had Lightning Lance left in my arsenal.

I picked a beefy werewolf coming at me with a big battle-ax raised in his paws. I accessed my combat interface through my helm, just the same way I’d access a video game menu, and I chose Lightning Lance from my Path of Miracles Tree.

I reached out with my shield arm. Leather straps kept the shield fastened tight on my forearm even as I stretched out my fingers. White-hot power erupted from the godstone, filled my body, and coalesced around my left hand in a nimbus of white power. Fingers of blazing blue lightning swept out of my upraised palm and blasted into the charging furball. His chest was reduced to a smoking crater of metal and ruined flesh because Lightning Lance packed one helluva punch.

My Miracle Damage clocked in at 371, and Lightning Lance did twice that with each hit, plus an additional twenty-five points for a duration of ten seconds. Most of these fleabags had less than 500 Health, which meant instant death. Better yet, there was a fifty percent chance that the lightning would arc to nearby enemies. I got lucky. The initial werewolf I’d hit with the Lightning Lance had been reduced to knees and paws, but the electricity buzzed into three werewolves around him.

I had a buttload of Divine Essence Points, and that maneuver only took nine. Nine. I whirled with a manic grin on my face and hit a nearby naga with another lightning blast. His hands and arms burst, and his bow and arrows disintegrated to ash. Again, the electricity arced to a horde of nearby spider pigs. The scent of grilled pork hit my nose in a wave.

I chopped down another werewolf and used Lightning Lance three more times in rapid-fire succession, the godstone burning like the sun. Twice, I got lucky and it scorched the monsters around me—ash drifting through the air as bodies fell.

For a brief moment, I was free from fighting. I’d hacked or blasted a fifty-foot circle around me, though my back-to-back barrage of Lightning Lances had left me breathing hard, even though I’d only used a measly forty-five Essence Points. I had a ton more, which was so different from my early days on the island. Back then, I’d only had ten Essence Points to begin with.

“War God!” Antiope called from the battlements. “Above you!”

The evil air force swooped down and hit me like a battering ram of wings and beaks and claws. Harpies on the left, Stymphalian birds on the right. Bronze feathers slammed into my shield, rattling my arm with the force of their impact.

A harpy came at me talons first, and I lopped off one of her wings for the trouble. She dropped like a box of rocks, but she still had some fight left in her. She lashed out with her feet, claws slashing through my calf, nearly down to the bone, carving out a huge chunk of my HP in the process. Fury had finally worn off, and I was feeling the effects of its absence. Still, this was no time to lose focus. I drove my sword down, straight through her heart before a stork-like Stymphalian slammed into my side, its filthy muck-covered feet scratching at my helm. Other bronze birds joined it …

First one, then another, then another still.

The remaining harpies piled on next, the press of their bodies driving me to the ground. In a handful of heartbeats, I was covered in nasty black-feathered beasts and vicious bronze-feathered birds until I hit them with another Lightning Lance. The Stymphalian were especially vulnerable to electrical attacks. Blue-crackling lightning leapt from bird to bird to bird, roasting them and the harpies in a chain of screaming annihilation. I was in a sea of electricity and frying birds, but only for a moment, until all the monsters were obliterated.

A plume of thick smoke drifted up.

With a heave, I shoved the smoldering corpses off me and struggled back to my feet, feeling weary from the battle and weak from blood loss. Bloody gashes littered my body and my HP was down by half. I heaved and doubled over for a beat, resting a hand on my knee as I struggled to catch my breath. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

But before I could fully recover, the ground quivered beneath me as the final wave of enemies charged in for the attack.

Sea centaurs. Huge horse-legged animals with the chests of men, but the heads or arms of sea animals. Holy crap, there were a lot of the horse critters. At least a hundred of them. The dust of their hooves swirled into the air, obscuring the sun further as their pungent animal stench assaulted me like a sucker punch.

The centaur vanguard all had octopi for heads, and instead of arms, they had long tentacles dotted with pink suction cups. Behind them were lobster centaurs with relatively human faces—assuming you didn’t pay too much attention to the black dots for eyes and long antennae sprouting out from the scarlet flesh of their hairless heads. Their arms were massive and capped by saw-toothed pinchers. Shark-headed archers cantered behind, flanked by melee warriors on either side.

And something bigger, stranger was near the back …

I had one new ability I could use—the Lycanthrope Polymorph ability which came courtesy of the War Blade in my hand.

I was loath to use it, however, since unlike my other miraculous abilities it wasn’t tied to my Essence and could only be used twice per day. But it looked like I wasn’t going to have much choice, not at this point. Not if I wanted to survive another five minutes.

I clenched the War Blade tighter, readying myself to unleash the beast within …

But then the long brassy blare of a war horn stayed my hand as the cavalry showed up right when I needed them most.

Damn, but I loved my Amazons.

TWO

Counter Attack

Antiope was the first to join me. She scampered down the wall and sprinted to my side. She was a short, thick Battle Warden with a faux-hawk that ended in a ponytail. She wore a breastplate, greaves, and bracers and carried twin katanas in her scar-covered hands; the blades glimmered gold in the hazy sunlight. Her dark eyes flashed, and a smile curved her lips. “Gods, I am glad to be off that wretched stone and on solid ground.”

I nodded my understanding.

In our climactic fight against the bat-winged Praxidike and her armies, Antiope had given her life to take out a cyclops with one of the sidewinder missiles from my Harrier. She’d died defending a tower not so different from the gatehouse above, so her apprehension was well-earned. Still, she’d saved a lot of lives doing so, and because of her heroic sacrifice, she’d been the first Amazon I’d resurrected after the dust of that battle settled. Bringing Amazons back from the dead still felt strange beyond belief, but so long as I thought about it as a game respawn, I could wrap my mind around it.

Reanimated Amazons had to start over completely, at level one, and their memories were muddy from their time before. However, I’d restored Antiope’s Burst Speed ability and kept her fighting, so she’d racked up experience points. She was already back to level five and kicking some serious monster ass.

A moment later, we heard the snarl of a monstrous grizzly bear—more reinforcements arriving. The thunderous growls echoed across the field of battle, drowning out even the pounding hooves of the incoming sea centaurs.

Asteria swooped down in the form of a giant blue-feathered eagle; she was large enough to carry my Beastiamancer Euryleia and her golden grizzly, Buttercup. Euryleia was a dark-haired, dark-skinned woman dressed in supple leathers and armed with a long, broad-headed spear. She could’ve easily been a Bollywood movie star. Asteria’s wings pumped—great gusts of wind flattening out the grass—as she gently touched down, setting Buttercup on the ground. The colossal bear and her rider didn’t miss a beat, changing straight into battle.

They hit a trio of centaurs head-on, scattering them like bowling pins.

Behind us, the gates creaked open, and Myrina bolted out with a unit of Battle Wardens following hard on her heels. Behind the Wardens came the support element. A pair of Beastiamancers riding ginormous bulls and my crew of Elementalists: Aella the Aéras Mágissa (Air-Witch), Otrere the Neró Mágissa (Water-Witch), Calla the Flóga Mágissa (Flame-Witch), and Sabra, one of my Dasikí Mágissa (Forest-Witches). We had a few more Elementalists manning the other gates—including a pair of Gi Mágissa (Earth-Witches)—but these four were the spellcasting A-Team.

My Rune-Casters didn’t join us, instead manning the gatehouse and the wall-mounted siege equipment in case we had to fall back to the city. I glanced over one shoulder and caught sight of my Rune-Caster general, Phoebe, standing watch over the other Rune-Casters. She was a willowy woman with brunette hair, gray-green eyes, and a definite girl-next-door vibe.

“Nice of you to join us,” I called up, my heart beating a hair faster.

She grinned down, her teeth white, straight, and dazzling. Asteria squided out and mauled the invasion force. Took out two platoons before they even knew what hit ’em, she sent back through the mental link. And the attack against the Northern Gate was particularly pitiful, I hear. So, we thought we’d come give you a helping hand. But enough talk, broski, let’s put these shit-suckers down! Her smile widened as she pulled free a massive crossbow covered in gears, cogs, and steam ports.

She raised it to her shoulder and pulled the trigger, laying down a blanket of suppressive arrow fire. I’m motherfucking Rambo! she screamed inside my head as centaurs fell.

I shot her a finger gun and turned back to the battle, only to find Myrina at my side. Her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail. Fierce blue eyes peered out of a face Aphrodite might’ve been jealous of. Her olive-colored skin was smooth and perfect.

Myrina had been crafted to be both beautiful and deadly. And overprotective of me. “War God! Again, I find you putting yourself in danger. When will you ever learn?”

“Playing it safe is way overrated,” I replied with a shrug. “Now let’s see who can rack up a higher body count!” I charged forward with a whoop, Antiope and Euryleia on my left, Myrina on my right. I swept aside a shark centaur’s lance and cut through one of his front legs before chopping off a rear leg in a single strike. The creature went down with a groaning squeal. The beast flopped and thrashed on the ground, shark head snapping at me until Buttercup stepped on its skull with a clawed paw the size of a sewer lid. Bone crutched like Cheetos underfoot.

Euryleia drove her spear into the chest of an approaching octopus centaur, then slashed off a lobster centaur’s claw with a short sword and followed up the attack by splitting a third centaur’s crustacean skull right down the middle. Fatality.

Harpies dropped from the sky, screaming and gnashing their teeth. But Asteria, in her monstrous eagle form, was on them like stink on shit. She shredded skin, tore out huge chunks of meat with her hooked beak, and ripped harpies in half with her claws. She was damn near a force of nature.

Toxaris—riding her Pegasus named Flutterhoney—swooped in behind the Beastiamancer general, firing a barrage of arrows into the creatures congregating below.

A pair of Stymphalian swerved toward Toxaris, unleashing a rain of bronze feathers, but she was ready. The mounted Beastiamancer dug her heels into Flutterhoney’s side and jerked back on the reins. The Pegasus banked hard right, flipping into a blazing fast barrel roll, avoiding the projectiles by inches. As her mount righted itself, Toxaris came up firing, dealing out a fresh wave of death with her bow.

We were making up ground, pushing back the onslaught, but I knew my troops could use a little extra boost. I accessed my combat interface and triggered my Burning Aura spell with a thought. The godstone blazed beneath my skin as my Essence dipped by fifteen points. A comforting warmth filled my body, radiating outward as a translucent golden sheen covered my skin and wrapped around my War Blade. The aura felt as light as air and didn’t restrict my movement in the least, though the gentle comforting heat remained.

The light spread, enveloping Euryleia, Buttercup, Antiope, and Myrina in the same golden gleam. When Antiope struck next with a katana, the blade slid through an octopus tentacle like a hot knife through a pad of butter. Euryleia’s own sword was as bright as star fire when she brought it down on the back of another centaur. And Buttercup’s claws? They were the best of all, gleaming like bottled sunshine as they shredded the horse monsters around us.

Thanks to Burning Aura, each attack was augmented with magical flame dishing out an additional seventy-five points of damage.

A squad of lobster-headed freaks charged from the right, trying to flank us, but they were in for a nasty surprise. A cyclone of cutting wind swept through their ranks, carving a path for our reinforcements.

In front of us, a tangle of vines erupted from the ground and hardened into a wall of greenery—thanks to Sabra, my Forest-Witch—giving us additional cover from the Stymphalian above.

More centaurs raced around the barrier and headed for Myrina, but ran headfirst into a firestorm instead, tongues of orange and yellow scorching flesh and skin. Calla’s handiwork at its finest. The shrieking centaurs slumped to the ground, charred into calamari steaks.

Myrina, armed with spear and shield, raced to meet the centaurs that had survived the flame blast. No arrow touched her. Every sword stroke and spear thrust she caught on her shield, turning them aside with contemptuous ease. Meanwhile, her slashing spear found hearts, heads, and vulnerable skin as she danced and twirled through Hade’s forces like a death wind. She leapt onto the back of a hammerhead centaur, speared it through the chest, then sprang into the air like an acrobat, hurling her weapon into the brain of an oncoming enemy.

She was amazing, and though I had my own shit to handle, I could watch her fight all day long. She was the Mad Max: Fury Road version of a ballerina.

On my left, one of my bull riders cannonballed into a centaur and skewered it with horns as big as elephant tusks. Another bull rider hurled a flurry of javelins, her aim uncanny. Horse-bodied creatures toppled as gold-fire javelins took them through throats and faces and chests. My Water-Witch, Otrere, slipped through the Amazonian ranks, healing the Battle Wardens who’d taken damage. Her voice filled my head a second later—we were all connected through the messaging system.

War God! You are hurt. Come to me, and I’ll heal you!

That was the one bad part about this gig—I had divine powers and could do just about anything, including healing my warriors. But I couldn’t heal myself. Not yet, Otrere, I sent. I’m fine. And we’re in the home stretch. Focus on the others.

“Incoming, War God,” Myrina bellowed, her voice a whip crack carrying over the din of battle.

I turned and faltered.

Barreling in from the rear was a bizarre, gargantuan monstrosity: part wooly mammoth, part human, part squid. Like the other centaurs, this creature had the lower body of an animal—in this case a fucking mammoth—and jutting up from the “waist” was the oversized body of a humanoid giant. And the freak had a goddamned octopus for a head, complete with writhing tentacles trailing down from his chin like Davy Jones from all of those Pirates of the Caribbean flicks. It carried a spiked tree trunk in its human hands and wielded deadly spears in its writhing face tentacles.

It opened its puckered mouth hole and offered a roar that I felt all the way in my molars.

Well shit. That was a new one. It looked like it belonged between the pages of a Lovecraft story.

You’re hurt, Jacob, Myrina messaged me. Retreat for the walls and let me destroy this newest threat.

You wish, Myrina. I’m not going to let you take all the glory. I broke into a run, a feral grin stretching across my face. This sucker’s mine.

Now that sounds like what a good god of war would say, she shot back as she swerved toward me, legs pumping even faster, picking up her pace to match mine. You’ve come a long way since our first battle with the arachnaswine.

That was certainly true enough.

During one of my dustsup as the newly minted war god, Asteria had needed to step in and save me—and that had been against a couple of nagas. Needless to say, Myrina hadn’t been pleased. There was nothing that disgusted her more than weakness; in her eyes, it was the gravest sin. Especially in a leader. But now? Now I could take a small army by myself. At least so long as it was these cannon fodder troops. An army of Woolly Mammoth Nightmares, on the other hand?

Nope. Not just yet.

You take him from the back, I messaged. I’ll hit it from the front.

Throw me! the Battle Warden suggested, shooting me a sidelong look and a fierce smile.

I grinned in return and nodded. I put on a final burst of speed, streaking past her before stopping abruptly. I pivoted, cupped my hands, and dropped to a knee. She sank a foot into my palms and pushed, her shapely legs flexing as I lurched up, hurling her high into the air. I spun and watched her sail up and over the mammoth boss, flipping head over heels in a graceful arc.

I bent and scooped a fallen javelin from the dirt and sent it sailing into the chest of the great beast, drawing its attention. The monster fixed its gaze firmly on me and didn’t even seem to notice when my general landed on its massive back as light as a kitten. At least not until her blade lashed out, stabbing through the coarse hair and into the muscle below.

The mammoth roared in defiance and anger, but still focused on me as though I were the one who’d just shanked it in the spine. It lurched forward, swinging its spiked weapon like an oversized golf club. I dove right, narrowly avoiding the tree trunk of iron, which slammed into the ground with bone-rattling force, dirt and debris spraying up in a geyser. I rolled back to my feet and shot in high, chopping into one of its massive arms at the elbow. Almost got my blade through the joint, but then it hit dense bone and was unceremoniously pulled from my hands.

The handle protruded from the creature’s meaty arm like a metal splinter.

A tentacle holding a spear stabbed down at me, and I took the blow on my shield. Quick as a snake strike, I grabbed the spear out of the thing’s coil and promptly drove it into a vulnerable kneecap. Not a killing blow, but maybe a crippling one. As I continued to provide the distraction, Myrina went to town, hooking and jabbing with the best of ’em. With a thunderous war cry, she leapt up, spear clutched in both hands, tip pointed down. As she landed, she drove her weapon into the base of the creature’s skull, forcing it in deep with raw strength and momentum.

Unfortunately, this freak was tougher than a salty master sergeant with twenty years under his belt.

One of its tentacles snaked out and plucked her from its back, before another shot out, wrapping around my chest like a python. In a blink we were both airborne, held aloft by the ropy limbs, legs dangling. I grabbed the spongy flesh encircling me and ripped it apart with my bare hands. The gemstone in my chest liked that little maneuver and flared brightly in silent approval.

The frayed tentacle loosened and I somersaulted to the ground, landing on my feet. But Myrina was still trapped, her hands clawing at the rubbery appendage while her HP tumbled toward zero—the creature was quickly squeezing her into meat paste.

But once again, the cavalry was on point: A flickering purple flare erupted in the air, five feet above the creature. The potent stink of rotten eggs followed, punching me squarely in the nose as my blonde Teleporters, Vara and Sophia—who both could’ve passed for Swedish volleyball players—popped into view. And they weren’t alone. Vara carried Calla, my Fire-Witch, and Sophia clutched Loxo beneath her armpits!

Loxo had also been killed by Praxidike, but I’d resurrected her, too. She had short dark hair, black eyes, and smooth skin like polished ebony. She was my lead Huntress, an assassin in the dark, and as dexterous as she was beautiful. Loxo loved to give me tons of shit. Out of all my Amazons, she was the one that flirted with me the most.

Seriously, the woman was shameless.

Calla and Loxo dropped from the air, landing lightly on the mammoth’s back as my two Teleporters vanished as quickly as they’d appeared, gone in a puff of sulfurous purple smoke.

Before the tentacles could grab them, Calla launched a gout of flame as thick as a telephone pole, flash-frying the squidy head of the uber centaur. Its HP dropped into the critical zone, then Loxo finished it off with an arrow at point-blank range. The mammoth swayed drunkenly for a moment, its eyes glazing over in death as its body teetered like a felled tree deciding which way to fall. Loxo scooped up Calla and flipped away as the beast finally toppled, hitting the ground with the force of a small earthquake.

Both Amazons landed safely, thanks to Loxo’s agility.

By that time, Asteria and Toxaris had taken out the harpies and the Stymphalian birds, and had helped mop up the last of the centaurs. I checked my gaming display and saw that we hadn’t lost a single Amazon in the most recent battle. Not too shabby, though everyone was wounded. Me included. I glanced down, noticing the splatter of fresh blood on my chest and my legs. With the battle adrenaline wearing off, all those cuts were starting to burn and throb with renewed vigor.

Otrere and I would have to work overtime to get everyone healed before the next attack.

Myrina unraveled the dead tentacle clutching her and rose, smooth and unperturbed. She looked like a queen in her throne room, instead of a bloody warrior who had just nearly died a horrific death. “Jacob, once again, we are victorious. But once again, you put yourself in harm’s way.” She crossed her arms, glaring at me with a look that could strip paint. “Remember, if you die, we die. Our lives are connected to yours and the godstone in your chest.”

“Yeah, Mom, I know.” I rolled my eyes.

Myrina frowned. “I am not your parent. If anything, you are my father.”

Loxo walked up and smacked my ass with her palm. “Oh, Daddy. You have been a naughty boy for not listening to mean old Myrina.”

I blanched. “You know what?” I raised my hands. “Let’s drop the whole parent talk thing. It just makes this situation way too creepy and awkward.”

Myrina ignored me completely, her frown deepening into pissed-off territory as she rounded on the Huntress. “I am neither mean nor old, Loxo. And you are not making my castigation of Jacob any easier.”

Loxo laughed, quirking an eyebrow. “Do not castigate him, Myrina.” She ghosted forward and grabbed a handful of my junk before I could stop her—in my defense, she was a Huntress, speed personified. “I am going to want to play with it before too long.”

“Wrong word, Loxo.” I playfully shoved her back. “You’re thinking of castration. And we’ve already talked about this like a billion times. It’s not going to happen. We’re comrades. Friends.”

The Huntress gave me a smile sexy enough to melt diamonds, then shot me a sly wink. “I can wait, War God. I remember your passion and stamina well.”

“I don’t know what you think you remember, but we have not had sex.”

She paused and canted her head, eyes hazy. “No”—she shook her head—“I remember the Temple of Apollo.” She cocked an eyebrow. “I remember your nakedness.” Her smile broadened. “And what came next.” She licked her lips. Loxo had always been more sex-crazed than the rest of her sisters, but ever since I’d brought her back from the dead, she’d been worse than ever. Her memories were hazy, faulty, and damn if she wasn’t convinced she’d gotten freaky with me. Nope. So far, only Asteria had managed to get me into bed. And I meant to keep it that way.

I had the world to save. If I let myself bang all the Amazons, it would only distract me. Like, really, really, really distract me.

Asteria landed with a half-eaten harpy in one of her giant eagle talons, effectively ending the conversation, which I was grateful for. She stuffed the broken, feathered body into her craw, choked it down, bones and all, and then turned into the beautiful blue naked woman I knew and loved. Asteria was trim, but womanly, with blue skin and black hair. Her short pixie-cut hair framed a gorgeous face with glowing golden eyes.

“Another battle we have won!” she said happily, jumping up and down, her … let’s go with assets … bouncing in some rather interesting ways. “And more KFC for me! Did I get it right? Keentuckee fried chicken!”

“Close,” I said, drawing her in for a kiss. I didn’t care that she’d just been snacking on harpies. She was hotter than a furnace on the surface of the sun, so I could ignore little things like that. Besides, the godstone inside me loved the blood. The violence.

Loxo stared at us, a mischievous hunger in her eyes. I don’t mind sharing, she sent.

I cleared my throat and ignored her suggestion, turning toward Myrina. “Alright,” I said, clapping my hands together, “better get back into town. We’ve got less than eight hours before they hit again, and we have about a gajillion things to do.” I sighed, my stomach rumbling, reminding me just how long it had been since my last meal. “Antiope,” I called, “you’re in charge here. Get these corpses looted, then head back for a meal and some well-deserved rest. Everyone else, let’s move out. No time to waste.”

THREE

Upgrades

I was feeling pretty good after our victory. We’d pushed the attackers back again, we hadn’t lost a single Amazon, and I’d inched closer to level twenty-one. To top it off, watching my Amazons in action was always a treat. As I walked, I pulled up my interface and toggled over to my character screen. An avatar of me appeared on the left, spinning slowly in the air.

Once, I’d been an average looking schlub with pale skin, hazel eyes, and dusty black hair trimmed into a neat crew cut. Not ugly, but certainly not a ten on the knock-out scale. Probably not even good-looking enough to earn a second glance at the bar.

Well, that sure as shit had changed since acquiring the powers of a god. Now I had a body that would put an Olympic athlete to shame and sun-kissed skin that even the crew of Bay Watch would be jealous of. I’d also traded out my old Marine Corps gear for Grecian war equipment: a bronze breastplate that showcased the godstone, bronze greaves covering my thighs, hardened strips of linen forming a battle skirt—called a fustanella—and leather sandals that threaded their way up my calves.

Hovering below my sandals, currently stained with muck and blood from the battle, was a typical red Health Bar—I was at 523/690. To the right of that was a brilliant gold bar, labeled Divine Essence Points, which was sitting at 262/393. And to the right of my floating avatar was a character sheet that wouldn’t have been out of place in most D and D campaigns or online MMOs. I scanned it over for the thousandth time:

Hot damn. Not long before I got that next level. I closed out of the interface and hit the mess hall, grabbing a quick bite of roasted lamb on pita bread, some olives, sundried tomatoes, and hunks of feta cheese. Taking my meal on the run, I walked through the city toward the forge, where I’d meet with Myrina, Phoebe, and Asteria. We needed to plan our next steps before the 8 PM attack. It would be a sunset battle. How romantic.

The central landmark of Lycastia City was the Temple of Ares, a huge structure like the Parthenon in Athens. Inside was the statue of Ares with the sigil on his chest, though now that sigil was weak and fading. Dying a little more every day. To the west was my palace, which had terraces overlooking the Mediterranean Sea and the ramparts leading down to the beach.

Our forges, clay pits, and stables were in the southern section of the city. To the north were the barracks, training grounds, and the main dining hall. I’d also jammed orchards, wheat fields, and vineyards into the northern pasturelands, because an army—even a mythical one like mine—needed to eat. Oh, and I couldn’t forget my crowning jewel: the legendary Mountain Dew fountain, which I’d installed because what gamer worth his salt doesn’t need a metric crap-ton of caffeinated Mountain Dew to function properly?

Still, some of the Amazons didn’t like the soda—no accounting for bad taste—so they drank plain ol’ noncaffeinated H2O from the fountain in front of the temple or the wine Myrina preferred. I walked by the water fountain and the huge statue of Ares presiding over it. Man did that guy love to look at himself. Narcissist.

I made it to the forge just as I finished my lunch. Myrina, Asteria, and Phoebe were already inside. The central fire pit glowed hot, which was good, because the first order of business was to create more Amazons and I had points to burn. More than enough to do some serious damage around the forge—build some new troops, maybe crank out some upgraded weaponry.

The central forge was surrounded by twenty bellows, helping the fires burn hot enough to liquify even tungsten, which had a melting point of 6192 Fahrenheit. The heat punched me in the teeth the second I stepped into the forge proper, and the superheated coals dried out my nose in an instant. The familiar smells—the smoke, the metals, the herbs, wine, and olive oil—brought me back to that first night when I’d created my three generals.

That seemed like ages ago—though in reality I’d been on the island just a little more than three weeks.

My three Amazonian generals stood over a polished onyx orb, roughly the size of a basketball, which sat in the center of a bulky wooden table. The black crystal pulsed with seedy red light; hanging in the air directly above it was a holographic projection of the island. A perfect 3-D map. My Rune-Caster had first created the onyx orb to access the gaming interface Ares had devised for me, and she’d done a bang-up job, since it could flawlessly emulate my helmet interface.

My generals stared at an image of our city, their gazes flickering over the battlefields to the north and the beaches to the west. It also displayed our current supply of Thymos Crystals, clay, and miscellaneous materials for creating Amazons like powdered gold, copper, and platinum. Our food supplies were also listed—everything from chickens to lambs to units of bread. As I watched, our number of chickens went up one, which meant an egg had just hatched. It was normal to watch my supply number increase and decrease in all the RTSs I’d ever played, but this was the first time I could go out and hold the baby chick in my hand.

Myrina had her arms folded across her chest, and she was scowling up a storm.

I grinned at Phoebe, who grinned right back before shooting me a playful wink. “What’s with Myrina?” I asked in a whisper, nodding toward the Warden. “Let me guess, I did something else stupid that has her all worked up?”

Naw, not you, Phoebe sent. Just Myrina being Myrina. She’s pissed that we’re on the defensive and getting our asses handed to us every eight hours. Plus, there are other concerns—like the fact that we’re damned near out of Thymos Crystals.

“This is unwinnable,” Myrina declared a second later, throwing her hands up in frustration. “We simply do not have sufficient forces to hold the city long term. Honestly, I do not understand how our enemies produce so many forces, so quickly—it is a mystery. No matter how many monsters we kill, there are always more. Thousands.” She shook her head.

“And their attacks are becoming more sophisticated. In this most recent assault, they hammered us on every side. Probing for weaknesses, checking our response times. We need to come up with a better strategy—we cannot keep doing this indefinitely. We are barely managing to repel their assaults as is. But I do not even know where to start.” She sounded far more flustered and far more desperate than I had ever heard her before. “Thoughts?” She finally finished, glancing around, first at me and then at my other two generals.

For a long beat everyone just stood there, silently staring at the map.

“Krill,” Asteria said, breaking the quiet.

“Krill,” Myrina replied, voice flat and unamused. “How does krill help us win this war?”

“Oh it doesn’t,” the Beastiamancer replied with a shrug. “I’m just hungry and this conversation is making my head hurt.” She placed her hand to her gut, which promptly growled like an angry lion. “I think I’ll go for a swim.” She grinned and giggled, bleeding some of the tension from the air. “I miss being a whale. Whale lives are far less complicated than people lives, and there’s nothing like krill to kill an appetite.”

“Asteria,” Myrina scolded, her eyes narrowed, “this is important. We need your guidance and wisdom.”

The shifter laughed and rolled her eyes. “You tell me where to go and what to kill and I’ll do it. But this?” She waved a blue-tinged hand at the map. “This isn’t for me. But it is for you, Myrina.” She turned on the Battle Warden and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I believe in you even if you do not believe in yourself. I have complete confidence that you three will come up with a solution.

“It is in your nature, just as it is in my nature to kill and eat. You, sister, are a wolf, and the wolf finds a way to bring down the bear no matter the difficulty. Don’t worry, sister. Have faith that things will be as they should be.” The shape-shifter squeezed Myrina’s shoulder one last time, a sweet display of affection. She turned on me next, slipping over to plant a kiss on my cheek before skipping out of the room like she didn’t have a care in the world.

Myrina just sighed and shook her head as the shifter disappeared. “I love her dearly,” she mumbled, “but sometimes I think all that shifting has melted her brain. And what about you two?” She glared at me and Phoebe in turns. “Do you have any ideas or are you both going to abandon me as well?”

“As if you could get rid of us that easily,” Phoebe replied. “And as for ideas … Well, that’s simple. We need more Amazons and more tech.” The Rune-Caster shrugged as though the answer were self-evident. “But that means we need more resources, and that’s the real problem. Our Thymos Crystals supply is damn near empty. Fortifying the northern and southern gatehouses drained our resources by a metric shit ton. And finding more is proving difficult because of the constant attacks. As we speak, Loxo is out scouting the land, but we’ve depleted the sources closest to Lycastia City.” She paused, surveying the 3-D map. “In short, we’re sorta fucked. This is a siege, and it’s only a matter of time before they break us.”

I altered the orb’s projection, toggled over to my character sheet, and pulled up my three skill trees. The Path of War, the Path of the Builder, and the Path of Miracles. I flicked through them and brought up the Path of the Builder Skill Tree for all to see:

“It all comes back to me,” I said, hunching forward, palms pressed against the table. “I just need to level up faster. If I can add another ability point to Craftsman, then everything becomes cheaper. And really, we need to max out Innovate.” Unlocking Innovate Level 3 would allow us to build modern-day weaponry, which would definitely turn the tide of battle. But sadly, I couldn’t do that until level forty. I also had dreams of grenade javelins and ice ballistae, but for that I needed Battle Forge Level 2, plus a point in Elemental Smithing. So much cool stuff, so few Ability Points.

“If only I could access god-mode,” I grumbled under my breath, before laughing. “Ha, god-mode. Get it? I’m a god. But I don’t have god-mode yet. Get it?”

Myrina glowered.

Phoebe rolled her eyes and messaged me. Too bad you can’t add Ability Points to humor.

“Enough jesting,” Myrina broke in. “Our situation is dire and we have no time for joking. What if we further upgrade the Artemis’ Blood option in the Path of the Builder so we can make the Amazons we do have stronger?”

“Naw, that’s a waste,” Phoebe said. “We already have a point in Artemis’ Blood, and since none of our Amazons have hit the level cap, there’s no point in adding another. But that does bring up another issue I meant to mention earlier. All of us have been leveling, but we’ve been waiting for you to bless us with added abilities, Jacob.”

“Wait. What?” I asked, shocked. “You mean to tell me the Amazons haven’t been adjusting their abilities with every level gain?”

“Nope,” Phoebe said. “Ares forbade it. He said we were his weapons, and weapons should be crafted by their master. You are our master, and it is up to you to bestow your favor upon us.”

I groaned and paced around the forge in frustration. “Fuck. You’ve got to be kidding me. And no one thought to mention this earlier?”

“I’m mentioning it now,” Phoebe said with a lopsided shrug. “But you need to cut us all some slack, Boss man. One, we’ve sorta been busy around here if you haven’t noticed, and two, the gaming system is complicated. Most of the Amazons simply don’t understand how it works. The concept is too foreign. They intuitively know battle, weapons, and magic, but RPGs and Attribute Points are outside of their wheelhouse. I only understand it because I loiter around in the back of your brain all day long. And to top it off, they can’t even access their character sheets without assistance.” She tapped the orb affectionately. “I’ve upgraded this bad boy to help though.”

“Games, games, games,” Myrina barked, placing her hands on her hips in defiance. “It is always games with you two. We have real problems to fix, yet you both prattle on about systems and RPGs and points.”

“See what I mean,” Phoebe said, cocking an eyebrow at me. “Even our dearest Myrina doesn’t really get it.”

“What is it that I do not get?” she replied with a scowl. “What secret am I missing?”

“What you’re missing,” I said, “is the fact that we have a bunch of Amazons who have valuable attribute points and Ability Points that are just sitting there unspent. And that includes you, Myrina. You have a treasure trove of untapped skills and abilities and you don’t even know it. But in a way, I guess this is great news. I mean, it’s not a long-term fix, but once we take care of this we should have a small edge, at least for a while. Phoebe, show her how it works.”

My Rune-Caster nodded and drew Myrina over to the orb. “Look, sister, you have leveled three times.” With a flick of her wrist and a twirl of her fingers she brought up Myrina’s character sheet. “You have thirty Attribute Points you can use to improve yourself—to make you better, stronger, faster, smarter—as well as three Ability Points which can make you far more deadly and effective in combat. But for these points to take effect, Jacob must first distribute them through this gaming interface.”

“No,” I said sternly. “Myrina can choose. Listen, unless you want my advice, I need all the Amazons to be responsible for this aspect of the game. We are a team, dammit, and I trust you to know yourselves and your abilities better than I do. And with that orb, you can access the interface without me. From here on out, I want all Amazons to get a tutorial on how to level up properly.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to micromanage our stats, Jacob?” Phoebe asked. “I mean, I’m okay with it, but Ares never would’ve allowed us that much independence.”

“Yeah I’m sure. Hell, pretty soon there will be so many of you that I won’t be able to keep up. If I need to manually adjust stats for every Amazon every time they level up, I won’t ever do anything else. It’s just too inefficient. Seriously. I trust you guys to make the right choices. So,” I continued, stealing a look at my ever-grumpy Battle Warden, “how are you going to divide up your points?”

Myrina swallowed hard, restlessly running one hand over the pommel of the xiphos at her hip. “I should put all of my points to Strength,” she said at once. “After all, I was created to fight, to kill …” She faltered. Hesitated. “But I wish to understand this game you are playing,” she finished after a time. “So, would you approve if I increased my Intelligence?”

“It’s up to you,” I said softly. “It’s your life.”

Tears stood out in Myrina’s eyes. “My life.” The ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. “Very well. Then I will increase my Intelligence to thirty-five, and my Strength to eighty-eight. Then I will add one Ability Point to Iron Skin, one to Durability, and one to Rapid Regen. I will become harder to hurt, more durable, and I will heal faster.”

She added the points, then eyed her character sheet carefully, inspecting the changes:

She’d gone from being a tank to being a super tank with a sword.

Phoebe laughed and threw up her hands. “I’m next!” Her face glowed with excitement. “I know exactly what I want. I’ve been hoping you would let us adjust our own stats eventually. It was a bit of a pipe dream, but here we are. Okay, so I want to add eighteen points to Intelligence, six to Willpower, and six to Fortune, since an inventor can never be too lucky. And then? Then I will upgrade all my Rune-Casting abilities by one. I’m gonna be a force to be reckoned with—one part Rambo, one part Tony Stark.”

“This Rambo,” Myrina said, “you have mentioned him twice now. He is a great hero like our Achilles, no?”

“Yeah,” I replied, “except with PTSD and more guns. But there are definitely worse people to look up to.”

Just like with Myrina, Phoebe examined her sheet once she’d made her adjustments:

Phoebe dismissed her sheet and threw her arms around me, hugging me close. Now that I’m smarter, she sent through the messaging link, you have to be funnier. Promise?

I held her tight, and she felt so right in my arms. Yeah. I promise.

Myrina approached and put a hand on us both. “I will bring our sisters in so they can undergo the tutorial and upgrade themselves. They will need the gaming orb to access their character sheets.” She said it with confidence. Her improved intelligence was already paying off.

“Got it in one,” I replied with a wide smile. “Get ’em working. And while you do that, Phoebe and I will get started on forging more Amazons.”

FOUR

Amazons and Minotaurs

Phoebe and I got busy creating ’Zons. But, we weren’t rolling up characters, we were forging actual women. We focused on Battle Wardens first since they were the cheapest and easiest to make. I was so glad I had the level-one Craftsman ability activated. It made every warrior we created twenty percent cheaper. Even so, we were burning through the sacred clay. Another worry to add to the ever-growing list.

There was nothing I could about it at the moment, however, so I pushed it from mind.

Like before, Phoebe fashioned miniature clay figurines and added the components needed to bring them to life. For Battle Wardens, we had to create small hearts made of animal fat, iron dust, a pinch of silver, and a shard of bronze. I thought back to when I’d fashioned Myrina. She’d need an extra bit of gold and platinum, but then, she was special in so many ways. A heavy metal badass if ever there was one.

Once we had the figurines ready to go, Phoebe used a peel to thrust them into the heart of the fire, which burned at a merciless two thousand degrees Fahrenheit. Once the statuettes had baked, we took them out and carefully laid them on the anvil, which is when I took up the Hammer of Hephaestus and did my magic.

The hammer was a massive thing of wood and iron and gold, which had once belonged to Hephaestus, god of the forge. One side of the hammerhead sloped into a wedge, while the other ended in a flat square of hardened steel. Etched into the metal were pictures of swords, shields, and armor, which all orbited the faces of two beautiful women: on one side Athena, goddess of wisdom, on the other side Aphrodite, goddess of love.

I stepped up, gripped the leather-wrapped handle, and slammed the hammer’s head onto the little doll Phoebe had fashioned. Instead of exploding into a million pieces like logic demanded, the Amazon grew a foot and became a miniature warrior. It took three strikes to forge the figurines into full-fledged human beings. When we’d first started, I’d handled the first strike before Phoebe took over. Now, I did all three—boom, boom, boom—knocking them out like a pro.

My second strike added two feet to the doll. Half-formed facial features appeared as though by magic. Sometimes after the second blow, the Amazons opened their eyes, which was a little disconcerting. Phoebe had been like that.

After the final strike, a full-grown woman tumbled off the anvil.

Brontia and Steropia were there to catch the newly forged warrior, then cart her off to a bed of hay we’d set up on the far side of the forge. We didn’t let the new Battle Wardens rest for long, however. Antiope and Hippolyta quickly roused the women and led them off to the training grounds, where Myrina would drill them into fighting form. Not twenty minutes old, and they were already training for hardship and death. Such was the life of an Amazon on Lycastia.

Then it was time to create the next one. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Repeatedly, the godstone shined and burned in my chest as Essence Points drained out. After about an hour of hard labor I had to take a breather.

I called Antiope and Hippolyta over to the onyx orb and showed them their upgrades. We had history, those two and I, so it felt right to give them the rundown myself. Both had died in my service as heroes, only to be resurrected. Antiope had kissed me seconds before giving her life to the cause, and Hippolyta had died in my arms after single-handedly saving our city from a deadly surprise attack, courtesy of that nefarious bitch Praxidike.

When Hippolyta’s character sheet materialized in the air above the orb, her eyes grew wide and she clapped her hands in sheer joy. She was a tall, athletic woman with dusky skin and flashing green eyes. Her long dark hair fell down her back in waves. When she divided her points between Strength and Fortune—twenty to Strength, ten to Fortune—Antiope gave her a dark look.

Hippolyta laughed it off. “I have already died once and came back. If that is not lucky, I do not know what is! So I will continue to trust my luck! Let Fortuna favor me, I say.” As for her Ability Points, she increased her Burst Speed, added a point to Rapid-Regen, and dropped a point into the Weapon Master Ability.

She nodded after reviewing the changes. “Perfect. It is my desire to best Myrina in the javelin at the very least. I may never be as strong or skilled as she at the sword and spear, but someday I will defeat her—even if only in one weapon form.”

“Good luck with that,” I said. “And just so you understand, when you level up again, you can come back to Phoebe, and she’ll give you access to the orb so you can upgrade yourselves. No more waiting around on me, comprende?” Both nodded. “And Hippolyta”—I paused and leaned in, my lips inches from her ears—“once we find more Thymos Crystals, stop back by and find me. I’ll personally bump up some of your stats—maybe give you a fighting chance against Myrina.” I’d meant the words to be a gesture between friends, but she seemed to take them far more seriously.

“My life to serve, War God.” She threw her arms around me and crushed me in a massive bear hug, lifting my feet from the ground.

My bones popped. “Boy can I feel that upgraded strength,” I wheezed as she put me down, a goofy grin on her face.

Antiope was next. She frowned and furrowed her brow. “War God, I am not certain I need your favor. I am fine the way I am.”

“You are absolutely fine, but even the finest of us can be improved.” I checked, and she’d leveled up three times since I’d recreated her. That seemed to be the norm. Three levels meant she had thirty Attribute Points and three Ability Points to divvy up.

“Then you choose, War God,” Antiope said, crossing her arms over her chest, uncertainty etched into the lines of her face. “I trust you, like you trust me.”

For a second, I thought about pushing her, but then decided against it. She was damn near radiating waves of discomfort, and I didn’t want that. “Okay, if you’re sure,” I replied. I dropped twenty points into Strength, four into Intelligence, four into Willpower, and the last two into Fortune. “As for your Ability Points”—I paused, rubbing at my chin as I surveyed her ability pool—“I think we should increase your speed so you’re the fastest Amazon in our army. Then we can drop an extra point into Iron-Skin. What do you think?”

“It is as you wish,” the Battle Warden said curtly. She seemed distant, less huggy than Hippolyta had been. Then again, every one of my Amazons was a bit different. They were living people, after all, not artificially intelligent NPCs.

After I distributed her Ability Points, she sped out of the forge like a heavily caffeinated lightning bolt. Speaking of which, I sucked down a wineskin full of Mountain Dew and got back to work wielding the Hammer of Hephaestus until Euryleia and Toxaris showed up to be leveled. I’d been looking forward to upgrading my Beastiamancers.

Buttercup and Flutterhoney stayed outside along with another Beastiamancer, Ariadne, who had a colossal bull mount named Thunderfoot. Ariadne was a short, thick-waisted woman with honey blonde hair and a very serious demeanor. Her weapon of choice was a battle-ax almost as big as she was. I wasn’t sure why she waited outside, but I got to work showing Euryleia and Toxaris how they could upgrade themselves using the gaming orb.

Toxaris loaded up her combat abilities, increasing her Durability, Rapid-Regen, and Eagle-Eye abilities. As she was my main flying archer, I was thrilled with that. Not only could she scout, but once I unlocked Elemental Smithing, I could craft her a bow that could hit targets at two thousand yards. She’d be the ultimate airborne sniper.

Euryleia was next. She divided her Attribute Points between Strength and Willpower, then dumped her Ability Points into her Animal Summoning and Shift Form skills. I could only imagine what it would be like when the Beastiamancer turned herself into a killer bear while at the same time summoning other bears. I would have a grizzly strike force on my side. Booya. She also added a point to Rapid-Regen, so if she got hit, she’d heal faster. Both Beastiamancers hugged me and took off, eager to practice their new abilities.

Ariadne, though, continued to loiter outside while her bull placidly chewed its cud.

I forged a few more Battle Wardens and then switched to Beastiamancers, creating more eagle riders and Pegasus riders to expand our budding air force.

Eventually, my curiosity finally got the better of me, and I went outside. “Hey, Ariadne, can I help you with something?”

She nodded but couldn’t keep eye contact with me. Clearly, she was nervous. “Greetings, War God. I am new. I am shy. I have heard the stories of Ares and his arrogance, yet my sisters claim you are different. They say if I ask, you might grant a special request … Still, I cannot believe that could be so.”

I smiled and inched forward, taking her hand in mine. “I’m a reasonable guy … er … god of war. What would you like me to do for you?”

She blushed. “Our noble general Asteria says that it is possible to merge with our mounts. I have seen her shift form and it is most impressive to behold …” She faltered and glanced away. I took my hand from her and cupped her chin, drawing her gaze back to mine. “I would like such a skill,” she said softly, “and while others have the points for such an endeavor, I do not. But my sisters have said you can use your Divine power to grants us extra favors, if you so choose. And so, I am here. Asking for your blessing so that I might serve you better.”

Even though she was shy, she had moxie. I liked that. And she was right. It was costly, but I could power-level her or add extra Attribute Points using a combination of Thymos Crystals and Essence Points. From a pouch at my waist, I drew out a quarter-sized chunk of our dwindling Thymos Crystal supply. I had the Essence Points, and I’d been wanting to increase the powers of my shape-shifters.

“Ariadne, it took guts to come and talk to me. You want my blessing, you’ve got it.” I lifted the azure crystal, and it glowed as my Essence filled it with Divine energy. I pressed it to the Amazon’s chest, just above her heart. It shimmered and throbbed, melting into her skin. My head grew light as the raw power surged out of the godstone. Fifty Essence points vanished, and an abrupt wave of nausea swept through me, there then gone.

In my gaming display, I power-leveled her by two and added both Ability Points to her Shift Form stat. Now, she could become a pure bull herself, or merge with Thunderfoot, transforming into a minotaur.

As soon as I finished, Ariadne whirled and threw herself onto Thunderfoot. When she touched him, both of their bodies seemed to liquify, morphing into a quicksilver blob. Their bodies merged, and in seconds, a twelve-foot-tall, bull-headed warrior towered over me. Sunlight gleamed off the short, blue-black fur of the minotaur. She stood on hooves, but she gripped the huge battle-ax in very human hands.

Ariadne lifted her weapon. “Yes, War God! Yes! We will serve you! We will keep the sigil safe, and we will defeat the armies of Hades! Nothing will stop us!”

She transformed again in a flash of shimmering mercury, now a woman atop a bull. She was all smiles, which for Ariadne was a small miracle. She never smiled.

She rode off, Thunderfoot’s hooves clattering on the cobblestones. His thunderous hoof steps were soon joined by hers as Ariadne leapt from his back to become a bull herself. Or would that be a cow? Either way, she had horns and was just as big and just as mean as her mount.

Phoebe leaned against the doorway, ankles crossed, a small grin lingering on her face. She’d seen what I had done. You can’t do that to every Amazon, my dude. We don’t have the Thymos for it.

Not everyone will ask like Ariadne did, I sent back. It pays to be bold enough to know what you want and go after it. Besides, did you see her as a minotaur? She was a beast! Put her and Myrina in the front lines and they’ll tank it up! They can take all the damage, so our spellcasters can lay waste to our enemies!

My Rune-Caster smiled even wider. You’re a good person, Jacob. You have a good heart. Sometimes I don’t understand how you ended up as war god, but I’m glad you did. Now, we need to get busy on fortifying our walls. We don’t have much time left.

I checked the time on my display. Sure enough, in two hours we’d be knee-deep in evil again. We’d been forging and upgrading Amazons for hours. I was regenerating Essence Points, but the constant output had left me tired. Yet, I couldn’t rest.

I messaged Loxo about her scouting, and she sent back that she hadn’t found any more Thymos Crystals. Still, the trails were all clear—no sign of enemy forces anywhere—which was a small victory. Though, only a very small one, since Lycastia had a million tunnels, dungeons, and caves in the rock under our feet. Some of them were natural, some excavated, and some were the result of rifts eating away at the boundary between our world and the realm of the god of death.

Hades and his armies seemed to know every crack and crevice that could bring them within striking distance of our walls.

I sighed and told Loxo to come back so I could upgrade her before the next tussle.

Will it involve kissing? Loxo messaged me in reply. Because I will only return if you promise to kiss me.

I responded, You’ll have to come back to find out.

She laughed and signed off.

Damn, that woman had a one-track mind. And I seemed to be standing in the middle of the road.

FIVE

World War Amazon

Phoebe headed over to a harvester with the gaming orb while I lugged out our last crate of Thymos Crystals—just under twenty-five pounds worth. The sun was already dipping down toward the horizon, and we had to add to our defenses before the next attack.

The harvester was a big wagon, powered by a combination of clockwork and steam. Cogs, gears, and chains covered the vehicle. It had long arms fashioned out of wood and brass that could cut through wheat and toss the bundles into the wagon bed. A thin stream of smoke drifted into the sky from a soot-blackened pipe.

I lashed the crate of crystals to the bed, then climbed up into the driver’s seat. Phoebe slid onto the wooden bench next to me, cradling the onyx gaming orb against her like a child. I released the brake with one lever, engaged the steam engine with another, then mashed down a brass foot pedal protruding from the floor while gripping the crude steering wheel. We bucked to a start and puttered away from the forge, the wheels creaking, the wood and metal groaning as we rattled over the cobblestone streets.

Phoebe’s voice filled my mind. Jacob, my dude, I’ve been reviewing all the war movies you’ve watched, and I have some ideas for our defenses. In Saving Private Ryan, there were those X things on the beaches of Normandy—Czech hedgehogs, they’re called. We should totally make some for the western beach. And from All Quiet on the Western Front, if we had trenches and barbed wire in front of our walls, it would slow down the evil fuckers.

I nodded. “I was thinking the same thing, though not barbed wire—that shit’s for cows and farms. We can do better. We’ll go with spools of razor wire, like they use on base. Stuff’s a nightmare to get through and it should be cheap to produce. As for the trenches, if Sabra can grow vines, I’d bet dollars to donuts she can dig too.”

Phoebe tapped the gaming orb. Definitely. We’ll need to increase her Combat Growth mojo to do it, but she’s leveled as well, so that shouldn’t be a problem. You have some seriously bad bitches working for you, my friend.

I rolled my eyes. “I thought with more intelligence points you’d use less slang. But it’s only getting worse.”

Hells yeah! I find your crazy language so much fun!

She smiled at me, small dimples appearing in her cheeks. Once again, I felt the emotional connection we had. If I’d met Phoebe in the real world, I would’ve married her in a minute. She was just my type: smart, funny, with a wry sense of humor and a rather cynical world view.

“How are we doing on food?” I asked, pushing away any thought of romance—the mission comes first, I reminded myself.

Just fine. Amazons keep dying, which means less mouths to feed. So, we got that going for us.

“Ouch,” I replied with a grimace.

I sent out a call to Sabra, telling her to meet us down by the southern gate. Meanwhile, the Battle Wardens manning the gatehouse opened the way for us and we trundled out onto the battlefield. The smell of the corpses hit us right away.

A moment later, Sabra came flying in on the back of Flutterhoney, Toxaris in front of her, reins in hand. The Pegasus touched down gently, dancing lightly along the ground as the Forest-Witch dismounted. Then Toxaris and Flutterhoney took to the air again, the Pegasus’s great wings pumping, her mane fluttering in the wind. They were joined by five other winged horses and five giant eagles, all with Amazons clinging to their backs. I watched, fascinated, as my Beastiamancers ran drills, firing arrows and hurling javelins into naga corpses lashed upright to stakes. A giant eagle dove in to further shred spider-pig corpses into bits before taking off again.

Sabra walked over to the harvester as Phoebe and I climbed down. The Forest-Witch had a thick, strong body with big thighs and muscular arms. Brown-haired and hazel-eyed, she wouldn’t look out of place at a weekend farmer’s market selling beets and artesian cheeses. Well … except for her armor. Most of the Amazons wore fairly standard battle gear—bronze breastplate, greaves, hardened leather battle skirt, and sandals that threaded up to the knees. But not Sabra. Nope. She sported equipment woven entirely of plants.

Her cloak was a sheet of living vines, and her armor was crafted from flexible bark studded with wicked thorns. A battle skirt woven from flowers in a riot of hues encircled her hips. Even her weapon was strange: a shepherd’s crook, though the inside of the crook was edged with razor-sharp steel.

“Heya, lady,” Phoebe called out to the witch, hefting the orb with a grin. “We’re here to fix you up and make you even more of a badass.” Sabra’s character sheet popped up, floating in the air as Phoebe launched into an explanation.

“What do you suggest, War God?” the Forest-Witch asked when the Rune-Caster finally fell silent. “For I long to be of service to you.”

“Well,” I returned, “I was hoping you could drop some of your points into Combat Growth. We have some digging to do.”

Sabra nodded. “I can, but I am also capable of brewing magical elixirs, which will enhance the skills of your Amazons for a limited time.”

I quirked an eyebrow at Phoebe. Explain please, I sent.

Phoebe was ready with the answer. “One of her potions could increase one of our abilities to their maximum level, at least for a short time. Though at the highest levels, her potions could increase all of our stats for up to an hour. An impressive ability, without a doubt. Definitely worth cultivating, long term.”

I thought about what that could mean. Give a level-one Battle Warden a vial of Sabra’s Kool-Aid, and she’d be as vicious as Myrina. And if Myrina sipped the stuff?

She’d be unstoppable. A living force of nature with an attitude to match.

As intriguing as that sounded, however, we had immediate threats to deal with first.

Sabra was level eight now, with thirty Attribute Points to spend and three Ability Points to invest. The stat points she divvied up without a thought: twenty to Intelligence and ten to Willpower. As for the Ability points, I had her drop two into Combat Growth, while she used the last one to unlock the Potions ability.

With that done, we all got to work on further fortifying the walls.

While Sabra went to town, carving deep furrows in the earth, I pulled up the MANAGE ISLAND tab, then scrolled down until I found an option called Defensive Structures. Here too, there were a bunch of different choices—some classic Greek, others more in line with Medieval siege warfare—plus an OTHER tab, which wasn’t grayed out on account of my awesome Level 2 Innovate Ability.

I was a little worried the gaming system would balk at razor wire—concertina wire, technically—since it wasn’t invented until War World One, but I was hopeful. I mean, this wasn’t a bunker buster or a cruise missile, it was a metal wire, studded with a bunch of little razors. Pretty basic. Since the option wasn’t listed in my OTHER tab, I toggled over to the BUILD option, then scrolled down to the CUSTOMIZE menu. That, in turn, brought up an impressive 3-D modeling grid with a variety of manipulation tools at my disposal. I could import “blueprints,” add custom features, and alter the shape and size of various structural features or weapons.

There was a ton of stuff, but it was all intuitive and easy to use.

With only a little effort, I built a working model of the razor wire, then checked the price. Virtually nothing. One pound of Thymos Crystal converted with forty Essence Points would set us right. I clicked the build function, and instantly the wire spooled out of my fingertips like a magician pulling endless scarves from his sleeve. Except this was the real deal. I worked my arms to weave rolls of the stuff, which I stacked up against the walls. If the spider pigs wanted to climb up the stone, they’d have to get through the wire first.

Once I finished with that, I turned my attention back to Sabra, who was still going hard on the trenches. The dirt literally flew from the ground now, creating not only a trench, but an impromptu earthen berm that our enemies would have to scramble over. And that wasn’t all. Between the trenches and the walls, she gouged out a series of waist-deep pits and filled them with thorny brambles. She then grew a thin covering of vines over the top and took the excess dirt and covered those vines. In minutes, we had Burmese Tiger Pit traps littering the battlefield.

They were nearly invisible, even when looking for them, so over the top she grew a few dandelions to mark them for those in the know.

By the time Sabra was done, she was pale and sweating. She’d used up her Exousía, the magic which fueled her Forest-Witch abilities, so I sent her off to the barracks to rest and recuperate for the battle to come.

I was feeling pretty wrung out myself, so the idea of hitting the barracks was deeply appealing, but unfortunately there was no time for it. With a reluctant sigh, Phoebe and I made for the beach, ready to set up Czech hedgehogs. Those were the Xs the Germans had scattered across the Normandy shores to hinder the Allied forces from driving vehicles unimpeded up the sands. For us, they would play hell on the feet of cyclopes or any other lumbering Hellspawned monster that might come diddy boppin’ out of the ocean.

It would be like stepping on a razor-sharp Lego brick.

Those too I built in the 3-D editor, then I spun out more of the C-wire between the hedgehogs to help keep the damn sea centaurs out. We finished our seaside renovation by carving three pillboxes into the rocky sandstone walls facing the beach. Inside, Amazons could operate the Gatling guns we placed in there. With those set up, we could turn the beach into an absolute killing ground.

Creating the pillboxes and Gatling guns used up about three-quarters of our remaining Thymos Crystals. We decided to save the rest in case the shit really hit the fan.

Phoebe drove the harvester to her workshop while I went to get some more Mountain Dew and inspect the new Amazons we’d forged. Myrina was in the process of drilling them on the practice grounds near the barracks, just to the north of the city. Battle Wardens threw javelins at wicker practice dummies while others sparred with bokkens—wooden practice swords shaped like katanas. Phoebe had come up with them after scuba diving into my mind and memories. Others used wooden xiphos, the Greek short sword, and wicker shields.

My Elementalists were also training. Calla sent out a gout of fire from her hands at Aella and Otrere. My Air-Witch created a miniature cyclone to sweep the flame away from her while the Water-Witch stood near a trough of water. With a sweep of her hands, she sent the water splashing into the fire, disrupting the attack.

The first- and second-level Elementalists watched intently and then they tried their hand at stopping Calla’s fiery attacks.

I surveyed the amazing Amazons and frowned. I had to keep my warriors alive and I had to keep them leveling up. At this point, I could have ninety-five soldiers under my command, but I had a little less than half of that. The constant attacks were playing hell on our personnel.

When Myrina saw me, she immediately barked, “Amazons! Stand at attention!” In an instant, the mock combat ceased, and every face turned to me. Every eye glowed with admiration as their bodies locked into rigid attention, heels together, arms pressed tightly against their sides. The godstone burned with fierce approval inside my chest.

“God of War,” Myrina said, “your Amazons are ready to be inspected!”

Slowly, I threaded my way through their ranks and noticed Hippolyta and Antiope standing extra tall, imbued with a little extra confidence.

“War God!” Myrina called out as I passed by the last column of troops. Her voice echoed through the city like a thunderclap. “Do you wish to show these new recruits an example of your bellicose powers?”

Nice word, bellicose. Myrina was showing off her enhanced intelligence. Either that or someone had given her a word-of-the-day calendar.

“Sure,” I said immediately, remembering the first time Myrina and I had sparred. It hadn’t gone well. I’d hesitated in hitting her, and she’d made me pay for it in spades. She and the others had referred to me as a baby god, and back then, that was exactly what I was. But not anymore. Antiope stepped forward and handed me a bokken. I took it, swinging it through the air with confident ease while Myrina readied herself with a wooden xiphos and a wicker shield.

Me? I went shieldless.

Amazons broke formation as one, spreading out in a loose circle, providing us with a perimeter. I could smell the sweat on their bodies and the perfume of the ocean over the dusty scent of the training grounds.

“Ready?” I asked Myrina.

She nodded. And attacked.

She moved like wind, her feet dancing over the dirt as she came at me. And boy, she wasn’t pulling punches.

She lashed out with a flurry of stabs and swipes, her blade whipping, arcing, thrusting, parrying. I caught each strike on my wooden sword, turning aside her attacks as I moved through the elaborate footwork patterns she’d drilled into me. It must’ve been obvious to anyone watching that she was far more skilled than me, but I was both stronger and faster. True, I’d stacked my stats heavy toward Intelligence and Willpower—all the better for miracle work and Amazon creation—but I was still a level-twenty war god.

And, moreover, I’d spent days on end either training with Myrina or killing monsters.

I watched her eyes more than her body, and they told me where she would attack next. A feint. A thrust. A pivot. She was pushing my boundaries, probing for a weak spot, and once she found it, she would exploit it. Hard. Though I was doing an admirable job holding her at bay, I knew that was no way to win a fight against her. She was persistent and could be patient when it suited her. Eventually, I’d make a mistake and she’d make her move. So, it was time to level the playing field.

I bolted right, then spun left as she adjusted, sword slashing. She moved to intercept the strike, which is when I shot in and lashed out with a brutal front kick that slammed into her shield like a Mack truck, driving her back onto her heels. I thrust my left hand out and sent a crackling bolt of lightning into the ground next to her. Earth exploded up in a geyser of smoke and debris, catching Myrina off guard. A rare thing, that. Clearly, she hadn’t expected me to use my miracles.

She hesitated for only a heartbeat, but that was enough for me to turn the tide. I darted in again, barreling into her with my shoulder. She reeled from the hit, which allowed me to wrestle her shield away and slip it over my own forearm. Katana in my right hand, shield in my left, I waded forward, taking the offensive. I slashed. She sidestepped and lunged, but I batted the attack away with the shield and offered a brutal overhand strike in return. She parried the attack with the flat of her blade and caught my weapon arm in her iron-strong fist.

Against a weaker opponent the move might’ve worked. But I wasn’t weak. I jerked my arm down as I wheeled, throwing her off balance before driving my shield into her face.

She staggered back, sword down, eyes dazed from the hit, and I raised my sword, ready to bring it down on her head in what would’ve been a killing blow in a real battle.

At the last second, though, I pulled my attack.

Instead of simply yielding, however, she whirled and smacked at my helm with her practice sword.

I took the blow and kept right on fighting, raining a barrage of strikes down on her.

Myrina retreated, breathing hard, deflecting each blow, but barely. And then in a blur she bounded back, flipping head over heels, pushing off her hands, then landing in a crouch ten feet away. She smiled at me.

You could’ve ended our fight, but you stayed your hand, she messaged me. You struck with your shield and not with your sword.

That’s right, Myrina. I didn’t want to have to heal your ass.

You would’ve healed my head, Jacob, but I understand what you are saying. She nodded.

There we were, standing among our troops, gazing at each other in silence. The Amazons quietly watched.

You have grown, Jacob. Once, I feared you would not be strong enough to fight the battles to come, yet at the same time I feared you would embrace your power and become as arrogant as Ares. But today you showed both your strength and your mercy. I am proud of you, War God.

Without waiting for me to reply, she stood and turned to our soldiers. “You see, the War God is mighty, and he is kind. He could’ve split my skull but pulled the blow. He is as thoughtful as he is strong! We are fortunate to serve such a god!”

All the Amazons let out a booming cheer, raising their weapons and slapping them against woven shields. The sound was sweet in my ears until the smell of sulfur hit me.

Sophia teleported in carrying Loxo. Both collapsed at my feet. Both were wounded and bloody.

Loxo raised an arm, and I saw the bullet hole carved in her flesh. Someone had shot her. “Jacob, our enemies are coming, approaching the southern gate. But we do not face spider pigs and snake men. We face something far deadlier …”

SIX

Golems, Imps, and Meathead Morons

I pulled up my interface and glanced at the time, 7:30 PM. They were hitting us early. Half an hour early. I bent and used Healing Touch to close Loxo’s injuries, eleven points of Essence washing out of me. The rough-hewn bullets fell from the wounds as her flesh knit closed.

The Huntress let out a shuddering breath. “Gans. They have gans,” she said.

“Guns,” I corrected, offering her a hand and pulling her to her feet.

“Either way, I prefer Praxidike’s whip.” It was tough talk given the fact that the whip had literally killed her last week.

Next, I moved over and healed Sophia. She was back to her full hit points in seconds. Dizzy, I fell to one knee, trying to clear my head. After all the improvements I’d made to the defenses I was feeling pretty damn beat. My Essence was low, just about 150 points.

I would’ve loved another twenty minutes to rest and regenerate some of my power, but apparently the enemy had other ideas. I wasn’t sure why they were hitting us early, but I knew exactly why they had guns. It was Earl Echo Earl … Had to be. We had a history, Earl and I. Mostly of him being a dick and me stupidly taking it because he was higher ranking. That assbasket had been in my squadron, and like me, he’d crashed on Lycastia. After my final showdown with Praxidike, I’d seen his flag flying over the walls of the Temple of Hades, so I knew he was the one calling the shots.

Myrina barked out orders to the Wardens, marshaling them into orderly battle lines as they made for the walls. But if Earl Echo Earl was taking an active role in this latest assault, we didn’t have a second to spare.

I grabbed Sophia and pulled her close. “Take me to the southern gate.”

She nodded, still pale, but able to teleport. The stink of rotten eggs hit me as purple light enveloped me in a cloud. In the span of an eyeblink, the training ground vanished and we were on the ramparts next to the southern gatehouse. And carving across the bloody battlefield was an insane army of creatures we’d not seen before.

For a split second, I wanted the spider pigs and nagas and werewolves back. Then I had to grin. Wasn’t that one of the wonders of video games? Endlessly grinding the same old monsters got tiresome, which is why the designers threw in new, unique, and nastier villains to wipe out. Still, even at a glance, it was clear only mentally ill programmers would’ve come up with the insidious creatures we had to face now.

Towering stone golems, twelve feet tall, loomed above a crazy carpet of smaller creatures. The hulking monstrosities were cobbled together from grit, dirt, and jagged rocks, all held together by scraggly jungle moss and generous globs of gossamer spider webbing. That and dark magic—even from a distance I could see the noxious green power radiating out in a halo around them. They tromped down the hill, leaving massive, uneven footprints in their wake.

Much faster than the golems were the battalions of three-headed dogs that scuttled in front of them. Cerberus—the mythic three-headed Hellhound who guarded the gates of Hades—must’ve found a lot of action somewhere on the island because he’d spawned hundreds of pony-sized mutts, who barked and growled from triple-packs of slavering maws, studded with yellow fangs. And naturally, malformed midget-sized imps rode the Hellhounds like horses. They were green-skinned, long-eared, long-nosed monsters clad in leather tunics and armed with hooked spears, jagged-toothed swords, and short bows.

The imps had a very Harry Potter house-elf feel to them. But like, if house-elves were rabid and strung out on meth.

“Great,” I whispered, “we’re being attacked by Dobby’s evil cousins riding baby Hellhounds. That’s just what we need.”

But worst of all? The imps, the dogs, and the rock golems weren’t the end of the story.

Ah nope.

Lumbering meathead giants, nine feet tall and bulging with muscles, marched toward us. The pale-skinned goons had misshapen faces, slack jaws, and big, wet lips. A vacant stupor filled dark, deeply recessed eyes, which sat under sloping Cro-Magnon brows. They looked dumber than a box of rocks, but I knew from experience that stupid could turn ferocious in a heartbeat. Heavy, spike-studded iron armor covered their bulky bodies, and wrapped around each wrist was a long length of chain, which ended at a monstrous Morningstar mace.

But Earl hadn’t stopped there. Mounted on the shoulders of the meathead thugs were Gatling guns operated by gimpy goblins, which looked like the weakling imps that hadn’t made the cut. Some had withered legs, others were missing their lower limbs entirely, and all were painfully thin. The denizens of Mad Max: Fury Road had just come to call.

I squinted, straining my eyes as a final horror show stomped into view. It was an enormous war mammoth, each of its tusks longer than a Claymore sword, heavy armor strapped over its shoulders, back, and head. On the mammoth’s back was a rider. A man, clad head to toe in wicked armor fashioned from yellowing bone. In the fading light of the setting sun, he glowed with a putrid light—fallout green like a toxic waste spill. I’d played more than enough video games to know a necromancer when I saw one.

The real question was how Earl had managed to make the creature. Was he some sort of general, like Myrina?

I wasn’t sure, and right now the how didn’t matter so much. As I glanced at the sprawling army I noticed something we could use to our advantage: they didn’t have air support.

Asteria, I sent out in a mental shout.

Asteria’s voice hit me in all her whaleness. Yes, footling land breather! I hear you!

Good, I messaged back. We need you by the southern gate. We’re under attack and what we’re facing … Well, it’s hard to describe, but it ain’t good. On the plus side, they don’t have air troops, so I’m going to need you to bring the thunder. Got me?

Yes, land breather! I will be there anon! The connection died.

Myrina sped up next to me, her training gear gone, replaced with the real deal. “Jacob, we can use our eagle riders and winged horses to harass the troops before they hit the trenches and the razor wire.”

“My thinking exactly. Asteria is already on her way,” I said, simultaneously messaging my ranking Beastiamancer. Toxaris, take your troops and hit the incoming forces, but watch out for their Gatling guns. Keep high and use your projectile weapons if possible. Myrina and I will guard the walls along with a handful of Wardens.

Yes, War God! Toxaris responded.

Warriors on winged horses and giant eagles flashed into view above us. They soared into the darkening sky and leveled out before dropping down, strafing the marching army with arrows and javelins.

Wooden shafts splintered on the stony skin of the golems, but they absolutely pin-cushioned the meathead morons. Unfortunately, said meatheads kept right on stomping toward us, largely unfazed by the attack. A few of the gimpy goblins fell dead from their gunner seats, though, so that was a small win. One that didn’t last for long. In short order, other imps left their three-headed dogs to scamper up the spiked armor of the meatheads, quickly replacing their fallen brethren.

Imps with bows returned fire, but their crappy weapons were no match for our English longbows. But then the Gatling guns opened up …

The thunder and smell of the gunfire brought me back to my training, and it was surreal to be dealing with more modern-day weapons again.

The imps on the meatheads filled the air with smoke and lead. Toxaris and our air force dodged and ducked away from the onslaught of bullets, though a few of the horses and some of the eagles were hit, blood spattering down. But Otrere and I were on the wall, ready to heal them.

The eagles and winged horses wheeled around to the back of the army and then turned for another salvo.

Toxaris, I messaged, focus on the dogs and imps. Your weapons are doing a better job on them than on the golems or the goons.

As you wish, the Beastiamancer replied.

Then overhead, a blue-feathered eagle—three times the size of the rest of the eagles—streaked by like a semitruck with wings.

With her talons extended, Asteria went low and raked her claws through dozens of dogs and gun-toting giants. Her razor-sharp talons tore the Hellhounds in half, beheaded meatheads, and turned imps into greenish goo.

She banked left, latched onto a rock golem, and took off with the creature in her grip. Her wings pumped, great gusts of air beating down on the earth as she climbed. The whole while the golem bucked and fought, its legs swaying uselessly. At thirty feet up, she launched the struggling golem into the tide of monsters; it struck like a falling meteor. It sent three-headed dogs and warrior imps flying. Stony arms and legs burst into deadly shrapnel, which took out more of the incoming army. A deadly blow, but still the army advanced undeterred.

The first of the imp-laden dogs leapt over the trenches. But then they hit the Burmese Tiger Pits. Down they went, one after another after another, into the deep holes, onto the spikes and biting thorns.

Pegasus riders feathered the monsters desperately fighting to break free from the pits with arrows. The creatures never stood a chance. Even with their leather jerkins, arrows found faces, necks, and other exposed flesh. Goblins died screaming as their mounts yowled in pain.

The trenches were too wide for the stone golems and meathead shamblers to step over. However, whoever was leading the army got smart. The golems laid their rocky bodies over the trenches, and the bumbling meatheads strode over their backs. The whole while, Gatling guns screamed, rounds thudding into our walls, brass shells raining down onto the gore-soaked earth. The little rail-gun goblins didn’t seem to have especially good aim, but I didn’t want to risk taking a gut full of lead, so I hunkered down behind the protective stone parapet and motioned for my Wardens to do the same.

Fight smarter, not harder.

Is the gatehouse ready? Myrina messaged.

Phoebe responded. Yep, locked and cocked. Let’s rock these fuckers.

Perfect. High time we saw how these new shitheads handled some superior firepower. I switched to my gaming display to watch.

Two of the ballistae thumped, hurling a pair of sapling-sized bolts into goblin-toting goons. The first bolt slammed through a neck as thick as my thigh, ripping the poor sucker’s head clean off and taking his goblin gunner out in a stroke of pure luck. The second bolt smashed right through another meathead’s bulky armor, blood spurting as he toppled over, crushing the gimpy goblin on his back.

Imps leapt from the backs of hounds that had survived the pits. They didn’t get two steps before the Amazons manning the gate tower unleashed the flamethrowers, charbroiling the deformed, green-skinned munchkins on the spot. Other imps and their dogs charged through the barrage of arrow fire and columns of flame, only to find themselves ensnared in the gleaming tangles of razor wire. Myrina popped up and sent her enchanted javelin into the chest of a mini-Cerberus. Lightning flashed, and thunder boomed as the dog exploded.

Then, the magic missile appeared back in the leather quiver on her back. Magic rocks so hard.

I rose and thrust one hand out, palm up, and triggered Lightning Lance. My Essence dipped as the miracle exploded out in a blue-white arc, sandblasting an encroaching goon right in his dopy, slope-browed face. The shambler convulsed, blunt teeth rattling, arms rigid, smoke rising in plumes before the bolt arced again, zapping the imps and Hellhounds around him. The bodies fell smoking to the ground, ruined and dead.

A fresh wave of gunfire strafed the battlements, forcing us back down. The gatehouse rotated again, and more ballistae bolts streaked through air followed by arrows from the Battle Wardens up top. The tower shifted, more quickly this time, and our own Gatling guns rattled off rounds. The bullets tore into the bodies of meatheads, imps, and dogs alike, keeping them off our walls and away from our gate. A few wily imps scrambled forward, hoping to take cover at the base of the walls where the gunfire couldn’t reach.

Great bucketfuls of burning oil did them in.

The stone golems rose from bridging the trenches and joined the attack.

But Asteria wasn’t having it, not even a little.

She swooped in again—deftly avoiding their stony fists—and seized a second golem in massive talons, climbing once more before launching the monster to the ground like a cruise missile. More golems died, ripped apart by the sheer force of their falling friend. But there were too many of the golems for her to deal with alone, and so far, our weapons hadn’t affected them. The flamethrowers, Gatling guns, and ballistae bolts simply didn’t have the juice to put ’em down.

One reached the southern gate and smashed a fist into the wood. The entire gate bulged inward, the wood groaning, rivets popping, as it threatened to give.

For a beat, I thought about simply opening the gate and letting my bear riders and bull riders deal with the stone giants, but I wasn’t sure Euryleia or Ariadne would be able smash through their skin.

Sabra, my recently leveled-up Forest-Witch, darted up the steps and raced to the battlements. Raising her arms, she cast a Combat Growth spell. Writhing vines erupted from the ground, wrapping around arms and legs and torsos like pythons. More vines joined the fray a heartbeat later, squeezing stony throats and pulling the rocky golems to the earth, miring them in an awesome AOE holding spell. The Forest-Witch trembled under the effort, though, sweat coating her face as her eyes grew hazy.

She couldn’t keep it up for long. Thankfully, Asteria was already exploiting the temporary weakness. She cannonballed from the air, the ground cratering around her as she landed, kicking up a dust cloud. As the dust faded, a blue-furred bear that would’ve made a grizzly look small emerged with a bone-shaking roar. Asteria: at least four thousand pounds of muscle, fur, claws, fangs, and pure fury.

She barreled forward, giant arms lashing out with incredible strength; her paws ripped off limbs and blocky heads. And the golems couldn’t do a damn thing. They were sitting ducks down there, bound and immobile from the vines. Myrina and I joined the effort. My Battle Warden threw her lightning javelin and I unleashed Lightning Lance after Lightning Lance. Together, we struck the golems until their rocky flesh crumbled.

Otrere and Calla took out another golem together. First Otrere would hit the stone creature with a spray of magical water, cooling the surface of the monster. Then Calla sprayed superheated fire from her hands. It hit the brittle rock and caused the golem to explode in a bank of white steam.

Eventually, though, Sabra faltered. She reeled drunkenly before toppling over, her vines withering away as she lost focus. But it was okay. She’d held the line, dammit, and that had bought us the time to deal with the attack without losing a single Amazon and without major damage to our fortifications. Oh, hells yeah! I was getting good at this God of War thing.

An alert flashed in my gaming display. Incoming message. That was odd.

A feeling of dread hit me as I answered and Earl Echo Earl’s voice hit my mind like a sucker punch. You did pretty good against my latest batch of monsters, dickweed. Too bad it was just a little test. Now, how about we play for real?

I looked down at the battlefield.

I’d forgotten about the green glowing Necro mounted on his War Mammoth … Which is when it dawned on me: That guy wasn’t some random Boss Monster. No, it was Earl Echo Earl in the flesh. What in the hell happened to him? I wondered.

It seemed he was no longer Earl Echo Earl, but Earl Necro Earl … Ba-Dum-CH!

Necro Earl raised his armored fists high, green power swirling around him like a tornado as a terrible chant rolled from his mouth, the words jagged and painful to hear. Like rusty nails driven into my eardrums. Across the field, the corpses of the creatures we’d just painstakingly murdered groaned as they slowly climbed to their feet.

Damn, Phoebe messaged me. He’s going all Game of Thrones on us.

Earl’s voice echoed laughter as he stood on his saddle. “Charge!” he boomed, the ginormous mount breaking into a lumbering run as he led his zombie horde into battle.

SEVEN

Earl Echo Douchebag

As Earl Necro Earl barreled toward us on his war mammoth, the decrepit skeletons of long-dead werewolves and half-rotted nagas—victims of earlier skirmishes—pulled themselves from the muck and dirt and shambled toward us. Headless meatheads, imps with their entrails dragging on the ground, and three-headed Hellhounds, clearly dead, joined the fray too. At least the stone golems stayed down. It seemed Earl’s power only worked on dead organic matter.

Undead imps cranked up the Gatling guns on the zombie meatheads, and once more rotating barrels vomited fire and smoke; bullets sparked, whined, and ricocheted off our battlements. Amazons took damage. My combat display flashed red as HP bars shrank. Dammit!

I messaged my Amazons. Euryleia, Asteria, we’ll need the Beastiamancers to engage the incoming dead. Toxaris, supply air support. Vara, Sophia, Loxo, we need you to take out the necromancer on the mammoth. Every other available warrior, get up here now!

I knew my Huntress and the Teleporters could strike and disappear, but still, I worried I was sending them on a suicide mission.

The first of the undead army hit our defenses like a tsunami made of rotten meat and splintered bone. The smell wafting up was horrendous. Spider pigs, missing legs and slick with death juices, scurried into the razor wire and stuck there. But they didn’t care. Nope, not one bit. They mashed themselves into the wire, oblivious to pain, giving the other monsters a grisly staircase of bodies they could use to climb onto the walls.

Calla thrust both hands forward and launched a gout of brilliant flame, charbroiling all the arachnaswine within a ten-yard radius, but there were too many for her to toast completely. She took an arrow to the shoulder and dropped to a knee, eyes suddenly hazy. My other Elementalists were doing their part. Otrere rushed to the gatehouse to heal archers who had taken damage. Sabra had used up her Exousía in the golem attack, but she had grabbed a longbow and quiver. She’d pop up, fire, then bop right back down, nocking another arrow.

Our gatehouse rotated. Arrows, ballistae bolts, and bullets tore into the undead army, but these weren’t like The Walking Dead zombies. Simple brain damage wouldn’t stop them. Only complete and total destruction would do.

And speaking of complete and total destruction … the gates below me thundered open and my heavy cavalry burst forward. Bear riders and bull riders surged out, hitting the shambling, weaving undead like a sledgehammer through drywall. Euryleia had used her Shift Form ability and had become a golden grizzly herself. Behind her were five other lesser bears—conjured with her Summon Animal skill—and Buttercup, the uber bear. Euryleia led them in a ferocious charge. Paws swept off heads, sent limbs spinning away, annihilated hip joints, and left the zombies twitching uselessly on the ground.

Ariadne merged with her bull to become a twelve-foot-tall minotaur wielding an enormous ax. She whirled her weapon around and decapitated six enemies before striding forward on giant hooves, her colossal steps rattling the earth. Other bull riders kept the zombies off her as she struck again and again with her ax. The bull riders used swords and spears to destroy their enemies, but their bulls were equally affective against the zombie invaders. Soon, rotted flesh and coagulated blood covered their horns and black gore painted their front legs and sharp hooves.

Asteria was in a constant state of flux. She flowed like quicksilver from giant eagle to saber-toothed tiger to bear to mammoth. She left a trail of savage butchery in her wake: bodies cleaved in two, others missing legs or whole torsos—swallowed by a blue-furred tiger. And nothing seemed capable of standing against her mammoth form. Her huge trunk crushed pelvises while she used her tusks to rend muscle and break bone. Bits of the undead carpeted the ground.

Fighting the living was hard enough, but unfortunately, fighting the dead proved even more difficult.

The arms that Asteria removed continued to grasp at legs. If a torso still had an arm and a weapon, it would hack at anything around it. While my Amazons were doing okay, it wasn’t long before we started taking casualties.

A meathead corpse shuffled forward. It swung the spiked flails on its wrist around and bashed a bull rider from her saddle; the woman’s face was completely obliterated by the weapon. Her icon simply vanished from my combat display—dead long before her corpse ever hit the ground. The riderless bull spun and gored the meathead. But the zombie goon couldn’t have cared less. It reached down, wrapped tree-trunk arms around the creature’s neck, then jerked straight up, breaking the bull’s neck through sheer strength. Despite being impaled by the now deceased bovine, the giant still attacked with its flails.

Another of my bear riders went down in a hail of bullets and arrows. Overhead, a Pegasus shrieked and bucked wildly as it was pulled from the sky by a lucky strike from one of the zombified goon’s flails. Horse and rider fell into a teeming mass of Hellhounds and putrid werewolves. They thrashed like mad, but in seconds they were overwhelmed. Pulled apart as teeth ripped into necks and guts.

Absolutely brutal.

We needed to end Necro Earl’s spell. That was the only way we’d win.

I messaged my general. Myrina, hold the walls. No matter what. I’m betting if we take out that shitheel Earl, his undead army will fall to pieces.

Myrina messaged me back. Yes, Jacob, I know what you are planning. It is the only way. Go!

I called to my Air-Witch. “Aella, open me a path, I’m gonna go punch their dickhead leader in the teeth.”

“On it, War God!” Aella bellowed, throwing her hands forward, unleashing a terrible cyclone, which ripped a hole through the zombie ranks. Gale-force winds battered undead imps. Badly decaying nagas were literally ripped apart, shredded by the winds into scales and meat confetti. Skeletal werewolves lost arms or legs while butchered Hellhounds were caught in the tornado and found themselves spinning upward.

The hurricane winds parted the hideous army like Moses parting the Red Sea. Time for me to shine! I raised the War Blade high in challenge and triggered the Greater Lycanthropy ability I’d unlocked at level eighteen. I needed to use the spell sparingly since it could only be employed twice every twenty-four hours, but there wasn’t a better time than right now. The godstone flared in my chest as hot as an ember from Phoebe’s fire as the change started to take hold.

My muscles twisted and thickened as I grew even taller. My right arm throbbed as it absorbed the War Blade, and my fingernails lengthened into steel talons that burned with preternatural golden light. Thick black fur burst through my skin, covering my body while my skull stretched and elongated, incorporating the helm so I still had access to the gaming display. My mouth squealed in protest as wicked fangs sprouted from my gums, each an inch long and scalpel-sharp.

Earl shouldn’t have pushed us to the edge. More and more of my people were losing their lives, and it was time to put an end to that bullshit.

Finally, the change finished its grisly work, leaving me twelve feet tall, and just over four tons of murder-machine with thick fur and thicker skin, more effective than any armor. I stood on my back legs, but my beef-slab arms were abnormally long, allowing me to go to all fours when an extra burst of speed was necessary. Like right now, for example. I leapt from the wall and hit the ground running, arms and legs tearing up the earth as I closed the distance like a lupine lightning bolt.

Necro Earl messaged me. Ha, so you can turn into a werewolf, turdbag. Big deal. I can raise the fucking dead. And before she died, Praxidike taught me everything she knew about fighting, magic, and ass kicking. You’re outranked and outclassed, you loser wimp asshole shit-fer-brains.

Meatheads turned their guns on me, but the bullets bounced harmlessly off my thick hide. Earl’s words though? They got through. A little self-doubt crept in. How can we beat an enemy that won’t stay dead? And if the armies we’d been fighting every eight hours for days on end were combined with the undead forces Earl could raise, how could I possibly create Amazons fast enough to keep our walls defended? No. No time for doubts. The godstone in my chest burned like a forest fire, consuming my uncertainty as my wolf instincts took over.

Now wasn’t the time for thought, now was the time of the hunt. Of the kill. Of rending flesh and bathing in the blood of the prey.

Three undead nagas rose from the ground to grasp at me with bloody fingers, but I dispatched each with a slice of my deadly claws, hardly even losing a step.

Earl thundered his war mammoth toward me. From the arsenal of weapons sheathed on his saddle, he pulled out a giant bone mace, the head created from a human skull, which was studded with long, jagged spikes of gleaming obsidian that radiated a miasma of sickly green luminescence.

The air above him shimmered as both my Teleporters appeared in a flash of purple light. Sophia carried my Huntress Loxo, while Vara dropped down onto the head of the mammoth, her bow in her hand. Before Vara could fire an arrow into his skull, Earl rose in his saddle and slammed his bone mace into the side of her face. Her head snapped to one side, eyes glazing over as the vicious spikes ended her life.

No. Not Vara. The pain hit my heart even as I drove my paws faster across the dirt. There was nothing I could do, I knew. But that maddening inability only spurred me on, red rage invading at the edges of my vision.

Sophia released Loxo midair, before vaping away with a burst of violet light. The Huntress landed as gracefully as a big-game cat right behind the Necro asshole. She had a short sword in one hand and a wicked hooked dagger in the other—her grip reversed so the dagger ran along the outside of her forearm. Before she could backstab him, a dozen undead harpies swooped down from the sky, their feathers falling off as they flew. Loxo ducked, rolled, and wheeled sharply as she danced through the birds like an acrobat.

There were just too many though. A badly decaying crone with skin sloughing off zagged at the last moment while Loxo zigged; the bird-woman drove a shoulder hard into the Huntress’s chest, batting her from the mammoth like a line drive. Loxo flipped head over heels, but twisted at the last moment, landing in a crouch on the ground—

Only to be sacked in a flurry of black feathers and rotting bird meat as the reanimated harpies converged on her in a wave.

Sophia reappeared, this time behind the gaggle of harpies, slashing off a wing with her katana, before disappearing again. The harpies continued to swarm. More rose from their graves. Some couldn’t fly, their feathers covered in slime and their wings too decayed. Still, they sped like zombie ostriches to engage Loxo, who was trying to ginsu her way free.

Behind me, the ocean of the undead had come back together, cutting us off from the support of the defenders on the wall. I’d gone all in against Necro Earl, and there was no turning back. Either we took him down or we lost the fight. Simple as that.

Earl’s voice hit me. I like killing your bitches, Gamer Two. I like beating you at the game you think you’re so good at.

Another sharp barb. I hated my call sign, Gamer Two. My old squadron had used it to taunt me. Earl was getting into my head.

But I could fix that. Accessing the gaming display, I did two things before I crashed into the charging armored mammoth. I used Divine Essence Points to give Loxo and Sophia Burning Aura, which would help them against the zombie harpies. Their skin glowed gold, their weapons took on a fiery hue, and as they slashed and hacked at the harpies, feathers burst into flames and rotted flesh smoked up a stupendous stink.

Then I unleashed my Level 2 Fury Ability. New power surged through my limbs as the spell gripped me by the throat. Not only did the urge to kill become nearly all-consuming, but I knew my physical prowess was skyrocketing as well. At level 2, the spell lasted for two minutes, increasing my Physical Attack Damage, Health Regeneration Rate, and Armor Rating by one 1% for every 1% of Health lost in battle. The more damage Earl dealt, the deadlier I would become.

All of Earl’s insults were swept away as the battle rage took hold of me.

In a burst of white-hot hate, I sprang off the ground and hit the mammoth’s skull. My steel claws—imbued with the power of the War Blade and surrounded by the glowing nimbus of Burning Aura—sliced through the beefy armor like it was cream cheese. I scampered up, my clawed feet tearing deep furrows in leathery hide as I slashed at a black eye bigger than a basketball with my right hand. The mammoth bellowed as my claws made mincemeat of its face, and it reared back, front feet kicking at the air.

The mammoth couldn’t shake me, though. I pressed my attack, pulling myself up higher as I jabbed my talons deep into the creature’s skull, parting bone. I wasn’t sure if I cut deep enough to get into the thing’s brain, but blood poured across its filthy fur. The mammoth dropped back down onto all fours, though its movements seemed jittery and uncertain. Maybe a light case of brain damage? A guy can always hope.

With a howl, I pulled myself up onto the top of the creature’s slugbug-sized head and bounded toward Earl. The Necro was already on his feet, mace raised and ready in his right hand, a halo of noxious green light surrounding his clenched left fist. I charged, Earl fired. His left hand jerked forward, the green light coalescing into a conjured bone javelin, four feet long. I was just too damned big to maneuver while on top of the mammoth, and the spear punched into my shoulder, penetrating my thick skin and carving away a hefty ten percent of my Health as blood rushed down my chest.

I ignored the pain though, Fury driving me on—my Physical Attack Damage, Health Regeneration Rate, and Armor Rating all leapt by ten percent—bringing me in range. Earl swung the mace, but I ducked the blow and lunged forward, latching onto Earl’s arm with my bone-crushing jaws. We tumbled off the mammoth and hit the ground rolling. We were both up in seconds, but while he was in his right mind, I was blinded by the miracle of my battle rage.

I ripped the bone spear free from my shoulder and dove forward, slamming the weapon into his thigh before taking him to the ground. He landed on his back with a thud, cursing up a storm at the pain in his leg. I came down on top, straddling him at the waist as I went to town with my claws. I drove my talons into his bony breastplate and snapped at his throat, strings of drool cascading from my jaws.

He grunted, bucked, thrashed, and managed to slam a gauntleted fist into the side of my skull. I definitely had the size advantage, but damn did he hit like a freight train. I staggered away, clutching at my face, while he rolled to the side and scrambled to his feet. He fetched his bone mace from the dirt and wheeled on me, a strange joy burning in his eyes.

He was loving this. Savoring it like a fine meal.

His left hand glowed, and bones of all shapes and sizes were pulled from the ground, connecting together to form a macabre whip. He slashed it down and it circled around my neck, but I twisted my head and snapped through the bones with my jaws. With a flick his hand, he restored his bone whip.

Loxo, bloodstained and grim, appeared behind him and drove her dagger into his back.

“No! He’s mine!” I roared in a guttural, wolfish voice I didn’t recognize. The godstone flared and I charged forward.

Behind me, the sky dimmed. Was night falling? No, it was the mammoth. I’d managed to chop into its brain after all.

The thing toppled onto me, and I found my hind legs crushed under the armor and muscle of the giant war mammoth. I growled and clawed at the ground with my hands, jerking my leg as I tried to free myself, but the mammoth seemed to weigh as much as an M1A1 battle tank.

Earl staggered forward, whirled, and struck like a cobra, wrapping his bone whip around Loxo’s neck. She clutched at it, fingers desperately trying to find purchase while her face turned a shocking shade of purple.

No, no, no. She’d died like that before. It was horrible déjà vu.

Sophia burst into existence behind Earl, katana raised. The Necro dropped the whip and spun, catching the Teleporter’s blade on his bone mace. At the same time, bony wings erupted from the armor on his back. He lunged forward, slamming a boot into Sophia’s chest, hurling her back before breaking into a sprint and leaping into the air. The wings erupted with a murky green fire as he took flight.

No, he couldn’t get away, not when I was so close to ending his ass. I roared, thrashing manically, somehow wriggling just enough to free my legs from the crushing weight of the mammoth. I streaked across the gore-splattered ground and leapt into the air for a final snap at my enemy.

But no. Just inches too short. Earl Necro Earl pumped his wings harder, climbing higher, well out of my reach, making for the south, where the Temple of Hades resided. This isn’t over, Gamer Two, he messaged me. I’ll be back to take the city, kill more of your bitches, and then finish you off. You really think this is all Hades and I can do? You ain’t seen nothing yet.

I landed on the ground and raised a claw-tipped hand, ready to unleash a last-ditch Lightning Lance at the bro-hole. The shrill cry of zombie harpies pierced my ears and stayed my hand.

Six grotesque bird-women sailed overhead, all carrying a long metal cylinder I recognized immediately. It was a CBU-100 Cluster Bomb. I’d had two on my Harrier. So had Earl.

I watched in a mixture of wonder and horror.

The undead army fell back to the ground. Earl must’ve been focusing his mojo on those last six harpies.

Toxaris ran and leapt on Flutterhoney. Asteria took to the air. But neither were fast enough to stop them.

Maybe I could. I hurled the Lightning Lance intended for Earl at them instead. Crackling, spitting electricity erupted from my metal-tipped fingers and fried one of the harpies, but this time, the electricity didn’t arc to the others.

They streaked forward and dropped the cluster bomb. The dispenser panels shot away and the submunitions took off in their parachutes. Every charge would be laser-targeted, and I knew what their target was.

Phoebe! I called through the messaging system. Get Brontia and Steropia and the rest of the Amazons out of the gatehouse! Now!

No response.

First one of the cluster bombs hit the tower, then another, then another, then another. BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM. The rapid series of explosions ripped through the stone and wiped out the southern gate. The Amazon archers on top of the gatehouse died—fireballs enveloping them—and I knew no one inside the rotating chamber could’ve survived the cluster bomb barrage. The upper portion of the gatehouse creaked, leaning drunkenly to one side before finally dropping, smashing into the earth with a thud, kicking up a small mushroom cloud of dirt and debris.

The tower lay smoking as the harpies met their end. Toxaris’s arrows killed two, and Asteria ripped three apart with her talons.

But the harpies’ suicide run had been successful. The gatehouse was gone, destroyed, and the wall around it had been turned to Swiss cheese.

I loped toward the smoking destruction and checked my gaming display. Somehow, Phoebe and Steropia were still alive, though barely. But Brontia and the three other Battle Wardens stationed in the tower? Gone. Dead. Which was a devastating blow. Brontia had leveled up to a seventh-level Rune-Caster, and losing her experience would severely hurt our crop production.

We thought we’d fortified our city against any attack. We’d been dead wrong.

“I fucking hate Earl Echo Earl,” I growled.

EIGHT

Candles and Nightmares

Hours later, I stood on the terrace outside my palace room and looked down at the stars shining on the dark plain of the Mediterranean Sea. I’d taken off my armor and slipped on a toga. The godstone in my chest had finally cooled down enough so that my chest didn’t feel like a sizzling steak on the grill. I’d been tapping into my Essence Points nonstop, healing Amazons and repairing the wall Necro Earl’s cluster bomb had blasted to pieces. Phoebe and Steropia were back in the forge, crafting Amazons for the next attack.

We’d lost fifteen warriors in the fight, including two of the original Amazons I’d forged: Vara and Brontia. Steropia and Sophia refused to weep in public, but I knew they were crying their eyes out alone. Losing a high-level Rune-Caster hurt, and Teleporters were crazy expensive to create—not to mention the emotional toll of their deaths. They were among the first Amazons I’d ever crafted, and now they were gone, though I’d be able to bring them back in time.

But I was already down so many soldiers that it would be a good long while before I could revive the pair. I needed scads of Battle Wardens, another squad of Beastiamancers, and at least one more Forest-Witch to focus on potions. Then maybe I could pull Vara and Brontia back from the grave. I sighed and ran a hand over my stubble-covered chin. God, what a mess this was.

The one piece of good news was that I’d leveled up, not once, but twice from my battle with Earl. I’d been on the cusp of level twenty-one prior to the battle, and apparently those meathead, gun-toting thugs and the stone golems dished out a whole helluva lot of EXP—not to mention the mammoth I’d offed. A small silver lining to the whole clusterfuck. I was ecstatic about the gains, of course, but honestly I just didn’t have the heart to deal with my gaming stats right then. I’d figure out where to put my points after I cleared my head.

Maybe Ares had been right, maybe I wasn’t cut out to be war god.

I reminisced about my first hours in the city, when I’d met the god of war in person. He hadn’t been too thrilled that a guy like me had wandered in to take on his mantle. He would’ve much preferred a normal, arrogant, kill-em-all type of Marine, someone like Earl. Yeah, Ares would’ve loved Earl, which bothered the hell out of me. I couldn’t help but wonder whether he would have been a better war god.

I mean, it wasn’t like I was a typical Marine—certainly not the alpha male, hard-chargers the Corps usually attracted.

In fact, I’d joined the USMC on a dare. Ozzy Moore, a DnD buddy of mine had laughed at me, saying I would wash out of OCS. So, the next day I’d signed up just to prove him wrong. A recruiter named Staff Sergeant Falls took a liking to me and sold me on the idea of the flight program. Back then, I’d been the right size for a pilot, I had great reflexes, and I was smart. He knew I was different from the kids who usually stopped by the recruiting station, but he also insisted it didn’t matter. I had skills—and most importantly, a degree. And he had a quota to fill, so it was a match made in heaven.

Fast-forward a few years, and here I was, three feet taller, bulkier, and wielding a magic sword against monsters. The godstone flared, sending a gentle pulse of warmth surging down my limbs. I walked to the marble railing and gave the sky the finger. “Fuck you, Ares. I’m doing fine for a gamer dork. I held the city. I killed Praxidike. And I came within inches of killing Earl. I’m now a level-twenty-two war god. Ozzy was wrong about me, you were wrong about me, and fuck Necro Earl. He’s wrong about me too, and I’m gonna show him.”

A salty breeze kicked up, brushing over my cheeks as I leaned my forearms against the railing. Still, I couldn’t keep fighting like this, there had to be a different way. A better way. I grunted and shook my head. Yeah, there was definitely a better way, but damned if I knew what it was.

“Jacob?” Asteria’s voice came from inside my room.

I straightened with a tired groan, turned my back to the rolling waves, and padded back inside, pushing my way through the gauzy curtains.

The shifter sat on my bed, very naked. Flickering candles threw shadows across her breasts and the shapely curve of her slim, perfect thighs. She was gorgeous. Beyond gorgeous. Her blue-tinged skin was silky and flawless, and her black, pixie-cut hair framed her perfect heart-shaped face. She stared at me longingly, the light reflecting in her golden eyes, a ghost of a smile stretched across full lips made for kissing. She was happy to see me, but then she was always happy to see me.

Still, her whole demeanor was soft and gentle, respectful of my sorrow. I couldn’t believe the losses. And without more Thymos Crystals, rebuilding the southern gatehouse would be impossible. I regretted the pillboxes we’d built on the western walls. It seemed they might go unused.

“Come, Jacob,” Asteria murmured, rubbing her hand over the sheets as though she could read my mind. “Let us rejoice in life and love while we can.”

I wasn’t in the mood … but then she shifted her posture, chest popping up just so. And that was the end of that conversation. The godstone practically erupted with fiery approval; my sex drive instantaneously engaged. What better way to take my mind off my troubles?

I took off my toga and strutted forward. The days of battle and building had left my muscles sculpted, and the added points to Strength certainly helped too. I was well below ten percent body fat. I was a fucking stud, now. The envy of every other man. That didn’t help you save Vara and Brontia, though, did it? some insidious voice whispered inside my head. The voice sounded suspiciously like that bastard Earl, though I knew it was really just my own self-doubt.

I grunted, fixing my eyes on the smooth planes of Asteria’s belly, and shoved my quiet fears away.

I dropped onto the bed and crawled forward like a prowling lion, pressing against Asteria as my mouth found hers. Her lips were soft, perfect, and she tasted faintly of raspberries and Mountain Dew. She looked innocent, but I knew from personal experience that she had a definite animalistic side to her. She growled, lacing her hands around my neck, then rolled. Suddenly our positions were swapped; she was on top of me, straddling me, her face filling my vision. She pressed in closer, her skin hot against mine as she ran her tongue along my lower lip.

Slow, patient, teasing.

On my left, I felt the bed sag. Oh shit. Someone else had joined us.

I turned my head and Asteria dipped in lower, nibbling the side of my neck. I found myself staring into Loxo’s face. She was naked, her dark skin gleamed in the candlelight, and a sly, eager smile was etched into her face.

“Uh, hello, Loxo,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

Loxo laughed softly, the sound wicked and far from innocent. “I used my Shadow Cloak ability to hide in plain sight. This is my Sneak Attack ability.” She shot me a wink. “And I think we both know exactly why I’m here.”

She slinked across the bed on all fours, hips wiggling, dark chocolate eyes fixed on mine while Asteria sucked on my earlobe, apparently indifferent to Loxo’s appearance. The Huntress moved like a shadow, darting in to steal a kiss instead of asking for one. She tasted like cinnamon and campfires—earthy, spicy—and her lips were warm and wet. Both women smelled so different, and yet, their scent was perfume in my nose.

I finally broke the kiss before I lost all control. “Loxo, Asteria, this isn’t a good idea. I kind of see myself as monogamous.”

Loxo rolled her eyes. “This again? Before, when I was alive, we made love often and you were insatiable. What has changed?”

“You’re not remembering it right.” I failed to stifle a groan as Asteria ground her pelvis on me. “You and I were just friends.”

“Friends with benefits,” Loxo said, reaching forward, tracing the tip of her fingernail along my belly button. “Is that not a term from your time? And I find the idea of monogamy suspect, especially for a war god.”

Still, Asteria wasn’t saying anything. She was kissing my neck even more insistently, a deep purr breaking from her chest like a content cat.

“Or perhaps you think we will mind, yes?” Loxo asked, quirking an eyebrow. She moved, not waiting for me to answer. I watched, enthralled, as the Amazons kissed each other.

Yep. That cleared things up. Obviously they had no issues with a threesome. Me?

Well, I was getting over my issues real quick, helped along by Asteria’s constant grinding. The godstone was a personal sun inside my chest, lust radiating out in waves. “But …” I said, then trailed off since I had no excuse and I wanted this more than anything in the whole world.

Loxo pulled away from Asteria and gazed into my eyes. She pressed a finger against my lips before I could say more. “No, Jacob. No more excuses.” She reached down and ran her hand between Asteria’s thighs and mine. “Your desire is obvious, and I want this too. Once again I found a whip around my throat, death stalking my path. This is what I want to do with my life. Will you deny me, knowing how fleeting life can be?”

“Rejoice in life and love,” Asteria whispered, fingers running through my hair.

The godstone burned brighter, hotter. Yes, yes, yes. I was outvoted, three to one.

The spirit of the gem thundered in my head. Take them, War God. Love them! Satisfy them as only the god of war can!

I growled and used my god-strength to toss both women on their backs.

They gasped and giggled and looked up at me with shining eyes—both ready and eager. Throwing caution and inhibition to the wind, I moved, letting myself be consumed by the moment. By the passion. By the press of naked flesh and the gentle caress of wet lips. It’s hard to say how long it lasted … but it sure as hell seemed longer than I ever would’ve thought possible.

And … it … was … awesome!

Eventually, we collapsed in a sweaty mess of tangled limbs as the moon rose over the ocean and filled the room with a silvery glow.

Since leveling up as a war god, I needed less sleep, but a few hours of shut-eye would help me restore more Essence Points.

Too bad I didn’t get the few hours.

It felt like I’d just barely closed my eyes when Loxo shot up beside me, shrieking bloody murder. Her fists clutched at the air, her body was clammy with night sweats, and her eyes rolled back into her head. “Hades! He seeks me! To torture me! To unmake me! To unforge me! Help me, Jacob Merely, help me, War God!” She flailed, grabbing at the silky sheets, legs thrashing madly.

“Wake, sister, wake!” Asteria called out with concern in her voice.

I managed to get Loxo’s arms down onto the bed as she bucked and twisted against me. Then she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she burst into tears, body quivering.

Asteria and I pulled her in tight, holding her as she wept. When the sobs finally subsided, Loxo sniffed and obliterated the tears on her cheeks with the back of one hand. “I have shamed myself and every Huntress who has ever lived,” she muttered, a slight tremble beneath the words. “Forgive me, Artemis, lady of the moon, for my outburst. Forgive me, Jacob, god of war, for my weakness.”

“Hey, it’s okay, Loxo,” I said, voice gentle and soothing. “But you said something when you were having your nightmare that I need to know about. Is Hades looking for you?”

Loxo gulped and pressed her eyes shut tight, as though trying to block out some terrible vision. “Yes,” she said after a few seconds, cracking her eyes. “It is best for me to tell you now, before the memory fades like morning mist in the jungle.”

“Uh, I’m listening,” I said.

Loxo swallowed hard again, steeling herself. “While we Amazons are dead, our souls travel across the River Styx, and the Ferryman, he hides us from Hades because if Hades finds us … if he discovers our souls in his dark realm, he will torture us until we serve him. It is rare, but it is possible. Fortunately, Charon has no love for Hades. The Ferryman is sympathetic to our cause, so he hid me. But I felt Hades searching for me, always searching. He has spies among the living and among the dead.”

I glanced over at Asteria. “Did you know about this?”

Asteria shook her head and grimaced. “No, but we must tell Phoebe and Myrina. If this is true …” She faltered, lips pursing into a thoughtful line. “If this is true, then every Amazon that dies is in danger of being perverted. Turned against us.” She shuddered.

I grumbled. “I knew this constant resurrection thing had consequences. Losing Amazons is one thing, but if Hades grabs one of their souls, and if I brought them back …” My voice died in my throat.

“A Dark Amazon,” Asteria mused.

Loxo hugged me tight, still trying to recover from the nightmare. We were quiet for a time. “Okay,” I finally said, pulling away from the Huntress. “Let’s go talk to Phoebe and Myrina about Loxo’s nightmare. This complicates things, and we need to figure out what to do with this info.” Quickly we stood and dressed. Well, Loxo and I dressed, anyway. The Huntress slung a toga around herself while I opted for my full battle attire, because who knew when a Porta-John full of shit would fall into the jet turbine my life had become.

Asteria, though, chose to go completely naked—not at all unusual for the shape-shifter—which I really didn’t mind. Once upon a time it was awkward to have her strutting around naked; now I just enjoyed the view.

Before we left, Loxo drew me aside. “Thank you, Jacob, for allowing me to share your bed. If I’m going to die today, at least it will be with a headful of good memories.” She reached forward and grabbed my crotch.

I brushed her hand away and hugged her close, brushing her lips in a quick kiss. “No one is dying today. But could you keep this to yourself? I don’t want everyone to know that I’m sleeping with another Amazon.”

Loxo dug an elbow into my ribs. “Why, are you afraid that your bed will be full of horny women every night? Asteria said Ares solved that problem by sleeping in the temple. There was enough room for dozens of us.” She cocked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, sure, that would be awful,” I lied. I’d seen the orgies Ares had thrown in the temple. The godstone burned, wanting to recreate the bacchanal of drunk lust, but I was a guy from Rockford, Illinois, that went to church every Sunday. For me, two women would be more than enough.

Besides, I had a full plate trying to save the world. We had less than two hours before the 6 a.m. battle. And that was if the forces of Hades didn’t strike us early.

We needed something to even the odds. We needed a cheat code.

NINE

Cheat Code

It wasn’t even 5 a.m., but Lycastia City positively buzzed with activity. Newly created Battle Wardens danced across the training ground, bathed in orange torchlight and silver moonbeams. More seasoned veterans patrolled the walls and the boulevards where the flames from braziers glimmered off bronze armor and steel katanas. I glanced up at the stars overhead, cold stains of light already vanishing to the creeping fingers of gray morning light.

Loxo was up there somewhere, running recon with Toxaris.

The pair of them searched for the secret tunnels Necro Earl and the forces of Hades were using to get so close to us without warning. There had to be a secret cave entrance somewhere.

Had to be.

As I moved down the cobblestone street, enjoying the cool morning air on my way to the chow hall, I pulled up my interface.

I’d leveled up twice, and I needed every edge I could get over Earl Necro Earl. I had twenty Attribute Points to burn and a pair of Ability Points. For a moment, I thought about dropping points into Wisdom, but then decided against it since that would only raise my Control Limit and I already couldn’t make enough Amazons to hit my max. So instead, I dropped twelve points into Intelligence, boosting my Divine Essence and Miracle Damage, five points into Strength, and the last three into Fortune.

I studied my character sheet while my armor expanded to accommodate my added muscle and extra height—I’d leapt up another six inches in a matter of seconds.

Satisfied, I toggled over to my skills section, trying to decide what in the hell I wanted to do with my Ability Points. So far, I’d focused less on the Path of War abilities—I wasn’t much of a tank—and more on my Crafting and Miracle skills. Though I was getting better in close-quarters combat, I still felt the most at home commanding from a distance and unleashing ranged spells or healing my frontline fighters. I pulled up the Path of Miracles Tree:

I studied the tree for a long minute, feet crunching over the loose gravel beneath my sandals. I was genuinely conflicted. Burning Aura was a badass skill that had a huge benefit to all the Amazons around me, but now that I knew Hades was gunning for Amazon souls in the underworld, I decided it made the most sense to max out my Healing Touch. After all, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure—or so they say. Whoever they are.

I couldn’t help but grin at the irony as I dropped the first point into Healing Touch. Back IRL, when I’d been obsessed with WoW, I never played a Healer. Ever. But then, the pixels and code were never in danger of being tortured and brainwashed either.

Nice! Now, I could heal multiple Amazons even from a distance, though the spell price more than quadrupled, jumping from eleven to fifty-five Essence Points. Still, totally worth it. The next point felt a little impulsive, but I couldn’t help myself: Plague Locust. I’d wanted the ability since becoming war god, but it had been locked until level twenty-one. But I was level twenty-two now and had a point ready and waiting. I just couldn’t resist, and ended up using my final point to unlock the new miracle:

I rubbed my hands together in anticipation. Holy shit, but I couldn’t wait to try that out.

By the time I exited from my interface completely, I was at the chow hall. Myrina, Phoebe, and Asteria were already waiting for me, munching on the lush spread laid out at my Command Table.

There were plates of fried meats and breads as well as basketfuls of fresh fruit. I’d shown Brontia how to make donuts, because, uh, donuts. ’Nough said. She’d learned to love the pastries, though she did point out that they were basically fried cake. For breakfast. The thought of the Rune-Caster sent a railroad spike of sadness and worry straight through my gut. Brontia was gone now, dead. And worse, she might be running for her life in the underworld right this minute.

I took a seat, loaded up a tin plate with a small mountain of food, and began to debrief with my generals.

When I told them about Loxo’s revelation regarding the dead Amazons, Myrina frowned while Phoebe stood and paced, hands folded behind her back. Asteria kept right on eating, shoveling food away like a dump truck hauling garbage—not a huge surprise since she’d heard the tale firsthand.

I kept my eyes on Phoebe, though, since she was clearly pissed. Instead of talking, she messaged. This is just fucking great. So now we have to check every Amazon we bring back to make sure they aren’t going to turn around and backstab us? I’m sick of losing sisters. I’m sick of these constant attacks. This is fucking bullshit. Losing Brontia? Vara? Our gatehouse? Such fucking bullshit. And now this, right on top of the pile. Fuck!

Myrina’s jaws tightened, but she remained quiet.

Asteria ate loudly. She sucked down a hunk of sweet meat, followed it up with a donut and a fistful of figs, then attacked a pineapple. The pineapple—another thing I’d shown Brontia how to create—didn’t stand a chance.

We all turned to watch the shifter eat. It was like seeing a great white feed, juice running down her chin and sluicing over bare, blue skin. She didn’t seem to care in the least, though she did notice our glances after a few seconds.

“What?” She talked with her mouth full. “Why are you looking at me? I am very hungry. And I thought I would try your human food for once. I enjoy the fried cake, but krill satisfies much better.”

Asteria, as a shape-shifter, needed a buttload of calories to keep her metabolism running smoothly. So she ate all the time, and wasn’t too picky about what she crammed into her craw.

“You can eat more quietly, sister,” Myrina murmured, her eyes still troubled.

Asteria shoved another donut into her mouth, smacking loudly. “Not sure I can, Myrina. I do not think you understand. I am very hungry, but this food? It is not right.” She tossed the remainder of the donut down, brushing the crumbs from her hands as she stood and stretched. “If you require me, I will return, but until then, I will break fast on the bounty of the sea!” She quicksilvered into an eagle and flew off into the steely gray of the early morning.

I turned to Myrina and Phoebe. “Krill must be yummy, I guess. Do we need Asteria for this?”

Myrina answered, “No, Jacob, while my sister might be our greatest weapon, she does not have the head for strategy. Now is the time for planning. Let her be free while she can.”

Antiope ran up, shield and spear held in her arms, a strange hairy pelt draped over one arm. She saw we were having a meeting and turned, but we stopped her.

“It’s okay, Antiope,” I said. “We’re just trying to figure out what to do. You can join us.”

She bowed. “I just came to bring you the spoils from our battle with your nemesis, Earl Echo Earl. It is my offering to you!” She thrust the woolly pelt forward and set it gingerly on the table. “However, I would stay, with your leave. I, like all the Amazons, am curious to know your plans for the next attack. Without the southern gatehouse, our city will be vulnerable. Dangerously so.”

“Yeah.” I sighed, fingers restlessly click-clacking on the table. “We know. We’re trying to figure out what to do.”

Antiope set her spear and shield down and picked up a fistful of dates. She ate them, one after another, listening intently.

Phoebe stood with her back to us, arms folded across her chest. Obviously, she had something on her mind, but I didn’t want to push her. She and Brontia had been close—best friends, sisters even—so I’d give her all the time and space she needed. Myrina seemed to feel the same way, since she said nothing. While I waited for the Rune-Caster to collect her thoughts, I examined the strange pelt, which ended up being an enchanted cloak:

Damn, what a find! I closed out of the screen and shrugged the new cloak into place, feeling a surge of raw strength as it curled around my shoulders.

Phoebe whirled around, drawing my gaze as I fastened the clasp in place. “We cannot lose more Amazons,” she barked, her face a thundercloud. “We must keep our sisters alive because now we know the true price of their resurrection. We have been fortunate, so far.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “This speaking is too slow.” She switched to messaging.

Much better. I can almost talk as fast as I think. Before, Jacob, you made some lame joke about god-mode, but I’ve been obsessing about that and the idea of a cheat code. From what you’ve seen, there are different ways to hack the system. While I’m not there yet, I’m hoping one day you and I can rewrite the whole gaming code. Until then, I think I might know of something that can level the playing field. In your video games, a big fucking kick-ass gun can really make the difference between life and death, yeah?

“I do enjoy powerful weapons that kick the ass.” Myrina nodded, completely serious.

Phoebe’s eyes were glued to my face. She was waiting for my reply.

“Yeah, Phoebe, sure. Give me a BFG 9000. One trigger-pull and we’d take out every enemy in sight. But I can’t unlock the final tier of Innovate until level forty, and we don’t have that kinda time.”

Phoebe shuffled around the mess hall, taking sips from a goblet of Mountain Dew, messaging us in a caffeine-fueled rant. Here’s the thing. Ever since we killed Praxidike, I’ve been thinking about the old god, Uranus. Prax was born from the blood of his castration. The Thymos Crystals, which we are in desperate need of, are actually petrified parts of Uranus’s body. Uranus was a great big dickbag who hated his children and wanted to shove them back into his wife’s womb. She raised a hand, as though to preempt my protest. Yeah, super gross and wickedly disturbing, I know.

Anyway, his wife helped her kids murder her husband by giving Cronus, the god of time, a scythe. Some say it was sickle made of flint, but from my research, I believe it was actually a scythe made of crystal. Just like our Thymos Crystals, but even older than that. We’re talking dawn-of-fucking-time shit right here. But if we could find the Crystal Scythe, we could use it not only as a power source, but also as weapon. It already killed one god.

With that kinda firepower on our side, we could go guerilla on Hades and his army. Bring the fight to ’em instead of endlessly playing defense. We get the scythe, infiltrate Hades’ temple, and you, Jacob, could put down that motherfucker Earl Necro Earl for good. Him and all his stooges. I bet if you killed all of Hades’ big shot lieutenants, that would level you up right quick. And then? Then you could recreate the sigil and we could seal off Hades and the underworld forever. Game … fucking … over!

“Fuckin’ A,” I muttered. “Nuke the site from orbit. I like it.” I grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “But there’s one wee little problem.”

“Yes,” Myrina interjected. “Where can we find this weapon?”

Phoebe sighed again. Yeah, it’s anyone’s guess what happened to Cronus. After he was overthrown by Zeus, rumor had it that the old geezer retreated to the Cave of Nyx. But it’s all really hard to follow since it’s ancient myth, and myths get all messy when writers retcon them. People should’ve left Homer’s shit alone, but everyone wants to create something unique. Whatever.

“If it’s a cave,” I said, “well, we’re sitting on top of a cavern metropolis. When we took out Stheno, we saw miles of caves, lava, even the rifts into the underworld. And Stheno’s sister, Euryale, she ran down a secret passageway. I saw it on a scroll when we were looting the lair.”

Phoebe smiled, spun over to me, and kissed my cheek. I bet you a million dollars that Euryale fled to the Cave of Nyx. Gaea created the Gorgon Sisters to help the titans fight the new gods, Zeus, Hera, and the gang. Gaea would’ve known about the Cave of Nyx and she would’ve told her daughter. Holy shit, my dude! I bet you Cronus is there, and I bet he still has the Crystal Scythe. I mean, sure, I could be wrong, but how can we not check at least? Right?

We both turned to see Myrina’s reaction. She pulled apart a glazed donut and bit into one half. She chewed.

Phoebe, Antiope, and I waited in expectation.

The Battle Warden licked her fingers.

“Uh, Myrina, what do you think? Should we go on a little spelunking expedition? See if we can’t turn up a lead on this Crystal Scythe?” I asked.

She gave us a weary look. “I hear maybe, and I hear might, and you speak of legends, and you speak of myths. There is no proof that Euryale’s secret passage led to the Cave of Nyx, nor that Cronus might still be there. Should we really set off on a quest when our city will likely be attacked in less than ninety minutes?”

Phoebe had an answer. Okay, so here’s the thing. If we can actually find the Cave of Nyx, we’ll be good. See, Cronus is the god of time, and in Nyx? Yeah, time doesn’t move at all there. We’ll be outside the normal flow of reality altogether.

“Meaning?” Myrina prodded.

Meaning that, hypothetically, if we took off like right now, once we reached the cave, time would stop for our city. For the whole island. Boom, we could relax a bit, get the Crystal Scythe, and then run back here for the 6 a.m. attack.

“I do not know. There is so much uncertainty in this plan. So much luck.” Myrina closed her eyes in exhaustion and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “Still, I suppose if you are quick and return in time, I do not see the harm. Such a weapon would aid us without a doubt. We have already seen the power of the War Blade, I can only wonder what such a thing as the scythe would be capable of.”

Antiope spoke up for the first time. “When we saw our war god change into the wolf, we were impressed with his power and it gave us hope. If we could win the Crystal Scythe, it would certainly strengthen our hearts and our faith in Jacob.” She smiled widely at me, a new glimmer of optimism in her eyes.

“Yeah, morale is critical,” I replied, nodding along, “especially when you’re the underdog. So, it’s settled. We take off for Stheno’s lair, right now. I’m thinking we have a small strike force, so that way if Earl is watching, it will be less likely that he’ll know we are gone. We’ll take all three generals, definitely, a couple Beastiamancers, a Forest-Witch, and of course Loxo for scouting.”

We should take Sophia as well, Phoebe sent. Sitting around the city won’t be good for her. She’s bumming hard after losing Vara.

“I would like to go, too,” Antiope said. “Speed is a concern, and I am the fastest of the Battle Wardens.”

“Yeah, okay,” I replied.

“Not okay,” Myrina countered, slapping a hand on the table. “I will not leave the city, and neither should Phoebe. Her place is in the forge, and I cannot leave the city undefended. Not again.”

I offered a different plan. “What if we left the Shield of Perseus with Hippolyta? She’s already used it once to save the city. She could do it again. And if Phoebe is right, time will stop while we’re in the cave. It’ll be like we’ve been gone only a few minutes.”

“If she is right,” Myrina grumbled with doubt in her gaze. “Regardless, Phoebe will stay.”

Nope, not gonna happen, not this time, Phoebe messaged. You need my knowledge of the lore and the physics. I’m betting our messaging system won’t work in the Cave of Nyx. We’re talking old-school, primeval shit down there.

Myrina took Phoebe’s hand. “If I lose you, sister … If we lose you, no other Rune-Caster will ever be able to match your skill.”

“Never fear, sister, I’m way too cool to die,” Phoebe said with a self-assured smirk.

I messaged Asteria. Hey, whale girl, suck down that last mouthful of krill. We need you in a big way. We’re going underground.

Yes, footling land breather! I will come with a full belly and a fishy kiss for you.

Yeah, no time for that, I sent. And you might need to brush your teeth before we make out again.

Not a second later, Loxo broke into my mind. Hey, sexy. We found a new cave entrance not far from the city. I scoped it out a bit, and it looks like some sort of secret passageway that connects to Stheno’s lair. Not sure if this is the highway to hell that Earl has been using to move his troops, but it goes deep. So deep. Crazy-deep. Like my lust for you.

Loxo … damn … I’d thought that maybe after doing the deed, she’d be less flirty and shameless. Not a chance there.

We’re on our way, Loxo. Good work. Great news!

TEN

Deep Down Underground

The clock was ticking down, and we had to reach the Cave of Nyx in half an hour or we’d really be risking everything on this maneuver.

Things, however, fell into place quickly. Loxo had taken a miniature brazier and set up a teleportation pad near the secret entrance to Stheno’s cave about two miles from our southern gate. Sophia ferried Amazons over using her teleportation ability while Asteria acted as our CH-53E Super Stallion helicopter, airlifting Buttercup, Thunderfoot, and their riders to the side of the mountain.

On her last trip, Asteria brought Phoebe in a contraption that reminded me of something out of a Rick and Morty episode. It was a steampunk mech, fashioned out of wood, brass, cogs, and beefy rivets. An iron firebox on the back generated steam, which wafted up in a small white plume from a central smokestack behind her left shoulder. Cog-studded servos sat at the shoulders, hips, elbows, and knees, driving sleek brass pistons, which were nearly silent. On the oversized arms were a series of automatic crossbows that looked as deadly as sin.

Not only would the suit allow Phoebe to keep up with us, it was one more badass weapon in our arsenal.

While I waited my turn for Sophia to grab me, I idly wondered if we were going to have to kill the god of time … Or maybe Loxo could just steal the Crystal Scythe without him noticing? Best-case scenario? He might join our cause. He’d battled Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades before.

Unlikely, but not beyond the realm of possibility—assuming, of course, that (a) he existed and (b) we could find him.

Sophia returned a few seconds later, and in short order, I found myself in the jungle, surrounded by boulders, facing a large fissure in the side of the mountain nearest to Lycastia City. I checked my watch. 5:15 a.m. Unless everything went to absolute hell, we had forty-five minutes before the next siege. We’d be cutting it close, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Hippolyta, I messaged, let us know if you see anything from the walls. Toxaris, any sign of enemy forces from the air?

Both my Battle Warden and the Beastiamancer atop Flutterhoney assured me the coast was clear.

Loxo and Sophia quickly disappeared into the crack in the mountainside, silently scouting the way. With Loxo’s handy-dandy Cartography ability, the maps on my gaming display filled in with every step she took. Myrina, Antiope, and Sabra went next, followed by our Beastiamancers, who walked, leading their mounts. The stony crevice was barely wide enough to fit Buttercup and Thunderfoot.

Phoebe’s steampunk mech didn’t seem like it would fit until she pulled on some straps and cranked an operating lever, which released pressure from the pistons and folded the arms in close. She could also bend the legs backwards in on themselves, so it was like she was walking on her knees. By the time she was done, she was able to narrowly squeeze her mech through the fissure and into the cave entrance.

I gave a last glance at the starry sky, which was growing brighter with coming dawn, before heading in after her. Rough-hewn stairs drilled down into oppressive darkness. Water trickled along the rocky walls and puddled on the floor. The whole place stank of nagas: an animal stink of filth, urine, and rot. The stairs twisted around and around, descending into the guts of the Earth.

I spun as I heard the inhuman scuttle of legs on stone behind me. A black widow the size of a horse scurried inside and then rushed over my head.

Even though I knew the spider was Asteria, it didn’t help my arachnophobia or my jackhammering heart.

She messaged me in passing. Sack of blood, I am here to make sure you are safe. Let us catch up to the other sacks of blood. The caves are cool, and the smells are sweet, and soon I will drink the ichor of our enemies. Lovely blood. Delicious blood. Wonderful blood!

All I could do was shake my head.

Phoebe’s mech had lanterns, which lit her way.

As for me, I drew the War Blade, and the crackling lightning dancing along the blade’s edge allowed me to see.

After descending for a solid thirty feet, the staircase leveled off and became a natural cavern. The grizzly and the bull had to creep and squeeze around stalactites and stalagmites. Phoebe walked her mech gingerly around the natural obstacles, her fierce yellow beams carving swaths into the darkness as she moved. The cavern dead-ended at a craggy wall, but our Huntress had her ear pushed up against the stone. We waited, listening to the water dripping, and I looked at my watch again.

5:35 a.m.

Neither Hippolyta nor Toxaris had reached out to me, so I hoped that meant they hadn’t been attacked yet.

We still had a problem. Twenty minutes up, at least fifteen minutes back to the city—even if time stopped for us right then, we’d arrive late.

We have to hurry, Loxo, I messaged. Is this a dead end or not? ’Cause if so, we need to head back ASAP.

No, Jacob, I see the trigger to open the secret door, but I hear noises on the other side. Growls, barks, and chatter. Should we just bust in and kick some ass?

I considered for a long moment. We’d cleared Stheno’s cave, which meant this place should’ve been empty. But it wasn’t. Was it possible we’d finally stumbled on the passage Earl had been using to move his troops? What were the odds that the attack force that was supposed to hit in less than twenty minutes was waiting on the other side of that wall? For once, we could get the drop on Earl. Yeah, let’s do it, I finally sent with a nod.

Loxo drove her dagger into what looked like stone, but instead, her blade slipped into something softer. Almost spongy. She twisted, and the entire wall split open and slid to the side.

On the other side was the lair of Stheno, the grand hallway where we’d killed her. We hustled through the secret door and into the enormous underground room hellishly lit by rivers of lava running under ornately carved bridges and gorgeously decorated platforms. Dozens of nooks, gazebos, and terraces lay all about the huge chamber. The statues of snake men, harpies, and Amazon warriors made the place feel like a maze. The stone figure of a petrified cyclops dominated the room, looming tall over Stheno’s ransacked pavilion.

Packed into the room were dozens of the three-headed dogs and the misshapen imps. They milled around without purpose, some nibbling at rotten meat, others lounging against jutting stalagmites. All that changed the minute they saw us. A chorus of howls filled the air, echoing off the cavernous ceiling as they surged into action, storming across the bridges to get to us. The imps chattered, the Hellhounds growled, and the stink of wet dog and locker room socks assailed us.

An imp, larger than the rest, stood on the top of the cyclops statue, one gangly arm hooked around the tip of the cyclops’s ear. Dark chainmail covered him, and in one hand he held an ornate flail, the chain crafted from a spinal column, the mace head made from a human skull. Obsidian spikes jutted out of the bone. When the imp chieftain whirled the flail around his head, the skull glowed toxic green. That sure looked familiar. A gift from Earl Necro Earl no doubt.

Bingo! This had to be the attack force, and we’d caught the slimy little bastards by surprise.

Long-dead naga corpses rose from the floor, brought back to life by the imp’s necromancy. The snake men’s scarred faces had rotted away to show their skulls underneath. Chunks of their decayed tails sloughed away on the stone as they slithered toward us behind the wall of imps, curve-bladed scimitars held in the air, ready for battle.

Myrina and Antiope rushed forward, setting their spears and shields, making a skirmish line. The Hellhounds and imps broke into a frenzied charge and launched themselves at the Battle Wardens. The two women adjusted without missing a beat and drove the points of their spears into the hearts of two of the Hellhounds. The imps on their backs leapt off, brandishing swords, axes, and spears. Several met their ends in a flash of my Amazons’ short swords.

And those that slipped by had Asteria to deal with.

She shifted from spider to redwood-sized snake in the span of a heartbeat. She whipped out her azure-colored tail and batted the imps into the air with bone-breaking force, sending them sailing back into the rivers of lava. Their shrieks were soon silenced as the molten rock turned them into charred BBQ briquettes.

Sabra saved her spells, favoring her deadly shepherd’s crook instead. She stole forward, quick and agile in her thorny armor, and lopped off the head of a hound before whirling the crook around and slicing off the overextended arm of an imp.

Euryleia hurled three javelins from the back of Buttercup. Three shots, three Hellhounds dead, each spear hitting with deadly, uncanny precision. Buttercup waded in to deal with the imps, her gnashing fangs ripping out throats, her murderous claws shredding torsos and faces.

But enough lollygagging. Time for me to pull my weight. I planted my feet, thrust my sword forward, and activated my newest ability, calling forth a legion of Plague Locusts. The godstone flared like a star being born. Terrible energy raced down my arm and up through my blade, exploding from the tip with a burst of jade light. I staggered, woozy and nauseous from the flood of Essence which had just run out from me. Ninety Divine Essence Points wasn’t anything to scoff at.

I steadied myself, watching with keen interest as a strange green cloud formed above the imps and Hellhounds still biding their time in the back ranks. The cloud shifted and swirled, dissipating as insectile shapes took form. Locusts—a thousand of them, easy—though not like any I’d ever seen before. Each was easily three inches long, their chitinous exterior glossy emerald and their wings an eye-searing violet. Half-inch golden mandibles protruded from their faces.

The army of insect horrors took to wing at once, spreading out like the plague they were, attacking my enemies with unholy hunger. Imps screeched, slapping uselessly at the air while the bugs clawed at exposed skin, bit at eyeballs, and burrowed into open mouths and flaring nostrils. Many dropped to their knees, hands wrapped around necks, struggling to breathe as the locusts poured down their throats.

I grinned, fierce and feral. Wicked cool.

Taking advantage of the chaos caused by the locusts, Loxo emerged from the darkness. She leapt into the air like a circus performer, her legs flashing up as she flipped. Somehow, she fired an arrow while inverted, impaling a Hellhound through the skull, before landing as gracefully and quietly as a cat. And then she was gone, melted back into the shadows as my locust army dissolved into ash, the spell having run its course.

In the meantime, Phoebe unfolded the arms of her steampunk mech and sent a barrage of crossbow bolts into the surviving imps and hounds. One bolt would shoot out, and the feeding system would roll in another shaft as pistons pulled the strings back.

Ariadne melded with Thunderfoot to become a towering minotaur. With her long legs, she simply stepped over the bloodthirsty front lines, beelining for the zombie nagas protecting the chieftain. Our main team could handle the baby Cerberuses and the evil house-elves, but we needed to take out the zombies and their imp master.

I messaged my Teleporter. Sophia, I need a lift. I want to show Earl’s homeboy my War Blade up close.

Sophia puffed in behind me in a flash of purple radiance and sulfur. Taking me under the arms, she was gone a moment later. We reappeared behind the petrified cyclops, who stood astride two of the bridges. The heat from the lava flows was intense. Sweat gushed from my pores and ran down my back. My new mammoth cloak might’ve been great against the cold, but holy crap was it hot.

The thunder of the battle echoed off the walls and ceiling as Ariadne exchanged a flurry of blows with the writhing mass of undead nagas. Their swords clanged off her ax and slashed into her hairy legs. Many of the blades failed to cut her thick hide, but others drew lines of bright blood. An undead naga threw a spear into Ariadne’s side. A bellow exploded from her bull’s head as she went down.

Asteria sprouted wings, turned into a monster bat, and sailed by overhead. In midair, she transformed back into a snake. She landed next to the fallen minotaur, swept nagas into the lava with her tail, ensnared others in thick coils, and then reached back to snap up a Hellhound in her massive, fang-studded jaws. She swallowed it down her gullet even as it wriggled and thrashed inside her neck. I threw one hand forward, unleashing Healing Touch on the minotaur shifter, restoring her back to full HP while Asteria helped the warrior to her cloven-hooved feet.

I put them both from mind as I turned on the imp chieftain. Time to deal with that little turd for good.

I charged with a war cry, raising my free hand, triggering Lightning Lance. A trickle of Essence disappeared as a bolt of blue-white fury erupted from my palm and streaked across the cavern. The attack smashed into him like a Louisville Slugger. He staggered back with a squawk, fingers of steam curling up from his chainmail, but he didn’t go down. I launched the spell again, this time sideswiping him, knocking him from his perch on the statue.

He toppled ass over teakettle, but a mass of undead nagas broke his fall.

While he struggled to recover, I closed the distance, sword raised. Ready to fight. To kill. The godstone was practically singing in my chest.

He leapt to his feet and darted forward, a semicircle of undead nagas forming at his back. He whirled the flail at me, the attack sweeping low, aiming to take out an ankle or a knee. I dropped down, absorbing the blow on my shield, then dove right into a blazing-fast front roll, which brought me back to my feet. I parried an incoming scimitar strike, courtesy of a naga, and promptly sandblasted the snake-faced sucker with a Lightning Lance before returning my full attention to the chieftain.

I parried another mace swipe, batting the spike-studded skull aside with contemptuous ease, then shot in, thrusting my blazing sword into the imp’s chest. The little bastard might’ve been resistant to magic, but his armor couldn’t hang with the War Blade. Nope. My weapon slipped through the chainmail as though it were a cotton T-shirt and kept right on going, erupting clean through the imp’s back. The mini-Necro dropped his mace, groping dumbly at the blade as I lifted him from the floor, holding him in the air with the sword.

Surprisingly, however, he chuckled, black blood flowing out of his mouth, spilling down his chin. Not sure what he was laughing about, but it was laughter all right.

I raised one foot and slammed it into the imp’s gut, ripping the War Blade back in the same instant.

The chieftain flopped to the floor, eyes glassy, legs Jell-O, a puddle of blood forming around him in a halo. And with him gone, the undead nagas dropped back to the stone, corpses once more.

The last of the Hellhounds and imps were dispatched by my Amazons. I decided to use my other new ability, and I hit everyone with a Healing Touch spell all at once. The godstone in my chest flashed with blinding light, which streaked all about the grand hall. Essence Points drained from me to heal the wounds. It was a lot—the effort bent me over—and I felt drained afterwards.

I was down to 220 Essence, I’d have to be a bit more frugal with my spell-casting.

I stood with a shake of my head and stole a quick glance at my watch. Damn shit fuck! 5:45 a.m. The battle had only taken us ten minutes, but every second was precious. Hopefully this was the invasion force, but there was no way to tell for certain, so we still needed to haul ass. I messaged Hippolyta and got no response. I tried Toxaris, Calla, Otrere, and Aella. Nothing but silence. In my combat display, they seemed okay, though the messaging system wasn’t working.

I sprinted from the bridge and into Stheno’s pavilion. I immediately spotted the scroll, sitting near a wood-bound treasure chest, right where I’d left it after my battle against the Gorgon. I snatched it up and unrolled it. At the very bottom was a picture of a snake woman that looked a lot like Stheno, snake hairdo and all—though Euryale had wings and boar tusks. A real looker.

In the picture, Euryale was escaping through an alcove at the very end of the hall.

Loxo sped over like the wind, took one look at the scroll, and raced over bridges and past statues to the back wall. Like before, she used her dagger to trigger the opening.

Sophia teleported over carrying Sabra. Myrina and Antiope arrived with whirlwind speed. My bear rider, my bull rider, and Phoebe in her tromping mech all joined us in front of the secret passageway.

More damn steps dropped into darkness, but these were wide and had carefully crafted mosaics worked into the marble. We didn’t have time to study all the images, but I saw what I needed to see in an instant: an old bearded dude with a bright blue scythe glowing in his hand. If that wasn’t Cronus, I was a hard-boiled egg.

Still, it was odd. As we descended, the old guy in the mosaics got younger and younger until he was a baby curled around the weapon.

The smell of jungle wafted up. At the bottom of the long, wide staircase was the opening to a vast cavern full of lush greenery—looming palm trees, massive ferns, otherworld flowers in a riot of colors. A bright light illuminated the mouth of the entrance.

Everyone, into the jungle, now! I messaged in a near panic.

My Amazons burst from the corridor and into a vast cavern as strange as an alien world.

I was the last to leave the tunnel. Checking my watch, it was 5:55 a.m. Spinning, I scooped up a handful of dust from the floor. Once out onto the lush soil of the Cave of Nyx, I tossed the debris through the opening. I watched in wonder as the dust crossed the threshold of the entrance … and froze. It hung in midair on the other side of the opening. Perfectly still.

Phoebe had been right. We’d just stepped outside of time.

While Lycastia City might already be under attack, the siege would be on pause while we explored the lost underground world.

Something crashed behind me, ponderous footsteps trundling through the thick undergrowth. Turning, I got my first sight of a dinosaur.

Holy shit, we’d just stepped out into the fucking Lost World.

ELEVEN

The Land That Time Completely Ignored

And I thought I’d seen everything.

Couldn’t be. Just. Couldn’t be.

Before us was an impossible tropical paradise of towering redwoods, humongous palm trees boasting fronds the size of cars, sprawling ferns, ancient pines, hanging vines, and massive fruit trees—branches heavy laden with yellow melons the size of bowling balls. Jackfruit, I thought idly. The chirping of birdsong flitted through the air, and a wave of humidity slapped into me, drenching me in sweat. Absentmindedly, I unclipped the Mammoth Cloak and let it drop behind me onto the leaves. I breathed deeply, inhaling the perfume of exotic flowers which mingled with the sickly-sweet smell of decaying plant life.

There wasn’t even the hint of a breeze. There was also light? But how?

I glanced up, shielding my eyes with one hand.

Miles above, in the center of the cavern’s ceiling, lay a cluster of crystals glowing brightly, throwing sunlight over the land. Stheno’s lair had been big, but that had been a definite room. This place was a realm unto itself: miles of jungle and water, including the river burbling by in front of us. At least as large as the Colorado River.

The real sight, however, was the fucking dinosaurs.

A herd of long-necked creatures trudged through the vast jungles, plucking the leaves from the highest trees with ease. Huge tails, the size of full-grown oaks, swayed behind them as they moved. There were at least a dozen of them, and each one had to be thirty tons, easy, and ninety feet long to boot. Their hides weren’t scaly, but gray and pebbled like the skin of a black rhino.

My Amazons reacted at once, spreading out in a loose semicircle before me, weapons raised, shields at the ready, gazes unwaveringly fixed on the massive creatures. Myrina, Asteria, and Antiope took point, Ariadne and Thunderfoot to their left, Euryleia on Buttercup to their right. Sabra, Sophia, and Phoebe took up positions just behind them—our support element—and Loxo clung to my left like a shadow, refusing to leave my side.

I waved a hand. “It’s alright, everyone,” I said, awe burning inside my chest like a hot coal. “I’m sure there’s a bunch of dangerous things down here, but these things are herbivorous. They won’t attack us, not unless we provoke them.”

“Such creatures, such mysteries, so majestic.” Myrina whispered. “How can anything be that enormous? What are they called?” she asked.

I wasn’t exactly a dinosaur expert, but I’d seen my fair share of Jurassic Park movies. “Brontosaurs,” I muttered. “Or would that be brontosauruses?”

Asteria, naked and uncaring, edged forward, breaking away from the others.

She reached a hand toward the creatures, fingers trembling, then dropped to her knees. Her chest heaved, and it didn’t take me long to figure out that she was crying. “They are beautiful, Jacob,” she said, glancing back at me. Trails of tears streaked down her cheeks. “Just look at how gentle they are, and how they relish the green leaves. What wonderful creatures. I want to become one …” She faltered. “Though I am not certain I have the Exousía to become so big.” She sounded absolutely forlorn at the prospect.

I slipped forward, past the front line—Loxo still dogging my heels—took Asteria’s hand, and pulled her to her feet. I slung an arm around her shoulder as we watched the creatures feed. No one talked. For weeks, we’d been under the constant threat of attack with the fate of the world hanging in the balance. But here, in this moment? Everything was oddly peaceful and serene. Being in the Cave of Nyx … Well, it was like we’d hit the snooze button and could finally catch our breath.

Here, we were outside of time and Lycastia City could wait until we got back.

We stood there for a long while, and though I could’ve watched the animals for hours, I knew it was time to get back to our mission. I dropped my arm from Asteria’s shoulders, retrieved the mammoth cloak, and clipped it back on with a grunt. Hot as balls. “Okay, Asteria, let’s you and I take a ride. Can you work a Pegasus for me so we can get a lay of the land?”

Asteria sniffed at her tears and nodded, melting into an azure horse with majestic eagle wings protruding from her shoulders. I climbed onto Asteria’s back and wedged my knees against the bone spurs jutting from her sides. She took a few running steps and launched herself into the air. A few of the long-necks stumbled away from the palm trees and into the river behind them. The boom of their feet—each the size of a car door—sent colorful birds up from trees in the distance.

As we climbed higher, I absently thought about what Asteria had said—about not having enough Exousía to make such a transformation. Most of the time, my generals didn’t have to worry about their own version of Essence points, but they did have limits. “Hey Asteria,” I said, the wind slapping away my words, making it hard to talk. “Why can’t you become a brontosaurus? I’ve seen you become a blue whale—they have to be just as big. Probably weigh even more.”

Yes, hoof-less two-legs, came her response. But the water, it cradles the body, holds the weight. A land creature such as that would be … challenging.

Hmm, I guess that made a certain sense. Buoyancy would help with the weight and size, and moving around that same amount of raw mass on land would definitely require a lot more power. She was maxed out in her shape-shifter form, but I was thinking if she increased her max Exousía, she might be able to become a dinosaur. But screw herbivores. God help me, I wanted a super-badass T. rex Asteria.

As we broke through the canopy, we heard a metallic screech from somewhere high above, but we didn’t think much of it. After all, we had plenty to look at. The place was huge and, for the most part, swampy. That made sense, since there probably was very little drainage down here. The Cave of Nyx was circular, with a diameter of about fifty miles all told. In my head, I drew a map. To the north, rising from a swampland, was a hill presiding over the valley like a watchful guard.

Sitting on top was a building, a sprawling complex of fine sandstone, gleaming white marble, graceful arches, and ceramic terra-cotta tiles. The fluted columns marching along the front of the place screamed temple. These Greeks sure loved their columns. But there was something decidedly strange about the place. It shivered and blurred, a hazy aura hanging around it like a cloud as though it didn’t really belong in this dimension—or any, for that matter.

South and west of the hill temple was a vast lake of sapphire waters dotted with tiny islands. Little more than sandbars, really. The lake was fed by the sweeping river that followed the circumference of the cave. To the east were mountains … I squinted, brow furrowed. No, not mountains. More like reverse mountains, actually. Enormous stalactites hung from the cavern ceiling like petrified prehistoric bats. A huge waterfall gushed from the inverted stony peaks, leaping and jumping down the rock face until it joined with the river below.

Asteria pumped her wings and banked hard right, a gust of heavenly wind brushing over my face as we circled around.

The southernmost part of the Cave of Nyx was a wasteland of barren earth: ashy-gray hardpan, red-orange lava flows, boiling mud pits, and spouting geysers. The river wound through that hellish ground and rolled to the western mountains, which also weren’t mountains. Stalagmites. Stalagmites so massive they might’ve given the Rocky Mountains a run for their money. Another temple was there. This one didn’t blur but sat there like the ruins of Ephesus that I had visited in Turkey … back when I was human, not riding a Pegasus over a land filled with actual dinosaurs.

I dug my knees in. Lower. Asteria nickered in response and swooped down, her hooves skimming over the tips of the trees, giving us a better view of the creatures below. It was like a prehistoric game drive. We saw all the classics: stegosaurs, triceratops, diplodocuses, iguanodons, a herd of velociraptors, and yes, the big daddy of them all, a Tyrannosaurus rex, contentedly chomping on a brontosaurus carcass.

Strange hoof-less ape creature, Asteria messaged me, we should get back to our herd. The mother mare will not be happy if we are gone too long.

That made me grin. The mother mare could only be Myrina.

Speaking of which, the Battle Warden’s voice hit my mind like a bank vault falling on me. Jacob, we are under attack! Creatures emerged from the river—armored, magic, dangerous…

Her voice snapped off as though the line had been rudely cut.

Asteria had also heard the communication. She wheeled, mane fluttering like mad as we raced across the sky back toward the western wall, where we’d stopped to admire our long-neck dino-buddies.

I had a bird’s-eye view of the chaos as we cruised back into range.

The monsters attacking my Amazons defied evolution. Defied logic, even. The dinosaurs we’d seen before had been normal creatures—prehistoric and impossible, sure, but normal—but there simply wasn’t anything in the fossil record that could even remotely explain the insane beasts I saw on the ground.

Fucking Dinomythics, is what they were.

Myrina and Antiope were on the banks of the river, engaging a T. rex, except this sucker was covered in bronze scales, its teeth were made of shards of obsidian, and its claw-tipped fingers were as long as scimitars. It lunged in to bite Myrina in half, but she dove through the car-sized jaws, rolled back to her feet, and hurled her lightning javelin. The bolt of electricity struck the Rex’s snout and exploded with a blinding burst of white light that left a purple afterimage stained across my vision.

The blast shocked the dino-freak but didn’t slow it down, not even a little. Antiope danced forward, driving her spear into the side of the armored carnivore, but the bronze scales were far too thick—better than the best scale-mail—and her spear clattered uselessly aside. The lightning javelin returned to Myrina’s quiver, but she’d already drawn her xiphos and was charging in for a fresh attack. The Rex lowered its massive head, body nearly parallel to the ground, and charged, strings of viscous saliva dangling down.

Myrina feinted left, then darted right and leapt into the air, sword flashing out with deadly precision. Her gleaming blade slammed into one of the creature’s stunted arms, shearing through the limb like an overgrown branch. Golden blood spurted from the wound, but the creature kept right on fighting. And instead of going for Myrina, the dino whipped its massive head left, chomped down into Antiope, lifted her up, and ground its obsidian teeth into her thigh. She cried out, slashing at the creature’s muzzle with a curved dagger.

The Warden sliced through one of its reptilian eyes; the creature dropped her as it reared back, issuing a bloodcurdling roar.

Antiope thudded to the ground, alive, but bleeding out.

Myrina moved like the wind, darting over to help. The T. rex wheeled and smacked her into a tree with its ginormous tail.

Nearby, two stegosaurs thundered through the undergrowth, ready to join the party. Euryleia, on top of Buttercup, peppered them with arrows, as did Loxo, who loitered on the bough of a colossal oak. These weren’t run-of-the-mill dinos either. The bony, triangular plates lining their backs were green emerald and glowed with preternatural light. Both creatures opened their beaked mouths and unleashed bolts of eye-searing lightning, which slammed into Euryleia, blasting her off Buttercup’s back. The bear roared as her fur burned and skin boiled.

Loxo, concealed by her magical Shadow Cloak and Whisper Step abilities, avoided the attack. Even better, she managed to thread an arrow into the eye socket of one of the stegosaurs, dropping it where it stood; the glow of its plates dimmed and died completely as it slumped over to one side. The small victory was short-lived, however. The ground rumbled and trees parted with a snap as six triceratopses stormed through the tree line and into the open. Those bad boys were thirty feet long, ten feet tall, and sported a trio of vicious horns.

Loxo hurled herself away from the dinosaur stampede, backflipping from the tree branch, catching a length of vine, and swinging into the clear.

“Get us down there!” I thundered at Asteria, urging her into the mayhem with my heels while pulling the War Blade from its sheath. Time to see how these shitheads did against a living god …

TWELVE

Dinomythics

Asteria and I dove, her wings folded in along her ribs, me clinging tightly to her back.

Below, Ariadne on Thunderfoot rushed to meet the triceratops attack, transforming into a minotaur in mid-sprint; the woman and beast melted, shimmered, becoming one. The triceratopses stopped, dug their scaly feet into the dirt, and lowered their heads. Then—both blowing my mind and defying all known laws of biology—they shot their top horns into the oncoming minotaur.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Three of the bony spikes missed, but three more impaled Ariadne—shoulder, gut, thigh—sending her sliding into the dirt, blood pooling around her.

Sophia appeared over the herd of triceratopses in a puff of violet smoke, slammed her katana into the side of one, then teleported away only to reappear and slice at another one. She was as relentless as a junkyard pit bull, but her sword might as well have been a flyswatter; their skin was too thick, their bodies too big.

Suddenly, I regretted using so many Divine Essence points against the imps and their Hellhound mounts back in Stheno’s lair. That had been ridiculously easy compared to the dinomythical beasts we faced now. But thankfully, I still had a little gas in my tank—and I would need it to heal my fighters before they succumbed to their wounds. Antiope and Ariadne were already unconscious, slipping towards death, and Euryleia and Buttercup weren’t in much better shape.

I pulled up my combat interface and triggered my third-level Healing Touch just as Asteria landed on the banks of the river and shifted into a blue-skinned, five-ton war elephant beneath me. The godstone radiated light and heat, my Essence dipped from 220 down to 165, and raw power surged out of me in a wave. The massive drain left me momentarily light-headed, but Asteria kept right on trucking, picking up speed as she charged the Rex. Taking a deep breath, I triggered my Burning Aura spell next—down to 150, now—then carefully climbed to my feet, balancing on Asteria’s shifting back as though she were a massive surfboard.

I wasn’t sure if the added benefit of the Aura would do any good, but my Amazons certainly needed some kind of edge. In the corner of my eye, I watched as Sophia launched a renewed wave of attacks. This time, her golden glowing blade parted through thick hide like silk, leaving deep, bloody gashes behind. Nice! Asteria drove toward the Rex, trumpeting a fierce war cry, but I had other things to do. I leapt from her back with a howl, War Blade screaming through the air. I landed like an asteroid and drove my blade right into the blocky head of a triceratops.

These things might’ve been built like brick shithouses, but not even their armored skulls could stand against the power of my god-forged weapon.

Gleaming metal sheared deep into bone, though I didn’t have quite enough oomph to go all the way through. The beast staggered drunkenly—golden blood oozing free from the wound—somehow still alive. Time to fix that. With a vicious grin, I triggered Lightning Lance, channeling the miracle down the length of the blade and directly into dino brain matter. A plume of smoke wafted up, and a second later my Blade flew free as the creature’s head exploded in a shower of gore and bone, which flecked my face and arms.

“War God!” Phoebe screamed, urgency brimming in her voice.

I spun right as a flying horn jackknifed through my armor and into my side like a fucking prison shiv, slashing through fifteen percent of my HP. I staggered from the blow and coughed, blood dribbling from my lips. Holy shit, but that hurt.

Phoebe thundered over in her mech and returned fire, slamming crossbow bolts into my horned attacker. Quarrels bounced off the bony ridges of the thing’s head, but some rammed deep into its chest, sending gouts of blood flying. Unlike Myrina or Loxo, Phoebe seemed to ascribe to the spray and pray method of archery: put as many rounds downrange as humanly possible and hope something hit. Thankfully, enough of the arrows did find their mark to put the asshole sucker-puncher down for keeps—though there were still plenty more of those things left to go around.

With a grunt, I pulled the horn free and triggered Fury, temporarily letting the godstone off its leash as hate and rage filled me up with terrible purpose.

I turned, murder etched into the lines of my face, as trees swayed and cracked, admitting some new horror into the rumble. A massive ankylosaur burst past a copse of palm trees in a flash of bronze and drove its shoulder into Phoebe’s mech, spilling her to the ground. This bastard was easily the size of minivan, and looked a little like an overgrown, ’roided-out version of a house turtle with a spike-covered wrecking ball for a tail.

At least the damn thing didn’t glow.

Sabra used her Combat Growth to send vines reaching up to seize the armored dinosaur, but the thing was too big, and it ripped through the vegetation. A flick of its mace-tail sent my Forest-Witch flying. I sprinted forward and snagged Sabra from the air like a high pop fly. I set her down without a word and reversed course, tearing ass toward the turtle-saur. The wrecking ball tail lashed out; I caught the blow on my shield, but even so, the hit knocked me into next Tuesday, leaving me flat on my back, eight feet away.

Well then.

Off to my left, Myrina let out a victorious howl as she leapt from Asteria’s elephantine back, landing on the Rex’s back and driving her xiphos straight down. The Rex flailed in anger, trying to buck her free; Asteria capitalized on the distraction, driving low with her tusks, goring the dino right in the chest. Meanwhile, Myrina hacked away at the bronze armor so she could get to the vulnerable flesh underneath.

I gained my feet, shook my head, and took a quick glance around.

Despite being both outnumbered and outgunned, we were doing a damn decent job of holding our own. But this was a fight we couldn’t win—not straight up. We needed a miracle. Good thing I was in the miracle business. Raising my flashing sword, I summoned storm clouds, which boiled out of thin air above us. The stench of ozone swept through the cries and bloodshed of the dinosaur battle. I could only imagine what it would look like from above, our section of the river and the jungle covered with black, lightning-laced clouds.

“Shockwave!” I screamed into the abrupt gloom.

This badass spell was another blessing of the War Blade—a once-a-day ability that did an incredible 3 x Miracle Damage on impact, plus an additional 100 points of Electrocution Damage per second for fifteen seconds. Brutal. I was always a little reluctant to use it since I couldn’t use it again for another twenty-four hours.

But this was a dire situation if ever there was one.

Fingers of lightning reached down from the sky and struck the tip of my upraised blade. The power lit up every single one of my cells, and though I was in sheer agony, the godstone let out a scream of joy in my chest.

I lowered the sword, driving the tip into the dirt and grass, redirecting the entire power of an unleashed thunderstorm into the ground around me. The air rattled with a sizzle-crack as a hundred jagged bolts of lightning erupted like geysers, streaking impossibly upward. Palm trees burned, the river sizzled, and dinomythics died, quivering and convulsing as their flesh took hundreds of hit points of electrical damage.

At least two of the already wounded triceratopses exploded from the sheer power of the deadly Shockwave. Blue skeins of electrical power enveloped the T. rex, and it let out a roar of agony before it slumped over and toppled into the river. Myrina leapt away to safety, and due to the magical nature of my spell, she and my other Amazons were completely unharmed by the reverse thunderstorm.

Sometimes being god of war had its perks.

Two more of the triceratopses toppled, alive but paralyzed from the attack. Instantly, they found themselves entangled in the thick swaths of jungle vines, courtesy of Sabra’s Combat Growth abilities. Sophia teleported in with a flash and used her flaming katana to cut into one bestial heart and then the other, vanishing between attacks. The monsters didn’t stand a chance.

Unfortunately, the turtle-shelled ankylosaur sizzled and smoked, but simply refused to die as it thundered through the brush, coming at me fast. And trailing behind it was the last remaining electrical stegosaurus, which naturally had been immune to Shockwave.

Two triceratopses also broke from the ferns and fired their horns at me. I sidestepped the first, dove left to avoid the second and third, and caught the fourth and fifth on my shield with a meaty clang. Without missing a beat, I charged the dinomythics that had been stupid enough to single me out. They’d be regretting that poor decision for the rest of their very short lives. But my Amazons were racing me, making a game of it.

Asteria transformed into a saber-tooth tiger and streaked ahead with ease, diving low, clawing through the throat of one of the triceratopses. Boom. Dead.

Loxo dropped down on the last of the horned beasts, driving her sword into its neck while Minotaur Ariadne—her enormous battle-ax on fire from Burning Aura—roared and struck its head. With a mighty chop, the bull-woman sank her flame-covered ax into the armored skull, killing it on the spot

Phoebe surged forward on my right and launched a fresh barrage of bolts into the stegosaurus. Through the sheer number of quarrels she fired, some finally found the eye socket of the creature. It stumbled, then came to a herky-jerk halt as its brain finally realized it was dead.

That left me the turtle-shelled ankylosaur.

The fury burned in me brighter than ever, and all I wanted was to put this freak in its place. I stashed my War Blade and shot in, hands outthrust. Ol’ wrecking-ball tail was a rather squat creature, but I had no trouble slipping beneath it then jabbing my fingers into its plated underbelly. My fingers would never penetrate, of course, but that wasn’t the plan. With a groan, I stood, legs trembling, arms shaking from the strain as I lifted the monster up above my head.

Heavy, so fucking heavy … Couldn’t hold it for long.

Just long enough to do what needed doing.

With a roar of triumph, the godstone vibrating inside me, I slammed the creature forward, right down onto its neck. It was tough, sure, but not tough enough to survive a fall like that. Its neck went crack—the sound of a breaking two-by-four—the life fleeing from its eyes as it thudded into the dirt, kicking up a small plume of debris. Killed by its own weight and momentum.

I doubled over at the waist, grabbing my knees and sucking down a sweet lungful of delicious air. A wide grin broke across my face.

Somehow, we’d done it, we’d kill all those sons of—

The grin slipped and faded as metallic shrieks broke all around us, drowning out every other sound. I stood, winced, and pressed my hands against my ears as I scanned the battlefield. I’d never heard anything so loud or terrible. The sound came again, even louder. From above, dozens and dozens of pterodactyls swooped down, but like the Stymphalian birds we’d faced before, they were made of bronze.

As they drew closer, I realized they weren’t pterodactyls at all, but something worse. Quetzalcoatlus, or at least the upgraded, heavy metal version of ’em. I’d read about them online once, and the image had been so odd it had stuck in my brain even after all these years. They were monstrous things that looked like the unholy love child of a pterodactyl and a giraffe. Scales, bird feathers, and unnaturally long necks with a thirty-foot wingspan to boot. And like the lightning-wielding stegosaurs we’d just put down, these things had glowing emerald plates across their back.

Which could only mean one thing …

The storm clouds from my Shockwave spell were dissipating, but in their shadow, we saw the plates on the Quetzals glow. Like lightning-breathing dragons, the nightmare birds strafed the jungle around us with burning laser beams of raw electricity. My Amazons ducked and rolled, dodging madly as the electrical blasts carved deep trenches in the ground, leaving smoking ruins behind. For the first time, I was at a loss. We were already limping along and there were so damned many of them.

How were we gonna get out of this one?

Will you fucking look at that? Phoebe messaged in disbelief as she leapt from her mech and into my arms. We dove for cover.

THIRTEEN

Gone, Gorgon, Gone

Then the impossible happened.

First one of the Quetzals turned to stone, then another and another. Three petrified doom-birds tumbled out of the sky like falling asteroids and smashed into the ground in explosions of dirt and scree. I raised my shield to protect Phoebe and myself. Rocks pinged and panged off the metal; a billowing dust cloud made it damned hard to see.

The other Quetzals let out metallic shrieks and pulled out of their attacks. They swirled around and then sped upwards, toward the crystal cluster of the synthetic sun. Is that where they live? I wondered, watching them go as the debris cloud settled. Must be. Something clicked into place like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. When Asteria and I had flown recon, we’d heard their cries from far above. Had Asteria and I drawn them down on top of our heads?

Loxo emerged from the shadows. Glancing down at Phoebe in my arms, she offered me a lopsided smile. Oh, Jacob, are you the god of war, or the dog of war? First Asteria, then me, now Phoebe? Not that I’m judging, mind you. Personally, I’m just glad to see you’re finally coming into your own. She then melted back into the shadows. Interesting times ahead, I think, she finished.

I’d been a fool to think Loxo would keep our little encounter quiet. For her, it wasn’t a big deal. For me it was. I kinda felt annoyed.

Yeah, Loxo, not what you think, Phoebe returned, limping back to her mech and climbing in. Jacob was protecting me. He has better things to do than romance a gimp like me.

Not true. I hated when Phoebe mentioned her withered leg. I mean yeah, she wasn’t as physically perfect as the other Amazons, but she was wicked-smart and funny and easy to be around. More than that, she was important to me. Sure, I loved Asteria’s pure spirit and Loxo’s unashamed flirting, but I connected with Phoebe in a deeper way. The thought of losing her sent a bolt of hurt through my heart.

I pushed all that away for now—there just wasn’t the time for it.

Eyes closed, everyone, I sent to my crew, dropping into a low crouch as I scanned the lush forest. True, the Quetzals had fled … but that didn’t mean we were in the clear. So far as I knew, there was only one thing that could petrify the living like that. Gorgons. And I happened to know there was one loitering down here somewhere—Euryale, last of the Gorgon sisters. My Amazons wouldn’t fare any better than the Quetzals had, but because I was a god, I had some protection—at least for a short while, though it would zap my Essence Points to withstand her deadly gaze.

“Euryale!” I called out, turning slowly, drawing my sword, and searching for some sign of the snake-haired woman. “Thanks for saving us, but a word of warning. If you screw around with us, what we did to the dino-dicks, we’ll do to you!”

There was a rustle of movement and a huge woman, twelve feet tall, slithered down from the bough of an ancient oak, flopping into the river with a soft splash. Like the nagas we were so used to fighting against, she had a thick serpentine tail instead of legs, but that was pretty much where the similarities ended. Glossy, blue-black raven-like wings sprouted out of the back of Euryale’s gauzy black gown. The dress—flimsy and far too sheer—revealed way too much scaly coppered-colored skin for my taste.

Gross.

Covering her head was an inky-dark veil that twisted and writhed from the snakes that I knew were coiled on top of her head. Boar’s tusks poked through the lacy face covering, which moved as she spoke. “Greetings, War God. I witnessed your battle with the Nyx Guardians from afar, but saw you needed my aid against the Stymphalian Omegas. Why would you threaten one who has aided you, hmm?” She raised a grotesque hand, each finger a slithering, black-eyed pit viper.

Yep, this was totally normal. Not weird at all.

My Amazons regrouped around me. It seemed we’d escaped one fight only to be thrust into another.

“Don’t think of it as a threat,” I said to the last of the Gorgon sisters, “think of it as a warning. So far I haven’t had a warm welcome from the things on Lycastia, so I want to know why you would help us.”

Euryale waded out of the river, movements slow and sinuous. “And I wonder why you would brave the dangers of Nyx when you need to protect Ares’ sigil in the grand temple above? Curious no, darling? You see, I escaped here to be alone. To be free from the affairs of the gods, so I cannot help but wonder if you have come to violate my solitude, hmm?”

Yeah, Jacob, are you going to violate her? Are you into snake chicks, too? Loxo messaged.

“Uh, not violating anything or anyone,” I said to both the Gorgon and my Huntress. “We have business in the Cave of Nyx. So, let us pass, go back to doing what snake people do, and we’ll be fine. Though thanks for the assist with the, uhh”—I waved a hand through the air, searching for the right word—“the Omega bird things,” I finished weakly.

Smooth as ice.

My Amazons—save for Loxo and Sophia, who were tucked away among the shadows—surrounded the Gorgon, all their weapons ready. Given half a chance, Loxo and Sophia would be backstabbing Medusa’s little sister before you could shake a rattlesnake.

Euryale glanced around at the warriors encircling her like a closing noose. “I, darling, am not like my sisters, who gathered up all the glory and fame. They wanted to be remembered for grand deeds and terrible tortures, but I am of a different sort. I left the outer world to be alone and enjoy my immortality in peace. And yet nevertheless, the war between the war god and Hades has reached my doorstep. I can guess why you are here. You’ve come in search for the Temple of Cronus, no?”

I paused, mind whirling. Technically we were searching for the scythe, but I didn’t intend to tell her that. Finally, I nodded. “That’s the plan. Don’t suppose you’d like to point us in the right direction?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yes, actually,” she replied, bobbing her veiled head. “And you will very much need my help if you are to succeed.” She paused and canted her head to the side. “I know the way in, which is no small thing.”

I do not trust her, Myrina sent.

We should pump her for info, Phoebe sent. We can’t trust her, but we can use her.

Loxo’s laughter showed up as an LOL in our message system. Ha, pump her and use her. Phrasing. Walked right into that one.

Loxo, not now, I sent sternly.

So touchy, War God, she replied, voice just a tad reproachful.

“Okay,” I said to the Gorgon, eyes narrowing. “If you want to help us, let’s chat. I want to know exactly what you get out of this deal.”

“Not here,” Euryale replied. “I will have you as a guest in the Temple of the Gorgon, south of here, near the Spears.”

She had to mean the mountainous stalagmites we’d seen near the boiling wastelands to the south.

From Myrina, I do not like that idea at all.

It’s not like we don’t have the time, Phoebe sent. I say we go and see what she has to say. Besides, it’ll give us all a chance to rest. Our crew needs to recuperate, so let’s try not to pick another fight if we don’t have to, sis.

I agree, Asteria added, prowling forward in the form of a sabertooth. The pride is weakened. We bide our time, observe this new prey. Strike only when we have advantage. She narrowed her eyes and sniffed. Though I will avoid her meat—she smells rotten. Spoiled.

I considered all this, knowing the final decision was up to me. I crossed my arms and shook my head. “Nope, lady. Not until you give me at least one good reason to trust you. Seriously, Gorgons and Hades go together like gamers and Mountain Dew, so for all I know you’re leading us into an ambush.” I uncrossed my arms and lifted a single finger. “Just one reason.”

“Reasons, reasons, reasons,” the Gorgon muttered. “Fine. I saved you from certain death. That should be reason enough, darling. And even if it were not”—she gestured toward the veil with her slithering, snaky fingers—“I came to you hiding my stone-gaze. More than that, clearly, you do not understand the dangers of Nyx, nor do you fully understand the nature of the Temple of Cronus, and so you will never reach it. You need me. Though to prove myself true, I swear to you on the River Styx, on this day, you will come to no harm while you are with me.”

Sophia let out a soft whistle.

Shit, wow, she did the oath thing, Phoebe messaged. That’s like hardcore for us Greek types. Not even a god can break a promise like that.

“Yeah, all right,” I said after a moment. “Lead the way. I’ll follow from above.”

“No,” Euryale hissed, muscles suddenly tense. “That is what brought the Stymphalian Omegas in the first place. They own the air, and any flight is strictly prohibited. Until you leave the Cave of Nyx, your Beastiamancer should stay grounded. Even I do not fly long distances lest the fury of the flying death find me. We were lucky you only attracted a scouting party or we would likely all be dead.”

I nodded. Well, that solved that mystery. It seemed if we stayed out of their skies, the Omegas would leave us alone.

“You mentioned the Nyx Guardians,” I said. “Those were the dinomythics we fought, right? What’s their story?”

“Well aren’t we the curious little thing,” the Gorgon answered. “They were crafted by ancient Hephaestus himself—the first wardens of this place, to keep the curious out and Zeus’s prisoners in.” She sighed and shrugged. “Many eons have passed, however, and Hephaestus is long dead. Murdered by none other than the previous god of war. And now the Guardians attack whoever they will. Wanton, vile creatures. I have walls to keep them out as you will soon see. Come.”

She turned, offering us her back—a show of trust—and headed for the trees.

The Gorgon led the way as my Amazons and I followed behind her in a tight knot. Asteria remained a tiger, licking at her gore-splattered face. Phoebe trudged along between Thunderfoot and Buttercup. We found ourselves on a trampled path that hugged the river until we came to a crumbling stone bridge which we crossed, heading southeast from where we’d entered.

We walked for what felt like hours.

As time passed, I noticed the shadows cast by the crystals grew shorter until there were nearly no shadows at all. Somehow, it seemed like our sun was hitting the crystal cluster, and so this underground kingdom would have both day and night. Not sure how that worked since time had stopped in the outside world. I’d have to ask Cronus once we reached him. If we reached him. I glanced to the ever-shifting temple of the northern hilltop. That was his pad, I had no doubt, and I couldn’t help but wonder what intel our new snaky friend had about it.

She said without her help, we’d never get inside.

Looking at the place, I kinda believed her.

I was surprised Euryale had come so far, especially without flying, and I asked her about it.

The Gorgon didn’t respond right away. “It is one of the reasons why I wanted to aid you,” she replied eventually, being as cryptic and unhelpful as humanly—well, Gorgonly—possible. “I will tell you all once we get to my temple. Patience, War God. Patience.”

We encountered more prehistoric creatures as we trudged, and it wasn’t just dinosaurs that had found a home in the lost world. Sloths the size of cows watched us as from thick tree boughs, munching the greenery slowly. Huge buffalo-like beasts darkened a clearing, and they too watched us walk. As we moved past them, Asteria growled, obviously wanting a little snack.

She controlled herself, however, and left the plain to stride through a thick forest filled with all kinds of ancient trees. We moved through a stand of trees that looked a bit like redwoods, but weren’t, only to come to a copse of broad-leafed behemoths surrounded by large waving ferns. The Cave of Nyx would’ve been a botanist’s ultimate dream or their most terrible nightmare. The forest didn’t make sense, but then neither did anything else around here.

We left the jungle, following the path until we came to rolling grasslands. Rising in front of us were the jet-black stalagmite mountains Euryale had referred to as the Spears. I paused and glanced up, wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand.

Interesting. At one point, there had been matching stalactites in the ceiling far above, but they’d fallen and crumbled around the base of the Spears. New stalactites were forming as water continued to drip down onto the spiked mountains in a constant flow. Sniffing the air, I caught the faint scent of seawater. Could the water be from the Mediterranean Sea? Maybe, or it could’ve been piss from Gaia’s toilet.

No way to tell, and the Cave of Nyx wasn’t playing by anyone’s rules.

A half-mile in front of the Spears was the Temple of the Gorgon. The white marble columns and carved sandstone blocks of a Greek temple lay inside a ring of massive redwoods lashed together to form a giant palisade that encompassed the outpost. A huge gate, big enough to admit a fucking T. rex, stood open as though waiting for us. Men in armor patrolled the top of the battlements, though calling them men was playing pretty fast and loose with the English language. -Man-like, at best.

We followed Euryale through the gates, which slammed shut behind us.

Immediately, we were surrounded by velociraptor centaurs. The creatures each had a human head, torso, and arms, but their skin melted and blended into the scales of a lizard at their waist. Dressed in leather, they had the common Greek weapons we’d seen so often before—spears, javelins, bows, and xiphos. But included in their arsenal were their feet. Each foot had a six-inch-long razor-sharp length of bone. Yep, because that was totally a thing that should exist.

Velocentaurs—at least that’s what I labeled them in my head.

Whatever they were called, the archers aimed their arrows at us as did those with javelins. Every velocentaur in the city, it seemed, had their weapons pointed directly at us.

A trap after all.

So much for the power of oaths …

FOURTEEN

The Enemy of my Enemy

Myrina and the rest of my Amazons readied themselves to go nuclear on the dagger-footed centaurs around us.

Before they could, Euryale called out, “Hold your fury, Servants of the Last Gorgon! These are my honored guests.” She lifted a writhing hand, stilling the restless troops. “You will show them no harm.”

Hissing and spitting swept through the ranks of the velocentaurs, and it sounded like they were supremely disappointed. Even so, arrows relaxed on creaking bows, javelins returned to quivers, and short swords were sheathed. I breathed a sigh of relief and glanced around. Strange homes dotted the side of the redwood wall. Grasses woven together, covered with mud, made ball-shaped nests all across the enormous palisade. Rough wooden walkways crisscrossed the wall, connecting the homes to each other and to the high battlements at the very top.

I watched as lizard-men used their powerful legs to leap from ledge to ledge, making their way up and down the walls like reptilian billy goats. Some darted inside the holes in the huts while others leapt out, falling like stones, only to land on another walkway twenty feet or more below. Yep, part human, part velociraptor, part goat—that was the only combination that made sense. And there were hundreds of them. Euryale had her own army …

Hopefully, we wouldn’t have to fight it. I mean, one hundred to one were shit odds, even if I was a living deity.

Euryale—back straight, head high, towering over her minions—slithered across the lush grass to the base of her temple. It was an acropolis-like structure sitting above courtyards of gardens and fountains. An intricate statue of Euryale loomed over a large, pink-marble fountain; sparkling water jettisoned from her outstretched palm and splashed down into the basin below. Surrounding the pool were beautiful statues of men and women—all with snake or reptilian features—staring up at the Gorgon figurine in total adoration.

Definitely a touch of the ol’ narcissism. Yeesh. What in the hell was it with these Greek deities?

Off to the left, in a sprawling paved courtyard, sat a red-roofed pavilion with lush divans and tables overflowing with food and jugs of wine.

My Amazons and I were quite a spectacle; there were ten of us not counting the mounts. But the pavilion was large enough to accommodate us all. Buttercup drank from the fountain and the bull nibbled at a lawn of lush grasses. Asteria shifted into her human form and slipped on a white dress, which Euryleia tossed to her from Buttercup’s saddlebag. Phoebe hit the fold-up option in her mech and then limped into the pavilion. We all took our seats on thick cushions.

I reached for a big cluster of grapes. We’d brought food and supplies with us, all tucked away in Phoebe’s mech, but there was no point wasting our limited provisions. Besides … I was hungry right then, and if there was one thing the Marine Corps had taught me, it was to eat and sleep whenever an opportunity presented itself. There was no telling when we’d get another chance.

But an instant before the grape passed my lips, Myrina’s hand shot out, calloused fingers wrapping tight around my wrist. Think, Jacob, she might have brought us here to poison us. Antiope, test all the food.

I nodded. Thanks, Myrina, you’re totally right.

Myrina paused and gave me a rare smile. Of course I am.

Antiope went through the dishes, sampling them, one after another. She ate the grapes, tried the olives in peppered oil, sampled the dense cheeses, nibbled at a collection of breads, tasted the sun-dried tomatoes, and devoured quite a bit of the vegetables marinating in a spicy-looking sauce.

The Gorgon sat down in a grand chair crafted out of red silk and bright gold—a throne just as tacky and ornate as the one her sister Stheno had used. She reached for a silver goblet of wine with her snake-fingered hands.

As Antiope continued her sampling, I eyed the Gorgon. Honestly, I could see how having snake fingers could be really convenient. One serpent wrapped itself around the goblet, and when she lifted it to her veil, another snake lifted the lace with its mouth so she could slide the cup between her tusks and drink deeply. Apparently, there was a lot to maneuver when you were a monster looking to wet your whistle—at least if you were entertaining company and wanted to be polite about it.

“Eat and drink,” Euryale said as she lowered the goblet, “and we will discuss why I have chosen to aid you.”

You feel okay, Antiope? I sent.

Yes, War God, I do not believe the food, nor the wine, is poisoned.

I gave a quick nod, and we dug into the grub. I drank a ton of water but went easy on the wine. Myrina didn’t. That woman could get her drink on better than a young PFC fresh to the Fleet.

Shadows lengthened as the sunlight reflecting from the ceiling crystals moved from noon toward early afternoon.

As we ate, Euryale spoke. “You are not the first interlopers to break the peace of my solitude. Others came, stinking of death, and they slaughtered one of my scouting parties. My servants are dear to me, as they have been with me for a long while now.”

“Stinking of death, you say?” I asked. A bad feeling struck my gut. And it wasn’t the humus. “Let me guess … A giant douche bag in bone armor with a big green glowing mace?”

“I know nothing of a douche bag”—she spoke the word strangely, testing it on her lips—“but the rest?” She nodded. The snakes under her veil squirmed. “Yes, a necromancer in the service of Hades, no doubt. He brought with him imps on Cerberi, vine-covered golems, and other strange creatures, some living, many dead—animated with the power of his dark sorcery.”

“Earl Necro Earl,” I muttered. “He’s down here, probably looking for the Crystal Scythe, just like we are.”

Myrina glared at me. Do not think Euryale is our friend. We must not grow complacent. You just told her why we are in the Cave of Nyx, and she can use that power against us.

Phoebe agreed with her. She’s right, Jacob. Go easy on the info dumping.

A few of Euryale’s snake fingers fanged into olives, and she lifted them to her mouth. More serpents lifted her veil so she could nibble. “Oh, so you do not seek the god of time, but the weapon he used to castrate his father. Regardless, darling, to find the one you will need to find the other and you will do neither. Not without my assistance. Accessing his temple is nearly impossible.”

“We saw it from the air,” I remarked before popping an olive into my mouth. “But it’s not about getting there, is it?”

“No,” the last Gorgon replied with a brief shake of her head. “All know the location. It sits in plain sight on the northern hill. Yet, at the same time, the Temple of Cronus exists outside of time and space. We can see only the echoes of its creation from when Zeus banished Cronus to the Cave of Nyx. Cronus crafted his temple to make sure nothing could harm him ever again. He is a capricious god, as so many of you are.”

That made me feel good. Euryale wasn’t referring to me as a baby god or a godling, none of that. She was treating me like the war god I was. About damn time.

I scooped up some hummus on a triangle of pita. “Yeah, totally capricious. So if I understand right, we could run up to that hill—assuming we don’t piss off the Stymphalian Omegas or encounter too many more dinomythics—but once we get there, no door, no entryway, outside of time. We’d probably only see the blur of a temple. Right?”

“Just so,” the Gorgon replied.

“Okay, but here’s the thing. I’m figuring you didn’t bring us all the way out here just to tell us a bunch of bad news.”

“She better not have,” Myrina growled, absently pulling out a short dagger and inspecting its blade.

Euryale laughed lightly, ignoring my Warden’s not-so-subtle threat. “No, I would not want to anger the heroes that slew my sister and have been such a thorn in the side of the death god. There is one in Nyx that might know how to gain access to the temple. She is Ailuros, an oracle that lives on the Isle of Cats, in the Lake of the Sphinx.”

“That’s the huge reservoir in the middle of the swamp near the western stalactites, right?” I asked.

“Precisely. The waters of the great River Kairos emerge from the Western Daggers and feed into the Lake of the Sphinx and the Great Swamps scattered through this valley. On the Isle of Cats, you will find Ailuros. Be warned, though, she is a powerful entity given to riddles and games and other pleasantries that might seem tame, but which can grow quite deadly if unchecked. She is not an evil creature, exactly, but an immortal … and a bored one.”

“Riddles, cool, I can Bilbo Baggins it up,” I said. “I always like that one riddle the sphinx had about the baby, the dude, and the old man. Four legs, two legs, three legs in the evening. Hell yeah, sounds like a cake walk.”

“Hell … yeah … as you say,” Euryale said agreeably. Too agreeably?

“So why help us?” I asked.

“Because I do not wish to end up like my sisters,” Euryale offered earnestly. “You yourself witnessed their fate. Death. I do not wish to die. It is my desire to live forever, and if I am careful, I shall since I am immortal. This necromancer, however, is a pawn of Hades, and Hades wants the destruction of all. If you defeat the death god, it is one less danger for me to consider. Besides, this Earl Necro Earl you spoke of slighted me—he killed what belonged to me. I do not wish to use my resources to oppose him myself, but I will gladly rejoice at his downfall.”

I looked over at the tall redwood walls and the army of velocentaurs and realized Euryale had made herself a fortress outside of time. If she wanted to live forever, she had the setup for it. And she must’ve realized that if she didn’t mess with us, we wouldn’t mess with her.

“Okay, well, thanks for lunch and for the intel,” I said. “It’s not like we can really trust each other, but Euryale, if you don’t get in our way, if you don’t attack us, we’ll let you be. Sound like a deal?”

“It is, as you say, a deal, darling,” the Gorgon hissed in reply. She reached out a hand of writhing snakes. “Shall we join hands to seal this agreement?”

I grunted in suspicion. “How do you know we do that in the modern world?” I asked.

Phoebe broke in, “The handshake is an ancient symbol, Jacob. Even Homer talked about handshakes.”

I grimaced and, uh, shook snakes? with the Gorgon. The serpents wrapped themselves around my hand and wrist. Their coils were cool and dry.

With full bellies, we left the Temple of the Gorgon through the huge redwood gates. Euryale watched us go from behind her veil. She seemed reasonable, but I couldn’t shake the feeling she had an agenda all her own, and she was using us somehow. But then, I might’ve been paranoid. Still, paranoia had saved me more than a few times since winding up on Lycastia, so I didn’t dismiss my unease out of hand.

We found a winding game trail that took us across the plains and to the edge of the tropical jungle surrounding the swampland. The walk was long, exhausting, and tedious, but nothing jumped out and tried to eat my face, so I considered it a win. Eventually, we made camp on the edge of the forest. A group of stegosaurs ambled by as we set up, trimming the trees with their beaked mouths. Thankfully, these ones seemed like plain-Jane dinos—peaceful giants, devoid of glowing back plates or crazy lightning breath.

We pulled out camping supplies, set up our bivouac, and came up with a watch rotation while Loxo scouted the surrounding area for any potential threats. We broke our rations out next, removing them from a variety of compartments built into Phoebe’s steampunk mech. In the end, though, we didn’t need to eat the dried arachnaswine and unleavened bread. Nope. Loxo, being the awesome Huntress that she was, returned with one of the massive buffalos we’d see on the way to Euryale’s temple. The beast was already dead—its eyes shut, its throat slit—and strapped down onto Thunderfoot’s broad back.

In next to no time, we had a crackling bonfire burning bright. Myrina set about spitting and roasting the meat, until it was seared on the outside and nearly raw on the inside. Sabra found some herbs, and we used them to spice up our meal.

We ate and ate and ate—the meat succulent, just a little gamey, and dripping with delicious fatty grease.

Asteria turned into various animals to eat the carcass that we’d left raw for her. The Beastiamancer started out as a tiger, changed to a bear, then went vulture before ending her meal of buffalo guts as a hyena. I’m not sure I’d ever seen her happier. Buttercup nestled right up to her and eagerly helped strip the bones clean.

While my Amazons chitchatted, I pulled up my interface and checked over my stats—I hadn’t realized it in the heat of the battle, but I’d managed to get another level up from the Dino throw down. I’d been in something of a rut for the past week, so getting all these new levels was a huge relief. I guess the key to power-leveling as god of war was finding new and interesting monsters, then butchering the crap out of ’em. And the dinomythics had definitely been new and interesting.

I dropped five more Attribute Points into Intelligence, three into Strength, and the last two into Willpower, then pulled up my character sheet, looking over the changes.

Satisfied, I closed out and toggled over to my skill trees. My miracles were just about as badass as abilities came, but I wanted to diversify just a bit and add a few other tools to my War God belt. So, I pulled up my Path of War Skill Tree and gave it a long look:

Since I already had both Warfighter and Fury unlocked, I could branch out and pick up either the Defender ability or the Smite ability. Defender and Colossus seemed to be defense-oriented skills, built around the idea of a war god tank. Defender drastically increased Armor Rating—permanently, which was a huge bonus—while also having an active effect that looked similar to the old DnD skill Iron Flesh. And Colossus … Well, that bad boy allowed me to triple in size and quadrupled my Armor Rating, HP, and Health Regen for the duration of the spell.

Impressive as hell.

The right-hand side of the skill tree, by contrast, was firmly attack oriented.

Kill, slay, maim, ravage.

The Smite ability cost next to nothing—a measly five Essence Points—and could be triggered on contact, allowing me to do an extra 25% Attack Damage while giving me a huge 250% attack bonus against enemies in heavy armor. And Bloodlust was an active Aura that allowed me to absorb HP for every point of damage dealt to my enemies. Good shit all around, though each branch seemed designed for very different styles of game play.

Ultimately, I decided to go with the Defender ability since that would offer me some permanent gains—not to mention, the idea of unlocking the Colossus skill was deeply appealing. Who wouldn’t want the ability to transform into a thirty-foot-tall murder-machine?

By the time I was done tinkering around in my interface, most of the Amazons had finished their meals and were settling in for a bit of well-deserved shut-eye, exhausted to the bone from our long day. Antiope took the first watch. She seemed restless and immediately took off to check and double-check our perimeter. Loxo followed like a wraith. The night came quick and the darkness was nearly complete. Not totally surprising since we were in a subterranean cavern. The jagged crystal suspended high above didn’t generate light, so without the sun it could only reflect weak silver starlight and errant moonbeams.

There was some glow, but not much.

Our fire was the only real source of illumination. Strange tiny night dinosaurs—their eyes milky and useless—crept around in the brush. I figured they’d be going for bugs and small rodents, but I’d seen the second Jurassic Park movie. Get enough little carnivores together, and they could be a problem, so we kept an eye on them.

While the rest of the crew nodded off, Myrina, Phoebe, and I sat around the fire, planning. Asteria changed into a wolf form, her extended belly looking painful, and curled up into her fluffy tail to sleep. She’d eaten herself into a food coma.

“What does Earl seek in the Cave of Nyx?” Myrina asked.

That’s the million-dollar question, Phoebe messaged. I think he’s here to get the Crystal Scythe like we are. Maybe he wants to use it for himself, or maybe he wants to keep it from us.

“How would he have known about it?” I asked.

Well, it’s not like the Crystal Scythe is this big secret, Phoebe sent. It’s been in like, books. You know books? Paper things? With pages?

“Obviously you don’t know Earl very well,” I said, picking up a small twig and chucking it into the dancing flames. “I’d wager my left arm that asshole has never read a book in his whole fucking life. Assuming you don’t count porn mags.”

“Perhaps Praxidike told him,” Myrina said with a shrug. “Or Hades. Surely this Earl is in communication with Hades.”

I’m thinking Hades is still napping. Phoebe offered, her gaze distant and thoughtful. But we don’t know, not really. From what Jacob said, Ares was all fucked up after that last big battle over the Lycastia sigil. We don’t know what state Hades is in.

“He’s not at full power,” I said. “That we do know, or he’d be leading his troops himself and not using lackeys.” I paused, then said words I hated to speak. “What if we have a spy? Is it possible one of our soldiers heard us talking about the Crystal Scythe and then told Earl about it? What if one of our resurrected Amazons came back corrupted, and we just don’t know it yet? I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but after hearing what Loxo told us?” I faltered, lips pressed into a thin line. “Could be.”

Well, that’s super fucked, Phoebe sent.

“My thoughts exactly,” I said.

FIFTEEN

Bite Me

The night passed uneventfully, and in the crystalline light of the new day our fears about a possible spy seemed unfounded. These were my Amazons, dammit. Cool as ice, badass, and dedicated heart and soul to me and our mission. With all the magical shenanigans afoot, Necro Earl might’ve had some sort of scrying device. We discussed it while we packed, and Phoebe maintained that the spy theory was the most likely. I went back through all the Amazons I’d resurrected—from Hippolyta to Antiope to Loxo—and I couldn’t imagine any of them betraying us.

In the end, Phoebe and I decided we’d just have to keep our eyes open and see what happened.

We broke camp and continued our trek through the land that time forgot. Traveling through the ancient primeval forest, animals scattered in front of us. We saw a few of the huge sloths amble slowly through trees teeming with rodent-like creatures—some gray-furred ancestor of the modern squirrel. The Cave of Nyx was bursting with life from every epoch. Idly, I wondered if we would run across a Neanderthal, or some version of an early human.

That would be cool as hell, so long as we didn’t have to duke it out with ’em.

Loxo and Sophia remained a powerful recon team, running ahead, scoping out our path, and looking for unseen dangers. With Sophia’s power to teleport, she could vanish in an instant only to appear a hundred yards away, well out of harm’s reach. And Loxo? She could melt into even the slimmest of shadows, disappearing in a blink and a whisper. With our messaging system, either could warn us if they saw anything sketchy. So far, the forest of towering trees and thick ferns seemed peaceful enough.

The real enemy, I figured, was the goddamn heat.

We were all sweating and stinking up a storm.

The humidity worsened when we hit the Great Swamps. The ground became soft, then soupy, until the pines ended in a series of channels, muddy ridges, and cypress trees heavy with moss and vines. That muddy water—who knew how deep—could hide any number of monsters. Phoebe walked her mech into the first riverway we encountered. The stinky murk only came up to the first joint in her legs, but three steps later she was up to her firebox in swamp stew.

Awesome.

And the fetid water was only the first annoyance. Worse were horsefly-sized mosquitoes, which filled the air in droves, harassing us before we’d even gone ten feet into the gloom. The little bastards were bold as could be and nearly impossible to kill. And for every one I turned into bug paste, five more seemed to take its place like some kind of insectile Hydra.

This was my own personal version of Hell.

Thunderfoot stepped into the water, drank, then looked dolefully at Ariadne. The bull didn’t want to take another step—and I couldn’t blame him one bit. The water was grosser than a Tijuana outhouse, and the mosquitoes were damned good at finding spots on his body just out of reach of his lashing tail. Ariadne helped by slapping the bugs away with the flat of her hand, but they were quick and persistent. Real go-getters.

Buttercup fared better because of her fur, though only marginally.

Phoebe reversed her mech and backed out of the water. Well, Jacob, this is going to be all kinds of fun. We can’t fly over this shit because of the Stymphalian Omegas. And going through it is going to take us forever. The mosquitoes suck—get it, they suck—but I’m not too worried about them. I’ll bet my sweet ass, though, that there are monsters under all that muddy water just waiting for a little snack. Dollars to donuts on that action.

I had no doubt she was right, but I also had a glimmer of an idea. Sophia, I sent, can you teleport just above the tree line and find a path through the swamp that can take us to the Lake of the Sphinx?

I can, War God, Sophia replied. I will be careful to stay low and inconspicuous.

Loxo threw in, And you do have a sweet ass, Phoebe. I’ve seen Jacob staring at it.

Phoebe gave me a quick glance of surprise.

Instead of blushing, I felt the godstone flare in my chest. I nodded and arched an eyebrow. “Yep. Totally sweet,” I said.

This time it was Phoebe who did the blushing. That was a nice change of pace since I was usually on the receiving end of the flirtatious harassment. My Rune-Caster cleared her throat, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and forged on. Okay. Whatever. She paused, faltered, and cleared her throat again. Anyway, I like your plan, Jacob. But let’s keep our eyes on the water. I don’t trust it.

I can help with that! Asteria sent happily. She took three steps and changed, mid-stride, into a gargantuan crocodile. Her reptilian body belly-flopped into the water and she disappeared with a wiggle of her powerful tail. Fish! Me. Love. Fish! Yummy fish. You tall walkabouts know nothing. Cook? Why? Bad! FISH!

While my shifter explored the swamp, Sophia and Loxo found us a muddy ridge that rose above the pools and threaded its way through thick-packed cypress trees. Myrina led the way and Antiope took up the rear. I found myself smack-dab in the middle of the formation, walking next to Sabra.

“Is the swamp not beautiful, Jacob?” my Forest-Witch asked, the ghost of a smile glued on her lips, her gaze dancing over the vines and leaves and sprawling ferns.

I took a quick look around, imagining how much I’d like to set the whole place on fire. “It sure is something,” I muttered darkly, fanning the Great Mammoth Cloak, which did a whole lot of nothing to help with the oppressive heat. A mosquito buzzed close and I grabbed it like a fucking kung fu master, squishing its plump body in my fingers. Naturally, one of my sandals sank into a soft muddy part and goop oozed between my toes.

Sabra witnessed all that and chuckled. “Beautiful, but not easy, War God.”

“Boy, isn’t that the truth,” I replied, soldiering on.

We followed the muddy ridge for a solid ten minutes, winding our way through the undergrowth, avoiding pools, and skirting odd-looking clumps of purple-leafed vegetation which seemed strangely aware. Out of all the places I’d been so far in Lycastia, this was definitely the worst. Hands down. Eventually, the muddy ridge ended at a burbling river, fifteen feet wide.

Water’s clear, came Asteria’s voice, but deep. So deep. Many fish. So good to eat.

I sighed and crouched down, eyeballing the river as I rubbed at my chin. Well that was unfortunate. Sophia, any chance of a quick, convenient detour?

My apologies, Jacob, Sophia replied, but there is no other way. You will either need to fly or ford the waterway.

As though sensing my thoughts, Sabra stepped up and thrust her hands straight out, a mischievous grin slicing her face. Our side of the muddy bank wriggled and danced, the dark earth shifting and crawling as a bridge of hearty vines sprouted up, arcing over the top of the water, then rooted themselves in the loamy earth on the far side. She whirled on me and cocked an eyebrow. “Not an easy land, but a manageable one with the right skills.” She folded her arms smugly. “And thankfully, in this place my skills thrive.” She positively glowed she was so happy.

It made me smile. “Well, good news there, Sabra. We have a ton of swamp to get through, so you’ll have lots of opportunity to thrive.” I reached over and squeezed her shoulder. Good job, that gesture said.

My Beastiamancers and Phoebe crossed the vine bridge first—the quilt of vegetation holding their bulk—and the rest of us followed. True to Sophia’s word, the muddy trail continued on the other side, leading us deeper into the heart of the swamplands. We trudged on for another uneventful twenty minutes, the going painfully slow. I was just starting to relax when we headed out onto a narrow spit of land, eight feet wide, covered in waving grasses, and flanked on either side by deep water.

Asteria’s reptilian voice hit my head hard. Warning! Fear! Walkabout things! Danger! Claws! Teeth! Strong! Many! Strange!

In my combat display, Asteria’s HP dropped precariously. She was under attack, though from what I couldn’t be certain.

Sophia bounced through the air above the grasses, falling, teleporting higher, falling again. I see Asteria. Something has her. Hurry forward. She is in peril from all sides!

Myrina, in a burst of raw speed, raced ahead.

The rest of us slammed down the path through the grasses, drawing weapons as we ran. Except the grasses weren’t really grasses at all … The ground shook, shifted, and jetted upward as dozens of huge bodies rose to their feet. For a moment, I just stood there, my brain working double time, trying to figure out what in the hell I was seeing.

They were hulking things, seven feet tall, with hunched backs, moss-green chitinous armor, beady bug eyes, wicked tearing mandibles, and formidable scythe-like blade arms. Patches of lichen dotted their armored limbs, while vines dangled from their shoulders and grass sprouted from their backs. Camouflage. Lying on their bellies, they’d blended in perfectly. At a guess, I’d say they were praying mantises. If praying mantises were crossbred with grizzly bears and swamp stank.

I grimaced as they slipped forward, mandibles clacking hungrily. Gross—they smelled like a day of plucking rotten crayfish out of a muddy ditch.

“For the god of war,” Myrina cried, surging forward with her short sword raised high.

The nightmare mantises responded in kind, letting out a shriek of fury as they charged, propelled by a pair of translucent wings which emerged from their backs.

Myrina and the lead mantis came together in a furious dance of thrusts, parries, and slashes. The other insects took to the air with a droning buzz, fanning out in a loose arc and skimming over the surface of the water as they tried to encircle us. In my combat interface, Asteria’s HP continued to drop, the water off to my right roiling and bubbling, but there was nothing I could do for her until I handled the wave of incoming nasties.

Sabra raised her hands, arcane words falling from her lips in a steady chant; a wall of thorny vines exploded upward in front of us. The vines, covered in wicked barbs, seemed to strike with a will of their own, flashing out with preternatural speed, snagging insectile feet or arms, pulling the mantis terrors from the air. Loxo appeared among them in a burst of inky smoke, expertly weaving her way through the quivering vine forest as she struck with her blade.

Euryleia, astride Buttercup, fired an arrow into an insectile face, removing it from the equation. Phoebe planted her feet and unleashed a rapid-fire flurry of bolts, peppering the few mantises still airborne with the automatic crossbows on the ends of her wooden arms.

Thunderfoot waited to attack while his mistress bolted forward and split one of buggy-eyed freaks down the middle with her formidable battle-ax. Golden blood splattered her from head to knees, but she didn’t seem to care in the least—just the opposite, actually. She threw her head back and bellowed in victory, raising her war ax again, laying into another of the bugs still mired in the writhing vines.

An especially bulky mantis barreled into the vine wall, slashing madly at the foliage with its scythe-like arms, parting the conjured plants and freeing its hideous kin. I Lightning Lanced it right in the face on principle—the creature exploded into pieces of fried meat and smoking chitin, but the damage had already been done. Our vine wall had been compromised, and a handful of formerly ensnared mantises broke free.

I sped forward, closing the gap. The War Blade crackled with power, eager to cleave limbs, split skulls, and drink deeply from the blood of my enemies.

I was going full-melee, and for that, I needed to tap into my Path of War abilities.

I triggered my brand-new Defender skill with a thought and a small ebb of Essence. The godstone flashed with brilliant blue light. Instead of warmth filling my chest, an icy cold flared up around my heart and spread down my arms and legs in fits and starts. After the heat and humidity, it felt refreshing—like stepping into an industrial-sized freezer. But the cold grew and grew and grew until it was just shy of painful, infusing every inch of my skin with arctic power. Frozen vitality. I faltered, raising my hand in wonder.

My cold skin had literally become steel. Gleaming and bright.

So. Completely. Badass. Badass squared, even. With a vicious grin, I dropped my shield. I didn’t need it.

A swamp mantis darted in with a screeching hiss; deadly mandibles lunged for my throat. I thrust my left arm into its maw. The spike-studded jaws clamped down like a vice, grinding into my forearm … but the fangs broke loose and scattered across the ground. Denied. The creature’s buggy black eyes bulged even wider in shock. The creature released me and backpedaled, a razor-edged arm snaking out, but even with steel skin I moved like the wind. I caught the incoming strike in my free hand, then drove my War Blade into its belly and yanked up.

The creature mewled as its torso split, entrails spilling to the ground in a gush of golden blood. I jerked my sword free, raised one foot, and front kicked that sucker square in the chest, hurling the dead insect back into one of its encroaching buddies. Down they went in a tangle of limbs. Whirling, I chopped off the head of a second swamp mantis desperately trying to flank me from the right. Down that creature went too, head summersaulting through the air, neck spurting inhuman blood. I leapt over the toppling corpse and shot forward into the breach.

Swamp mantises were all around me now, converging.

I let them come.

I plunged the thirsty War Blade into the heart of another dead-eyed monster with my right hand and thrust out my left, unleashing a Lightning Lance. A blue-white arc of death burst through the chest cavity of a swamp mantis closing in. A gaping hole the size of my fist sizzled and snapped as the monster fell to its knees, char-blackened blood leaking down its front.

Behind me, a mantis slammed a scythe-bladed arm into my shoulder, the ring of steel on steel reverberating in the air. I spun and lopped off one arm before stabbing him through a lung. The lightning buzzing along my blade cauterized the wound.

Off to my left, Thunderfoot charged forward and speared the last of the swamp bugs through the groin while Ariadne took off its head with her battle-ax.

As we all ran across the mud and blood toward the water where Asteria was fighting for her life, I took stock of my troops.

Antiope was nowhere to be seen.

SIXTEEN

Dive-bomb

With a thought, I checked Antiope’s vitals. She was injured but alive. Good enough. I’d have to worry about where she was later.

With the swarm of ambushing swamp mantises down for the count, my Amazons and I pressed toward the far side of the grassy land bridge. And there was Asteria, still in the form of a blue-skinned croc. She wasn’t alone, though. Nope. A pair of armored plesiosaurs had her firmly between a rock and a hard place—one latched onto her neck with powerful jaws, the other gnawing on a scaly leg.

The plesiosaurs were massive beasts, each the size of a school bus. All chomping teeth, swaying necks, bronze-plated armor, and thrashing flippers. The bastard offspring of a fish, a dino, and a bronze Buick.

But that wasn’t all. Long, strange lobster-like creatures—also decked out in bronze armor—scuttled across the plesiosaurs on spindly legs. Mandibles clicked, claws clacked, and antennae twirled around their heads as they moved. The arthropods leapt from the water-dwelling dinosaurs and slashed at Asteria with their claws. A few left deep gashes in her thick hide, while others missed completely, only to tumble back into the murky depths. But a handful clung to my Beastiamancer’s tortured skin, wriggling their claws deeper into her flesh.

It was a horror show.

Asteria transformed into various creatures in an attempt to get away—eagle to bear, bear to whale, whale back to crocodile. She couldn’t change into anything smaller, however, or she risked being eaten whole. And the long teeth of the plesiosaurs refused to let her go as they bit down deeper into her muscle. The whole while, the monstrous arthropods kept up their assault, scuttling, cutting, biting.

Myrina hurled her lightning javelin, trying to clear the arthropods from Asteria. The weapon landed with a crack and a flash of brilliant white light, steamed lobsters tumbling away, only to be replaced by other eager crustaceans. A losing battle if ever there was one. The javelin reappeared in her quiver, and she threw it again—this time trying to dislodge the plesiosaurs.

Crack. Flash. The javelin returned once more, but the plesiosaurs were still hanging on tight. Clearly, those suckers were built like tanks.

I reached out a hand and healed Asteria from a distance, my Essence dipping by twenty-two points. But after a full night’s sleep, I had Essence to spare. The healing energy poured out of me while fire and ice twisted inside me like ying and yang, pushing and pulling around my heart, each one battling for supremacy. Asteria’s wounds closed, and she fought with renewed strength. She didn’t have much time, however.

I knew exactly what to do.

First, I slapped my hands together and unleashed Burning Aura, slashing through another fifteen points of Essence. A translucent golden sheen covered my steely skin, the aura light as air, gently caressing my body with tongues of heat. That same golden aura erupted around my Amazons, painting them from head to toe and extending to their weapons, giving blades, spears, and arrows a dazzling, deadly shine. True, those plesiosaurs were tough, but with the Burning Aura my Amazons would slice through ’em like a hot knife through butter.

I glanced at the countdown timer in my combat interface—only thirty-five seconds left before my Defender ability lapsed, and then I’d have a five-minute cooldown before I could activate it again. Still, I had enough time, so long as I acted fast. I thrust my War Blade forward and activated Plague Locust, summoning the insectile menace from thin air. My Essence plunged, leaving me momentarily woozy, while a roiling green cloud of power took shape above Asteria. The sheer number of lobster freaks was a serious problem, but hopefully the Plague Locust would keep them busy long enough for my Beastiamancer to break free.

The locusts buzzed into terrible action, descending on the arthropods, but I didn’t stop to watch the chaos—only thirty seconds left and I had one last big play …

Sophia, I need a lift. Take me high up, and then fucking drop me. Like a stone, baby.

My teleporter appeared in a hazy cloud of sulfuric smoke and latched onto me without question; we vanished just as quickly. When I said, “high up,” I was thinking a hundred feet. Sophia had other ideas. We appeared at least a football field above the monsters thrashing and battling below.

Ever obedient, Sophia dropped me and disappeared again.

I plummeted, wind screaming around me, my Mammoth Cloak fluttering madly. I crossed my ankles, clutched my sword tight against my chest, and said a silent prayer that this would work and … well, not turn me into a splatter of Divine meat. I mean, in theory, with the Defender ability active—not to mention my god-like amount of hit points—I should be okay. Doubt and worry gnawed in the pit of my stomach, but I pushed them away. I was already in too deep to change anything now.

I adjusted my flight by angling my body, aiming for the plesiosaurs latched onto Asteria’s neck, but kept an eye on my countdown timer. Eight seconds left and falling. Holy shit this would be close. Tears leaked from my eyes and on instinct I let out a guttural roar as I slammed through a bronze-plated dino back with my feet. Terrible pressure surged up through my heels and into my legs—white-hot pain taking root in my bones. But then the resistance parted and I was shooting down through slimy golden guts and out the other side.

The sheer force of the impact was incredible, but thanks to Defender, not every bone in my body shattered. Cracked maybe. But not shattered. Still, my HP took a nasty hit and blinding pain filled my chest and head. I gritted my teeth against the hurt and kept my mouth firmly closed, refusing to scream—the last thing I wanted was plesiosaur entrails in my mouth.

The reassuring cold of my steel skin vanished, the spell dissipating. Thankfully, the water, plesiosaur organs, and mud slowed me to a herky-jerk stop. I drove my legs into the muck lining the bottom of the swampy pool, then hurled myself upward. While I’d been bitching about the War Mammoth Cloak, I was grateful for the strength boost.

I came rocketing into the air, water spraying out in a geyser all around me. I landed on the long neck of the now-dead plesiosaur. It’s ass end drooled yellow gore into the water, and its head lay on the bank, jaws slack. Holy shit. I’d split the thing in two with my dive-bomb maneuver. Not too shabby. For a moment, I knelt on the bronze-plated skin of the beast, trying to shake the pain rampaging through my body like wildfire. Seriously, it felt like someone had put me in a hydraulic vise and tried to crush my bones into jelly.

Asteria let out a crocodilian shriek of pure torture. That pulled me to my feet despite the pain. I stared wildly around as I hefted my War Blade and mopped stagnant water from my face with my free hand.

The Plague Locusts were still kicking ass and taking names—swarming the nightmare crustaceans like Black Friday shoppers in a Wal-Mart—but Asteria wasn’t in the clear. Not yet. I lurched into motion, my legs treacherous and uncertain beneath me, and hurled myself at the remaining plesiosaur. I brought the War Blade around in a wicked arc, slashing through dino jaw. Skin parted, teeth flew, golden gore splattered, and Asteria wriggled free at last.

Unfortunately, the thrashing dino, near dead, swatted me and Asteria into the swampy quagmire with its serpentine tail. As we kicked and splashed, even more of the awful arthropods—who’d retreated in the face of the locust plague—swarmed us en masse. Their bronze bodies were covered in slimy muck and they chittered in excitement, thinking they’d be able to chop Asteria and me into small enough pieces to stuff into their clicking maws.

My Beastiamancer erupted in a mass of tentacles and suction cups. A giant, blue-skinned squid. She encircled me in a coil and tossed me back onto the grasslands. I so wanted to do the superhero landing: on my feet, knees slightly bent, totally badass. Didn’t happen. Instead, I face-planted, rolled, and bounced my happy ass across the grass as gracefully as a one-legged swamp skunk.

Antiope appeared a moment later, offering me a hand. “Where the hell were you?” I asked my Battle Warden, letting her pull me to my feet.

Antiope answered without a pause. “More of the mantis creatures. They rose up from the waters and tried to attack our flank.” She paused and grinned, a twinkle in her eye. “There were six. Now there are none. They were no match for my speed and strength. Your blessings save me, War God.”

“Good enough for me. We’ll celebrate later. Come on.” I turned and sprinted back toward the fight, Antiope dogging my heels. The last plesiosaur had met its fate by a combination of Sophia’s burning katana blows and Loxo’s deadly arrows. Hitting Sophia with a Burning Aura miracle and partnering her up with Loxo sure made them a lethal duo. One minute, Sophia was hacking away with a magically imbued katana … the next, she was gone and Loxo was unloading a firestorm of burning arrows.

The long-necked plesiosaur lay on the bank, clearly dead.

Unfortunately, the Plague Locust cloud had finally vanished—leaving the air clear—and the slimy bronze arthropods were scrambling out of the murky swamp water in renewed retaliation.

But without the plesiosaurs to contend against, it was easy pickings.

Holding the high ground, thanks be to Obi-Wan Kenobi, we slaughtered the critters as they squirmed up the banks, mandibles clacking, claws yearning for flesh. Asteria had gone from squid to Kodiak and fought next to Myrina and Phoebe. I grinned at my three generals, who were bringing the thunder and fury like nobody’s business. They didn’t even need my help, which was good since I felt like shit: my HP fucked, my arms like lead weights, my legs like blocks of cracked concrete.

Finally, the last of the bronze lobsters lay dead, and I couldn’t have been happier.

Hephaestus and Zeus hadn’t been screwing around when they’d created the dinomythics inhabiting this backwards realm. This was the second battle we’d barely survived, and I hoped there wouldn’t be a third.

Asteria, as a bear, made a meal of several of the arthropods, cracking through their bronze exoskeletons and slurping up the golden meat inside. She crooned and grunted as she ate, gore dribbling down her muzzle.

I left her to it and took care of everyone’s wounds, especially Antiope’s.

She’d repelled a Mantis ambush but had paid dearly for it. Deep gashes and angry slashes covered her arms and legs, courtesy of scythe-like blade arms. While I tended to her, I searched her face to see if she really was on the level with me. Was it possible she was a traitor? A dark Amazon? She only smiled warmly at me. Probably, I was just being paranoid, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something just a touch off about her.

She was my warrior, though, so until she proved me wrong, I would trust her.

I smiled, patted the Warden on the shoulder, and moved on.

After patching up the rest of the troops, I plopped down on the far side of the land bridge, propped my back against a tree, and looked over our character sheets. I was damned pleased by the progress we’d made, Asteria in particular. She was just a hairsbreadth shy of leveling up, and I was hoping that once she did, the added Exousía would allow her to shape-shift into … well, some new and interesting forms. I mean, if I could get ahold of an Asteria-Rex, it would increase our arsenal tenfold.

That would be a complete game changer.

With the good news came the bad. I’d lost almost half of my thousand HP from the dive-bombing maneuver—down to 595—and my Essence had taken a serious hit too, now lingering at 214. Sure, I’d regenerate both Health and Essence, but it would take time, and if we were unlucky enough to run headlong into another batch of dinomythics, I might be in trouble. The godstone glimmered as it went to work fixing my bruised and bashed muscles, healing my cracked bones, and repairing lacerated skin.

“Are you all right?” Myrina asked as she sauntered over.

I nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.” With a groan I clambered back to my feet and brushed my hands off.

My Amazons raided the creatures for what they could, harvesting meat and bronze scales, which Phoebe assured me could be turned into deadly weapons and armor. Once that was taken care of, we resumed our trek. More mud, swamp, and grass followed, and since my steel-skin air-conditioning system was gone, I was back to sweating my balls off. As I trudged along, head down, feet sticking in mud, I thought about activating Defender again, but eventually dismissed the idea. We had no clue what lay ahead of us on the Isle of Cats and I couldn’t afford to kill another thirty-five Essence Points for the sake of comfort.

Just hang in there a little longer, Boss, Loxo messaged me. We’re finally at the edge of this shithole, though we might have a few complications …

Complications, how? I asked.

Well, there’s the lake, obviously, which wouldn’t be so bad except there appears to be a school of those damned dino-fish freaks. Might be a way around that, though, she continued after a second. I see a dock and a boat … But it’s guarded. A sphinx. She doesn’t look overtly hostile, but it’s hard to tell without getting closer.

Alright, I replied. Good work. Just keep your distance for now. I’ll handle it.

Our muddy game trail ended in a road made of marble—cracked, scratched, broken by rising roots and covered in moss. But after trudging through the swamp, having an actual road, even one in disrepair, was like walking on a goddamn cloud. Eventually, the weather-beaten boulevard ended at the lake. Though lake was a bit of a misnomer since it was almost the size of a sea and its rippling waters were bursting with the arched necks of plesiosaurs. In the far distance, on a mountain island, sat a temple, its columns sticking up like fingers.

Bingo.

And just as Loxo had reported, there was a covered dock and a sleek wooden boat large enough for me and my crew. A perfect ride, though as Loxo had also mentioned, it was a ride with a few complications. Most notably, the golden-haired sphinx lounging on a plush pillow beneath a small pavilion of red silk. I wrapped my hand around the grip of my sword and squeezed. I wasn’t sure if the sphinx was friendly or not, but one way or another, I was taking that boat …

SEVENTEEN

A Game of Cat and Mouse

“Myrina, Phoebe, Asteria, with me,” I barked, striding forward, hand still resting on my weapon. The sphinx lounging on the pillow was a strange creature ripped from the pages of mythology like everything else in this wonky world. A bare-breasted woman with long golden hair that matched the fur on her lionized body. Her white, feathery wings were tucked back, running along her ribs. She watched us approach with a lazy smile, feline eyes weighing us from a distance.

I stopped five feet short of the sphinx, one hand resting on my hip, the other on the pommel of the War Blade—a not-so-subtle reminder of who I was and what I could do. Myrina posted up on my right, Phoebe and Asteria on my left. The Beastiamancer grinned at the sphinx and raised a hand, fingers turning into the deadly claws of a tiger.

“Greetings,” I said, dipping my head a fraction of an inch. “I’m the new god of war. Me and my Amazons want a ride to the Isle of Cats.” I nodded toward the boat. “What’s your price?” Damn, but I was killing it—if I didn’t know I was just some knuckleheaded kid from Rockford, Illinois, I might’ve thought I was actually the god of war.

Phoebe messaged me. You’re adorkable. Growing up so fast. It’s a good look on you.

That took a little of the wind out of my sails, but I ignored her jab, focusing instead on the winged cat woman.

The sphinx blinked, weighing me, cataloging me. “Greetings, War God,” she finally replied. “Ailuros welcomes you. It was she who sent me here to ferry you across—assuming you can answer my riddle.”

“That so. And how did she know we were coming?” I asked, an edge of suspicion underlying the words.

Duh, oracle, and I don’t mean the software company, Phoebe buzzed my brain. Come on, War God. Get your game face on.

“Obviously, that’s a trick question,” I said, trying to cover up my misstep. “Of course she knew, because what kind of oracle worth her salt wouldn’t know the god of war was stopping by for a visit?” I cocked an eyebrow, shooting for smug and self-satisfied. “Now hit me with your riddle so we can get the show on the road.”

The sphinx blinked languidly at me, unruffled by my social awkwardness, and asked her question. “What animal walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs in the evening?”

I grinned and suppressed the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl since it wouldn’t be befitting of a war god, but it was a real battle. I mean, seriously, what were the odds that this would be her question? “Humans,” I offered solemnly, banishing any hint of amusement from my voice. “Babies crawl on four legs, adults on two, old people on three because they use a cane. The whole day thing is a metaphor for a lifetime.” I paused. “So is that it? Can we get on board?”

The sphinx shrugged, rolled her eyes, and stood. “As you will. You have answered the riddle correctly.” She turned, stretched, and sprang lightly from the dock to the boat, taking up a seat near the bow on yet another colorful pillow. Clearly, she was more cat than human.

Me and my crew piled in after her; my Amazons took to the oars without comment. In a handful of minutes, everyone was situated, the beast mounts in the center of the ship, and we were cutting through the water with ease. The lake was teeming with long-necked plesiosaurs, demon whales, and even those huge prehistoric sharks that could hunt great whites like they were guppies. Megalodons, I think they were called. One and all steered clear of our nimble boat, however. They treated the vessel as though it were a naval destroyer armed with nukes and railguns instead of a glorified wooden rowboat with a cat-lady and a handful of Amazons.

Curious, I placed my palm flat against the wooden bench beneath me and felt the faintest thrum of arcane magic.

A miracle of some sort, though I couldn’t figure out how it worked or why.

After ten minutes of hard rowing, we came to a dock on the Isle of Cats, which was nearly a mirror image of the one on the far side—red silk pavilion and all. We helped Ariadne and Euryleia get their animals off the boat and soon Phoebe was back in her steampunk mech. As for the sphinx? She didn’t say a word. Just hopped from the ship, curled up on her cushion, and promptly went to sleep, one wing extended to block out an errant sunbeam from the crystal overhead.

The Isle of Cats, it turned out, wasn’t a mountain at all, but a stalagmite rising from the lake. Lush foliage blanketed every inch of the unnatural island. A stalactite was forming high overhead, water dripping down onto the hillside above the temple. Since I wasn’t a total newb, I knew that was where the oracle would be waiting for us. Had to be.

We walked up a cobblestone footpath, passed through a gate, and headed onto the steps that led to the entrance of the water-stained building. A forest of columns surrounded the temple, each of them green with moss, wrapped in vines, and falling apart. The place seemed older than time—simultaneously dead and sacred. This Ailuros might know everything, but she sure didn’t care about housecleaning and upkeep.

No one greeted us. The whole place was hushed. Only the jungle birds broke the silence, cawing, twittering, warbling, and trilling at our passage.

“Well,” I said, looking around at my Amazons. “I guess we just go inside. But let’s be careful. I’ve got an uneasy feeling about this place.”

Yeah, Phoebe messaged. It’s quiet. Too quiet.

“My thoughts exactly,” I said, shooting her a wink.

We weaved our way through the columns and into the central temple. We moved in deeper. The room was circular, about thirty feet in diameter, the walls plain sandstone, and the place was completely devoid of anything. I lifted the War Blade high to give us light. Yep, there was nothing inside. No altar. No candles. No lamps. No ceramic bowls or loot crates. Even the walls themselves were bare and free from inscriptions. I crept deeper in, my Amazons crowding around me.

“Well, that’s a whole lot of anticlimactic,” I muttered, turning slowly in a circle. There had to be something here. “You think Euryale was dickin’ with us?”

Laugher filled the air, echoing off the stone walls. The floor groaned beneath me; tremors sprinted up my legs as stone shifted and crunched. What the fuck? A heartbeat later, the entire bottom dropped as the temple floor tilted upward, revealing a midnight-black pit with no bottom in sight. The temple floor itself was covered with a thin layer of moss and moisture, making it impossibly slick.

It all happened in a flash: Thunderfoot’s hooves immediately slipped out from under him, and down he went, both the bull and his rider careening over the edge and into darkness. Buttercup howled—the massive she-bear’s claws scrambling for purchase—but she went too, Euryleia on her back. Worse, the falling dread bear smacked into Phoebe and sideswiped both Asteria and Sophia. All careened over in a blink. Myrina, Antiope, and Sabra skidded on their sandals, fighting the inevitable, only to go spinning away on their butts.

Loxo and I leapt, desperately trying to latch onto the lip of the floor, but we both missed it by inches.

We slid into open air, ringing laughter chasing us down into the gloom.

I flipped ass over teakettle, arms pinwheeling, wind whistling past my ears, black filling my vision, fear and uncertainty filling my belly. Would we land in water, soft leaves, or on a bed of deadly spikes? I had no idea, but this was bad news all around. As I fell I caught a glimpse of a wooden staircase, zigzagging up one wall—it looked straight out of an Indiana Jones flick. All old worn boards, frayed rope, gray-green jungle vines, and gently trickling waterfalls. Still, that meant there was a way out assuming we survived the fall.

I flipped again, the world inverting, and finally caught a sight of the bottom: torches below us, jutting up from the rocky, unforgiving ground.

Oh shit. Surviving the fall was looking increasingly unlikely.

“Asteria, do something!” I hollered. “Turn into a spider and start spinning a web. Or something. Anything!”

A puff of purple light exploded in the air next to me; Sophia’s hands hooked beneath my armpits, but then, before my Teleporter could disappear, a shimmering sliver net appeared below us. I thought for second that Asteria had taken my advice and spun us a web, but no. The strands of brilliant silver were shimmering metal, cold and unforgiving. It was a colossal net as wide around as the pit we were plunging down. The war mounts hit first, and the net sagged with their weight, but the rest of the party was right behind them.

I belly flopped with a whoof that knocked the air from my lungs. The net folded around us a second later, tight steel mesh pulling us together as we continued to fall toward the cavern floor. But then, a line pulled tight like a bungee cord and we bounced, once, twice, three times before finally settling above the ground. I struggled uselessly against the silvery ropes biting into my skin while we swung there like the pendulum of some oversized clock.

I pried my fingers into the shimmering net and pulled with all my strength, trying to free myself. They didn’t budge, didn’t give. Not an inch.

“Everyone alright?” I called, glancing around.

No response. I craned my head to the right and got a good look at Sophia, bound next to me. Her chest rose and fell—rhythmic, steady—but her eyes were pressed tightly shut. What the hell? I looked left. Loxo was out like a light as well. I didn’t know what was going on, but I doubted it was good. I stole a quick look up. We’d fallen at least a mile below the temple into what could’ve only been the hollowed-out center of the stalagmite.

Two large braziers burned brightly off to my left and right, throwing flickering light across the walls. For the first time, I noticed there was a door set into the wall across from me. As I watched, a dozen cats scurried in, completely indifferent to my presence. A woman followed them. She was supernaturally tall, nine feet at least, and slender as a willow. She wore golden sandals and a white toga, secured with a turquoise brooch in the shape of a cat-head. But she wasn’t human. Nope, unlike the sphinx above, who had the body of a lion and the head of a woman, this lady had the body of a woman and the head of a cat.

A Siamese cat, by the color and shape.

A dozen strutting felines followed the cat lady, who I assumed was the oracle we’d come to find. She strutted to the center of the room, folded slender arms across her slight chest, and stared at me with inquisitive eyes, studying me closely. “You do not recognize me, do you, War God?” she finally said, equal parts question and statement.

“Ailuros?” I growled, fingers inching toward my War Blade.

“That name is as good as any,” she whispered. She faltered, canting her head to one side, feline eyes narrowing. “You have changed.” She slipped forward and poked one finger through the net, caressing the godstone in my chest. “And this is why. Your power is there, giving you, a mortal man, the abilities of a god.” She tap-tap-tapped on the stone, a feline frown growing on her lips. “Zeus would not be pleased. But where is Zeus anyway? We have not felt his presence in a long time.” She sighed and dropped her hand.

“But you have not come here to listen to my ramblings.” She flicked her wrist and the net directly in front of me seemed to melt away. I fell to the floor, free, but the net resealed itself behind me, leaving the rest of my troops trapped good and tight. “You have come here to talk,” she continued. “To ask questions. You have come seeking information, of course, but I only answer a single question for those who can defeat me.” She paused and turned away, folding her hands behind her back. “You see, young god, the tedium of my immortality has become a curse to me. Thus is the fate of one whose life will never end.” She glanced back at me, face flat and unreadable. “Most likely.”

Most likely. Yeah, so far, not a lot of gods around. I’d watched Ares die and Hephaestus was confirmed dead by Euryale. The Gorgon said Ares had killed the smith, which meant this lady probably knew I had the power to ice her if push came to shove.

“Look,” I said, gaining my feet. “I’m not here for a fight. I just want answers. Release my Amazons and then we can play whatever game you want.”

“Ah, but a game is only as good as the stakes. So for now, I will hold onto them. These nets”—she sauntered over and traced a finger along the steel—“are a specialty item, forged by Hephaestus himself. Your Amazons sleep, their powers nullified while so ensnared. And thanks to the magic of the chains, not even your miracles can touch them. They will stay here until our game is done. If you win, you win not only the answer to a single question, but I will release them. If you lose, they forfeit their lives—though you yourself shall be allowed to leave this place.”

Cats rubbed their faces against their mistress’s legs, meowed, purred, or sat on their haunches, cleaning themselves.

“No dice.” I pulled my War Blade free with the rasp of steel on leather. “Let ’em go. Now.”

“Or you’ll kill me?” Ailuros said, voice indifferent. “Yes, you probably could do so. Though you started as a mortal, it is obvious you have grown into your power—I doubt I could survive a battle with you.” She shrugged, as though to say it was neither here nor there. “But if you kill me, you will never get the answer you seek. Nor will you get an answer if you refuse to play my game. And if you fail to get such an answer, you will never find the Crystal Scythe. And if you fail to get the scythe … The world will perish.” She let the pronouncement hang in the air like an impending thunderstorm.

“So what will it be, War God?” she asked after a taut pause. “Will you risk the lives of the few to save the many, or damn them all in your cowardice?” Her eyes seemed to burn with hungry zeal. “Play. The. Game.”

EIGHTEEN

Temple Run

Damn, she’d really backed me into a corner. My mind whirled as I tried to think of any way to avoid risking the Amazons. But I couldn’t see a way out. I couldn’t kill her, which left either playing the game or trying to torture an answer out of her—and that I didn’t have the stomach for. “Fine,” I growled, slamming the War Blade home in its sheath. “I’ll play. What do you have in mind? Parcheesi? Please let it be Parcheesi—’cause I’ll rock your socks at Parcheesi.”

“I’m not sure what this Parcheesi is,” she said slowly, “but I had something more”—she slipped over and ran her fingers across my chest—“physical in mind.”

I could only imagine what Loxo would say to that and was suddenly glad the Huntress was passed out cold.

“Physical,” I repeated flatly, folding my arms. “Look, if you want to arm wrestle, I’m all for it, but past that I’m on the fence.”

“Oh no, War God.” She slipped her fingers from my chest to my arm and ushered me over to the bottom of the rustic staircase I’d seen during my fall.

The oracle stepped away from me. “You are very strong. But are you fleet? I propose a race. We will sprint to the top of the temple. It is exactly one mile up the treacherous staircase. There are traps. There are waterfalls. It is dangerous, reckless, which makes it all the more thrilling. The first one to drink from the golden goblet of ambrosia sitting on the table in my pavilion wins.”

I recalled seeing her pavilion on top of the temple on our way in.

“Okay,” I said, bobbing my head as I eyeballed the staircase. “A race. I can get on board with that, though there are two things I’d like to know. One, are you going to play fair?” I asked, thrusting a finger into the air. “And two, is the ambrosia poisoned?” A second finger joined the first.

She watched me with golden eyes, split vertically down the center. “Yes, I will play fair to a certain extent. And no, I will not poison you. If you drink of the ambrosia before I do, you and your Amazons will be free, and I will answer one question. If I taste the nectar of the gods first, then you lose and your Amazons perish. I swear to the terms of this contract on the River Styx—which as you know, is a vow that cannot be broken.” She bent, undid her sandals, and kicked them off her feet. I noticed that her otherwise normal toes ended in curved cat’s claws.

“Yeah, okay, the River Styx,” I said. “Fine. I swear to the terms.” I clapped my hands together, feeling a flutter of anxious excitement in my gut. “So, when do we start?”

“Now!” she hissed with a grin.

And then she was off, darting up the first of the wooden steps.

Total cheater.

But what else had I expected from a cat oracle with too much time on her hands? I figured she hadn’t won anything in a long time, and she damn sure wanted to win this race. Well, there was nothing worse than a cheater, and I was gonna put her in her place. I sprinted forward, legs pumping, pounding up the wooden steps. Naturally, that section of the staircase tore off from the side of the wall, dust swirling through the air accompanied by the creak of wood. I leapt as boards splintered and fell and kept on running along the steps still attached to the rocky wall.

I caught a flash of movement in the edge of my eye: a golden spike on a spring exploded out of the wall at knee-level. I dove on instinct, the spear missing my thigh by a hairsbreadth, and rolled back to my feet—

Only to have another fist-sized spearhead erupt, this one mere inches from my chest. I backpedaled with a yelp; the spike left a nasty gash across my arm but didn’t wind up in my heart. So yay for me. With a curse, I smashed my way through the projectile and stole a look up. That cheater Ailuros was one staircase ahead and pulling farther away with every breath. Not only had she started the race early, she knew how to avoid the traps. Shit. Now I knew what she had meant by “to a certain extent.”

I gritted my teeth and pressed on, zigging up the steps, speeding around a landing, and zagging up the next section.

A rotten board snapped under my foot—wooden teeth digging at my calf—and I went down, falling even farther behind. With a grunt, I pulled my leg from the jagged hole and scrambled upright, already panting from the exertion. I scurried around the landing, then took a hard switchback … A pair of spears leapt out, one low one high. I hurdled them like an Olympic athlete, which almost earned me a death sentence in the form of a goo-slathered arrow—poison-tipped, no doubt—which loudly clanged off my breastplate.

And above me Ailuros had gained even more ground. She was a full two staircases ahead now. Perfect.

A wicked idea flashed through my head.

Sure, I couldn’t afford to kill her, but no one said I couldn’t maim the crap out of her. Nothing in the rules about that. I thrust one hand out as I rounded another corner and unleashed a Lightning Lance. Boards ruptured and support struts disintegrated beneath Ailuros’ claw-tipped feet as the walkway came loose. She stumbled and fell over the side, narrowly grabbing hold of the edge with one hand. I got my legs under me and sprang up to grab a rung on the walkway as it swayed away from the wall.

Ailuros had pulled herself back onto the walk and regained her feet. She offered me a contemptuous grin before leaping onto the next landing then up the next batch of steps. She’d scampered off by the time I hit that landing and the staircase behind tumbled down to the floor below.

I’d narrowed the gap, but not enough.

A waterfall gushed over the next section of the staircase, mist floating through the air. While Ailuros tore across the slick, wet wood without a hitch, my sandals were absolutely worthless. I hit the wood like a patch of black ice and my legs shot out from beneath me, dumping me hard onto my ass. My momentum carried me forward and I careened right off the walkway. At the last minute, I flung out a hand and grabbed a vine, narrowly stopping a deadly tumble. Dangling high above the floor below, I realized that if I hadn’t had god-like abilities, I would’ve found myself falling.

But god-like abilities I did have. I pulled myself along the vine, bypassing the water-slick section entirely, then swinging myself up, over the railing onto the next landing.

Ailuros was back above me, another staircase away. Damn. I just couldn’t get ahead of her! I couldn’t get even with her! I’d never been in better shape in my life but sprinting up a mile of trap-laden steps was leaving my quads shaking and my lungs sucking wind. My heart rate spiked.

I ran around another landing and up more steps. This time, chunks of the wall came blasting out in a series of boulders, which obliterated the steps in front of me. No choice. I hurled myself into the thin air and only just caught the edge of the next step with the toe of my sandal. I stumbled and dropped to a knee, panting hard, sweat drenching my brow and coating my chest and back. That’s when I knew this game was rigged and that I didn’t have a chance of winning if I just kept running.

Ailuros was faster, nimbler, and had home field advantage. We’d already gone up three-quarters of the staircase, which meant I had a quarter mile to close the gap and win … or lose everything.

What I needed was a plan. Blasting her out of the lead might work, or it might screw me over since I needed to travel up the staircase as well. Still, there was one trick in my tool belt that might get the job done. I took a precious second to draw the War Blade, then triggered the Greater Lycanthropy ability, which I could only use twice per day. The godstone flashed in a supernova as my muscles stretched over my creaking, cracking bones, reshaping me from man into beast. My body absorbed the War Blade; my fingers and toes elongated, steel claws bursting free at the end of each.

With the transformation complete, I dashed forward as a huge wolf-beast capable of tremendous speeds. Another waterfall lay dead ahead, but my claws easily gripped the treacherously slippery walkway. I raced through the falling sheet of water without a problem, skidded around a landing, and loped up the stairs on all fours.

More traps lay ahead, but they’d been built to hurt humans, and me? I wasn’t human anymore. Poisoned darts shot from the walls, missing me by miles, and when the next boulders burst out of the wall to destroy the walkway, I bounded over the gap with ease. I sprinted up the last steps and I hit a rough tunnel hewn into the rock face. Sunlight lit the mouth of the cave at the top of the hollow stalagmite. Ailuros was just ahead of me. Only a stone’s throw away.

I put on a final burst of speed as my hunting instinct kicked in and sprang onto her back. I bulldozed her ass and dug my hind claws into her flesh as I pushed off, bursting from the mouth of the cave and through another waterfall. A sea of cats loitered on the other side of the falls, but they parted as I rushed past them. On a silver table under a red tent sat a golden goblet.

With my heightened senses, I heard another splash of water as Ailuros burst into the open behind me, but she was too late.

I snatched up the goblet in one claw-fingered hand and pressed the lip of the cup against my great jaws. I tipped it back and let the thick ambrosia splash down my throat and into my belly, power rushing out, infusing my limbs with new strength and healing my wounds at once. Flesh tingled and itched as it knit itself back together at quadruple speed.

In my combat interface, I checked my HP—back to full health. How ’bout that? I polished off the rest of the brew, which was damn tasty, then tossed the goblet aside while I reverted to human form.

I whirled, sword in my fist, and stormed over to Ailuros, who stood disappointed at the mouth of the glimmering waterfall, her army of cats spread out around her in a loose circle.

“Now, lady,” I spat, “free my Amazons or I’m gonna shove a yard of lightning-charged steel down your gullet. You got me?”

The oracle smelled like cat, sweat, and defeat. “As you wish,” Ailuros said wearily. “What is it that you want to know?”

NINETEEN

Don’t Bug Me

Hours later, we marched through grasslands on a dirt track toward the inverted spiked mountain shapes known as the Daggers—the stalactites on the western side of Nyx. It was rather surreal approaching that much rock hanging over us. The matching stalagmites had long since been swept away either by magic or some unknown geological force.

A large mound of rock, maybe the stump of an old stalagmite, rose from the grasslands and that was where we were headed … to a place called the Caverns of Entomo under the Western Daggers.

We’d left the Isle of Cats and Ailuros behind. She’d answered my one question: how we could get access to the Temple of Chronos. Unfortunately, she’d done it using as few words as possible. And naturally, when I asked some clarifying questions, her feline eyes had brightened. “Another race? Another game? Best two out of three?”

Yeah, that was a big ol’ pile of nope. Racing her once was chore enough, and now that she knew about my Greater Lycanthropy ability I very much doubted I’d win another round. Still, the oracle was nice enough to have her sphinx drop us off on the southwestern side of the lake. From there, it was grasslands as far as we could see. That was a nice change from the jungles and swamps we’d had to suffer through before.

Herds of the huge prehistoric buffalo blackened the horizon, so we’d have plenty to eat. That put a bounce in both Loxo’s and Asteria’s step. They’d gone off to hunt via Sophia and her teleportation abilities.

I walked next to Phoebe in her mech as we argued. Our shadows had started to grow longer as the afternoon wore on.

“You’re just jealous I knew the riddle,” I said. “Babies crawl on four legs—”

Not again! Phoebe sighed so loud I heard it through our messaging system. Everyone knows that riddle. It’s like a classic. All I’m saying is you mentioned to Euryale that you knew the riddle, and that’s the same one the sphinx asked. I find it fishy.

“It’s a classic riddle, and that was a classic sphinx,” I protested. Then I had to catch myself. I’d be stupid if I didn’t listen to Phoebe. She was the smartest person I’d ever met, and she was only getting more clever as she leveled. “Okay, Phoebe, yeah, I can see it. We’ll be careful, okay?”

Myrina drifted over. “Yes, we would be foolish to trust Euryale. I overheard your suspicions. And speaking of which, I have some suspicions of my own. Loxo … I have given this much thought, and if Hades wanted a spy, Loxo would be the perfect Amazon to steal our secrets. She can move silently, hide in shadows, and we trust her. More than that, she is gone for hours at a time. She could easily have told Earl Necro Earl about the Crystal Scythe.”

I shook my helmed head. “Nope, you’re definitely wrong about her.”

Phoebe ignored my protests and took up the Warden’s line of thought. Now that is an interesting theory, Myrina. It would be a case of hiding in plain sight. How convenient that she remembered Hades hunting her. And she, herself, told Jacob about the possibility of a Dark Amazon being resurrected. All that truth would make us believe any lie she wanted to slip in. I hate to say it, but Myrina is right. Loxo should be our prime suspect.

“And I was thinking it was Antiope,” I said. “Before our fight with the mantises, she disappeared for a bit. When she showed up, she was wounded; her story held water, but I don’t know … There was just something off about it. Didn’t sit right in my gut, you know?”

Indigestion, probably, Phoebe sent with a grin. Though in all seriousness, they both could be spies. Now, that would make sense. Hades infiltrates our army with two Dark Amazons, so if we catch one, he still has the other. Fucking diabolical.

“And heartbreaking,” I said. “I hate that we’re even talking about this. At least we can trust each other.”

Myrina smiled at me. “We can. And on an unrelated note, I am very proud that you bested Ailuros in the race, though deeply saddened that I was asleep the whole while.” Wow, a smile and praise from the Battle Warden? If I could’ve, I would’ve bought a lottery ticket. I was feeling lucky.

We walked until the inverted mountain peaks were directly above us. The wind whisked away the water streaming from their tips. Unlike the still air on the eastern side of the cave, the western side was far windier. I faltered for a moment and stared up, shifting uncomfortably. I felt tiny and exposed under all that rock. If one of those peaks let loose from the ceiling, none of us would survive.

We finally reached the rock mound which we discovered was the entrance to the Caverns of Entomo.

But before we headed in, we stopped for a quick break and a bit to eat. My Amazons and I needed a lot less food and sleep than normal mortals but marching indefinitely on empty bellies was a good way to kill morale and weaken ourselves unnecessarily. Loxo had already dressed a buffalo and was cooking thick slabs of steak on flat rocks, worn smooth by time and beating wind. Sabra sprinkled crushed herbs and salt onto the meat.

My mouth watered at the divine aroma assaulting my nose like an infantry squad. Asteria was in her wolf form, tearing raw, bloody meat off a leg and gobbling it down.

Don’t eat too much, I messaged her. We’re going to be fighting soon.

The big blue beast growled at me. You ugly as man. Me remember you as wolf. You were pretty. You good as wolf. Mateable. You bad as man. Unmateable. Me eat now. Shoo.

That made me laugh.

Jacob, come and look at this, Phoebe sent.

She’d climbed off her mech and onto the mound. I clambered up after her, the stone like smooth granite under my fingers. At the top, I saw that friezes had been chiseled into the rock circling an entrance twenty feet square. It dropped straight down for fifty feet or so. It looked almost like an oversized well, except instead of water at the bottom there was an otherworldly blue glow seeping up from the earth.

Yeah, Phoebe sent, the blue down there doesn’t seem right. But look at the pictures sculpted into the stone. She jabbed a finger toward the rock face.

I backed away from the entrance and studied the friezes. A few of the images showed massive insects on thrones being worshipped by Greek soldiers. Others displayed Greeks being devoured alive by centipedes, millipedes, scorpions, dragonflies, and gigantic spiked snails. At least there were no spiders on display. After the endless sea of arachnaswine on Lycastia … Well, I’d had my fill of ’em. Still, studying the pictures, I couldn’t help but shudder.

Looks like we’re going on a bug hunt, Phoebe sent.

Yeah, the message was pretty clear: go down there and either worship your insect overlords or die. Well, I wasn’t about to start bending my knee.

“Great, sounds like a blast,” I replied with a confidence I didn’t exactly feel. Bugs were never my strong suit, and centipedes were pretty much smack-dab at the top of the list of grossest things on the planet. “How are we going to get our troops down there?” Then I answered my own question. “Sabra and her magic vines. We can send Sophia and Loxo to scout, and we can follow up with our crew. Asteria loves caves. She gets all black widow-y in them.”

Phoebe and I slid off the mound and beelined for our impromptu camp.

The meat was ready, and we went to eat with our team. Buttercup and Asteria chewed down their buffalo raw. Thunderfoot was in herbivore heaven as he munched the tall sweet grasses around him.

As we ate, I went over the mission. “Okay, guys, so Ailuros said that in order to get into the Temple of Chronos, we need the Sower’s Glass from the Caverns of Entomo under the Western Daggers. Don’t ask me what the Sower’s Glass is, I don’t know, and Ailuros wouldn’t tell me. I wasn’t about to risk my biscuit again to get more information.” I paused and took a small nibble of charred bliss. “I’m just glad she told us where it is,” I added after downing the bite.

Myrina wiped her greasy fingers on some grass and then took up her spear and her shield. “Very well, Jacob. Let us commence. I desire to have the Sower’s Glass by nightfall so we can sleep victorious. Then on the morrow, we can make our way north to the Temple of Cronos and quit of this strange place.”

Phoebe messaged me directly. She sounds like a Shakespeare play, am I right or am I right?

That made me laugh. When Myrina glanced over, I put on my serious face. “Okay, like Myrina said. Let’s move it.”

Then it was business as usual. Sophia grabbed Loxo and they teleported down to the entrance at the bottom of the pit, ready and willing to run recon. Asteria risked a Stymphalian Omega attack by becoming a giant eagle to lift Buttercup and Thunderfoot up onto the mound, but there was no other option. From there, Sabra grew vines that entangled our animals as well as Phoebe’s mech. Growing them slowly, we were able to ease our bear, our bull, and the steampunk contraption down onto the floor of the cavern below.

We listened for an attack. None came.

Our Forest-Witch kept the vines in place so we could climb down the plant life dangling against the stone walls to the floor of the cave. Like I thought, Asteria became a horse-sized spider and easily scurried down after us. So much for never seeing a spider monster again.

The blue glow turned out to be from bioluminescent mushrooms. The spores grew out of dirt scattered in crevasses in the wet rock. Most likely it was topsoil blown in from the winds above. Not only did the mushrooms glow blue, but lichen and moss on the walls also emitted an azure radiance, lending us just enough light to see by. Awfully helpful, those mushrooms, though they filled the air with the pungent stink of mildew and rotten cabbage. I wrinkled my nose and tried to ignore the odor as I moved further in.

The smooth floor of the cave ramped downward.

Checking my display, I saw that Loxo and Sophia had descended about half a mile and were still going steady. The rest of us continued on our way, sticking to the main passageway, which was wide enough to accommodate our animals and Phoebe’s steampunk suit. Corridors, however, branched off at every turn—this place was a maze of tubes, tunnels, and chambers. And somewhere in the vast caverns would be the Sower’s Glass. Not that we knew what it looked like.

Do you see anything, Loxo? I sent.

She didn’t respond. Checking the map, I watched as Loxo and Sophia blinked out of existence, then appeared a dozen meters back up the way they had come. Another flash, another teleportation, and they were closer to us.

The caverns seemed to be blocking our messaging system. And from the pattern of their movement, it seemed to me Sophia and Loxo were retreating. But from what?

“Dammit,” I said, drawing my War Blade with a schwick. “Heads up, everyone, I think our scouts are in trouble.”

Myrina and Antiope took off running, using their Burst Speed abilities. They disappeared around a sharp dogleg. I tried to message them, but as with the others, it was a great big no-go. Asteria in her black widow form followed. The rest of us hurried forward, creating a rumble and clatter that echoed around the cave. We rounded the corner and found Myrina and Antiope holding a shaking and bloody Loxo. The Huntress’ leather armor looked like it had gone through an industrial metal shredder.

Sophia was in one piece, though sweat ran down her face and her skin was oddly pale.

I bent and cast a healing touch to repair Loxo.

“Thanks, Boss,” she said. “Not sure how we’re going to get through the chamber up there. There are thousands of them. Thousands.” She trembled, pressing her eyes shut for a long beat.

Sophia stifled a sob of fear with one hand.

“Thousands of what?” I asked, though in my heart I already knew.

“Bugs,” Loxo whispered.

TWENTY

Temple of Doom

We moved deeper into the guts of the Caverns of Entomo, blue-tinged light beating down on us from the bioluminescent fungus covering the walls and ceilings. The smothering humidity quickly vanished, replaced instead by a damp chill that settled into my bones. I shivered and pulled my Mammoth Cloak tighter around me. As we threaded our way through a snaking passageway, I nervously ran a hand over the pommel of my War Blade—seeing my Huntress and my Teleporter so shaken up had left me anxious.

Seriously, the pair of ’em were about as tough as they came, so anything that could shake them had to be bad.

The godstone erupted in hot energy, and my apprehension quickly turned to fury. Someone had hurt my Amazons, and I was going to make them pay. I glanced at my gaming display; I’d regenerated most of my Divine Essence Points and was sitting pretty at 428.

Yep, something was gonna pay big time.

“Okay,” I said as we rounded a sharp bend, which quickly snaked away in the opposite direction. There was another curve just ahead, which—according to my map—let out into a massive cavern. That’s where the creepy-crawlies had sprung their ambush. “Based on our scout reports, we’re talking a thousand enemies, but they’re all in an enclosed space and I have the recipe for a hurt sandwich that I plan on feeding these buggy motherfuckers.”

Antiope and Ariadne exchanged confused looks.

Myrina nodded in sympathy. “He means he has an offensive stratagem to deal with our foes. There is no literal sandwich.”

I shot her a finger gun. “And the Battle Warden gets a cookie for her upgraded intellect.”

Myrina gave me an unimpressed look. I was used to those from her.

“And for the record, I like it better when you smile at me, Myrina. Now,” I continued, focusing on the rest of the crew, “we’re going classic MMO on this op. Loxo, Sophia, I want you two to post up in the rear. Cover our asses, make sure nothing stabs me in the back, and play medic if anyone goes down. Ariadne and Euryale, you two are on point. You ladies are gonna draw enemy fire. Make sure they’re focused on you while the rest of us do our work. Myrina and Antiope, you’re both in the vanguard too. Myrina right flank, Antiope left. Keep those insect bastards from getting behind our lines.

“Asteria, you’re our forward striker. Get out there and sow as much chaos as inhumanly possible. Phoebe”—I stole a sidelong look at the Rune-Caster—“you’re with me in the center of our formation. I want you laying down suppressive fire. Mow bitches down but avoid getting tangled up in a melee fight unless you have no other choice. Sabra, same. Stay close to me and focus on AoE spells. Slow our enemies down, build barriers, walls. Anything to funnel them toward our tanks. We want to create a choke point, understand?”

The Forest-Witch nodded, a soft emerald glow seeping from her eyes. Equal parts creepy and cool.

“As for me, I think I’ll be most effective laying down miracles by the truckload, so I’ll linger back. Now let’s get all Terminix on these things.”

Ariadne merged with Thunderfoot, transforming into the hulking battle-ax wielding minotaur of utter destruction who I’d come to know and love. She moved into position, hooves clopping on the stone. Euryleia, riding the ferocious Buttercup, slipped up beside the minotaur, followed by Myrina and Antiope, who posted up on the left and right.

Asteria shimmered, spidery limbs dissolving into silver goo as she morphed into a blue-scaled serpent. One so big that she made that basilisk from Harry Potter look small. Damn, but she was awesome. I eyed Phoebe, who tromped along to my left. She’d been tinkering with her steampunk suit. Using her Rune-Caster abilities, she’d taken the bronze armor from the dinomythics we’d been fighting and built an honest-to-god buzz saw. The damn thing was as big as a car tire and bolted to her left arm.

Along with her automatic crossbows—don’t ask me where her seemingly unending supply of ammo came from—she’d upgraded her mech into a melee monster. I shook my head in awe.

In anticipation of the battle to come, I slapped my hands together and cast Burning Aura on my troops. The familiar golden glow enveloped them, tongues of brilliant light casting strange, dancing shadows against the walls. Now, if something did attack us, they would take fire damage. Just one more layer of pain I could add to the hurt sandwich I was whipping up.

We hooked around the last bend and beelined down a short corridor which opened into a large cave as long as a football field and as tall as any arena in the U.S.

Inside was an underground jungle of towering mushrooms gleaming a bright blue. Big mushrooms, small mushrooms, fat mushrooms, thick mushrooms, some spotted, others shining a little too brightly. Luminescent lichen veined the walls and ceiling high above and water dripped down from curtains of sapphire-colored moss. A path cut between the forest of mushrooms, and though it seemed deserted, we knew better.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” I called into the cave. My voice echoed off the walls. Nothing moved. The water continued to plink down.

In the middle of the room, Boss, Loxo sent. That’s when they hit us. The assholes drew us out before attacking.

Ariadne and Euryleia hesitantly edged forward, entering the chamber itself, but still, nothing happened, nothing moved. Only the drip, drip, drip and the plink, plink, plink of water falling. No wonder Loxo and Sophia had been caught off guard. These things were deadly quiet and the impossibly thick fungal foliage all around offered perfect cover. But I wasn’t about to wander into their ambush for a second time. Nope.

I had a leg up because I knew they were in there, biding their time.

Which meant I could flush them out.

“Everyone into position,” I said, cracking my knuckles. “Things are about to get interesting.” Instead of drawing my sword, I thrust both hands out at forty-five degree angles, palms up, fingers splayed back. With a battle cry, I hurled Lightning Lances from each hand; bolts of blue-white death streaked across the room and tore into looming mushrooms. Chunks of fungus went flying, acrid gray smoke rising in plumes. Something chittered and yowled in pain as one of my Lances arced into darkness.

Instead of relenting, however, I poured out another two Lances, more mushrooms exploding and burning. More hidden creatures yowled in pain. Still they didn’t move, but that was fine. I could play this game. “Myrina, Lightning Javelin. Phoebe, make it rain.” My Warden hurled her magical weapon at the nearest mushroom tower while Phoebe sent a hail of bolts flying, peppering the shrooms to the right.

Something moved in the dark, and then something else skittered through a bit of moss. They were getting agitated. Good. I lifted my hands high and blasted the ceiling with another wave of lightning. The walls came alive as hundreds of moth-like monstrosities took flight. And they weren’t alone. As though governed by a single will, bugs poured out from between the mushrooms in a tsunami of fangs, pincers, and multi-jointed legs. The insects glowed with the same bioluminescence as the fungus, offering them perfect camouflage.

“By the hairy testicles of Zeus!” Myrina cursed.

I snorted and chuckled. The situation was totally unnerving, but the hairy testicles of Zeus was too good to ignore.

My laughter quickly died away as the cavern went from serene mushroom jungle to Nightmareville, population us. It was like the bug scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, only every critter was prehistoric and a hundred times too big.

The moths swept off the walls, each man-sized, each with hooked legs under their dusty wings that sent blue pollen-like particles into the air. Giant armored dragonflies buzzed through the pollen and dove toward us like living dogfighters. The dragonflies had wingspans of twenty-five feet at least. Huge mandibles chomped and gnashed, dripping saliva that splashed acid onto the fungus below.

Air support. Great.

But Phoebe and Loxo were already on it, bolts and arrows whistling through the cavern, each one finding a target.

The first wave of ground-bound creepy-crawlies converged on Ariadne and Euryleia, while more poured out from under mushrooms and behind curtains of moss. First up were armor-plated arthropleura—millipede-like creatures eight feet long and several feet wide. Behind them came pulsing larvae, each the size of a horse. All of these new monsters had killer mandibles and acid spit dripping from their mouths. And there were hundreds of ’em. Holy shit.

Last came the insect tanks: three car-sized, neon-blue scorpions. The clack of their claws snapping together made the ground shake. Humongous stingers swayed as the monsters moved; each stinger tip was as long as a curved scimitar and glistened with a green, venomous goop.

We definitely had our work cut out for us.

I raised both hands but didn’t act. Not yet. No, I waited for more of the buggy bitches to draw in nice and tight. That way, my miracles could take out as many as possible.

Meanwhile, my front-line Beastiamancers fought like mad, horns goring, claws slashing, teeth chomping, ax falling.

My Battle Wardens went to town next, projectile weapons first—Myrina used her javelins, Antiope her bow. Javelins and arrows pin-cushioned the moth monsters and dragonflies dive-bombing toward us. Euryleia, likewise, worked with her longbow while Buttercup handled the ground troops. Arrow after arrow streaked home into furry moth bellies. Myrina shot two dragonflies out of the air, clipping their wings.

More of the ground component was pressing in, trying to overwhelm Ariadne and Buttercup with their sheer force of numbers. But Phoebe wasn’t having that shit. She got her mech crossbows cranked up to fuck-you levels of full blast and mowed down millipedes and dive-bombing moths with equal ease. It was like that third Matrix movie, an iffy flick, but that scene on the dock during the Battle of Zion had been epic.

Her bolts damn near decapitated a writhing larva, then she aimed high, stripping the wings of a moth. The flyer smashed into the ground with a screech, taking out another millipede as it died. She took down dozens of the freaky insects, but more and more flung themselves off the ceiling and walls.

More for Asteria to eat. My Beastiamancer general was no longer in our ranks. She was slithering through the crowd, cutting them down like Death’s scythe itself. She rose up, pulling a low-flying moth from the air, then lunged, huge jaws unhinging and wrapping around a bloated larva. Her throat swelled as she choked down a wriggling body.

The insects shrieked in fury. The air swirled with tons of that glow-dust from those devil moths.

Ariadne wasn’t much for patience even when she was human. As a bull, she was even worse. She bellowed, threw her horned head side to side, and rushed forward to engage a wall of incoming arthropleura. But damn, what a mistake. There were simply too many of them. In seconds, the minotaur was covered in millipedes. Gripping her with a million legs, they slashed through her skin, ripped through her flesh, and burned her with their acidic saliva.

Sabra saw the danger immediately. She raised her arms and combat vines writhed out of the mushroom jungle, ripping some of the arthropleura off our minotaur, then hurled them away like children’s toys. Next, Sabra turned her formidable powers on the encroaching scorpion tanks, currently surging toward us like a trio of rabid great whites. The ground groaned and creaked as wrist-thick vines burst through the stone and dirt, wrapping around legs, pinchers, and deadly tails.

That wouldn’t hold them forever, but it bought us some time to thin out the rest of the buggy horde.

At the same time, Sophia and Loxo knew what they had to do. Even though the armada of creepers had hurt their morale, they weren’t about to let their sister be destroyed. In a flash of purple and stink, Sophia and my Huntress appeared next to Ariadne. The Teleporter hacked at incoming millipedes with her sword, and thanks to Burning Aura, she sliced through their armor as though it were cheap particle board.

One fat larva went up in flames as Sophia impaled it through its puckered face.

Loxo fought like wind and shadow, dancing and flipping through the enemy ranks, xiphos in one hand, hooked dagger in the other. In seconds, the minotaur was in the clear and on her hooves again, falling back into formation, her battle-ax descending in a rain of golden blood and severed limbs. She chopped an arthropleura clean in half before swatting down a giant moth circling overhead. She was clinging to life, her HP in the single digits, but you’d never know it with how ferociously she was fighting.

A dragonfly managed to drop down and seize Myrina in its jaws. It lifted her into the air, but that was such a colossally poor life choice. Not only did the insect catch fire because of the Burning Aura, but the Battle Warden drove her xiphos into the heart of the thing, then flipped back down, hurling her lightning javelin while she fell. Her javelin tore through its wing like it was made out of cheap toilet paper, and down the dread moth went, fluttering face-first into a mushroom, which promptly exploded in a cloud of spores. My general landed like a cat and continued to fight on even as blood poured down her armor.

Euryleia knew there was only one thing for her to do when faced with such overwhelming numbers. She leapt off Buttercup, somersaulted through the air, and came down as a motherfucking grizzly bear. Claws, fur, fangs—the whole nine yards. Thanks to the point in her Shift Form ability, she too could now shape-shift, though she was bound to one form for the time being. A thunderclap and a flash of opalescent light filled the cavern a moment later; three more war bears appeared, conjured out of thin air.

She’d used her Animal Summoning power to give the insect horde more targets to face.

All five bears engaged a fresh wave of arthropleura pouring out of the mushroom jungle. Hooked claws tore through chitinous armor and shredded whirring legs as ursine teeth chomped down on buggy throats. They slew the awful millipedes by the dozens, but the acid squirting out of the creatures’ mouths splashed onto their thick fur. Burning flesh smoked up in an awful stink.

Watching grizzly bears fight giant millipedes? That was every kind of epic!

My tanks had done their job. Now it was time for me to get busy and do my thing. First, though, I had to crank up the hit points on my Amazons before I lost anyone.

I raised my hands and used Healing Touch to blast every one of my wounded soldiers with some much-needed TLC. Once wasn’t going to cut it, however. My people were taking too much damage too fast. I cast another. The godstone burned in my chest, my Essence plunging down to 264 in a matter of seconds. I swayed drunkenly—white starbursts skipping across my vision—but pushed on.

It was time to get biblical on their bug asses.

“Plague Locust!” I screamed, not quite sure why, except that it felt right. Like I was an anime character launching my signature move. The War Blade was sheathed, and my shield hung on my back, so both hands were free. Before, I’d channeled the energy screaming from the heart of the godstone through my weapon, but this time I did it from both my hands. My fingers turned translucent with jade brilliance and my entire body vibrated from the energy. A full ninety Essence Points left me, but the results would be worth it.

Isn’t there an ancient proverb about fighting monster bugs with monster bugs? If not, there should be.

Green mist merged and danced with the blue dust, quickly dissipating the azure moth pollen. The thunderous wings of the enemy bugs were nothing compared to the torrent of noise from my locusts. A cloud of three-inch-long emerald-colored insects materialized. Wings buzzed from their green backs as my plague went to work.

Moths and dragonflies were soon coated in wriggling suits of jade. They tumbled down and crashed into the unnatural foliage as my locusts ate through their bodies with their inch-long mandibles. The arthropleura fared better—the suckers were mini armored tanks—but the larvae were easy pickings, dying as the locusts bored into their blubbery bodies. And the millipedes were slowed down immensely as they tried to shake off the locusts clinging to their exoskeletons like leeches looking for a good meal.

My Amazons slew the mutant millipedes by the dozens, but it seemed like a never-ending stream remained. More moths and dragonflies flew in from tunnels I’d not seen. All the collateral damage had cleared away some of the fungus, so my visibility was better. The scorpion tanks had finally managed to rip through Sabra’s vines and were closing in on the rest of my beleaguered Amazons. My locusts covered the formidable tanks, but they were spread too thin—attacking too many foes—to damage the massive scorpions.

Nope, like with Healing Touch, one Plague Locust wasn’t going to be enough.

I winced. This next trick was gonna hurt.

The godstone was already a firebrand in my chest, but I ignored the burn. The pain. My body trembled uncontrollably as I brewed up a second batch of Plague Locust. Just as the moths, dragonflies, and arthropleura shook off the first wave, the second wave hit ’em like a sledgehammer. My points dipped again. Dizzy and weaving, I barely clung to consciousness.

These back-to-back miracles were taking a nasty toll on me. And I still wasn’t done …

Another storm of arthropleura raced into the room from a connecting passageway on a river of creepy legs. Millions of legs. Their spit sizzled on the floor. There were enough of ’em to devour my Amazons with room left over. Well, not on my watch. I unsheathed the War Blade with a snarl.

“Shockwave!” I called, summoning underground thunder on my enemies.

Before, the lightning would sweep down from the sky and strike my sword. This time, it coalesced around my blade as I generated my own thunderstorm. Shockwave was a War Blade ability, so it didn’t cost any Essence Points, but holding onto that much electrical energy pushed me to the edge of my strength.

My sword and I—swathed in supernatural energy—radiated light, heat, and power like an underground sun. With a scream of challenge, I slammed the War Blade to the ground.

The reverse lightning erupted from the earth, blasting through every mushroom, wrecking every single one of the nightmare millipedes. The lightning arced up and took down the moths and the dragonflies by the score. Yeah, there were a ton of these insects, but each one didn’t have very many hit points it seemed. Except for the scorpions. Too bad for them my Forest-Witch was awesome and back in action, conjuring up ever more vines to hold them at bay.

Even better, the lightning storm didn’t affect my locusts one bit. They descended on the scorpions en masse. In seconds, two clouds of my insects covered the poor bastards. That many mandibles munching soon broke through the exoskeletons of the scorpions.

And suddenly the tide was turning in our favor.

“Time to push!” I hollered. “We have these bastards on their heels. Let’s put ’em down for keeps.”

The frontline warriors rushed out in an arc, blades cleaving, spears impaling, claws and teeth tearing. Phoebe followed, beelining for the scorpion closest to us. She threw herself at the oversized bug, using her bronze saw blade to hack off one claw, then the other. The saw screamed as it eviscerated the insect. The scorpion struck with its tail, but it disappeared too—lopped off with the flick of Phoebe’s wrist. The creature spun, throwing locusts, trying to flee, but Phoebe swept her arm up and unloaded a barrage of bolts into its ass end.

Watching her steampunk mech fight a giant scorpion made me smile. Being war god wasn’t easy, but it had its highlights from time to time.

Euryleia and her four grizzly bear buddies launched their furry bodies onto the second scorpion. The thing was blinded by the swarm of emerald bodies, so the bears took care of it in a flash.

My locusts disappeared in poofs of green smoke as the spell finally lapsed, but it didn’t matter. Nope. We were down to one scorpion now, and Myrina, Antiope, and Ariadne were already working it over. They harried it from different sides, one darting in to attack, only to retreat as another made a move. Wolf pack tactics. Insect legs vanished—hacked away—and soon the creature was a mound of dismembered body parts.

Every living thing in the chamber, other than us, had been annihilated.

Mushroom pieces smoked in the acid spit of beheaded millipedes. Moth and dragonfly bodies lay stacked in piles ten feet tall.

A hush fell over the battlefield as we surveyed our brutal handiwork, each of us breathing hard. Unfortunately, the peace and quiet didn’t last long. A voice called out of the dark, “Entomo has found your display of strength impressive. However, this is your last chance to turn back before you are destroyed. You have come for the Sower’s Glass. You shall not have it.”

I strode forward, tripped, and caught myself. It was hard to think, hard to walk, hard to do anything. I was down to eighty-four Essence Points and the effort of all those miracles was catching up to me. Fast.

I dropped to one knee.

The voice laughed. I looked up to see a twenty-foot-tall centipede slinking into the room. Chuckling at me like a complete jerk. Dread bloomed in my stomach, but I rudely shoved it away as I gained my feet. We had to get the Sower’s Glass, and nothing was going to stop us. Not even a talking centipede from Hell.

Game on …

TWENTY-ONE

Centipede Stew

The centipede monster was fifty legs of disgusting. Unlike the other insects we’d fought, this one didn’t have the bioluminescence lighting up its chitinous exoskeleton; instead, it had saved up the blue glow for the bulbous venom sacks located near a pair of formidable pinchers capped with deadly plier-like claws. Thick copper-colored armor covered its back while its spiny legs gleamed golden. It reared back into a writhing S, the thick chitin on its belly facing us.

I felt nauseous looking at the thing. All those legs. Not to mention the antennae, mandibles, and other shit clogging up its horrid maw. So fucking awful. A chill raced down my spine, but I fought through my unease. No, I wouldn’t be scared. Fuck this thing. It had laughed at me and it had threatened us. Now it was gonna pay.

While I was way down to only eighty-four Essence Points, the godstone made the decision for me. Still on one knee, I Lightning Lanced the monster. Electricity arced over its armor but didn’t penetrate the copper plates. My attack did, however, blow off a leg and send an antenna spinning off into the air.

The centipede screamed in pain, swung its body around, and scuttled back through the mouth of the cave it had come from. While we had been walking through a combination of natural caves and hewn-out caverns, the entrance to the next room was sculpted marble, precisely cut into a beautiful arch that connected to a sandstone tunnel. Chiseled into the white arch were Greek letters, but I was too far away to read them.

I could still hear the centipede as it hissed at us in an inhuman voice. “You have been warned. If you blaspheme by walking into the Temple of Entomo, we will dine on your innards, War God. Even immortals cannot withstand the might of Entomo. He is the Devourer of the Underground. He is the many-headed death too horrible for myth. Beware! Beware!”

“Blah, blah, blah,” I called after it. “Give us the Sower’s Glass and we won’t squash you and your cockroach buddies.”

Nothing but silence answered my taunt.

A wave of dizziness swept over me, and my eyes wouldn’t focus. That last battle had wrecked me, and yet, that wasn’t even the big boss battle, which I damned well knew was coming. It was this Entomo thing, and our centipede friend was only the envoy to whatever insect horror lay beyond.

Myrina helped me to my feet. Worry troubled her eyes. “We should rest, War God. There is no hurry.”

“But there is,” I replied with a shake of my head. “The longer we wait, the more troops this Entomo thing can bring to bear against us. We don’t have the element of surprise, but if we strike hard and fast, we might be able to blitzkrieg these bugs.”

Lightning fast, Phoebe said. She buzzed her bronze saw in emphasis. Jacob is right. Let’s go, now, and hit ’em hard.

Myrina frowned and squinted in concern. “Very well. But as before, you must stay back while we take the damage. We will protect you while you are weakened.”

I grimaced and gripped her hand in mine. “No, Myrina, those days are behind us. Remember when we sparred before? I can handle myself. I know when to strike and when to hold back, and now is the time to strike. My Essence Points are down, sure, but my HP is fine. You need to trust me to know what my limits are. Now, let’s move.”

“If only I were stronger …” Myrina murmured.

I patted her back. “If you were any more powerful, well, you wouldn’t need me.”

Loxo streaked up and kissed my cheek, interrupting the moment. “Good to see you made it out in one piece, Boss. Now, you mind if I run recon in the next room?”

“Permission granted,” I said with a bob of my head.

Loxo sped away and disappeared, shadows reaching out to embrace her, wrapping her up in tendrils of inky black. Sophia didn’t go with her and I knew why. The Teleporter didn’t have the Shadow Cloak or the Whisper Step ability. If I had to guess, I’d say that was why the bugs had ambushed them in the first place. They’d seen Sophia, and though she could teleport away, the damage had been done.

The Huntress, however, could move without being seen. She could get a read on the temple room ahead and report back to us without anyone being the wiser. Too bad the long-range messaging system didn’t work down here, or Loxo could’ve told us what she was seeing in real time.

We all pushed forward and walked through the mushroom mush and butchered bug corpses strewn across the battlefield. I lingered at the arch and read the words written above the wide marble corridor.

HAIL ENTOMO, THE DEVOURER, THE HORROR. WORSHIP IT OR DIE!

Yeah, neither of those things were going to happen. We were going to go in there and do what we did best: kick ass and take what we needed to save the world.

While we waited for Loxo to return, my Amazons collected up javelins and arrows to replenish their diminishing supply. I shot Phoebe a smile. “I like the saw, by the way. Nice flair. Seems to kill things really well.”

I bet you say that to all the girls, she sent back with a smile.

Then she glanced away, blushing under the heat of my gaze. It was clear she still felt self-conscious about her leg and had given up on us being together romantically. I’d thought Phoebe and I would always be buddies, but now I was feeling the attraction more than ever. Or was it the godstone? The gem blazed in my chest. I knew what it wanted. When it wasn’t fighting, it wanted sex, all the time. Ares had jammed the worst aspects of his personality into the thing and it was becoming harder and harder to separate its desires from my own.

Loxo appeared so abruptly it made me start. Luckily, I didn’t yelp or I would’ve lost all my street cred with Myrina.

Loxo’s face was ashen. “So many. New insects, like nothing we’ve fought before. Inside, there’s a temple, but I didn’t dare get too close.” She shuddered and pressed her eyes shut for a long beat. “Far too dangerous.” Another quiver.

“Any sign of the Sower’s Glass?” I asked, putting on a brave face.

A shake of her head. “There’re are some artifacts on an altar near the back. Any one of them could be the Sower’s Glass, but I couldn’t get to them. It’s awful in there, Boss. A fucking nightmare.”

Damn, bad news all around. And with my Essence Points waning, I was going to have to fight the old-fashioned way. The War Blade had one more round of Greater Lycanthropy left and it looked like I’d be using it here.

“So the temple is big, right?” I asked, a plan forming in my head. “About the size of this cave?” I swept a hand around.

Loxo nodded.

I rubbed my chin. “But there’s a choke point? The corridor?”

Another nod.

Their superior numbers wouldn’t matter if they had to fight us a few at a time. I’d done this a million times when faced with a ton of enemies in first-person shooters. Just lure them in and pick them off one at a time.

In a place like this—where Entomo’s spies could be hiding anywhere, listening in—talking openly was just too risky. And since close-quarter messaging worked, I synced us up and told my Amazons the game plan. Myrina, of course, argued against me, but I overruled her.

I was the war god, after all.

Loxo took the lead, and we entered the sandstone passageway. We all carried pieces of glowing mushrooms to give us light. Worked into the tunnel walls were narrow alcoves, each one sporting a different statue of the various insects we’d fought: the larvae, the millipedes, the moths, the dragonflies, and some of the monsters waiting for us dead ahead: Huge centipedes. Slugs the size of German shepherds. Monstrous snails with spike-studded shells.

After a few minutes, Loxo motioned for us to drop the mushrooms pieces so we could creep the rest of the way in darkness. We halted about twenty feet from the exit.

This section of corridor was about fifteen feet wide. Myrina, Antiope, and Euryleia could easily hold it against whatever horrors Entomo sent against us. We also had Asteria, who could transform into something big and vicious to help hold the line. Best of all? Sophia and Loxo could teleport and hit the flank of the enemies and then teleport back to safety. As long as we could draw in our enemies, we’d be fine.

And we would draw them in alright. That was my job.

I gripped the War Blade and werewolfed out for the final time that day. Once again, my bones creaked and cracked as my body re-formed itself until I was a steel-clawed hulking wolf creature. I howled and loped into the cavernous room beyond the tunnel as my ’Zons took their places.

The temple was rectangular, a hundred feet long and fifty feet wide, every crack and crevice intricately carved. An altar sat on a raised dais at the far end of the room, just as Loxo had said. In front of the altar, however, was a pit, forty feet in diameter, which had been gouged into the floor. The thing was brimming with the monstrous metal centipedes. And when I say brimming, I mean filled to the rim. It was a big ol’ cup of awful.

Disgusting slugs and armored snails covered the walls, inching along, coating everything in a spectral blue light. I raced up to the altar and saw two javelins, a pair of ornate metal bracers, a dagger, a cup, a bowl, and a hand mirror. Nothing that screamed “Sower’s Glass,” though. Maybe the mirror, but that didn’t feel right, and I couldn’t exactly slow down to grab it, anyway.

A slug fell from the ceiling and struck my back. Acidic goo covered its rubbery body and the fist-sized suction cups riddling its belly. It latched onto me, and the acid burned through my fur. I rolled onto my back, jerked up, and raked my claws through the creature.

A snail charged at me from the right, but I dodged to the side, and it struck and rolled across the floor. It got up and sprayed acid at me from a puckered, circular mouth lined with vicious needle teeth.

I leapt over the spray and forced myself forward, racing to the edge of the round bowl of centipede soup. I raked a claw into the back of one of the critters within. My War Blade enhanced talons shredded through the exoskeleton and into the meat underneath. I ran through a geyser of golden blood, dodged another acid spray attack, and nimbly danced past a few more falling slugs. Then I slashed through another centipede; I made sure I got their full attention.

The long-bodied fiends in the pit shrieked and untangled themselves, coming after me in a flurry of churning legs and clicking mandibles. A few even puked venom onto their pincered front legs in anticipation of poisoning me. That was the glamorous life of a war god, right there.

A dozen of the monsters raced out after me and I led them right to the mouth of the corridor where my Amazons waited. I didn’t dash in. Instead, I sprinted away, my claws clicking on the marble floor while ranged weapons peppered the centipedes, courtesy of my team. I immediately headed back into the fray. A centipede rose up in front of me. I scrambled left, angled low, then shot forward, snapping through its neck with my inhuman jaws. It flailed in a fountain of its own golden gore.

I was already moving on as it died.

I wasn’t about to bite the snails or the slugs, but I slashed through them with my claws. Above all, I kept moving. If I stopped, even for a second, I’d find myself trapped in an insect blanket of flesh, chiton, acid, and pincers.

Meanwhile, centipedes engaged Myrina, Antiope, and Euryleia astride Buttercup. They filled the entrance of the corridor. Myrina hurled her lightning javelin as monsters approached, but again, their armor was strong enough to repulse the attack. Their exposed flesh, however, smoked like overcooked burgers, which told me they weren’t completely lightning proof, so long as we could pierce their metallic exoskeletons. Myrina ducked back behind her shield, xiphos in hand. She hacked off legs, lopped off pincers, and stabbed a centipede through its mouth when it tried to latch onto her.

Euryleia used her spear to slay a centipede before pulling a katana free. Buttercup took damage, but the bear was still clawing through legs and protecting her rider while she slayed bugs left and right.

Antiope drove her spear blade into the head of a bug and then caught pincers from another attacker on the shaft, blocking the blow. She shoved her way free and backpedaled, catching her breath while Phoebe took over—her saw buzzing and shrieking as it ripped open the armor of the centipedes. Ariadne and Thunderfoot waited in reserved, ready to push forward and hold the line if they were needed.

Loxo and Sophia appeared behind the centipedes, delivering merciless attacks to turned backs. Loxo fought with a xiphos and a hooked dagger—taking off legs, finding gaps in the armor, and earning backstab bonuses out the wazoo. But the minute she was in trouble, Sophia would take hold of the Huntress and they’d vanish. Poof. Gone.

I continued racing around the pit, watching it empty of its gross inhabitants, looking for some sign of the Sower’s Glass. Something might’ve been on the bottom, but it was hard to see with the writhing bodies of the bugs and all their damn legs. I paused at the altar for a second. Slugs and snails inched towards me. The ceiling was clear of the things, but the floor was now a sea of glowing mollusks.

A voice boomed from the pit, loud and droning.

“Who dares despoil my temple? Who dares seek the Sower’s Glass when it was given to me to protect? Who dares to defy me!? Who refuses to worship?!”

“Got an awful big opinion of yourself, Entomo. And for the record, I dare,” I roared with my lupine voice. “Me. God of War. Give me the Sower’s Glass and I’ll leave. Fail, and I’ll crush you underfoot like the goddamned bug you are.”

The pit was nearly empty, save for one final, writhing mass of creatures, which I quickly realized was one uber monster. A centipede with a body as big around as a subway train, and sixty or seventy feet long. And sprouting from its bloated torso were five—count ’em, five—swaying centipede heads, all tipped with the pincers and blue poison sacks. Holy shit. Entomo was a centipede-hydra, and yeah, the old Greek writers never went there.

Hercules would’ve shit his pants if he had to go up against the monster I faced now.

All five heads spoke in unison. “Behold, War God. Behold your doom!”

I was in the right shape for running, but I didn’t want to battle Entomo with my claws and teeth. I wanted my sword. And if he was anything like the real hydra, we’d need to burn off his heads with fire.

I gritted my teeth and yelled, “Loxo! Sophia! Sabra! To me!”

Then I changed back into my human form, fingers wrapping tightly around the handle of the War Blade. Sophia dropped Loxo next to me, vanished, then returned with Sabra. I hit all three with Burning Aura, and then I yelled, “Sabra, Loxo, keep the snails and centipedes off me. Sophia, when I chop off a head, teleport in and burn the stump!”

Gritting my teeth, I triggered my Fury ability. Twenty-five points hadn’t been a big deal an hour ago. Now, it sent my Essence Points plummeting to double digits, only thirty-six left.

Battle rage enveloped me. I grew taller and stronger, and a good chunk of the damage I took went right back into my Health. The more it hurt me, the faster I would heal and the more damage I could deal. I literally saw red. I booted away a snail, shattering its shell. Its spikes dug into my leg but I healed that shit up right quick and in a hurry.

Sabra created a vinework of plants to keep the snails and slugs at bay. Meanwhile, Loxo sliced and stabbed at any centipede or mollusk that dared try and climb over the plant wall.

The centipede-hydra struck at me with one head, then another, then another. It was like fighting a goddamn multi-headed redwood tree. I took a blow on my shield, slashed off a head, and then hacked off another in quick succession, my sword howling through the air. I smacked away a third swaying head with my shield while I darted right. The last head struck like a cobra, though, and I was just half a heartbeat too slow. Its poisoned pincers sank into my chest like a pair of daggers.

My head spun from the pain and the poison, but my Fury burned both away.

Sophia teleported in, slashed her burning katana into the headless stump I’d created, then teleported away to cauterize the next one. The stink of burned centipede filled my nose. I glanced at a burned stump and hope bloomed inside my chest. The swaying neck was blackened, charred, and no new head grew. Holy shit, this was actually going to work. Two down, three to go.

I glanced at the entrance to the temple. It was literally covered with more monster centipedes than I could count. They were on the ceiling, around the walls, and stacked up like cordwood.

In my gaming display, I saw my Amazons taking a metric assload of damage. Their line was failing from the sheer number of insects pressing into the tunnel, but there was nothing I could do for them until I took out this multiheaded asswad.

Entomo laughed. “You know your stories, War God, but no one has ever written about me before. You know not whom you fight! I am beyond understanding. I am the devourer underground! Even Hades fears me, for I am Mother Gaea’s most beloved creation. Cronus loathed me but needed me and even he trembled before me. Look, fool, look upon me and my glory. And know despair.”

The cooked skin covering Entomo’s stumps cracked open, golden blood flowing, and three more centipede heads emerged to slash and strike. They were even bigger than before. Elephant big.

Well shit …

So fire wasn’t going to keep the centipede-hydra from sprouting new heads. Lightning would bounce off its armor. We had committed everything in this battle. There was no retreating.

In my combat interface I watched as Ariadne fell unconscious. Many of the others weren’t far off. And we still didn’t know where the goddamn Sower’s Glass was.

Loxo leapt forward and struck a head away before it could shear off my arm in those pinchers. “What now, Boss?” she shouted, eyes wide with fear as she backflipped away from a set of snapping jaws.

I didn’t have a fucking clue.

TWENTY-TWO

Inside Job

Sabra bolted forward, playing defense with her staff, batting away incoming strikes as she danced just out of reach. We now had nine heads to fight and more legs than I could count—a fucking sea of ’em. Sophia was on that shit though, playing the distraction by striking, teleporting, and striking again. She was quick, but not quick enough to avoid earning more than a few gnarly gashes to her face and arms. But thanks to her Tele-Heal ability, she regained HP with every jump.

Loxo ducked and dodged like a pro, putting her deadly agility to the test, but Entomo the uber centipede was one fast son of a bitch. Loxo juked left, but Entomo was ready and struck like a hungry tiger, plucking her up in a pair of deadly mandibles. She screamed as the mandibles chomped down, threatening to cut her in two. She sunk a blade deep in its head, buying me just enough time to shoot in and slice through the meaty neck. The head toppled and Loxo went with it.

Unfortunately, more heads were incoming.

Shit. We were going about this all wrong, and for every step forward we took, it was two steps back. We couldn’t afford to cut off any more heads, since I had no idea what in the hell would cauterize the stumps. Not fire, maybe lightning, but I didn’t want to take the chance. And we didn’t have any weapons or powers that could generate cold attacks.

I needed to think of something soon. Loxo, Sabra, Sophia, and I were losing ground fast.

Entomo continued to cackle at us with all his many, many heads. Legs slashed at us, pinchers clacked at us, and the swaying antennae would flick our faces, blinding us for seconds at a time. How could you fight something that was literally a forest of weapons? You couldn’t. Not from the outside.

The solution hit me right in the gut. And that was the answer of course—the guts.

“Sophia!” I called, nimbly avoiding another powerhouse lunge from a set of wicked teeth. “Get Phoebe. I need her bronze buzz saw. Get her quick!” I angled left, sliced through an incoming leg, then batted a head away with the flat of my blade. The creature seemed to sense my reluctance to deal damage, and the chitinous bastard pressed his advantage. In the span of a heartbeat, I found myself slowly falling back under an onslaught of blows. I used both shield and sword, not to attack, but simply to live a few more seconds.

Parts of Entomo smoked from being so close to the Burning Auras around me and my Amazons, but the underground freakshow didn’t seem to care in the least.

Sophia appeared next to me in a flash, and immediately hacked away an incoming head with her flaming katana. “She is on her way, War God.” Her eyes went wide. “Behind you,” she screamed.

I whirled and glanced up just in time to see a gooey-bodied slug drop from the wall of vines protecting our flanks. It slammed down onto my shoulders, and acid-covered suction cups stuck to my bare neck and uncovered arms. My gear seemed mostly immune to the corrosive toxin covering the slug’s belly, but I couldn’t say the same for my skin. My HP dropped slowly and steadily as the acid went to work. Pain flooded my body like a river overflowing its banks.

I spun in blind panic, desperate to dislodge the disgusting bugger. I caught a flash of movement—an incoming pincer. I faltered and darted forward. Instead of ripping through me, the pincer ripped the slug off me. Moist air washed over my acid-burned skin like a soothing balm.

“Thanks for the help, ugly!” I yelled, barreling in without pause and slashing off the pincer, just below a knubby armored joint. The limb dropped, clattering on the ground.

“Sabra, we’ll take care of the heads. Protect our flank!”

The Forest-Witch cursed, threw up her hands, and used her vines to fling mollusks off the top of our temporary wall.

Dammit, where the hell is Phoebe? I thought, fending off another strike with my shield. And then, above the din of battle, as though to answer my unspoken question, came the tromp of Phoebe’s mech.

Pincers raked across my arm and my flesh bubbled from the venom. My HP dropped further, down to fifty percent. Unfortunately, my Fury miracle had ended, and now I was taking damage and not healing. My head felt like a helium balloon thanks to the toxins pumping through my veins, and I knew it was only going to get worse.

Phoebe, can you read me?

Loud and clear! What do you need from me?

I glanced right—she was at the edge of the pit. Her face was gashed and bloody. Clearly, breaking through the wall of enemies had taken a toll on her and her mech. The steampunk contraption was scored, and the crossbow on her left arm hung damaged and useless. But her buzz saw was spinning and that’s what I needed. Those bronze blades were sharper than a surgeon’s scalpel, and with Burning Aura coating the saw teeth in golden flame … Well, it just might do what I needed.

Phoebe, get in the pit. Cut a hole in the thing’s stomach. I’m going inside the fucker.

Holy shit, Phoebe gasped. That’s a total Ares move if there ever was one. You sure this is the best play?

Not like we have a lot of options here, I sent back. Make it happen!

Alright. You go, War God. You do you. She piloted the mech over the edge of the bowl and then she was sliding down, down, down, away from the swaying heads high above and toward Entomo’s armored trunk. The buggy bastard was so caught up with me, Sophia, Loxo, and Sabra, he didn’t even notice the Rune-Caster. We would change that shortly. I ducked a set of snapping pincers, sliced one off with a twirl of my blade, then rushed straight in and hurled myself over the edge.

Suddenly, I found myself careening down the marble wall of the pit, which had been worn glassy smooth by countless centuries of writhing, chitinous centipedes. “Cut me a hole,” I bellowed, dropping the tip of my sword, dragging it through the stone to slow my descent.

“On it, my man,” she fired back, lurching forward, left arm outthrust, bronze saw buzzing like a city of angry hornets. Sparks flew and golden fire danced. Sure enough, the saw did the trick, opening a deep, angry gash in Entomo’s belly. The tender flesh beneath parted a second later and Entomo howled in reply. We had his attention now. The gash was only about four feet long—a tight fit considering how big I was these days—but I wasn’t afraid to get in there and get dirty.

I offered a war cry of defiance and cast Defender. The miracle dropped me down to a single Essence Point. My legs wobbled beneath me, the godstone in my chest flaring then dimming—warning me that I’d pushed too far. But arctic ice filled my body a second later, shocking my system as my skin transformed into impenetrable steel. I launched myself forward, becoming a living bullet. I dove, sword first, through the slit Phoebe had sawed open for me and into the frothing belly of the insect god.

Excruciating pain hit me in an instant. I’d thought the acid from the demon mollusks was bad, but it was nothing compared to the belly juices of the hydra-boss.

A vicious nastiness surrounded me, dripping down, splashing onto the Mammoth Cloak and my steel skin. If I’d been flesh, I would’ve been liquefied immediately. As it was, my metal body smoked and sizzled as the digestive enzymes deep-fried me. Seriously, the pain was blinding. I’d been forced to do a nonlethal weapons course once. The final test involved getting maced with OC Spray—the shit they use to ward off bears—then running an obstacle course full of angry attackers you had to fight your way through.

It sucked sweaty balls. But this? This was like taking a shower in OC Spray and then getting mauled by a grizzly bear with a personal vendetta against you. Just the absolute worst.

Still, if I was going to suffer this much, I was sure gonna give as good as I got.

I was fresh out of Essence, but the War Blade’s blazing golden light augmented the dancing blue arcs of electricity running along the edge. I slashed wildly, and the results were immediate and oh so satisfying. The oozing walls around me cooked into a blackened char wherever the blade touched. I drove a sandal into the crispy flesh and climbed upward, hopefully making my way toward Entomo’s vital organs. I hacked and flailed as I moved, cooking more flesh every second.

Something flashed in the corner of my eye—something made of glass. An hourglass shape. Yes! The Sower’s Glass! That was it! Of course this jerk would swallow the thing I needed to find. What better hiding place was there in the whole world? But I couldn’t go for it right then, not until I’d finished cooking Entomo.

The centipede-hydra wasn’t laughing now. It was experiencing what it was like trapped inside of a microwave: being cooked from the inside out. Entomo thrashed about in agony; my foot slipped, my free hand followed, and abruptly I found myself bouncing off the charred walls of his belly like a BB in a Coke can.

I landed with a wet thud, and lashed out with my sword on instinct, carving through an already fried section of stomach lining. I struggled back to my feet by sheer force of will, swaying as acid etched away my steel flesh. My HP was down below twenty-five percent, but I couldn’t give up—I was just too close to winning. I drove my lightning-wreathed War Blade into anything and everything in range. I must’ve cut into a major artery because a flood of golden blood came gushing down on top of me. Before I knew it, I was floundering in sack of gore, completely unable to breathe.

I had no idea where Phoebe’s gash was or how I could get out.

Ironic, I was about to drown in the blood of my enemies. Sounded cool, but the reality was nasty and tragic. I would’ve used a Fury spell, but I didn’t even have the Essence Points for one Lightning Lance. I drove my sword forward, and out of complete desperation, I sawed at the stomach sack, using every bit of strength I had left.

Disoriented, low on Health, and damn near tapped out on Essence Points, I was about to cash in my chips. Still, I sawed, trying desperately to get free.

I had to take a breath but didn’t dare open my mouth for fear of inhaling sticky golden blood. Fighting my instincts, I continued to saw until something tore into Entomo’s stomach and plucked me free.

I gasped, blinking away the goo. I was drenched in blech and stomach acid, and hung in the air by my Mammoth Cloak, held aloft by the beak of a giant blue eagle. Asteria. I’d never—not in my whole life—been so happy to see someone.

Wingless one, the entrails are delicious, Eagle-Asteria sent, but you go too far in your greed.

“Thanks, Asteria,” I muttered, reaching up and tapping at her beak. She set me down on the lip of the pit, then flew down and helped Phoebe get her mech upright—it had been knocked over sometime during the tussle. With that done, Asteria returned to the belly of the very dead centipede deity to dine like she was devouring the liver of Prometheus. Soon her chest feathers were covered in gold. Super gross, but that was just who and what she was. Unlike me, she didn’t fight against her nature, but embraced it to the fullest.

I tore my gaze away from the gruesome spectacle and glanced around, surveying the carnage.

What was left of Entomo was sprawled out, belly up, its many heads motionless on the floor of the temple while its main trunk took up the entire pit. Various sections of its exoskeleton had exploded outward, and some bits were a bright red from where I’d cooked it like a damn lobster. I looked left and right, noticing that the last of the centipedes were scurrying away through holes that had been hidden in the temple walls. With their lord gone, they were fleeing.

Clearly, they were smarter than they looked.

My Amazons headed toward the dais with determination and resolve in their steps despite their tired eyes and bloody bodies. They speared or sliced through the last of the glowing mollusks as they went. Ariadne had finally come around, thankfully, and rode on the back of Thunderfoot. Both looked like they’d barely survived a trip through a wood chipper.

But we’d won.

I messaged my Rune-Caster. Phoebe, inside the thing, there’s an hourglass. That must be the Sower’s Glass. Gotta be. Can you fish it out for me?

Yeah, on it. Phoebe maneuvered over the remains of the slain insect god. She edged past Asteria—busy with her feast—cut through more armor, trimmed through entrails, and then reached in and drew out a gore-covered hourglass the size of a desk lamp. The glass was crystalline and flawless, the hourglass itself built from obsidian stone that seemed to drink in the light. The sands within the glass looked less like sand and more like microscopic particles of diamonds, which reflected a rainbow of color.

The hourglass flashed brightly, and all of the golden blood and acid goop simply sizzled away.

Phoebe held it up in victory. The Amazons let out a thunderous cheer—a war cry of elated celebration. We’d won the day, beat the odds, and retrieved the Sower’s Glass, and the good times weren’t done yet … There was still loot to collect. I grinned and headed for the altar, where my Amazons congregated, waiting to divvy up the spoils of war.

TWENTY-THREE

Loot and Levels

My warriors parted for me as I approached the altar—as war god, the spoils belonged to me. Mine to claim, mine to reward. All of them were wounded, scored, and weary, and yet they were smiling at me. Myrina, in particular, seemed to be nearly glowing with approval.

“I would be angry with you, War God,” she said as I passed by, “but you defeated the monster in a manner most befitting of your station.” She reached out a hand and squeezed my forearm.

“Did he?” a voice whispered from all around us, dampening the good vibes. “Entomo has many bodies,” the voice hissed, “for immortality is not as certain as it once was. We will meet again, War God. And next time, when you are in my belly, you will stay there.”

I wiped filth from my face and then laughed. “Yeah, real tough talk, Entomo. Run while you can, dickweed.”

Loxo hugged me, then Sabra, then Sophia. Suddenly, I was swamped by my Amazons, and it felt so good to be alive and to have beaten the boss. Antiope kissed my cheek.

“Okay, guys, okay.” I extricated myself from the women and limped the rest of the way to the altar and the collection of objects waiting there: two javelins, a set of bracers, a dagger, the mirror, a cup and bowl. I picked them up one at a time, turning them over in my gore-stained hands as I examined them in my gaming interface.

First up was Hestia’s Cup—a golden trinket, studded with rubies, that gave the user an unlimited amount of water. When I touched it, it filled with crystalline liquid and I drank my fill, over and over, clearing the nasty taste of centipede guts from my mouth. Hestia’s Bowl was similar but miraculously filled with olives and cheese. Don’t know what to bring to your next dinner party? Bring one bowl and feed everyone for all eternity! Cool. I shoved some olives and cheese into my mouth and then passed it along to my Amazons.

With every minute that passed, I felt better, gaining Essence and HP as I nibbled.

Next—mouth still crammed full of food—I examined the set of hammered bronze wrist guards, padded with leather and inscribed with burning-blue runes of power. The Vambraces of Boreas. Wicked cool gear, which added an insane +50 points of Arctic Damage to all attacks while also increasing my Resistance to Frost-Based attacks by 15%. It was impossible to say for certain, but I was thinking those would’ve been awfully handy against ol’ Entomo. We might have been able to use the cold damage to freeze the neck stumps, but it was too late now.

Maybe next time.

Those bad boys, I slipped on myself, feeling a wave of delightfully cool power wash over my skin.

I pulled up the dagger next—Snow Claw. The thing was ice cold to the touch.

I closed out of the screen and flipped the weapon to Loxo, since she was the only one who could get the full benefit from it. I studied her face as she caught the dagger, looking to see if there was any indication of some dark glee there. But she merely grinned, gave me the heavy metal sign, and said, “Righteous.” Sometimes it was kind of eerie how well the Amazons could mimic me.

I moved on, scooping up the javelins. Now, they were an interesting pair of weapons, the Summer Tooth and Winter Tongue. One dished out flame damage and the other created an ice missile, but both weapons were inexplicably bound and had to be used in tandem:

Hmm, very interesting, and I knew who I wanted to have them. Myrina would be unstoppable with three magical javelins in her quiver. But first the mirror. I pulled up the next item screen, excitement brewing in my belly. That excitement quickly faded since the mirror looked to be … Well, just a stupid mirror.

I closed out of the description, feeling even more confused than I had a moment before. See the true reflection of all things … Huh, what in the hell was that supposed to mean?

After my Amazons got enough to eat and drink, they handed Hestia’s Cup back to me. I used it to wash the top layer of grime and gore off my hands and face. The cup filled right back up to the top. Once I was done, I pulled my fancy new hand mirror free and inspected myself to make sure I’d eradicated as much of the filth as I could, given the circumstances. As I stared into the glimmering surface, my image appeared, but after a moment it shimmered and changed.

Instead of a single image, there were two—one overlapping the other.

The first was me … but me as I really was. Before I’d come to the island and got all roided out on Divine Power. And over the top was an image of Ares as I’d seen him upon first venturing into his temple: skin bronzed, muscles bulging, hard eyes like sharp chips of amber, black hair as dark as midnight on a moonless night. And in his chest blazed the godstone like a fist-sized star. Of the two images, the god of war definitely seemed far healthier. My image, by comparison, was thin, blurry, and faded. A ghost of my former self.

I quickly pulled the mirror away and shoved it into a pouch at my belt.

I didn’t need to be a genius to figure out what the mirror was showing me: I was losing myself to the power of Ares, and soon the Jacob Merely that had crash-landed on Lycastia would be little more than a distant memory. The godstone seemed to burn in happy agreement, which unsettled me deeply—seriously, what the hell was this thing turning me into? I pulled up my interface and toggled over to my character sheet, eager to find anything to distract me from the mirror and its True Reflection.

Checking my gaming display, I saw that I had leveled up. And not just me. So had my Amazons. All of them. Euryleia, Sabra, and Sophia—all original first gen warriors—were maxed out at level ten. The second generation, Loxo and Antiope, were now at level seven, while the new girl in town, Ariadne, had risen to a sixth-level Beastiamancer. As for my generals … Boom, maxed out at level fifteen.

I saw that they’d divvied out their Ability Points and Attribute Points themselves, which made me happy to no end. I accessed Sophia’s sheet and reviewed it out of sheer curiosity:

I noticed that she’d dropped an Ability Point into Temporal Form. The ability had been locked until level ten, which had prevented me from accessing specs about it in the display interface. But now I could. I pulled up the skill, and my jaw nearly hit the floor:

Okay, so if I was reading that right, Sophia could tweak her cells to appear in different places at the same time, which basically made her like Multiple Man from the X-Factor comic books. With one point in that ability, she could have another version of Sophia bouncing around. And with each additional point she could have one more clone—so seven clones total, plus the original Sophia. But, on the downside, if her “other” self was killed, it would cut her Health down hard. Each of her Temporal Forms held an equal percentage of her hit points.

Eight Sophias? Each had 12.5% of her total Health, and if any of them died, Sophia Prime would lose 12.5% of her total HP. Interesting.

Sophia grinned at me, a twinkle in her eyes. “I see you are admiring my new ability, War God. With Temporal Form unlocked I will be able to serve you and our cause all the better. I weep still for my lost sister, Vara, but I rejoice in my newfound power. Me and all my forms will make Hades and his lackeys suffer.”

“Yes,” Sabra agreed. “You have my thanks as well.”

Pulling up Sabra’s sheet, I saw that she had expanded her Combat Growth ability.

With more points in Combat Growth, she could now cast an AoE version of her snagging vines that would limit the movement of our enemies in a thirty-foot radius. With the sheer number of creatures we’d been fighting, that could prove really useful. She could slow the baddies down while her sisters chopped them up like so much cilantro.

While my Amazons upgraded themselves, I had my own points to distribute. I divided my ten Attribute Points up among Strength and Willpower. My Intelligence was pretty high, and at this point in the quest, I wanted to tank myself up a bit.

Now, for my additional Ability Point.

I was torn between the Path of War and the Path of Miracles. The Plague Locust ability had saved us big time, and that was nothing compared to what I could do with Wrath. Wrath was Old Testament badassary at its finest, but, unfortunately, I couldn’t get Wrath until level thirty-five. As for the Path of War, I still had my eye on Colossus, but that was locked until level thirty. But man, once I unlocked Colossus, I’d be able to put the hurt on the forces of Hades, Kaiju style.

I turned my gaze to Burning Aura. That had been one of the most effective abilities in my arsenal, and I could max it out if I wanted to. I was about to drop my point there when Myrina placed her hand on my arm.

“War God, you should do what you think is right, but I implore you, give me the strength to keep you safe. Artemis’ Blood will allow us to become even more powerful.” She faltered, eyes begging, face sagging. “Please, Jacob, please,” she finished softly. I’d forgotten Myrina had a vulnerable side. She might be all armor and razor blades on the outside, but her heart could be tender at times. She’d lost one war god under her command, and it was clear she didn’t want to lose another.

If I increased my Artemis’ Blood ability to level two, it would raise the level cap on my normal Amazons to fifteen and the cap on my generals to twenty. To be honest, I hadn’t looked at the Path of the Builder menu for a bit since we were in quest mode and not siege mode, but that was definitely the right call. I mean, we were racking up massive EXP, and since most of my crew had just hit their level cap, every point they earned from here on out would be wasted. I felt stupid for the oversight, but it was easily fixed.

“Okay, Myrina,” I replied. “It’s Artemis’ Blood for me and the new magical javelins for you.” I added the point into Artemis’ Blood, then handed over the new goodies, Summer Tooth and Winter Tongue.

Suddenly, my Battle Warden stood a little straighter and said, “I will not fail you, War God.”

“Believe me, I know you would give your life a thousand times for mine if it came down to it,” I replied.

She nodded quickly, turned away, and took up the javelins. She hurled Summer Tooth at a centipede corpse. It hit like a blast of sunfire and, just like her other magical javelin, returned to her quiver. She then threw Winter Tongue. It was like she’d somehow managed to hurl a concentrated bolt of blizzard wind. Not only did the projectile impale the dead bug, but it also froze it into a chunk of ice before reappearing back in her quiver.

Finally, we’d got some good loot from a battle.

We gathered our supplies and started for the surface. As we walked an idea struck me about the strange Mirror of True Reflection—it had shown my true nature, so I wondered what it would reveal if I used it on the Amazons. Was it possible this was the way to weed out any Dark Amazons that might be lurking in our midst?

By the time we reached the entrance and clambered back to the surface, we were all tired and ready for a break, so I decided to give the mirror a whirl while we regrouped. Back near our smoldering cook fire, we set up camp and settled in as twilight descended, the crystals high above fading away as the day ended in the strange realm of Nyx. I fished the mirror from my bag and plopped down next to Myrina, who was busy inspecting her short sword for any signs of damage.

“Mind if I try something?” I asked, holding the mirror up so it caught the firelight.

“If it is your will, War God,” she replied formally with a dip of her head.

Carefully, I held the mirror up until it was directly in front of Myrina’s face. For a long beat, nothing happened … but then a golden glow slowly enveloped her in a halo. She glanced toward me and that glow throbbed more brightly, more insistently. I knew Myrina was as loyal as they came, so she would be my baseline. I pulled the mirror away and headed over to Phoebe, repeating the process after a brief word of explanation. Once again, the same thing happened, though the aura burning around Phoebe was a shining chrome.

Okay, so each of the Amazon types probably had their own color. Now for the real test. Loxo and Antiope …

I called the pair of resurrected ’Zons over to me and told them I was conducting a little experiment—nothing to worry about. When I held the mirror up in front of Loxo, a dull gray cloud surrounded her, but just like with the others, that cloud flared whenever she glanced my way. The mark of true devotion. Loxo was on the home team, no doubt in my mind. But when I held the mirror before Antiope, the breath caught in my throat. Myrina’s aura had burned golden, and Antiope was a Warden just like her.

But the halo around Antiope was as black and twisted as death itself.

Holy shit. She was a Dark Amazon. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Antiope’s eyes widened in a combination of shock and terrible understanding. “We have been found out, my lord,” she hollered, wheeling around and darting toward the swaying grasses just to the east of our camp. Those grasses were tall, really tall. Tall enough to hide…

Earl Necro Earl. The son of a bitch.

The Necro slipped from the grasses like a ghost, a sly smile on his face. Antiope skidded to a stop by his side, spinning so she faced us, weapon drawn and ready to fight.

Earl put a bone gauntlet on her shoulder. “You done good, girl. I wasn’t sure if this whole Dark Amazon shit was gonna work, but goddamn if I was wrong. I was gonna ambush you tonight,” he continued, turning his gaze on me, “but this works too.” The rest of my Amazons were on their feet now, terrible tension filling the air. Around us, Necro Earl’s army of the dead emerged from the grasses on every side. We were surrounded, weak from battle, and stricken with the betrayal.

“So, here’s how this is gonna go, Gamer Two,” Necro Earl said, hefting his bone mace and leaning it against his shoulder. “You give me the Sower’s Glass, and I don’t wipe the deck with your stupid, fucking face. Or you fight me for it, and I do wipe the deck with your stupid, fucking face. Choice is yours, shit-for-brains—though I guarantee that Glass is going with me. So, what’ll it be, huh?”

I thought about telling him to go eat a dick before charging in with the War Blade.

Then I saw how truly outnumbered we were.

TWENTY-FOUR

Wait For It …

The light from the crystalline sun overhead dimmed, and the air grew chilly around me as if a preternatural cold front had just rolled in.

Earl Necro Earl continued to chuckle as his massive army crept from the grass, revealing exactly how screwed we were. Roided-out, gun-toting morons trudged forward, chattering imps clinging to their gargantuan frames. Some were still alive, but most weren’t. The zombie goons had milky eyes glazed with death. Many had missing limbs. All stank of the grave. For weapons, the meatheads carried both heavy metal flails, attached to their wrists with long chains, and shoulder-mounted Gatling guns.

Yay, my life!

The living three-headed hounds growled as us, but the undead versions, standing next to them, were silent as a graveyard—it was hard to decide which was more intimidating. After a minute, I mentally put a “win” in the zombie hound column. Without lips on their muzzles, we could see their yellow fangs, which was both gross and terrifying. More living imps in leather jerkins—these armed with jagged saw-toothed swords—rode the living Cerberi. The dead goblin-things were clumped on the dead hounds, stuck there by strings of rot and scabby clumps of blood.

So, so, so, so gross. Gross to the nth degree, then multiplied by a factor of fucking-disgusting.

Arachnaswine, slick with death grease and covered in maggots, scuttled forward next. Spiders were one thing, undead spider pigs? That was a whole new level of disgusting. Trailing behind the spider pigs came dozens of zombified, octopi-headed sea centaurs. A green mold blanketed them, eating away at their rotting tentacles. Some still had arms, however decayed, and those held spears. Others held their weapons in the fly-encrusted black tentacles trailing down their chests.

And just for good measure, there were also shambling, mangy werewolves, a spattering of rotten nagas, and zombie harpies, dropping feathers.

I noticed the harpies weren’t flying and couldn’t help but wonder if that was because they couldn’t fly—what with all the rot—or because they were avoiding the wrath of the Stymphalian Omegas from above. Probably the latter; after all, I’d seen dead harpies cruising in the skies during our last battle topside.

My mind whirled as I watched them trundle forward.

I knew if I threw my beleaguered Amazons against the armada, we might win, but we’d take losses in the process—heavy ones, at that—so I didn’t call us to arms right away. For one thing, as we stood there, we were not only regenerating Health, we were also getting our mojo back. My Divine Essence was climbing higher every second, while Sabra, Euryleia, and Ariadne were regaining Exousía. Hell, if I could keep Necro Earl grinning and talking shit in his triumph, I might regenerate enough power to stick a few Lightning Lances up his ass sideways.

We must strike, now! Myrina messaged all of us.

Across from me, an evil grin spread across Antiope’s face. Do and die, Sister. I can hear your thoughts, and I know your plans. We are a family, are we not?

“You don’t have to do this, Antiope,” I said, voice cold and somber. “I know you, you’re good. Whatever torture you suffered at the hands of Hades we can undo. If anything, that should fuel your hate for him.”

Antiope burst forward, using her special ability to flash up to me. Damn she was fast. In the span of a blink, she slapped me across the cheek—really throwing her body into the strike. She rang my bell and left my cheek flaming. And then, while I was still recovering from her ballsy attack, she snatched the Vambraces of Boreas off my arms before I could stop her.

She spun and clapped the thick metal bracers over her own forearms. She whirled again, cheeks gaunt, eyes hard, and unleashed a freezing wind from her upraised palms: arctic cold washed over us, ice forming on exposed skin, freezing metal swords in their scabbards. Some of my ’Zons were hit harder than others. Myrina, for example, looked like a fucking ice cube, and the fire in Phoebe’s mech winked out at the freezing onslaught. Neither seemed to be able to move. Before she could teleport away, Sophia also found herself caught in a cage of cold.

Asteria shimmered, taking the form of a blue-furred polar bear, and went to attack. But the meatheads were all over that shit, pressing in until she found herself looking down the barrels of half a dozen Gatling guns. Zombie centaurs with arrows nocked and tentacles writhing also took aim at her. One wrong move and she’d find herself riddled with bullets and arrows. As tough as she was, and there were few tougher, even she couldn’t survive a barrage like that.

Thankfully, my heavy, pain-in-the-ass War Mammoth Cloak finally pulled its weight, partially protecting me from the blast of blistering cold. Because of its magic, I took 25% less frost damage, so I could move, but I didn’t. Not yet. I didn’t want to tip my hand prematurely, so instead I pretended to be as frozen as Myrina, Phoebe, Sophia, and the rest of my warriors.

There was one small silver lining, however: I didn’t see Loxo. She had melted into the shadows and was probably waiting for the signal to attack. We couldn’t message, obviously, because our communication had been compromised, but she’d move when the time was right. I had faith in her.

Antiope walked up to me and slapped me for a second time, her palm battering my cheek, my skin stinging from the blow. Holy shit, but those Battle Wardens were strong.

Fury burned inside me as I stared into her eyes. Hate at the humiliation and the betrayal. Scathing anger that she’d stolen from me and hurt me so badly.

“Jakey,” Antiope sneered. “Little Jakey Merely. You think you are the god of war. You think you can defeat Hades. That you can defeat the great and powerful Earl.” She waved a hand at my stupid nemesis. “You are a little man, afraid of your manhood, quaking behind your Amazons.” She laced her hands behind her back as she regarded me.

“Pathetic,” she finished, emphasizing the word slowly. “I now serve a real god. A being of ancient power and deadly purpose. A god who knows what he is and what he wants. His torture showed me the truth. You cannot win. And I will not die for your cause.” She faltered, eyes going hazy. “Not again, I won’t.” She moved past me, like I was nothing to her, and slowly retrieved the Sower’s Glass from Phoebe’s frozen mech. She stuck it in a leather satchel, which she slung across her body.

I was having a very Indiana Jones loses the golden idol to Belloq moment.

Necro Earl swaggered up and got in my face.

Naturally, the douchehole couldn’t just win—nope, he had to rub it in because he was the worst human being on the planet. I kept my features still and my frame motionless as if I were trapped by the cold. I’d had a bit of downtime, and my Essence was at eighty-two and creeping up. Only another few minutes and I’d be able to call down a Plague of locusts on Necro Earl’s smarmy ass. On him and all his undead freaks. We’d just see how effective those Gatling guns were when the barrels were crammed full of insectile bodies.

“Does this seem familiar, Jakey?” he said. “You doing the work, me taking the credit. Bet that must really chap your ass, Jakey.” He said the name like a curse. “Looks like this is just how it goes between us, huh? I let you do the heavy lifting, and then I come in at the last minute and take what I need.” He reached up and tapped at one temple.

“It’s called working smarter and not harder,” he continued, “but you don’t get that. All you ever did was work your ass like a fucking dipshit, and look where it got you. Now, I’m gonna take the Sower’s Glass and I’m going to get the Crystal Scythe. And once I do, I’m going to use it to cut you into fish bait, and pop that stone right outta your chest.”

The godstone flared. I could almost hear Ares screaming at me to take the War Blade and end the necromancer in front of me. We might take casualties, but I could cut that smirk off Earl’s face. I’d used up both my Shockwave and Greater Lycanthropy abilities for that day, but as a level twenty-four War God, I regenerated 204 Essence Points every hour. I figured when I got up into triple digits, I would lay down the thunder.

But staying cool under his gaze was no easy thing. The godstone was pressuring me to strike and strike hard. I could cast Defender and Fury and become a steel juggernaut of battle rage. Do it, War God, the gem in my chest whispered. Kill them all. Kill the man who has bullied you for so long. He’s nothing. A mortal. Worthless. Do it. Do it!

My fist tightened on the pommel of the War Blade. No doubt, Ares would’ve already been hooking and jabbing, and the hell with the consequences. Then I thought about what I had seen in the Mirror of True Reflection. His arrogance and lust for battle had gotten Ares killed. The power of the godstone was changing me slowly and surely, and if I didn’t work to ground myself I would become just another mindless jerk. In doing so I would perish like he had. And not just me, but my Amazons.

Yes, I could resurrect them, but I couldn’t guarantee their safety from Hades’ wicked reach.

“You gonna do something stupid, Jakey?” Necro Earl asked, scrunching his nose up, brow furrowed. “You better not. Antiope, let’s give Jakey a little demonstration of what will happen if he so much as moves a muscle.”

Sabra hadn’t been hit hard by the frost attack, but she was still motionless, waiting for us to take our shot.

Antiope attacked like a serpent, driving her xiphos right into the Forest-Witch’s throat; dark blood spurted through the air and spilled down her front. Sabra crumpled like a paper cup, dropping into a heap, one hand clutched uselessly around her throat. She was dead before her body ever hit the ground. My heart lurched and hammered inside my chest, the world quivering around me. This wasn’t the first time I’d seen death, far from it, but watching a friend die was never easy.

And the sheer brutality of Antiope’s strike told me that the woman I’d once known—so simple, fierce, and sweet—was gone. The Antiope of old would’ve done anything to protect her sisters.

But this new Antiope? She laughed as though she could pick the thoughts straight out of my head. Yes, War God, her laugh seemed to say, that mewling weakling I used to be is as dead as Sabra. Necro Earl joined in her mirth as the Dark Amazon returned to his side, trailing her fingers along his arm.

Even now Sabra’s soul would be traveling down to the underworld. She was in more danger dead than she’d been in alive. If Hades found her, he would torture her until she went insane and joined him. Just like Antiope had. Dammit. I needed to finish the quest, get back to Lycastia City, and forge her a new body. Right quick and in a hurry before anything could happen to my gentle-hearted Forest-Witch.

“You like your little playthings, don’t you?” Earl asked, eyeing each of my warriors in turn. “Maybe even love some of ’em. But from what I’ve heard you aren’t even man enough to get your dick wet. Nope, from what Antiope said, you’re keeping it in your pants like a fucking pussy. Damn, but when I got here, I was sticking it into anything I could. You ever fuck a Fury, Jakey?” He shook his head and took a deep sigh. “Talk about some fucked-up shit. While I was leveling up, Praxidike rocked my world.” He paused, face flashing through a storm of complicated emotions. “I don’t miss her though,” he said after a moment. “She was a real bitch. And with her out of the picture, I’m in charge.”

Yeah, fuck this guy, it was time to fight to the death. My hand tightened around the hilt.

Then, Loxo’s voice whispered into my mind. She was careful only to message me and not the team. Hold on, Boss. Help is coming. Keep him talking. Not sure if they are completely on our side, but things are about to get interesting one way or the other.

I stared right into Necro Earl’s red-rimmed eyes. He’d changed. His pupils now glowed the green of a toxic waste spill and his face had grown disturbingly pasty, like that of a corpse. “With Praxi gone, are you banging sea centaurs now?” I asked. “Do you like them alive or dead? I would imagine a slime like you doesn’t care.”

“No,” Earl spat. “Hades gives me nymphs and whatnot to take care of me. They are freaky looking, but bent over, I don’t even notice the horns. Not much. Anyway, how about we end this, huh? You draw that sword, and I’ll have my mace, Deathbringer, and we go mano a mano? How about that? See who the real god is?”

Loxo again. Not yet, Boss. Not yet. Wait for it. Wait for my signal.

“Why not just kill me now?” I asked, staying my hand. “You’ve got the upper hand.”

“Naw, I don’t want to kill you. Not really. See, here’s the thing—Hades, he wants you gone. But maybe I don’t like being bossed around by him. Maybe I wanna be the boss? And with that shiny stone in your chest”—he scooted forward and tap-tap-tapped on the godstone with one finger—“I could be so much more. I could be a god instead of a lackey. And with the Crystal Scythe in my hands?” He shrugged one shoulder. “Well, could be Hades ends up going the way of Uranus. Yer-anus.” He snorted and shook his head.

“Anyway, maybe I’ll end up doing both things. God of war and god of death. I’m definitely man enough for that. Still.” He idly twirled his mace. “Even if I don’t want to kill you yet, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t mind putting you back in your place, Jakey. You’ve gotten a real big head lately, and I think it’s high time we rectify that shit. So, pull your sword—because we both know your ass ain’t frozen, you’re a fucking’ god, bro—and get ready for the ass whoopin’ of the century.”

Necro Earl got ready to swing his mace and bash my skull in. “Here’s the wind up, the pitch, and he swings …”

I’d given Loxo time, but now I had to act. There was no other choice. Not unless I wanted my head bashed in.

He swung.

I whipped the War Blade out and caught the blow. At the same time, I used Lightning Lance to send a bolt of crackling electricity up and down his bone armor. The veins in his face glowed as I electrified him. He sizzled for a beat and then the miracle blasted Earl from his feet, sending him flying back, ass over teakettle, landing in a heap five feet away. Nothing had ever felt more satisfying in my whole life.

Loxo called to all of my Amazons in a loud voice, too loud to ignore. Everyone, close your eyes! Close your eyes right now!

“My lord, Earl …” Antiope started to say, but it was too late.

Rising up from the grass was a twelve-foot-tall snake-headed woman with huge leathery bat wings that unfolded like night falling. Her eyes flashed like two suns—dual balls of burning gold—and that radiance swept over us.

The living imps, meatheads, and Hellhounds all let out screams of fright and pain as their flesh turned to stone, cursed by the power of the Gorgon. Euryale had come again to save our bacon, but this time, she’d brought help. Her velociraptor centaurs poured forth from around her, firing arrows into Necro Earl’s zombie monsters …

And into my Amazons!

Shit, shit, shit. A triple cross.

Euryale strode forward. I could look into her face, but it would cost me Essence Points to do it, and I didn’t have Essence to throw away, so I dropped my gaze.

“Darling!” the Gorgon boomed over the din of battle, her voice endlessly amused. “I truly did not think you’d be able to defeat Ailuros’ deadly game nor survive the Caverns of Entomo. Don’t listen to bone boy, here, for you are remarkable, if supremely unlucky.”

Before Antiope could run away, the Gorgon used her wings to sweep down and rip the satchel off the Dark Amazon’s body—the leather strap snapped and the bag came free. The Dark Battle Warden rolled and pushed her face into the dirt so she wouldn’t be tempted to sneak a glance at the petrifying monster.

“I’ll be taking this, my darlings,” the Gorgon demurred, “for with such a weapon as the Crystal Scythe, I will be able to keep me and my lovelies safe for all time. Besides, I do so love a good conversation with the god of time. Oh, won’t he be surprised to see me?”

The Gorgon’s arrival was a game changer. While losing the Sower’s Glass was a blow, it wasn’t the end of the world. Hell, there was only once place she could possibly be taking the thing, so we still had a chance to get the glass back. If we stayed, it was even money that we’d all die. But thanks to her timely interference, we could beat feet and get clear of this ambush. It was time to retreat and regroup. Then, once we were safe and back in fighting form, we could race to the Temple of Cronos.

Boom. Done. Plan set.

“Amazons! Fall back!” I bellowed, using both my voice and messaging system. We have to get out of here! Now! We know where Euryale is going, and we can beat her there. But we need to be alive to do it. Move, move, move. Scatter!

My Amazons reacted as one, the field of battle quickly devolving into pure chaos as they broke in every direction.

I shot toward the tall grasses, looking to follow my own advice, but that dick Nerco Earl was back on his feet and coming for me hard, hate burning in his gaze. He lashed out with his spiked mace. I swatted his weapon away with my War Blade, then barreled straight into him, ramming my shoulder into his teeth. He let out a yell. Jerking back, I drove the pommel of my sword into his face, stunning him. He went down on one knee. I rushed on. Sure, I wanted to stay and beat him into meat paste, but that wasn’t the plan and I had better things to do.

As I retreated, I quickly scanned my roster via my interface. Sadly, there was no help for Sabra—her status was marked as “deceased” in my interface—but I had enough Essence Points to set the rest of my Amazons right. I triggered Healing Touch, fifty-five points of Essence flowing out of me like a river as my team regained their HP.

I glanced over my shoulder. Necro Earl was up again and coming for me, but I put on an extra burst of speed and left that sucker in my dust.

“Run, you PUSSY!” he screamed, face red, a vein throbbing in his forehead.

I ignored the taunt. I wasn’t Ares, dammit. And sooner or later, I’d put ol’ Earl firmly in his place, but it would be on my terms. But I wasn’t out of the waters yet. Gatling guns thundered from the meatheads that hadn’t been turned to stone, strafing the ground with bullets. Arrows filled the air and then there was Earl’s undead army to contend with.

Nice thing, though, Earl’s zombie horde engaged the incoming velocentaurs and vice versa.

Behind me, Necro Earl thundered, “Fucking snake bitch!” I couldn’t help but steal another quick glimpse back. The Necro was charging Euryale, who was backing up slowly into the tall grasses, the leather satchel in her snaky-fingered hands. I’d let them fight because whoever won still had to make the trek up through the Great Swamps to the Temple of Cronus.

Myrina spun and used Summer Tooth to light the fire in Phoebe’s steampunk mech. The Rune-Caster was on her feet but surrounded by zombie spider pigs. I raced over, hacking through arachnaswine and using Lightning Lance to clear her contraption of enemies.

“Get on!” Phoebe called, her voice oddly cool and collected given the circumstances. I clambered on board without hesitation. Turning, I saw that my Amazons had already sped off across the plains, following my orders. All except Myrina.

The Battle Warden stole a final look at me. “Go!” she barked, pointing toward the grasses with her javelin. “I’ll will hold them off then meet you at the temple.”

I nodded and tapped on Phoebe’s shoulder. Let’s do it. As we sped away from the battle, I used the messaging system one last time. Stay off comms, everyone. We’ll regroup at the Temple of Cronus. I’ll figure out a way to exclude Antiope. Until then, travel fast, travel safe, and stay frosty.

With that, Phoebe and I disappeared into the darkest of nights, the clang of swords and the screeches of the dying fading behind us.

TWENTY-FIVE

Band on the Run

Hours later, once we’d made it to the edge of the Great Swamp, Phoebe finally dropped from exhaustion. We’d made it through the grasslands by going slow and being cautious. Instead of using the mech’s built-in torches to avoid holes or ditches, I used the flicking blue light of the War Blade. Phoebe’s mechanical torches were far more effective, true, but they’d mark us out and that was the last thing we wanted while on the run by ourselves in a hostile world.

It was late, and we were both beat—mentally and physically—and needed to rest. Needed it.

We’d found a nice shelf of dry ground above the waterline and settled in, making an impromptu camp. In next to no time, we sat in front of the firebox of the mech, eating smoked arachnaswine, nibbling on olives, and huddling together against the night in a copse of twisted trees. We drank from the never-ending Hestia’s Cup, not trusting the swamp water. I’ve heard dysentery is no fun, and drinking prehistoric swamp water? Yeah, that’s definitely how you get dysentery … but like Dinosaur dysentery, which is definitely a thousand times worse.

I ate the spider bacon mechanically, my mind as swampy as the murk around us.

Phoebe and I went through the gaming menus, trying to find a way to block Antiope, but Ares hadn’t set up an “unfriend” option. He’d never even considered the possibility that an Amazon would betray him. Then again, his entire war against Hades had been a different deal all together. He’d been a full-blown war god, at least level fifty by all accounts, maybe even a hundred. I was barely even halfway there. That guy could probably do whatever the hell he pleased.

While I chewed, I replayed Antiope kissing me before she died the first time, sacrificing her life to save the day. She’d kissed me once more, just after I’d taken out Entomo, and that, in retrospect, had been cold. A Judas kiss if there ever was one. And I’d been too foolish to see it. As a result, we were now cut off and on the run, speeding as fast as we could to the Temple of Cronus, where Euryale was sure to use the Sower’s Glass to get access to the scythe.

My silent frustrations finally got to Phoebe. She shoved me lightly, offering me a tired grin. That’s enough, Jacob. You can’t beat yourself up for what Antiope did. We had no idea who the spy was—or even if there was a spy. For what it’s worth, I didn’t suspect Antiope either. My money was on Loxo all the way.

“We probably shouldn’t use the messaging system at all,” I replied morosely, ignoring her attempts to cheer me up. “Loxo was able to contact me, but it was in close quarters, and she could see me. I wouldn’t trust trying to contact even one person out there. Most likely it’s just you and I on the channel, but we shouldn’t risk it. It might give away our position.”

Phoebe took in a deep breath. “Okay. This will be slow.” She glanced at me and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about. It was going to be hard enough when I could talk as fast as I could think.”

I stuck a moss-covered hunk of dry wood into the firebox, listening halfheartedly to my Rune-Caster. My mind flashed back to the ambush as I watched the flames eat away at the log, tongues of orange and red flicking up over the damp bark. If only we hadn’t been so beat up. If only Antiope hadn’t stolen the Vambraces of Boreas. If only the Gorgon and her minions had struck sooner. So many variables, and if any one of them had been different, then maybe Sabra would be alive, and we’d still have the fucking Sower’s Glass.

Should I have engaged Necro Earl right away? If I’d destroyed the necromancer, his undead army would’ve gone back to decaying in peace. I thought again of the big hourglass we’d pulled from Entomo’s guts. We’d had it, we’d won, and yet Antiope had grabbed it. I did take some grim satisfaction knowing that the last of the Gorgon sisters had snagged it away from Necro Earl. Seriously. Fuck that guy.

“Why call it the Sower’s Glass?” I mumbled, still staring at the dancing firelight.

“That’s an easy one,” Phoebe said with a nervous grin. “See back in the day, Cronus was also known as the Sower—as in the Sower of Seed. He and his wife, Rhea, were originally agricultural deities, which I guess made sense, since time grows crops. According to legend, ol’ Cronus used the glass to change the seasons and manipulate time. But after he was banished here”—she waved a hand around—“by Zeus, he secreted the glass away with Entomo so that its power could never be used by the unworthy.”

“Why Entomo?” I asked absently, picking up another twig and tossing it into the fire. “It’s hard for me to believe that buggy freakshow has any friends with less than one million legs.”

She snorted, a lopsided grin turning up the corner of her lips. “Believe it or not, but Entomo and Cronus are brothers. Both children of Gaea. So it’s a family thing.”

I grimaced. “I’m guessing they had different fathers, unless Cronus looks wayyyyy different than I’m thinking.” I fell silent for a moment, but then Antiope’s face slipped into my thoughts again.

“Man, I really feel like I screwed the pooch, Phoebe. I mean, fuck! The Sower’s Glass was in our hands!” I stood up and instantly wanted to kill something. The godstone liked that idea. I was sure if I took a few steps I could find a dinomythic and hack it apart ... “I suppose I should be mad at Euryale,” I said, “but I knew we could never trust that snake charmer. Darling this and darling that. Whatever. But what really gets me is Earl. He’s been a thorn in my side since I met him. I figured I’d escape his assholeishness when I landed here, but guess what? Nope!”

“Assholeishness is not a word,” Phoebe said, frowning. “Jacob, there’s something I want to talk to you about. And after what happened with Sabra, I feel like it cannot wait.”

I stomped across the small spit of dry ground under the cypress trees, storming around in frustration, ignoring her. “If we go home without the Cyrstal Scythe, then what was the point of this? Plus, there’s no guarantee that Earl won’t show up and take the Sower’s Glass from the Gorgon. And remember, we have fucking monsters attacking Lycastia City every eight hours.

“It’ll only be a matter of time until they break through our defenses and shatter the sigil. Then, guess what? Hell on Earth. The gates to the underworld will be flung open and humanity will be in real trouble. Fucking Hades, and his fucking torture, and I can’t imagine what he did to Antiope to turn her against us. And he might be able to do the same thing to Sabra. That fucker. That motherfucker!”

I whipped the War Blade out of its sheath. The godstone flashed as did the sword, and both sent night creatures in the water around us swimming for their lives. I drove the lightning-wreathed weapon into the trunk of a dead cypress, lodging the blade in the trunk. I stewed for a second, imaging Earl’s stupid face, before jerking the sword free, ready to take another swing. I raised the blade high—

Which is when Phoebe tackled me, her arms wrapping around my hips, her shoulder driving into my gut.

I hadn’t been ready for the hit and abruptly found myself on the ground with her on top of me. It was so unexpected that I dropped the War Blade completely. Without my fingers around the pommel, it dimmed.

Her face glowed from the pulsating gem in my chest.

She grabbed my head in both of her hands and squished my cheeks. “Jacob, there is something I want to speak to you about. Talk to you … about … me, you, us, talking.” She worked my mouth to mimic speaking. “Talking with like words and shit. So pay attention, you knucklehead.”

I glanced to the side, to make sure nothing was creeping up on us. I had created a spectacle with my outburst, and yet, the godstone had loved the violence and anger. Now, it was feeling something else.

“Look at me, Jacob,” Phoebe said. “I know you’re upset. I know that you’re grieving Antiope and worried about Sabra. But, listen, we’re going to be okay, Jacob. And there’s nothing you can do about any of that stuff anyway—not right now—so put them from your mind and look at me.” She turned my head to face her. “Really look at me.” She faltered, unshed tears lining the edge of her eyes. “Please, Jacob. This is important.”

I did. She was so cute. She radiated that girl-next-door vibe with her brown hair, gray-green eyes, and easy smile. From the very start, she’d been my type: pretty, funny, smart as a whip.

“Okay, Phoebe,” I said, feeling a deep ache in my heart as I stared into her face. “I’m here, and I’m looking at you. What’s up?”

“After Sabra died, so sudden and final, I decided that if I got a chance, I would tell you about how I feel. It’s just … Well, life, I guess.” She shrugged one shoulder. “It seems so fragile, so quick to slip away. And then I remembered how Ariadne came to you and asked for more power.” Her voice was jittery with nerves, which was so unlike her. She took her hands from my face—they trembled just a hair—and planted them firmly on my chest.

“You said something to me after talking with her,” she continued after a beat. “Something that stuck in my head—honestly, I haven’t been able to get rid of it. You said, ‘It pays to be bold enough to know what you want and go after it.’ I’ll never forget that.” She paused, pressed her eyes shut, and bit on her lower lip as though she were fighting to keep the words in. After a heartbeat she opened her eyes and sighed. “This is hard for me, Jacob, but I need to say something. I can’t live with myself if I don’t. See the thing is, I’ve been thinking about us. You and me. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

I was speechless. I was also more nervous than I’d been in a long time. Things were so natural with Phoebe—so right—and out of all my Amazons, she was the one I connected the deepest with. Sure, Asteria was incredibly gorgeous and totally wild … she was beauty and lust made manifest … but what we had could barely qualify as a relationship. A word seemed to float into my mind, provided by the godstone, of all things. She was my Eros. My sexual passion. And Loxo, as amazing as she was, also fell into that category.

Truthfully, I sort of thought I was Loxo’s booty call. Another word surfaced. Ludus, playful love.

True, I had complicated feelings about Myrina—feelings I still hadn’t quite worked out yet—but Phoebe? Her I understood.

She was my best friend on Lycastia. She got me in a way the other Amazons didn’t. I’d thought about being with her on more than once occasion, but she’d never seemed particularly interested in me. At least not in that way.

She dropped her eyes. “Look, Jacob. I know I’m not perfect.” She trailed her fingers along her damaged leg. “I mean, you’re on an island of perfect 10s who all want to be with you, and me? I’ll never be able to compete against them, which is why I’ve never tried. I’m never going to be as capable as Myrina, as graceful as Loxo, or as beautiful as Asteria. And to make everything worse, you have like Oedipal-sized issues when it comes to sex. But I can’t die without saying this first …” She went quiet, those unshed tears threatening to spill over onto her cheeks.

I was about to say something when she beat me to it, her face transformed by sheer determination. “I want you. I’d given up on us being together, and I figured Asteria and you were fine as a couple, but then you brought Loxo in, and I was all like, ‘Fuck that guy. If he’s getting with other Amazons, he’s going to get with me.’ So, I’m going to be bold. I’m going after what I want even if I’m hideous.” She jabbed me in the chest with one finger. “And you, Jacob, are what I want.”

Anger raged through me, and I easily pulled Phoebe off me. In a flash, she was on her back and I loomed over her. She might be brilliant, but I was a helluva lot stronger. The godstone lit up her gorgeous face. “Listen to me, Phoebe. I feel terrible about your leg. It was my fault. But I don’t care about it. Not the way you think. You look at me and see this chiseled god, but I wasn’t always this way.

“In high school I was a loser. And then I joined the Marine Corps, thinking that would make me a badass, but nope. I was just a loser in dress blues. Still a social reject. I know what it’s like to be overlooked, to be the outsider, and it sucks. But that makes me like you even more. You’re my friend. Always have been. Always will be.” I hesitated. “I love you, Phoebe.” As I spoke the words, I knew they were true.

But I also knew the love I had for her wasn’t like Asteria, Loxo, or Myrina. No, the love I felt for her was different. Philia, the godstone suggested. The deep, true love of friends who could finish each other’s sentences. Who had fought and bled together. Who understood each other more than anyone else ever could.

Tears shone in her eyes. “I love you too, my dude. And it’s not just because it was in the blueprints you used to forge me. No, it’s more.” She reached up and ran her hand over my cheek and down to my chin. “I’ve gotten to know the real you, how caring, how sweet, and how brave you are.”

“Almost as brave as you,” I whispered.

“Shut up and kiss me already, you dope,” she said as the tears finally slid out of her eyes.

And kiss her I did. In a whirl of limbs and clothes, we found ourselves naked, back by the mech and bathed in the heat and light of the fire. I made sure I lavished her leg with attention to show her that even though she wasn’t perfect, I didn’t care. That her imperfections made her special to me.

And when we finished—as I held her tight, gasping and laughing—I knew that I had to be better, smarter, stronger. I now knew why Myrina worried over me so much. She loved me like I loved Phoebe, and I swore nothing would ever, ever hurt my Rune-Caster as long as I had breath in my lungs and a heart beating in my chest. Suddenly, I wasn’t so much interested in saving the world. I wanted to save Phoebe. I wanted to keep her safe.

And for that? I needed the Crystal Scythe.

It wouldn’t be easy, of course. We’d have to cross a swamp of dinosaurs and monsters, kill my nemesis, and face a Titan-God, but that didn’t seem so hard. Not in that perfect moment. After all, Phoebe and I were bold and brave, and just then, it seemed like no task was too great for us to accomplish. Not if we were together.

We should’ve posted a watch—the swamp was filled with nasty things no doubt looking for a midnight snack—but somehow, we both slipped into sleep, snuggled together, our limbs entwined, her face pressed against my chest.

We slept that way for a few hours and stirred as the first rays of reflected sunlight hit the crystal clusters high above and washed over us. We had a quick breakfast of cheese and olives—that Hestia’s Bowl was already paying some big dividends—then set to work repairing the mech. Not only did we fix the broken crossbow, we also used salvaged bronze to give the mech segmented spider-like legs. Now, when I say “we” I really mean “she.” I basically stood around and watched, a giant smile carved into my face as I dreamily thought of the night before.

As wild as my threesome with Asteria and Loxo had been … Well, it hadn’t held a candle to my time with Phoebe. Last night had been damned near a revelation.

Phoebe’s leveling up had increased her supply of Poniriá, the mystical energy she used for her engineering. She was able to shape the metal with her hands and fit it into the wood perfectly. Soon, we were tromping through the swamp water like a steam-powered daddy longlegs. And if we came to an especially deep part of the water, she simply adjusted the mechanical legs and we jacked up higher. She had levers she could pull to widen the frog-feet she’d put on the legs, which prevented us from sinking into the mud.

We were doing well until we came to a muddy ridge where a herd of the dinomythical stegosaurs and triceratopses were chomping on grass.

To the right and the left, the swamp water got seriously deep. The only way to get through was to take on the dinomythics head-on.

And for that, we needed a plan.

Luckily, I was with Phoebe, the smartest of the Amazons, and the one that I loved the most.

TWENTY-SIX

Out of Time

Phoebe and I crouched in the mud of the bank across from the ridge. We were hidden behind drooping lengths of moss hanging off a cypress tree, watching as the dinomythics ate the swamp grass above. My Rune-Caster had lowered her mech so it sat just above the waterline, nearly invisible and completely motionless. The dinomythics hadn’t noticed us yet, which was exactly how I wanted to keep it for the time being.

Above us, the emerald-colored plates on the backs of the stegosaurs caught the glint of morning light. Though the lumbering beasts looked relatively harmless, we knew from personal experience those plates powered their green-lightning breath. The triceratopses, likewise, seemed normal, but they could turn those massive horns of theirs into ballistae bolts at a moment’s notice and regrow new projectiles in a matter of seconds.

About as deadly as they came, though there were only a half dozen of the creatures—three lightning breathers, three horn-heads.

“Thoughts?” I croaked in a low whisper, never taking my eyes off the dinosaurs. The last thing I wanted was to glance away, only to be caught up in some sort of dino-stampede.

Phoebe turned to me and shrugged. “How about we play it straight up, huh? You go in there and wipe them out. I’ll slip up along the tree line just a bit, hit ’em hard from the side, and chop up the leftovers with my buzz saw.”

I thought my jaw was going to hit the floor. “Really?” I was surprised that her big plan to get past the dinomythics was for me to barrel into them like a divine battering ram.

“Hells yeah,” Phoebe replied with a twinkle in her eyes. “You gotta remember, Jacob. I’m not like Myrina. I don’t think you need to be coddled like some little baby. I’ve seen what you can do, and this?” She waved a hand at the dinos. “This you could handle blindfolded and hog-tied. Seriously, dude. You’re at full strength and these knuckleheads are ranged fighters. Get up close, and you should be able to cut through them without a second thought. And if they manage to fire on you …” She shrugged, clearly unconcerned. “Well, there’s an even money chance their pals will get caught in the crossfire. So, let’s just do the damned thing.”

I smiled, and the godstone flared up in approval.

Her words and her confidence—her genuine belief in my abilities—meant the world to me. And, moreover, she was right. After our night of rest and travel, I was up to my max of 451 Divine Essence Points and my Health was topped out at a sturdy 1010 points. If there was ever a time to go gonzo it was right then, and I felt the pressure of getting the fight over quickly. We had to get to the Temple of Cronus, get the Crystal Scythe, get back to Lycastia City, and resurrect Sabra before Hades got his dirty claws in her.

“Okay, let’s do this thing. You ready?”

“Born ready.” I couldn’t help but chuckle, since Amazons literally were born ready for battle.

I slipped into the murky, fetid water and glided to the riverbank, ripples spreading out behind me. Phoebe kept her mech low and used the line of tree cover on the banks to move south, unseen by the grazing monsters. I’d give her a second before I went charging up that ridge and put the hurtin’ on the dinomythics.

I counted to ten under my breath, then rose, dripping swamp water, and padded forward in a low crouch.

As I moved on silent feet, I accessed my gaming menu and triggered both Defender and Fury. Defender would armor me up, granting me Steel Skin, and Fury would basically unleash Hulk-smash mode—improving my regeneration and attack damage the more I got hit. My Furious Defender combo, as I’d come to think of it, made me an almost invulnerable killing machine. Hurt me? Fine. I’d heal it back, then chop you into lots of itsy-bitsy pieces. And, best of all, it only cost me a very reasonable sixty Essence Points. A steal, considering what I was getting.

I drew the War Blade with a hiss. Both it and the godstone seemed to howl with delight.

Damn, but I’d grown addicted to battle.

My metal skin did not slow me down as I broke into a run, charging up the ridge and onto the grassy knoll. A trio of dinomythics spotted me and let out a roar of warning. In a heartbeat, all six creatures were gunning for me. Triceratopses fired long horns at me as the stegosaurs ignited their back plates, unleashing raw lightning from beaked maws. I juked left, dodging a horn as thick as my forearm. The stegosaur to my right wasn’t so quick, and took the bony spear right to the face, golden ichor spurting out as it died.

A green-tinged lightning bolt cracked through the air, but I dove into a blazing-fast barrel roll. The sizzling line of energy smacked into a triceratops, making it dance like it had been plugged into a light socket.

I gained my feet and wheeled around. While the beast was helpless and recovering from the brutal electrical attack, I plunged the War Blade behind the bronze ridge of its skull and through its throat. It slumped down, body sagging, blood leaking. Another tri-horned monster lunged, looking to spear me. The horns screeched off my metal skin. I drove my crackling blade into its chest and triggered Lightning Lance, searing its heart like a steak. Fried that sucker medium-well.

Something hit me like a sledgehammer between the shoulder blades—an electrical blast, courtesy of a stegosaurus—hurling me forward. I stumbled and somehow managed to keep from face-planting. But as I regained my balance, I found myself face-to-face with the last triceratops, while the final two lightning-breathers closed in on the left and right. The bastards had hemmed me in … Too bad for them.

The Fury spell imbued my melee attacks with extra spice and I didn’t waste a second. I offered a defiant war cry and charged forward, War Blade raised. The triceratops wasn’t ready for that; its eyes widened in surprise and it tried to shuffle back on instinct, but its bulk made that nearly impossible. I closed the distance in an eyeblink and attacked—a whirlwind of flashing steel and burning anger. I cut, slashed, hacked, and stabbed my way through the triceratops, then turned my red-hot fury on the lightning-breather to my right.

I descended like death incarnate, and in moments only a smoking corpse remained. The War Blade smoked and sizzled the blood off its edge as I surveyed my bloody handiwork.

The clomp of heavy footfalls caught my ear. I stole a quick glance over one shoulder.

The last stegosaurs, now at my back, was charging up for an attack, but Phoebe emerged from the dense foliage just in time to save my ass. Her spider-legged mech crawled up onto the muddy spit of land; the buzz saw on her left arm roared to life and she went to work like a Texas Chainsaw enthusiast. She opened the skin of a stegosaurus, and entrails poured out. The creature turned on her, gray guts trailing out like crepe paper, and opened its mouth, ready to fry her instead.

A final fuck you before the beast died.

But Phoebe had a fuck you of her own. She raised her right arm and filled its face with crossbow bolts. Blinded, it mewled and thrashed, its spike-studded tail slamming into a nearby tree before whipping around and sideswiping Phoebe. A foot-long spit of bone slashed her arm, but that was it. Then, without ceremony, the creature simply keeled over onto its side, dying as its blood drained onto the ground.

As quickly as the mayhem had started, it was all over. Suddenly, Phoebe and I were alone on the ridge surrounded by the corpses of Nyx’s guardians. We had taken some light damage—a few nicks and scratches—but all in all, it had been an easy encounter. Both of our experience points chinged higher, and I swear I could hear the sound of a cash register.

“Not bad, War God, not bad.”

“Not bad? I’d say that was pretty good.” I fist-bumped her, my hand no longer chrome-plated. “I mean, we killed half a dozen of the guardians without breaking a sweat. I have plenty of Essence Points left. Damn, we could’ve taken another fifteen easily.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “And that right there is hubris. Watch out, Jacob, you get too big for your britches, there lies madness.”

I nodded, sobering for a minute. She was right. The godstone, however, wanted her to shut the fuck up. It wanted to convince me I was fine, and I didn’t need to listen to anyone. But that, I knew, was straight-up, one hundred percent Ares. And that arrogance had been the root of his destruction. “You’re right,” I said, pushing away the flare of angry resentment. “Good thing I’ve got you around to help me keep my head on straight. Now, let’s get to the rendezvous point. I’m thinking if I want more battle, I’ll find it at the Temple of Cronus in spades.”

I climbed up onto the steampunk mech, and Phoebe jacked up the legs. We left the carnage on top of the ridge and plunged back into the murky water. We had no other problems and made it out of the Great Swamps an hour later and with my Essence topped off once more.

Copses of trees dotted a vast grassy plain. Phoebe adjusted the legs of her mech, tweaked some joints, and added some struts, and soon we were running across the grassland, leaping over ditches, scurrying up hillocks, and dashing down the other side. Her steam engine chugged like a freight train behind schedule. The wind blew across my face.

We drew nearer to the single low mountain dominating the northern section of the cave. Perched at the top was the shifting Temple of Cronus—the blur I’d seen from Asteria’s back when we’d flown recon that first day. I was curious to get a closer look.

Through a thick coniferous forest, we managed to find cracked marble steps leading up the hill, crisscrossing back and forth in a series of switchbacks. I sniffed at the air and smelled the pine pollen, but a more sinister odor lingered in the air as well. It wasn’t the reek and rot of Earl’s forces—thank goodness for small miracles—but the slippery oily smell of the velociraptor centaurs. Which told me Euryale’s forces had managed to beat us here. We had no time to waste.

She had the Sower’s Glass, and the know-how to use it. So far, she hadn’t seemed particularly spiteful or evil, but if she got that scythe before me, who knew what she would be capable of.

“Let’s kick it into high gear,” I muttered, gaze fixed on the trees around us, searching for any sign of an ambush.

Phoebe nodded her reply and cranked on levers. The mech huffed and groaned, gaining even greater speed as we raced up the path, swung around a switchback, and kept going. I gripped my seat, white-knuckled. I was in tip-top shape and ready for the Gorgon, but I still felt uneasy.

The pines ended abruptly, and tall grasses took over. At the edge of the trees, Phoebe slowed, then stopped. “You should go on foot,” she said. “You’ll be quieter. The trees were muffling the sound of my engine, but once she’s out in the open, it will be all chugga, chugga, chugga.”

I nodded. Made sense.

Then a blast of sulfur hit me, followed by a purple light. Sophia appeared in front of us. She smiled wide, her eyes sparkling in relief. “Thank all the gods you are okay, War God. We were beginning to worry, and I must caution you—Myrina is very angry. She claims you stopped to sleep. Is that correct?”

I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Only a little.” I stole a sidelong glance at Phoebe, recalling our time together. “And it was completely, one hundred percent necessary. Very urgent. Life or death type thing.” Phoebe grinned like a madwoman, her cheeks flushing scarlet. “But I’m here now, so no need to worry. And I’ll deal with Myrina. Can you get me to the other Amazons?”

She nodded, gaze flicking between me and Phoebe.

“Get to the top as quick as you can,” I said to Phoebe.

“Sure will, my dude.”

Before I left, I kissed the Rune-Caster and squeezed her hand.

Then Sophia grabbed me, and we were gone in a burst of purple light and stink.

Teleporting was always a disconcerting experience—I went from being surrounded by pines to the top of the hill, awash in thick grass. All of my Amazons were hiding there, except for Antiope and Sabra. Losing both of them was brutal and would make the coming battle that much more difficult. But there was nothing that could be done about that.

Asteria dashed over, currently in the form of a big blue saber-tooth tiger. She tackled me like a lovesick kitten and licked my face with a sandpaper tongue. I kissed her furry cheek and scratched behind her ear, eliciting a deep-belly purr. “Okay, Asteria, I’m good. I love you too.”

Loxo came over, a smirk on her face. “Hey, Boss, good to see that you still like pussy.”

“As in cat. I get it,” I said, rolling my eyes. That lady was incorrigible.

Asteria let me up and I bounced to my feet. I hugged Loxo tight, glad to see she was okay. Ariadne stormed over and crushed us both to her chest. “It gladdens my heart to see you, War God,” the big woman rumbled. Thunderfoot snorted in agreement, pawing at the earth.

Buttercup the bear gave me a happy growl, and Euryleia smiled warmly at me.

I glanced about for Myrina.

She was crouched at the edge of the grasses next to a crumbling statue of a very pregnant woman surrounded by a gaggle of marble children. I had the feeling it was Gaea, Cronus’s mother, wife to the Sky Titan Uranus. The statue was huge, though old and weathered. More statues littered the temple’s sprawling grounds.

Cronus’s pad was as grand as all the other temples we’d seen, like a best-of tour of Athens. Gleaming marble columns, sandstone walls, graceful arches, a ceramic terracotta roof, and a buttload of friezes and sculptures carved into the walls. But I watched as the columns crumbled, the roof fell in, and, in a blink, grass covered the entire complex. The temple was gone and only an empty space remained.

What the hell?

A second later, however, ghostly figures appeared with hunks of marble and carved columns. I watched in silent fascination as the specters built the temple from scratch. Beams were lifted by engineers, artists chiseled away, and painters painted, but the work was all done in fast-forward, blurry with speed.

The workers faded away, and the temple was left standing still and alone. Grasses grew taller around it, vines slithered up the columns, and rain fell—water blown off the dripping roof by errant winds. Countless millennia passed in under a minute and the stone began to crumble away until the entire structure fell and every trace was gone, reclaimed by the plant life once more. Huh, so that explain why the place looked so distorted and strange from a distance.

As I watched, the cycle started over with the apparitions coming back to begin the process of rebuilding once more. It was an endlessly repeating loop of time, and I wouldn’t want to step into that time storm. I had the feeling you might die of thirst, starve to death, and be trapped in the millions if not billions of years as the temple was built and then eroded away into nothing.

As the cycle continued unabated, my eyes locked onto the biggest statue by far, which was that of a bearded man standing fifty feet above the ground. In his left hand he held the Sower’s Glass aloft, the hourglass rising up into the sky. In his right hand, he held a scythe in such a way that it formed an entryway to the temple, currently looping through time like Doctor Strange staring down Dormammu.

Euryale and her army of velocentaurs milled about on a paved courtyard, just outside the strange scythe-formed archway. Hundreds of scaly, dagger-footed creatures held a whole lot of different weapons from crossbows to bows to spears to axes to xiphos. A few even had scythes like Cronus’s towering above them.

“Finally, you have arrived,” Myrina muttered, clearly annoyed with me. “The Gorgon has been waiting for something.” She paused and squinted, as though another second of hard looking might reveal something new. “For what, I am not certain,” she finally conceded.

Euryale—her back to us, her head uncovered—held the hourglass in her snake-hands. Her gossamer gown swept lazily around her, stirred by a slight breeze.

“So what’s the play? Do we go down there and kick her ass now?” I wondered aloud. “Or wait until she does whatever she’s going to do with the Sower’s Glass?”

Myrina didn’t answer because like me, she had no idea. While the Gorgon might know how to access the temple using the hourglass, we were clueless.

Then I grinned. Because, yeah, I had a plan.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Go Time

After conferring with the troops and laying out my idea, I climbed to the top of the Gaea statue. My shield hung from my back, but I kept my right hand firmly on the War Blade. With my left hand, I put two fingers in my mouth and whistled loudly. My father had taught me to do that trick, and it worked like a charm.

Every single eye turned on me, including Euryale’s. Her veil was gone and she was ugly personified. Bat wings, boar’s tusks, a woman’s body but with a tail instead of legs. Her eyes flashed, and I felt her power hit me like a golden glove boxer smacking down the competition. But I held my ground. I didn’t show her I was burning Essence Points to meet her gaze. Instead, I acted like it was just a casual chat. “Good job beating Earl,” I said with a nod of genuine approval. “Though I am curious about why you haven’t gone in there to hang out with Cronus. Scared the god of time won’t appreciate your charms?”

The Gorgon laughed as the serpents composing her hairdo of awful slithered, writhed, and hissed. “Why, War God, I thought you were back with your machine, trudging up the path,” she said, ignoring my jab. “Frankly, I’m surprised you are here alone. Where are your pretties, darling? With a gorgeous entourage like that, I wouldn’t go anywhere without them.”

“They’re around,” I said, offering her a casual shrug. I dropped my eyes, to give myself a break. I hoped that since she was a hundred yards away, she wouldn’t know the difference. “But I ran ahead because I was dying to see the temple. Pretty cool that it won’t stay stuck in time. Never seen anything quite like that before.”

“Yes, darling,” the Gorgon agreed. “And that is because such a thing exists nowhere else. The home of Cronus, Titan-God, is unique in all the world. But with the Sower’s Glass, it’s possible to get the temple to stop, at least for a moment. When the glass crosses the threshold, the temple solidifies. However, that can be a precarious situation, for if I walk in at the wrong time, I might not find Cronus in his chambers. What a shame to gain access to the temple when its master is not at home. Then I would be stuck with the glass and no scythe. Or, if I am careless, I might find myself trapped in the loop as well. As you can see, it’s a tricky business.”

“Why don’t you let me have a try?” I asked.

“I like you, darling, but I think not. Not after all the trouble I went through to acquire the precious Sower’s Glass. Still, you’re”—she paused, tapping at her chin with a viper finger—“spunky. Tenacious. And smart. All admirable qualities. Now, why don’t you use them? Be a smart boy and scuttle off back to the surface and I won’t have to kill you.”

“That’s awful gracious of you, but here’s the thing. I’m not really asking. That fancy trinket belongs to me, and I intend to have it.” I turned on the messaging system. It would alert Antiope to our presence, but Earl was bound to show up at some point. No better time than now. Sophia! Get ready to hit me, baby.

Although none of my Amazons could look at the Gorgon, I could, and I could also exploit that dirty little trick just like I’d done while fighting against Stheno, Euryale’s equally snaky sister. Concentrating, I pushed my mind deeper into my troops. I knew from experience that if I pushed too hard I would end up usurping control of their bodies—something Ares had done often—turning them into living puppets, bent totally to my will. That? That I didn’t want. But right on the edge, the link seemed to allow them to experience my senses instead.

My briefly touched upon Antiope, and I wondered if it was possible to take control of her, since holy shit would that be helpful right about now. But no, her mind seemed to be guarded, insulated, by some sort of dark force. Damn. Well, it had been worth a shot anyway. I put the Dark Amazon from my thoughts and focused on the mission in front of me.

Now, I sent to the Teleporter as the deep bond temporarily clicked. With the link in place, she would be able to see through my eyes.

Sophia vanished in a puff of inky purple, reappearing a moment later with the rest of my Amazons, who were hiding behind the Gaea statue. Another version of her promptly appeared next to me, seized my arm, and vanished again. She’d used her Temporal Form ability to split in two, giving us twice the teleporting prowess—not quite as good as having a second Teleporter hanging around, but pretty damned cool all the same. When we emerged in a puff of smoke, it was right next to the snake-haired Gorgon, and there were four of us in place: me, Myrina, Sophia Prime and Sophia Two.

All three of my ’Zons had their eyes pressed tightly shut, yet they oriented on the Gorgon without a problem. Euryale yelped in surprise, swiped a snake hand at Sophia #1, then Sophia #2 while Myrina pressed in with a javelin. The Battle Warden wasn’t trying to maim, she was just trying to distract, and she was doing a helluva job. The twin Teleporters vanished again, both reappearing to lash out with light blows against scale-covered thighs and arms.

The velocentaurs were chirping in angry dismay and more than a few drew arrows tight, but none fired. In the chaos of purple smoke, thrashing limbs, and flashing bodies they risked hitting their mistress just as much as taking out one of my warriors. And while they were bound with indecision, I swung around and charged her back. Her troops cried out in warning—and more than a few took pop-shots at me—but it didn’t matter. She was so focused on keeping her skin whole, she didn’t realize I’d entered the fray until I shot forward with my War Blade and lopped one snake-fingered hand from her wrist.

The Sower’s Glass came with it, cartwheeling through the air.

The Gorgon howled in anger and hurt, blood leaking from the stump at the end of her arm. I felt a tiny twinge of guilt, since I actually kinda liked Euryale. I mean, we were never gonna be friends, but she wasn’t all bad. But war is war.

I grabbed the glass in midair and quickly pried the hand free—viper fingers snapping weakly at me the whole time. A menu item flashed in my display, but I had zero time to check it out. Everything depended on what I did in the next few seconds.

My Teleporters vanished, taking Myrina with them, leaving me all by my lonesome, which was just fine. I whirled around, facing the entrance to the shifting temple under the Cronus statue’s stone scythe.

Unsheathing the War Blade, I thrust the sword straight up and boomed, “Shockwave!” Clouds laced with lightning instantly filled the sky above me. The Gorgon reached to bite me with every snake finger she had left, but the monster was thrown back as I channeled a billion volts of electricity right into her nasty-ass face. Wrong time to attack this hombre. Euryale hit the ground, writhing in pain, and I was about to add to her discomfort. Sower’s Glass in one hand, War Blade in the other, I whirled and slammed my sword down onto the ground.

Euryale and her army found themselves at ground zero in an earthquake of pure energy. Lightning erupted from the earth in geysers, electrocuting my enemies and sending them shivering and shaking in agony. I didn’t get the entire cluster of velocentaurs, but I got an assload of ’em. The creatures were tough S.O.B.s, so the attack didn’t kill any outright, but it sure as shit incapacitated ’em. All were out of action for a minute as lightning blasted through their ranks in arcs of blue-white fury.

They’d be feeling that in the morning all right.

I didn’t have long, but I had long enough. I crouched, Sower’s Glass in hand, ready to move when the time was right. There. Through the entryway, I saw a bearded man standing between the columns of the blurry temple, traveling at breakneck speed through the time loop. And yeah, the dude bore a striking resemblance to the statue above me. If that wasn’t Cronus, I was about to find myself all Marty McFly, lost in time, and not a DeLorean in sight.

The man disappeared, and the cycle started again. But this time I was ready. As the vines began to sprout the man appeared—just a flash—and I lunged forward, risking everything. The second the Sower’s Glass crossed the threshold the ever-shifting temple came to an abrupt halt. It was like watching a stock car come to a screaming stop, tires smoking. The Temple of Cronus lay before me awash in green foliage and covered in grass.

The bearded man was gone, vanished, and I hoped that didn’t mean I’d screwed the pooch. No help for it, though. I sprinted toward a set of sprawling stairs leading up—

Something struck me in the ribs, hard, plucking the Sower’s Glass from my grasp as I stumbled from the blow. I only knew one thing that could move that fast. Her name was Antiope, and she was in full-on Burst Speed mode.

Fuck.

I whirled around, to find my former ally charging Euryale, and sure enough, she had the Sower’s Glass attached to her belt. She sideswiped the Gorgon, slamming the Vambraces of Boreas together, blasting the monstrous woman in the face at point-blank range. A sheen of ice encased the snake-woman’s head, and suddenly the burning golden light of the Gorgon’s eyes vanished. Boy was poor Euryale having a shitty day. She’d lost a hand and had a lightning bolt shoved up her ass, and now she’d been blasted in the grill by an arctic cold front. Insult to injury right there.

From above came a battalion of undead harpies, each carrying imps, dogs, and even a few gun-toting zombie thugs, held aloft by vines attached to the undead bird women. Earl Necro Earl had come to the party. As always, that dickwad had impeccable timing. He stormed onto the hilltop on a new mount: an undead T. rex he must’ve magicked back to life. ’Cause of course he had a fucking zombie T. rex. Werewolves dropping fur and rotten chunks of their own bodies loped beside him, as did decrepit nagas slithering forward of decaying tails. The stench of death washed over us like a tidal wave.

But worse than the smell … the asshole had Sabra’s lifeless body latched to the T. rex like some sort of grisly war trophy. A little screw you, because it wasn’t enough for him to kill my Amazon, he had to gloat. Man, but that brohole was gonna pay …

Necro Earl and the last of his forces—the dead, as well as those few living souls that had survived the Gorgon’s petrifying stare—came charging in. They rammed into the velocentaurs, splitting them like a razor-sharp ax through an old tree stump. The dinosaur-men were still reeling and recovering from my Shockwave attack. However, the velocentaurs were far from pushovers and rallied in a flash, ripping into the zombie werewolves and rotten nagas with frenzied zeal. Swords, axes, and spears clashed and rang as the armies fought.

Necro Earl on his nasty-ass Rex was quickly lost in the melee.

It was like before, outside the Caverns of Entomo: my Amazons and I had two armies to fight, but luckily, both of those armies were just as happy to beat the shit out of each other. That was something we could exploit. And even better, my ’Zons and I were at full strength. Plus, I knew something that Earl must’ve forgotten—assuming he’d ever learned the lesson at all. It was a lesson Euryale the Gorgon had been kind enough to impart to us ...

You don’t fly around the skies of Nyx, not unless you want hell to come storming down on you. A whistling, metallic shriek ripped at the air, followed by another and another.

Okay, guys, I messaged my team, let’s get to that temple. We’re about to get some much-needed help.

From the glowing crystal in the ceiling high above came dozens of the Stymphalian Omegas, each the size of a Harrier and fully equipped with lightning breath, hooked wings, and a bloodlust to rival a school of great whites. They flew down in a perfect formation, their shadows dancing across the ground.

Earl glanced up.

I couldn’t help but savor the look of surprise and fear on his face.

The Omegas fell like a meteor shower, blasting through ranks of undead beasties and velocentaurs alike. Some pulled up at the last second, racing only a few meters off the ground. Going that fast, their momentum helped them with their slaughter. The hooks at the end of their wings decapitated heads and cut the lumbering gun-thugs in half. But the undead harpies quickly mounted a counterattack. At least six landed on one of the winged guardians and all the fiendish bird women struck at once, ripping off emerald-colored plates and eating the flesh of the doomed Omega.

It slammed into the ground like a bunker buster, taking out other troops, leaving a deep furrow in the ground.

Imps cranked on the Gatling guns affixed to the shoulders of the beefy goons, spitting bullets across the battlefield and taking down velocentaurs until the dinosaur-men responded with a shower of arrows, spears, and javelins. It was full-on battle savagery on the hilltop, but I was thinking we could avoid the worst of it with a little luck and a little skill. The Gorgon and the necromancer could fight all they wanted. We had the Crystal Scythe to grab.

Skirting the main battle, my Amazons raced toward me and the entrance to the Temple of Cronus. I whirled, ready to make a break for it, when a xiphos hacked into my breastplate.

Antiope.

I’d lost track of her during the swell of onrushing enemies, but here she was. Alive and looking to pick a fight.

I got my shield in front of me for her next attack. Her blade hit like taking a sledgehammer, the clang of metal on metal vibrating in my teeth. I batted the attack away, then shot forward, smashing my shield into her face. She staggered back, blood running down from her nose and mouth in a sheet. Before she could recover, I thrust the War Blade forward and unleashed a Lightning Lance. The miracle lit her up like a Christmas tree and she went flying.

She hit the ground and rolled, regaining her feet, then bolted back toward me. Suddenly, I found myself parrying blow after blow. She was good, I was better … But I hesitated, just as I had when sparring with Myrina so long ago. I was holding back, almost against my own will. Antiope was my friend, or at least she had been my friend. It was hard to end her so cruelly, so callously. Her speed and strength forced me back through the entryway. The minute my sandals touched the ground on the other side of the gate, a voice boomed out, “WHO DARES DESECRATE MY TEMPLE!”

“God of War here,” I called out, catching Antiope’s blade on my own, saving my neck. I pushed her forward and we were back under the entryway. “I’ve come to talk, Cronus.”

“YOU WILL PAY, WAR GOD, FOR DISTURBING MY EXILE. YOU WILL FIND DEATH AS ALL CREATURES DO IN THE GRIP OF THE FORCES OF TIME ITSELF.”

Well, shit, that didn’t sound good.

Above the din of Antiope’s xiphos clashing with my blade, I heard a storm of noise, indistinct at first, but as I fought, I could make out a steady ticking sound. A tick-tock followed by the stamp of metal feet marching along stone. What the hell?

I triggered my Defender ability. My skin transformed into shining metal just as Antiope’s sword slammed into my chest. Her blade bounced off my enhanced flesh. Then I drove a metal fist into her face. She went down, hard, her already busted nose splashing me with a shower of gore. I should’ve ended her, but dammit! This was my Amazon, my friend. Staring down at her, it was hard to see anyone other than the selfless warrior who had died to save me and her sisters.

An earth-shattering roar split the air and I glanced at Earl sitting astride his Necro-Rex. It was impossible not to see Sabra’s butchered corpse, tied to Earl’s mount. Antiope had done that, I reminded myself. In my mind, I could see the Dark Amazon’s gleaming xiphos driving into the Forest-Witch’s throat. I could envision the dark blood spurting through the air and spilling down Sabra’s chest. I steeled myself. Antiope had become the enemy. I had to put her down—though I would do it quick. That much she deserved.

A slash of the War Blade would end her for good.

But my moment of hesitation cost me. She scuttled away, using her speed to flee before I could deliver the mortal wound.

Sophia appeared beside me with Loxo in tow, badly wounded and terribly pale. I cast a Mass Heal, hitting all my Amazons at once, my Essence dropping by fifty-five. I steadied my Huntress while Sophia puffed away, eager to rejoin the fight. Meanwhile, the tick-tocking, metallic stamping grew louder. Loxo spun, xiphos in one hand, her Snow Claw dagger in the other. “By Artemis’ sweet ass cheeks,” she cursed, dark eyes going wide.

I turned. In all that wonky chaos, I didn’t think things could get any weirder. I was wrong. Dead wrong.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Time after Time

Behind us, Earl Necro Earl’s troops and the last Gorgon’s velocentaurs fought in a clash of swords, whizzing bullets, and screaming arrows while Stymphalian Omegas killed indiscriminately. But the real show was dead ahead of us, pouring out the humongous, scythe-bladed arch leading into the temple proper. Apparently, Cronus had an army of his own.

As though we didn’t have enough shit to deal with already.

But Cronus’s force was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Hell, it was like nothing I’d ever even imagined before.

A host of bronze clockwork soldiers. Some armed with shields and wicked swords, others wielding bows, spears, and deadly javelins. The creatures were bulky automatons, each about seven feet tall and covered with thick metal armor, heavy rivets, and whirling gears—every saw-toothed cog visible. Their faces were the familiar circle of a clock: twelve digits, the little hand for the hour and the big hand counting minutes. They marched toward us like gladiator versions of Cogsworth from Beauty and the Beast.

As they drew closer I noticed an odd abnormality. At the center of each creature, imbedded right in the chest like a mechanical heart, was an hourglass. A smaller version of the Sower’s Glass, which was currently in Antiope’s possession. Seeing that, I felt a flash of unease rush through me. I’d seen enough fantasy and sci-fi movies to know whatever those things did, it wouldn’t be good.

But I banished my inkling of worry, since there was nothing I could do except push on. We might’ve avoided the battle with the Gorgon’s velocentaurs and Necro Earl’s nightmares, but clearly we were going to have to fight our way through the time god’s private guard. The sword-wielding clockwork warriors charged us while the ranged warriors knelt on the temple steps, knocking bows, raising javelins, preparing to pepper us with death from a distance.

I missed Sabra and her spells. She could’ve shielded us with vines so we didn’t have to take the first wave of incoming missiles head-on. Once I got back to Lycastia with the scythe in hand, I was gonna resurrect her and power-level the crap out of her.

I managed to bat away three arrows with my shield. Or so I thought …

I watched in a combination of awe and horror as the ranged automatons quickly flipped their hourglass hearts upside down, the white sand inside trickling into the empty chamber. The air around them shimmered, distorting, and suddenly arrows streaked back to their bows and they fired again in double speed. This time I was too slow, and I only dodged one arrow. The second slammed into my thigh and the third sunk into the meaty part of my left shoulder. These bastards could reverse time, which didn’t seem even remotely fair.

Battles shouldn’t have do-overs, dammit.

More clockwork support soldiers flung their javelins. Loxo ducked and danced, avoiding every spear like a total pro … Right until one of the time-shifting bastards blasted her with a re-thrown javelin. Down she went, gasping for breath as life leaked away and blood oozed from the sucking chest wound. She was alive but wouldn’t be for long. Ariadne, on Thunderfoot, stormed unhurt through the first round of arrows, but not the second-chance shafts. She and her bull were pin-cushioned by the projectiles, but she didn’t seem to have two shits to give.

Riding on top of her horned mount, Ariadne thundered forward, engaging the clockwork warriors.

Euryleia, I messaged, we need multiple targets to keep these freaks busy. Time to get the bears out!

The Beastiamancer didn’t miss a beat. She leapt from Buttercup and transformed in midair into a savage grizzly. At the same time, five other bears materialized out of thin air, landing on the ground with a boom. The seven battle bears broke into shuffle-footed runs and promptly smashed into the front-line clockwork warriors head-on. Absolutely brutal. Bear paws crashed into bronze armor, but the bodies reversed the damage.

Wait, what? How was that even possible?

The restored automatons slashed into the huge animals, spraying blood across the dirt.

I blasted Loxo with a burst of healing power, bringing her HP back up past ninety percent

With that done, I turned my sights back on Ariadne. She hacked her ax into the head of a clock-faced warrior, and its head exploded in a spray of gears and cogs. But then the damned hourglass inverted. Ariadne’s ax shot back, and the gears and cogs glommed together, repairing the mortal damage as the clock hands on its face spun backward. So, the ranged warriors got a second chance with their arrows, while the clockwork brawlers could reverse any damage they took. How the fuck could we fight against that?

I glanced at the hourglasses, and an idea hit like a brick to the back of the head.

No hourglasses … Well, then no wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff. “Focus on the sower glasses in their chests,” I shouted. “Take those things out, pronto!”

Thunderfoot charged and drove a horn through the metal chassis of a clockwork warrior, obliterating the hourglass in the process. The attack didn’t drop the creature, but the ferocious follow-up blow to the head, courtesy of my Beastimancer, did. And this time, the automaton stayed dead. That confirmed my suspicion. These things could regenerate as often as they wanted … unless, of course, their fancy time-turners were busted to shit.

Next to me, my generals attacked. Myrina hurled her lightning, fire, and cold javelins, taking out ranged support fighters. The lightning crashed through hourglasses, sending the white sands exploding into the air. The cold spear froze fragile joints and stalled clanking gears. The heat missile melted through the metal, slagging the creatures where they stood. Three of the support warriors toppled and didn’t get up. That’d learn ’em. But even with the secret unlocked, the odds were badly stacked against us.

Zombies and velocentaurs behind, Stymphalian Omegas overhead, and self-regenerating Clockmen ahead of us.

“This looks bad, Jacob,” Asteria said, sprinting up, then skittering to a halt beside me. She looked far more worried than usual. “I just leveled up though, so perhaps it is time for me to … to push myself. To test my limits. To try something new.” I glanced at her and noticed the utter determination etched into the lines of her face. Before I could stop her or even ask her what in the heck she had planned, she was gone …

The shifter sprinted forward, naked, lithe, and beautiful. But with each step, she grew bigger, bigger, bigger until she was the size of an elephant. Her body lengthened and contorted, arms elongating until she was running on her hands as well as her feet. A tail sprouted out of her back and a bulbous spike-studded wrecking ball bloomed on the end. In a handful of seconds the old Asteria was gone, and only a blue-scaled ankylosaur remained.

The turtle-shelled monstrosity spun and brought her spiked tail down into a collection of archers and brawlers, cracking glass and kicking ass. Loxo shot forward from the shadows around the temple and drove her magical dagger into the neck of a wounded automaton. Asteria had already killed him once, but that wasn’t going to cut it. Loxo murdered the creature a second time, and it finally stayed dead. The Huntress and the Beastiamancer fought together, Loxo taking care of Asteria’s leftovers.

Then it was time for me to do my part.

I cast a Mass Heal to take care of the missile damage my Amazons took in the first round. Next, I unleashed Plague Locust on the remaining archers, both blinding them and stopping their deadly onslaught. The three-inch-long insects chewed into the glass, ravenously gnawed on cast metal, and clogged clanking cogs with their chitinous bodies. The clockwork soldiers swept their bows and javelins through the air, trying to clear themselves of my plague, but the insects couldn’t be swatted away so easily.

That would buy us a little time. I ripped the arrows out of my thigh and shoulder, annoyed at the pain, getting pissed off. One of the summoned bears clawed through a warrior but missed the sandy heart. The hourglass tipped, and gears and cogs sprang back into its body, its mangled form working once again. And in retaliation, it rammed a short sword deep into the bear’s chest. The furry tank vanished with a puff of golden light. One bear down, but six more continued to fight.

I hit my Amazons and their friends with Burning Aura, and the results were immediate. The bronze-plated men closest to the deadly Amazons and bears tumbled to the ground as their legs melted from the sheer heat. A few had their gears fused together while others dropped their weapons, hands turning to molten goo. Their clockwork faces also burst into flames. But those damned hourglasses remained miraculously undamaged, and boom, with a single turn, the utter devastation was undone.

Arms, legs, and bodies reformed in an eyeblink.

Sons of bitches.

Ariadne had transformed into an enormous minotaur and was chopping through automatons left and right—her ax now painted with melted bronze. But in a whirl of hourglasses, her enemies were whole again. First one sword chopped into my minotaur, then another.

We were in trouble.

A sharp hook slashed across my back. The Stymphalian Omegas had changed up their attack. Instead of working over Necro Earl and his forces, they were now focusing on us. Which meant we’d have to contend against the time soldiers and the winged terrors above. Damn, but I missed Toxaris and her Pegasus, not to mention the other members of my Beastiamancer air force.

Sophia #1 teleported in, carrying Phoebe in her mech, followed shortly by Sophia #2, who was rather waxy and pale, though still kicking ass like a Muay Thai fighter. At least that was a piece of good news. Phoebe grinned up at me, her face painted with blood. “Ready to show these dickheads what we can do, my dude?”

“Totally,” I replied, offering her a fist to bump. “Let’s light ’em up.”

Phoebe lurched forward a few steps, raising her arms and unloading a hail of deadly bolts. An Omega swooped by, blasting us with lightning. I saw the attack from a mile away, however, and dashed forward, catching the magical strike on my shield, protecting my Rune-Caster while she worked.

We need to get those big-ass birds off us, I sent to Sophia, glancing at the twins. Can you two play tag team on at least one of them? Buy me some breathing room maybe?

“We live to serve,” came the prompt response.

Both women, glowing from the Burning Aura, vanished and appeared on top of the Omega that had slashed me. Sophia #1 cut into the gigantic death bird with a flaming katana, only to disappear when the creature snapped at her. Sophia #2 materialized on the other side, landing nimbly on a shoulder joint. With a mighty swipe of her sword, #2 cut off another wing and the beast plunged to the ground, spinning wildly out of control. That was awesome, but we still had a dozen of the massive beasts attacking us.

“Behind you, War God!” Sophia #1 cried out.

I whirled and found myself staring down a charging Omega with its mouth open wide, ready to bite me in half with wicked fangs. I raised the War Blade, ready to cleave the mean ol’ son of a bitch in two, but I was too slow by half—

Something huge came flashing into my peripheral vision. All I saw were scales and teeth and a mouth the size of a Volkswagen. That giant fanged maw chomped down onto the Omega. Holy. Shit. A blue T. rex chewed on the bird like it was Friday night at a Buffalo Wild Wings.

Fuck me running! All my dreams had come true. Asteria, decked out as a prehistoric killing machine, flicked the Omega away with contempt. She lurched into action, powerful legs pumping, and lashed out again with fang-studded jaws, pulling another Omega from the air. The other hell birds pulled back to rethink their poor life choices. Between my Teleporters harrying them and the big blue dinosaur of fury, we’d stopped being easy pickings, and now they were redirecting their wrath elsewhere.

Like on that asshole Earl Necro Earl.

And speaking of, the douchebag had finally broken through the archway with his moronic, roided-out thugs leading the charge. The misshapen imps clinging to their backs were joyously turning the cranks on the Gatling guns, dishing out rounds at the dive-bombing Omegas. Undead harpies joined the fight, taking to wing, harrying the prehistoric nightmare birds. I shuddered. Man, but those bitches were gross. I mean even alive they were hard to look at, but they were a gajillion times worse now that they were pretty much just rotting meat shedding greasy feathers.

With an effort of will, I turned my attention away from Earl’s army, scanning the field for Antiope, who had my Sower’s Glass. I found her going toe-to-toe with the Gorgon.

Euryale had finally broken free from the ice coating her head, and she was putting the screws to the Dark Amazon in retaliation. She’d driven Antiope to the ground and now my former friend lay there, writhing in pain as the snakes adorning the Gorgon’s head attacked. Every inch of Antiope’s exposed skin had been bitten and the wounds dripped pus from the poison.

I felt a pang of guilt watching Antiope suffer, but not enough of a pang to do anything to help her. Besides, Antiope was offering me a great distraction. About ten feet away from the struggling women lay the Sower’s Glass, unprotected and unnoticed—at least for the time being. Now was my chance. I triggered Fury, red rage burning through my veins, and broke into a sprint, beelining for the artifact as the Dark Amazon screamed. Unfortunately, a trio of velocentaurs on my right noticed me.

Need some coverage! I mass sent to my crew, hoping someone would be close enough to give me a hand. A boom rocked the ground beneath me as Asteria cannonballed into view, now in the form of a massive triceratops. She bellowed and snorted before absolutely steamrolling the incoming centaurs, impaling one on her horns, trampling the others underfoot. Good blocking, I yelled at her through the link.

The Gorgon off to my left whipped her head around, finally realizing what was happening, but it was too late. I closed the last five feet in a matter of steps, stooped low, and scooped the Sower’s Glass from the ground. Like before, my gaming system flashed an alert—an item description. This time I bothered to read it while I hauled ass away from Euryale and her stony gaze.

My jaw nearly dropped. Damn, but I wished I’d looked at it earlier.

I dismissed the item description as I ran, then glanced over my shoulder. The Gorgon was hightailing it toward me like a lunatic, snake fingers straining, and catching up despite my speed. I flipped her the bird with my free hand and triggered Sands of Time. The white sands inside the glass, like glittering ground diamond, flashed in a dazzling display of brilliance as every grain burned as bright as the sun.

Around me, the chaos of the battle immediately died. I slowed my frantic feet and sheathed the War Blade. Suddenly, I found myself alone in a frozen world. The battle had become a tableau, stopped and still.

Dude, sometimes it’s good being a god.

TWENTY-NINE

Time Flies When You’re Having Fun

I nearly cackled in mad glee as I threaded my way across the battlefield toward the temple. This was my chance to get inside the Temple of Cronus without all the muss and fuss of warfare. I glanced around, spinning slowly, awed by what I was seeing.

Zombie harpies and Stymphalian Omegas hung suspended above me, trapped in midair as though someone had painted them there. Sophia #1 and Sophia #2 were both in the process of reappearing, and I took a moment to marvel at how half of them were there, half of them gone—a torso here, a pair of legs there. Absolutely wild.

The air was completely still, not so much as a breeze since wind needed time to work, and I’d taken all the time away and tucked it safely in my pocket. The Sower’s Glass dropped blindingly bright sand into its bottom chamber, ticking away the ten minutes.

I needed to get into the temple, but I also realized that this was a perfect chance to give my troops the upper hand. True, I couldn’t harm or attack my enemies, but that didn’t mean I had no options. I spotted a burlap ammunition bag hanging off a Gatling gun thug. Gently, I pulled it free and emptied out the bullets. Then I headed over to the enraged Gorgon, slipped the sack over her head, and pulled the drawstrings tight. I tied them up using the best knot I knew, so it would take Euryale a hot minute to tear the bag off.

Next, I grabbed my shield off the ground and ran past frozen werewolves and three-headed dogs to where Necro Earl sat on his Rex mount. He had his mace, Deathbringer, raised and ready to slam the blue triceratops about to ram him. I couldn’t let that dick hit Asteria. Still, I wasn’t about to chance breaking the spell, so I didn’t take the mace out of his hand. Instead, I carefully adjusted his arm so the swing would go wide. Not much, but it would buy her some time.

Similarly, I moved through the battlefield like an unseen ghost, knocking arrows from the air, or repositioning them so they’d miss my troops and plow into opposition forces instead. There were still a fair number of clockwork men remaining, and they were definitely the biggest threat to my ’Zons at the moment. So, I turned the mechanical warriors around so they’d be vulnerable to the bears and Amazons attacking them. I surveyed my handiwork and nodded in satisfaction. Damn would our enemies be in for a rude surprise when time finally got its ass in gear again.

I checked the Sower’s Glass—just about five minutes left. Time to hit the temple.

I sprinted up the worn marble steps and entered the temple proper, which was a silent place where not even dust dared to go. I moved through the columns, winding my way deeper into the complex. The world was frozen all around me, yet I heard the clank of moving gears as though I were walking into the heart of a giant clock. I hooked right and passed under a meticulously carved archway, which let out into a massive circular chamber. Torches, trapped in time, lit the inner sanctum, their flames motionless, long shadows perfectly preserved.

Huge fluted pillars curved around the perimeter of the room and the walls were absolutely plastered with whirling cogs and clicking brass gears. The floors were decorated with colorful mosaics depicting the legends of Uranus, Gaea, and their children, who included Cronus, Entomo, and a bunch of other foul titans and gods. A right nasty looking bunch of bastards that I wouldn’t want to go up against.

At the far end of the room was a raised dais of sorts, with a hulking chair of white marble positioned at the center. A throne if ever I’d seen one. Behind the dais was an enormous clock face, at least the size of Big Ben, inset into the temple wall. Bronze hands ticked slowly by, undeterred by the fact that I’d frozen time. In front of the dais was a set of marble stairs, leading down. I paused, lifted my nose, and tasted the air. The smell of old incense drifted through the seemingly empty room.

“So, finally, a god has come to face me.” An old man’s croak echoed around the temple. Something moved on the other side of the dais, followed by the tap of wood on stone and the scrape of sandals shuffling across marble.

I stepped forward and drew the War Blade. “Yeah, that’s right,” I replied, searching for the speaker. “I’m Jacob Merely, the new god of war. And I’m guessing you are Cronus?”

“Being the god of time is a wearisome thing,” the voice replied, ignoring my question. A tap. A shuffle. A bald head fringed with white hair appeared. Above it was a blue blade. The air shimmered and danced, parting to reveal the rest of the man. He was bent and ancient and held the Crystal Scythe in a gnarled, arthritic hand. He wore a baggy ivory-colored tunic; beneath it was a skeletal body. His limbs were frightfully withered—little more than twigs—his skin as thin and frail as fall leaves. He looked like a strong breeze might kill him on the spot.

And as for the scythe, well he was using it as a cane, not as a weapon. Truthfully, the guy looked about as dangerous as a toothless housecat. An old, arthritic one at that.

Cronus inched his way to the front of the dais and stood beside the hulking throne, resting his free hand lightly on the chair’s high back. The Crystal Scythe had a polished stone shaft—petrified wood—topped by two feet of blade curving downward. It looked like a gigantic piece of sapphire had been chipped away to create the scythe head. The god of time wheezed then spat. “I feel every second, you know. From the moment I was born to this moment now, and onward, into the future. All the way to the end of the universe. All that relentless time, it weighs on me even more than my defeat at the hands of my own son, Zeus.”

“Well, you were going to eat him like you ate your other kids. Pretty messed up,” I said.

Cronus turned pensive, lips pursed into a thin thoughtful line. “I was young. Foolish. Back in those seconds, I didn’t want to give up my power and my glory. It’s hard to see your own star fall even as another rises. Surely, you as the god of war should understand that?” He glanced up, his eyes piercing despite his incredible age.

I shifted on anxious feet and remained silent. I would love to say the allure of power wasn’t important to me, but after going from zero to hero—from a nobody to a literal god, surrounded by an army of adoring women—it would be hard as hell to go back to the way things were before. That was probably why I hated Earl Necro Earl so much: he reminded me of who I had been. Of my old life. Of my failures and humiliations.

“Look, gramps,” I said after a beat, pushing away the uncomfortable thoughts, “I’m not looking to chitchat, okay? Just give me the Crystal Scythe and I’ll be on my way, no muss, no fuss. No one needs to get hurt.” I really hoped he’d take me up on my offer. I didn’t want to have to put the beatdown on such an old fogey. Hardly seemed fair.

Cronus simply stared at me, weighing me, measuring me, his gaze burning with an eternity of unknowable wisdom. I couldn’t help but wonder what he saw. After a time that seemed to stretch on forever and a day, he moved away from the throne and toward me. A step, then two. The scythe tapping on the stone. His robes rustling, his feet shuffling.

Seeing him walk, I had to chuckle. “It’s totally like the riddle, about the old man and his cane … You know the one. What walks on three legs in the evening?”

“By my father’s fury, that is an old riddle,” Cronus offered in reply, a small, tired smile on his pencil-thin lips. He got to the edge of the platform, and hair abruptly sprouted on his head. In an instant he looked younger. Healthier. Another step, this time moving down the stairs, and his withered arms grew a little thicker.

Well, that didn’t look promising. “Listen, Cronus, I want to save the world,” I said seriously, standing my ground. Refusing to back up. “Hades is back, he’s gathering an army, and if I don’t find a way to stop him, Earth is royally screwed. I know you gods don’t think too highly of humans, but I’m pretty fond of ’em. And I think I can use the Crystal Scythe to do some good. So let’s not do this thing, ’cause it’s gonna turn out poorly one way or the other.”

The godstone in my chest grew hot with frustration. It didn’t want to talk. It wanted battle!

Cronus stepped down, and his varicose-veined legs grew stronger, thicker. The wrinkled skin smoothed as newly formed quadriceps bulged. Even the yellowed toenails sticking out of his sandals changed as he stepped nearer.

“You know I can’t simply let you have the scythe,” Cronus said. He now had a full head of white hair and a big, bushy gray beard. “Its power is immense and in the wrong hands, it could be disastrous.” Another step and his white hair blackened, as did his beard. He was no longer using the scythe as a cane. He hefted it high as his biceps bulged. “Besides, it has been eons since I’ve known the thrill of war. Come, Jacob, come and fight me for it. Come and feel the wrath of time!”

The last brilliant grain of sand dropped into the bottom chamber of the Sower’s Glass and the light faded, died. Outside, the din of battle resumed. Distant noise trickled in. I knew my Amazons could handle themselves, but I wanted to get back there and help them. Time to take out Cronus and get what I’d come so far for. “Fine then, let’s see what you got!” I snarled, surging forward.

He bounded off the last of the steps, now the same age as me, though he was taller than me by at least a foot. Which was really saying something since with all my levels, I was now edging up past nine feet.

I triggered my Defender ability as I ran, and my skin steeled over, a wave of cold rippling over my torso and along my arms and legs. Cronus let out a deafening war cry and the scythe came screaming down toward my face. With a flick of my wrist, I caught the strike with my War Blade, golden sparks blasting away in a shower on contact. But damn was he quick. He jerked the scythe down, canted the blade, then slashed—the tip leaving a deep gash in my bicep, easily cutting through the metal. Blood streamed down, shining scarlet against the bright steel.

Well, that cleared up just how powerful the scythe was. Clearly, it could end me if I wasn’t careful. Apparently, the god-killing-hype was true.

He shot left and lashed out again, but this time I used the indestructible Sower’s Glass to block the attack before lunging in low with my blade. He danced back, his movements quick and agile like a boxer wearing down his opponent, and parried my thrust with the shaft of his weapon. Then, in a blink, he ducked in, driving a knee upward, blasting me in the gut, followed by an elbow to my face. Even with my steel skin, my nose crunched and more blood dribbled onto the mosaics covering the floor.

I staggered back as a fierce wind blew through the temple. A piece of the ceiling fell to my right as a column crumbled. Terracotta tiles came smashing down in a rain of debris.

“What the hell!” I gasped.

“This is my home,” Cronus taunted, “and you’ll have to do much better if you hope to best me, youngling.” A massive column as big around as a redwood crashed toward us. Without even looking, Cronus simply slipped out of the way as though he knew exactly where it would tumble. Marble and tiles exploded in a wave of shrapnel that peppered my face and arms. Not painful, not with the Defender ability in place, but the swirling debris cloud made it damn tough to see.

A swish of movement on my right. I spun just in time to see a blue blade flash toward me. Suddenly, I was back on the defensive, turning each stroke, narrowly keeping the deadly weapon from hacking me to pieces. But it was a near thing, and more blows fell every second. A flurry of slashes, thrusts, and twirls. The Defender ability lapsed, my steel skin fading away. I felt painfully exposed. I knew the ability wouldn’t protect me from the scythe anyway, but still …

While we fought, the room morphed around us. The stone altar melted away, piece by piece, as did the dais, and more of the temple dropped down around us. What in the hell was going on? I deflected another blow with the Sower’s Glass and tried to skewer him on the lightning-wreathed War Blade, but he backpedaled—always just out of reach. The guy was fast as a fucking cheetah and just as graceful. Another column fell. Cronus spun, avoiding it by inches and making it look easy. I, on the other hand, had to dive out of the column’s path.

I rolled across the now colorless tiles and leapt to my feet. The mosaic floor was gone, the colors all faded to gray.

Which is when it hit me—I knew what was going on. Cronus had sent the temple spiraling forward in time, returning it to the loop I’d seen before I’d used the Sower’s Glass to stop it. Not only was he a tough son of a bitch, but he’d turned the whole fucking room against me. Perfect. Just what I needed.

Cronus lunged, and I slipped back to avoid him as a thunderous crack echoed through the room. A column toppled, slamming into me like a giant’s baseball bat, driving me down and pinning me to the floor. That time-bending asshole had set me up. I wheezed, struggling to breathe as I wriggled and strained against the colossal pillar, sweat breaking out across my forehead from the effort. But it was useless. The thing must’ve weighed five tons and was crushing me like a bug.

Cronus stepped forward, scythe raised to chop my head off. I lifted one hand and fired off a Lightning Lance, which slammed into his chest, knocking him back a step or two.

Meanwhile the temple continued its frantic race through history; the marble became porous, then brittle. How many eons had passed in that second for marble to melt away into nothing? Cronus recovered from my cheap shot and slashed at me. The pillar disappeared in the same instant, so I rolled right, avoiding the death sentence by inches. I scrambled back to my feet—panting from the exertion, a little woozy from the blood loss—and unleashed another Lightning Lance with my left hand.

The miracle arced through the air, catching him in the leg, and the force of the blow spun him around.

Finally, I had an opening, and I meant to exploit the fuck out of it. With his back still turned, I triggered Defender again then unleashed the War Blade’s Greater Lycanthropy ability. My body twisted, contorted, elongated; I went from steel-skinned warrior to full-metal werewolf. My armor, the Mammoth Cloak, the Sower’s Glass, and my War Blade all disappeared, absorbing into my new body. Steel claws burst from the ends of my fingers, shining electric blue.

With a feral snarl, I charged, eating up the ground on all fours. The temple disappeared around me, but only for a moment. In a heartbeat, ghostly workers appeared on the grassy hilltop. Scrawny, dirty humans dressed in rags lugged chunks of marble, which I leapt on even as other workers took chisels to the stone. I sped across the horizontal pillar and vaulted off it and onto Cronus as he turned to face me.

His eyes widened in shock. He hadn’t expected to be fighting a metallic werewolf—because let’s face it, how could anyone ever prepare for that. I dug my claws down, drawing blood for the first time. He was as strong as he was fast, though, and managed to throw my ass into a craftsman laying the mosaics. My claws scattered the tiles in a wave behind me. I dove under a column as it was pulled upright by hundreds of men, then wheeled around.

Cronus knew exactly where to be as the temple was rebuilt. He appeared, like an apparition out of nowhere, and slashed at me with the Crystal Scythe. This time, however, I had the speed advantage.

I dodged the blow and shot in, latching onto his side with my fangs, tasting a god’s blood for the first time. Not bad. Like juicy chicken. Maybe, for Cronus, eating his kids had been like tossing down chicken nuggets at the local McDonald’s. A wave of nausea rolled through me at the thought, and suddenly I had a newfound appreciation for Asteria. If I kept becoming a wolf, I might end up eating anything I could get my teeth into, just like her.

Cronus let out a yelp. My momentum took us both to the floor, which was still under construction. More tiles went flying. We tumbled head over heels into a sturdy pair of legs … which belonged to another god. This one was thirty feet tall, bearded, in a toga, and holding a glowing lightning bolt. Zeus. Holy shit, I was seeing the Zeus that had imprisoned his father in the temple, millennia ago.

The Father of the Gods stepped back, watching us, but not with very much interest. And then, just like everything else in this place, he faded, swept away by the winds of time. Leaving me and Time God alone in the temple, which was now fully reconstructed.

I didn’t pause. I leapt onto Cronus again, knocking away his weapon with my giant lupine paw. The Crystal Scythe went spinning and clattering across the floor.

I zeroed in on Cronus’s throat. One lunge, one snap, and I could chew through his neck and leave him headless.

“Stop!” the Time God shouted in desperation, thrusting a pleading hand forward. “Please, I beg you. Stop!”

The godstone literally laughed inside my head. As if I would stop. This was the heat of battle and I was about to win …

A memory flashed through my frenzied mind as I crouched there, ready to attack. To kill. To feast. I could see myself in the Mirror of True Reflection. Who was I? Jacob Merely? Or a war god who could kill without mercy? Cronus had lost his scythe. And he was growing younger under me until all that was left was a ten-year-old boy with fear burning bright in his eyes.

“Please,” child Cronus whispered. “Please, spare me. I would not go into the endless night, not just yet. For what would happen to me? Even I cannot pierce that veil.” His voice trembled as he spoke. “And what of the world? What would the universe be without time?”

“Pretty fucking boring,” I growled and slunk off him. My blood was hot, and I wanted to rend flesh more than anything in the world, but with a sheer effort of will, I resumed my human form. Once again, I stood on human feet, Sower’s Glass in one hand, the War Blade in the other.

Boy-Cronus crawled toward the Crystal Scythe.

“I’m warning you, kid,” I said, “you come at me again and nothing on earth will keep me from turning you into meat paste. I’m merciful but not dumb.”

Even though the weapon must’ve weighed several hundred pounds, the boy lifted it and gained his feet. He headed over to me, and my hand tightened around the grip of my War Blade. “I didn’t make this, you know,” the child said, holding the scythe aloft. “It was forged for me by Gaea herself—an instrument of terrible violence, meant to tip the scales in favor of justice. She gave it to me to slay my father.” He dropped to his knees and offered it to me. “And now, I would give it to you. You are a different kind of god, I think, and one that I find interesting. If any is worthy to wield it, it is you.”

Is this some sort of trick? I thought.

I wasn’t sure, but there was only one way to find out. I sheathed the War Blade and reached out for the Crystal Scythe.

“But a word of warning,” the boy god said, still gripping the weapon. “Gaea entrusted the scythe’s power to me, but in time I became a tyrant as bad as my father. Such is the nature of power. So guard yourself and your heart, or you may find yourself becoming the very thing you fight against.”

I nodded in reply as his fingers uncurled and he retracted his hand. An alert flashed, and I checked out my new item. It was completely badass. A new hope filled me.

I dismissed the screen and glanced down. Cronus wasn’t ten anymore. He was a baby, lying in his toga, smiling and cooing contentedly at me. Man, this was fucking weird. And right before my eyes, he continued to shrink away until he was nothing at all. The temple ceased its endless shifting, lifeless without its master to give it purpose. I glanced down at the floor—only the toga remained. I toed it like Darth Vader digging his foot around in Obi-Won Kenobi’s empty robes. Wow, and just like that Cronus was gone, but like Zeus, I knew he was around. Where? When? Who knew. But around all the same.

I pushed thoughts of the Time God away as screams and cries invaded from outside the temple. There was a thunderous explosion of noise, followed by an ominous silence.

With my hard-fought prize in hand, I sped back outside to the top steps of the Temple of Cronus.

The first thing I saw? Euryale was trapped in a solid coat of gleaming ice. It wasn’t just her head this time. Nope. Antiope had ensnared her in a prison of cold. The Dark Amazon stood next to the popsicle Gorgon, glaring up at me. All the Gorgon’s velociraptor centaurs were dead, as were the Stymphalian Omegas and Cronus’s time troopers. Shattered glass, piles of sand, gears, and cogs spilled out across inert bodies. That was all good news.

The bad?

All of my Amazons were imprisoned in bone cages rising out of the ground. Asteria was human again, bound in spiked bones. Sophia, only one person now, also had spiked bones piercing her wrists. Myrina threw herself against the ossified bars but the cages held. Not even Ariadne, still in minotaur form, could break out. They must’ve had powerful magic to keep my Amazons trapped like that—probably some sort of once-a-day bonus, since I hadn’t seen Earl use it before. More concerning, those bone cages were getting smaller with every second.

A few more minutes, and my Amazons would be crushed to death.

Earl Necro Earl’s army—the living and dead—stood nearby to lick up the smushed muck once those bone bars closed completely.

Fury burned through me. I was down on Essence Points, but I had enough Health that I could make a go of it. The godstone burned in my chest. I was going to give in to the gem’s awful rage and hit that fucker Earl with everything I had.

The necromancer himself strutted forward, his undead T. rex down for the count behind him. Asteria had turned the reptilian mount into gory meat-pulp. Good.

Earl slung Deathbringer across one shoulder. “So here we are again. You do the hard work, I reap the reward. I’m gonna take that sickle the same way I took the hourglass.” He offered me a big ol’ shit-eating grin and extended his free hand. Give me the scythe, that gesture said. “I fucking love being the villain. You should give up this hero shit and try it some time.”

He raised the glowing skull-mace, and my Amazons let out cries of pain. If I charged him, they would die. I had to use my head before I could use my battle skills.

Don’t worry, I told the godstone. You’ll get to fight. Trust me.

Then I smiled at Earl. “I’m not the hero, and I’m not the villain. I’m the god of war, Earl. Or have you forgotten?”

THIRTY

Time to Die

Behind me, the Temple of Cronus looked like it had when I’d first entered. I stood on the cracked marble steps with vine-covered columns on either side of me. The sun crystals were beginning to dim as twilight came to the strange Caverns of Nyx. I’d spent the beginning of the day hauling ass to get to the temple on the hill and then the rest of the day fighting battle after battle. I was tired—exhausted really—but there’d be plenty of time to kick up my heels and relax once I knocked Earl’s teeth into the back of his skull.

My Amazons continued to wriggle and struggle against the bone cages trapping them, but their efforts were as good as useless.

Necro Earl smirked at me while his grisly army waited for his command.

I ignored him, quickly pulling up my gaming display. Hot damn. I’d leveled up—the big twenty-five—and I knew just what to do. Without a moment’s hesitation, I dropped four points into Strength and six into Intelligence.

My max Essence Points jumped to 476. As for my Ability Point, I maxed out Defender.

It would come in useful against Earl’s mace as well as any conjured weapons he might have hiding up his sleeve. That was all fine and good, but the real edge came from what I could now do with the War Blade. It quivered in its sheath.

The War Blade was ready for action like never before.

Necro Earl didn’t know it, but I was about to rain a shitstorm down onto him.

But the necromancer had a few secrets of his own. Emerald light exploded from the head of his otherworldly mace. I watched as the radiance swept over the gore-strewn battlefield, causing the slain velocentaurs to gain their undead reptilian feet. The new undead recruits mingled with the battered remnants of Earl’s army, which hadn’t taken as many casualties as I would’ve liked.

Necro Earl grinned. “God of war can’t beat the god of death, ’cause death always wins. Just like I always win. So instead of doing this pointless little dance, how’s about you just give me the scythe, and I’ll only kill half your Amazons.” He paused and nodded. “Yeah, I feel like half is fair. And then I’ll chop off one of your arms. But again, only one. Half. I’m not unreasonable, after all, dicklick.”

I glared at him, dead in the eye. “Pussy,” I said with a sneer. “How about you and I fight. Just you versus me. Winner takes it all.”

He rolled his eyes and waved his mace at me. “Now, why would I do that? I got your bitches in cages. I got my undead army. I got the winning hand. I’m thinking whatever magic you used to disappear into time, you can’t do that again—this island has all kinds of wonky, bullshit rules like that. So that means, fuck you, I win. Give me the fucking scythe. Or all your bitches die. Period. End of story. Earl for the motherfucking win, dipshit.”

Another flash of Deathbringer, and the bone cages surrounding my friends tightened further. Even Myrina let out a yelp of pain as wicked barbs of bone bit down, drawing bright beads of blood. Buttercup roared in agony and Euryleia gasped. The bear and the Beastiamancer were in the same cage, and it was crushing them together, mashing them into one. Somehow Earl’s magic was keeping Sophia and Asteria trapped in space, in time, and in their current human bodies.

Even the uber-tough Ariadne wept in fear and agony.

That pissed me off. And I let my anger show. “You’re the biggest bitch-ass douchebag I’ve ever met in my whole life, you know that? Only a punk would take hostages to avoid a real fight. You talk a mean game, and you got swagger for miles, but it’s all an act. A show. Underneath all that bullshit, you’re just a scared, incompetent, whiny little bitch. You’d never go toe-to-toe with me. You said it yourself—you skulk in the shadows and let other people do your dirty work for you. You're a bully, and everyone knows bullies are pussies in a straight-up fight.”

Necro Earl sniggered. “You’d use that Crystal Scythe on me. Obviously. And I got an army for a reason. I ain’t no pussy, Jakey. I’m smart.” He tapped at his temple, a lopsided grin on his face.

“Spoken like a true bitch,” I spat. “The thing about scared little pussies like you is they’re always looking for excuses. But me? I’m not looking for an excuse, because I’m not afraid of you. I’ve got your number. I won’t use the scythe, you don’t use your army. We fight each other, mano a mano. Let the best Marine win. And for the record, I am the best Marine.

“You were more popular, but my evals always blew yours out of the water. Plus, you do pull-ups like a girl.” I paused and glanced at my ’Zons. “Wait, no I take that back. Any one of these women could PT your ass into the ground, you POG-ass Boot. No, I take that back too—you’re a fucking Shower Shoe, and Chesty Puller would be ashamed to have you in the Corps.” I could see the hate ignite in his face like a bonfire.

“Boot? You’re calling me a Boot? A Shower Shoe? You, Jacob Merely?!” he screamed. “You were never a real Marine, piss-stain. You know it, and I know it. You never fit in because you were such a gamer dork fuck. No one liked you. No one trusted you. You’re weak. And don’t you dare talk about Chesty. He would’ve drop-kicked your ass out of a helicopter. You don’t rate a fucking Eagle, Globe, and Anchor.”

“I’m not the one backing down from a fight now,” I said, meeting his gaze. “So tell me again who doesn’t rate?”

His undead troops stood without any emotion on their rotten faces. His living soldiers, however, looked on him with cool eyes. Judging eyes. Imps, gun-toting goons, his three-headed dogs, all kept their gazes on their master, wondering what he would do. Antiope stood next to the ice-cubed Gorgon, arms crossed and face hard. Amazons, even Dark Amazons, valued strength and battle prowess. I knew if he backed down, she’d lose all respect for him. And Necro Earl knew it too.

He glanced at her, his eyes narrow slits, and then did exactly what I wanted him to do.

“Fine,” he snarled. “You wanna do this, then let’s do this. You were a little bitch in the Corps, and you’re a little bitch here. Ain’t no way I’ll lose. You have no idea the shit me and Deathbringer can do.”

I set the Sower’s Glass down and then slammed the Crystal Scythe into the marble, planting it like the flag on Iwo Jima. That would make sure none of Earl’s minions could sneak around and pull it out while I wasn’t looking. You’d have to have god-like strength be able to free the Crystal Scythe.

I strode down the steps, drawing my shield onto my arm and unsheathing the War Blade. Electric blue lightning like a colossal bug zapper raced along the supernatural steel. I was at full Health and already back up to 379 Essence Points. Enough to drop a metric shit-ton of miracles on his ass. I’d already used my Shockwave ability for the day, but I could still wolf out once more, and I planned on emptying every can of whoop-ass in my arsenal.

I was going to enjoy putting the beatdown on this bullying piece of shit. The godstone agreed, and again, the War Blade shivered in my grip. Eager for battle and blood and death.

Necro Earl held his mace in a two-handed grip and raised the weapon high, preparing to attack. Then, in a blink, he grew a good three feet and his skin disappeared. Melted away, along with the muscle and sinew beneath. Only a skeletal warrior remained, a dozen feet tall, at least, with an awful greenish cloud surrounding him like swamp mist in a cemetery. “Bring it, asshole!” he boomed, his voice raspy, inhuman, and half-mad. “Fuck with the best, die like the rest!”

I sprinted forward, hauling my sword back, ready to take his head off with it. Or so it looked. At ten feet out, he planted his feet, bracing for impact. I sorely disappointed him. Instead of finishing my madcap rush, I skittered to a halt and thrust my blade straight out, a conduit for my Divine power. “Plague Locust!” The War Blade flared a vibrant jade as a cloud of insects materialized—a firehose of droning wings and biting mandibles, released at point-blank range into Earl’s stupid face.

The swarm of bugs hit him head-on like a cannonball of living force, blasting him from his feet by the sheer force of a zillion bugs all working in unison. He arced through the air and slammed onto the ground with a whoof of expelled air, covered head to toe in ravenous insects. They chewed into his armor, gnawed on the bones underneath, and flooded into every nook and cranny. Vacant eye sockets. Gaping mouth. Between rib bones.

Necro Earl swatted frantically at the creatures, booted heels drumming on the stone, but for every bug he swatted, five more took its place. The locusts were insatiable and they only had one enemy. Him. Earl struggled back to his feet—his body covered with a crawling tapestry of green—and raised his mace up high, like a lightning rod waiting for a strike. Sickly green light erupted from the weapon, and half the insects dropped from the air, curling up in death.

There were still plenty running interference, however, and I wasn’t going to waste my chance.

I cast Burning Aura as I darted forward, legs pumping like mad, sword canted out to one side. Golden light erupted around me like starfire. Earl batted away a small cloud of bugs boring into his eyes, just in time to see my glowing blade carve through the air, on a crash course with his face.

Earl moved in a flash, driven by instinct and self-preservation.

His left hand jerked toward me, fingers splayed back, emerald light surrounding his palm like a greasy halo. A host of bones leapt from the bodies of the dead, coalescing into a gore-stained bone shield that floated above his arm. The War Blade thunked into the yellowed shield, driving deep, but not quite deep enough to penetrate all the way. The bones in the shield groaned and shifted, re-forming around my blade. Trapping it in place. What a world-class asshole Earl was. I had one ace up my sleeve, but I didn’t want to use it—not unless I had to, and this still seemed salvageable.

I yanked at the sword, muscles straining, but that sucker was lodged in there good and tight.

Skeletor Earl didn’t have lips—because, duh, his head was a fucking skull—but if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve sworn he was grinning at me. A real eat a dick smile. While I continued to tug at the blade, he raised one foot and blasted me in the chest. The blow ripped the sword’s grip from my hand and left me reeling unsteadily. Earl drove his mace down onto my helm. At the very last second, I triggered Defender and my skin turned to steel. Thankfully, with the added level-two bonuses, what might’ve been a killing blow merely ended up ringing my bell.

White starbursts sprinted across my vision and my Health bar plunged by a fifth, but I stayed alive and on my feet. Not too shabby.

The necromancer twirled his weapon and struck again. I felt terribly exposed without the War Blade, but dammit, I wasn’t gonna lose to Earl Necro Earl. I gritted my teeth and raised my left arm, intercepting the blow on my shield, saving my dear sweet skull in the process. My left arm, though, wasn’t quite so lucky. A crack like a gun report sounded, and my arm abruptly sagged in the middle, despite the shield in place. My forearm was now S shaped, which probably wasn’t a great sign.

Holy shit did Earl hit hard.

But I blocked out the pain and ignored the drooping limb, jabbing out with my right hand, unleashing Lightning Lance. Blue-white light slammed into his shield, shattering bone shards, a plume of acrid gray smoke drifting up. I grabbed hold of the War Blade’s handle and yanked again with every ounce of strength I could muster. This time the weapon came free. I stumbled back. Another mace blow came in fast and furious. I sidestepped the blow by inches, whirled, and drove my shield into his chest.

Thanks to my broken arm, the hit probably hurt me more than him, but it momentarily threw him off balance. He staggered drunkenly, but before I could dart in and finish him off, the mace was flashing toward me again. Damn, but the guy was stupid-fast.

The insects he’d killed swept up in a cloud and slammed into me, blinding me. They couldn’t eat through my steel skin, but they sure as shit made it tough to see.

That dick. He was using my own plague locusts against me. The very idea put a rage in my belly. Well, since I was angry, I might as well go Furious Defender on his ass. A powerful cocktail of white-knuckled adrenaline and red-hot hate filled me up, and thanks to the added Regen from Fury, my arm popped right back into place, bone knitting together in real time. I issued a thunderous war cry and charged through the milling cloud of zombie locusts. I bulldozed forward and lashed out wildly.

The bugs had blinded me, sure, but they’d also blinded Earl and he wasn’t ready for my reckless assault. The War Blade screamed through the air, slamming into his left arm just below the elbow. He howled as his forearm flopped to the deck, black ichor seeping from his stump.

I felt like cackling, high on the rush of battle and the exhilaration of seeing my enemy suffer.

I pressed my attack, raining a flurry of blows down on him, putting him on his heels. But he was ready for me, battle mace flicking through the air with uncanny ease and speed. We quickly settled into a natural rhythm, trading blows. Begrudgingly, I had to admit he was pretty damned good. Tough. But every time he got lucky and managed to hit me, that only fueled my Fury further, giving me back some Health and adding to my rage.

His bone shield reformed. I found myself hemmed in by his weapon and the tangle of blood-encrusted bones. And then something smashed into my back. Hard. I lost my footing and was headed for a full-on face-plant. At the last minute, I managed to turn the fall into a roll, but as I was coming up to my feet, a booted foot caught me square in the face, and down I went, sprawling on my back. Deathbringer came careening down. I rolled left, then right. Dirt from the missed blows exploded up in a geyser, peppering my face.

I spun and slammed my shin into Necro Earl’s ankle, knocking his feet out from under him. He went down hard, and I sprang to my feet, determined to end the battle right then and there.

Once more, however, something slammed into my side like an NFL linebacker, saving Earl.

I wheeled right and found Earl’s severed hand scuttling across the battlefield toward me like a spider. Except the hand had grown. Like a lot. Now it was the size of a fucking lion, skittering around on five long fingers, all tipped with filth-encrusted nails. I squared off against the freak limb, slashing through one finger, then another, and then sent the thumb cartwheeling across the battlefield. It went rolling to a stop near Antiope’s feet.

Deathbringer crashed into the side of my head for a second time, knocking off a third of my HP in a single blow. I turned, narrowly avoiding a follow-up swing, and sent a javelin of lightning as thick as my wrist right into Earl’s head, electrifying his skull. I lit that sucker-punching bastard up like a jack-o’-lantern plugged into a nuclear power plant. He let out a scream, smoke wafting up from his eye sockets. Served him right. The lightning arced from Earl to the skeletal hand-spider, disintegrating the last of the overgrown fingers to ashy dust.

The Defender Miracle lapsed, my skin returning to normal, and I knew I needed to end this battle now. Earl was one tough SOB, and I couldn’t afford to go up against him without the added protection of Steel Skin, and unfortunately, Defender had a five-minute cooldown. While Earl recovered from the Lightning Lance, I charged, dropping my sword blade low, ready to disembowel the asswipe—

Something wrapped around my ankle, pulling me up short. I glanced down. There were a pair of rotting hands protruding from the ground—these normal-sized at least—wrapped around my right foot like a fucking vise-grip. Necro Earl took that moment to go for the killing blow. He whirled his mace around and around. A diseased green mist poured out from the skull on the end. I chopped at the hands holding me in place, desperate to get clear, but it was too late. The toxic green cloud enveloped me, and the minute I breathed that gas in, I started to choke. To wheeze. To cough.

It was some sort of poison gas, and my Health plunged like a stone.

I coughed and hacked, blood frothing from my lips, and I fell to my knees, suddenly unable to stand. My nerveless fingers dropped the War Blade into the dirt and I frantically clawed at my throat as though that might somehow help me get the air I so desperately needed.

Necro Earl roared laughter. “See, dick? See? You can’t beat me. Now I’m gonna end this fight once and for all. But know this—when I kill you, I’m gonna bring you back from the dead so whenever I have to take a piss, I can piss on you. You’re gonna be my own undead urinal.”

He stalked forward. Deathbringer ignited again in a hideous light. Somehow, Earl had grown back his arm, but instead of fingers, he had a spiked flail dangling from his elbow, connected by a chain made of spinal vertebrae. He swung the flail around and drove it into my back, knocking me flat. I lay on my belly, still wheezing for air, trying to gain my feet. But it felt like an impossible task—Sisyphus rolling a boulder forever uphill.

“Jacob!” Myrina shouted. “Get up! Do not surrender! Fight, damn you, fight!”

“Yeah, beat his ass!” Phoebe yelled, utter confidence filling her words. She believed in me. They all did.

Necro Earl put one thick bone-armored foot on my neck. “Now, where’s my driving iron? I’m feeling a hole in one.”

THIRTY-ONE

End Game

I still had one ace up my sleeve.

I reached out a trembling hand, focusing my will on the War Blade lying on the ground a few feet away.

The Blade rattled and quivered with a life of its own.

“Eat a dick, Jakey,” Earl snarled, sweeping Deathbringer down to take my head off my shoulders.

The War Blade sprang from the dirt and raced through the air. The deadly bone mace slammed into the floating sword, golden sparks exploding out in a shower. Now that I was a level twenty-five War God, I could access the sword’s final ability, Spectral Blade.

Against an opponent like Earl Necro Earl, a level seven Battle Warden wouldn’t stand much of a chance, but it would buy me some time.

“What the shit?” Necro Earl cursed. The dancing sword slashed at his throat. Lucky for him, his bone shield flew up to protect him. Still, he was driven back as the War Blade chopped, slashed, and jabbed at him.

With Spectral Blade active, I wasn’t sure I could trigger Greater Lycanthropy, but I hoped for the best, toggling over to the ability in my combat display screen. To my delight and surprise, I found the option still available, which opened up a world of possibilities. If I could cast my War Blade spells while the weapon was fighting for me, it meant I’d be able to utilize both the sword and my new Crystal Scythe to maximum effect!

I activated the ability and felt my body shift into a massive lupine creature—a beast built for speed and battle and bloodshed.

“What in the actual shit?” Earl screamed out in panic, gaze shifting between me and the floating, death-dealing sword. Whatever he’d been prepared for, this clearly wasn’t it. And now the bullying dickweed was gonna pay.

I sped out of the poison cloud, running into clean air, clearing my lungs in the process. Then I spun and loped across the ground on all fours, circling back around to the necromancer. Earl frantically batted away the War Blade, and while he was distracted I lunged in low, snapping at his legs. He spun and lashed out with a leg, catching me on the chin with a kick that shaved off a sliver of my HP. My jaws snapped shut with a clack and I shook away the stars dancing in my vision.

I slunk back, then circled left as Necro Earl tangled with the War Blade, his mace flicking and flashing, desperately trying to fend off the possessed sword. I raised a talon-tipped hand and unleashed a wrist-thick blast of Lightning. But I didn’t aim at him. Instead I aimed at the dusty ground near his shuffling boots. The Lightning Lance gouged a divot into the ground and blasted up a huge plume of gritty earth. Then I moved. It was hard to see through the debris cloud swirling in the air, but with my preternatural nose, it was easy to track Necro Earl, who smelled like a dumpster of rotten meat.

I bolted in on all fours, carving through the dust, and chomped down with my jaws as I drew into range. My wicked fangs crunched down hard on his wrist, snapping off his flail arm. The bones went clattering to the ground.

The dust settled around us and suddenly, Earl was on the defensive, forced to battle both me as a werewolf and the War Blade, still slashing viciously at him. And now he had to do it one-handed. The War Blade and I worked in tandem. When Earl struck at the floating sword, he left himself open, and I scratched the shit out of his bone armor. When he used Deathbringer on me, I danced away, fast and agile, while the War Blade slashed off pieces of his armor. In a handful of heartbeats he was standing there as a mere skeleton, armorless, fighting desperately for his life.

He swung his mace—a major leaguer hitting for the fences—but I was ready. I bolted in, clamping down on Deathbringer with my teeth, then pulled the weapon free with one mighty jerk of my head. The weapon came free from his grasp, and I flung it back with a flick of my neck. And just like that, Earl was naked and defenseless, save for a dirty loincloth decorating his nether bits and an ancient bone ring encircling one finger. Whatever spell had rendered him a skeleton wavered and dissipated; he reverted to his pasty human form once more. Once again, he’d regrown his left arm—an impressive trick for sure—but without Deathbringer, he was just some fucking guy, and I was the god of war.

The green glow of the mace in the dirt guttered and faded. The minute it did, every undead monster fell to the ground, dead. And the bone cages holding my Amazons disintegrated, gone as abruptly as they’d come.

“No!” Necro Earl screamed, glancing around wild eyed. Then he had other shit to worry about. The War Blade came down on Earl’s head, but he managed to skitter aside just in time to avoid having his skull cleaved in two. Still, he wasn’t quite quick enough to escape entirely, and the War Blade removed his right ear, leaving a gaping, bloody hole in its wake. He snarled, clapping one hand to the side of his head as crimson gore gushed down the side of his face.

I resumed my human form and recalled my War Blade with a twirl of my wrist. Secure the area, I sent to my girls as I unleashed Healing Touch, bringing them all back to full Health.

All around me, my Amazons sprang into action, engaging the remainder of Necro Earl’s army. The living warriors, anyway, since the dead were all done for. Asteria roared to life, and it was Jurassic Park time. In an instant, she was a blue T. rex, and nothing was going to stop her. Antiope took two steps, but only two, before she was hit by lightning, fire, and ice. That was Myrina, exacting her revenge with her trifecta of magical javelins.

As for me, I marched forward slowly, confidently, death incarnate. Rage radiated off me like a mushroom cloud. I was going to tear out Necro Earl’s throat, rip off his head, and shit down his throat. Fear glinted in Earl’s eyes—he knew exactly what was coming next.

The bully turned into the whiny little bitch I’d always known he was beneath his big talk. He backpedaled away from me, his face a sheet of blood. “Wait, Jacob, wait.” He lifted his hands, pleading. “Come on, bro. Wait. No, I was just kidding. This ain’t real, right? This Greek god shit can’t be real. It’s just some fucking game.” He stole a look left, then right, searching from some way out like the trapped rat he was. “Come on, man, don’t kill me! We’re brothers. Semper Fi, man. Semper fucking Fi, right?”

The godstone took over. It didn’t care that he wanted mercy, and to tell you the truth, neither did I.

Necro Earl could see the resolve etched into the lines of my body; I couldn’t be reasoned with and he seemed to know it in his soul. He was going to die, and that was that. He snarled, any sign of contrition fleeing his face as he touched the bone ring on his finger. The ground between us exploded up like an IED, a wave of raw force slapping against me like a giant hand, hurling me onto my ass. I rolled over backwards and came up to a knee, ready for whatever bullshit he was going to throw at me next.

The dust and debris settled and when it did I found Earl in a low crouch, bone mace in hand. But he wasn’t about to try and fight me again. He was in escape mode. And standing beside him was his ticket to freedom: Praxidike, or what was left of her anyway. She looked like hell. Skin sloughing off, meat rotting, gleaming bone peeping through in places. She didn’t quip, didn’t pay any attention to me. She was as dead as dead came, but her leathery wings still looked functional. She shuffled over, grabbed Necro Earl beneath the arms, and took off like a rocket, wings beating furiously as she rose.

Antiope broke away from my Amazons and leapt up, catching hold of the zombie Fury’s whip, which trailed down from the creature’s hip like a serpent’s tail. I watched, fury bubbling in my gut, as the three of them went flying off the hilltop and into the sky. And with the Stymphalian Omegas dead, there was a damned good chance they’d actually make it out alive. Damn. They dropped low, disappearing behind the canopy of towering trees. Gone. Asteria turned from tiny-armed, big-mouthed T. rex into a pterodactyl to pursue them, but I knew she wouldn’t catch them.

They had a helluva head start and Earl was one wily son of a gun. One way or another, he’d get free. Guy was worse than a cockroach.

Anger shimmered inside me, but I pushed it down. Maybe today wasn’t the day Earl Necro Earl died, but I would get him soon. Especially since the Crystal Scythe now belonged to me. I tore my gaze from the skyline and surveyed the battlefield. Our enemies were gone. No sign of Euryale the Gorgon, which was okay. We certainly weren’t friends, but I wasn’t sure we were enemies either. Just parties on opposing sides. I turned with a grunt and headed up the temple’s steps. I slid my War Blade into its sheath and tied the Sower’s Glass to my belt.

Then, with a heave, I pulled the Crystal Scythe from the marble. I regarded the weapon for a long minute, savoring the thrum of arcane power in my grasp. Below me, my Amazons had gone still. They looked up at me now, eyes shining with approval and pride. Even Myrina seemed to glow with reluctant admiration. Sure, we’d come here for the Crystal Scythe, but I’d accomplished so much more than that. I’d given my warriors hope.

I could see it burning in their faces, blazing in their eyes. Maybe I wasn’t Ares, but maybe that was a good thing.

The air grew heavy, silent, as my little ragtag band of ’Zons waited for me to speak. “You did good out there,” I said after a time, raising my scythe high. “You fought hard. Viciously. Bravely. Putting it all on the table. We’ve suffered, we’ve bled, we’ve paid a heavy price for our victories. But it was worth paying.” I paused, searching their faces: Myrina, Phoebe, Asteria, Loxo, Euryleia, Ariadne, Sophia. I was proud of them, and I could see that same pride reflected back toward me.

“You look tired,” I continued. “You deserve rest. You deserve a feast. A celebration for your hard work and tireless devotion. But we’re not done yet. We came here for this, sure.” I twirled the scythe. “But we still have a city to defend and Amazons to resurrect. And every moment we wait is one moment longer for Hades to find our friends in the Underworld and corrupt them for his dark purposes. And that?” I grimaced and shook my head. “I’m not having that shit. So now is the time to finish as strong as we started. Let’s get back to Lycastia, beat the shit out of anything that stands in our way, and save our friends. It’s time for us to man the fuck up and go save the day.”

THIRTY-TWO

Homeward Bound

It took us less than three hours to make it back to the exit of the Cave of Nyx. With the Stymphalian Omegas butchered and dead, Asteria was able to take to the skies once more and ferry our team across the expansive cavern in no time at all—though she was worn out by the time she finished. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Necro Earl at all, but that was fine. I’d catch that asshole sooner or later and finish what I’d started.

I guided us through the jagged hole in the cavern wall we’d first stumbled through, then paused. Behind us lay a humid jungle full of lush greenery—looming palm trees, massive ferns, otherworld flowers in a riot of colors. Directly in front of us, just on the other side of the opening, was the handful of dust and debris I’d tossed into the air just after crossing the threshold into this strange world. This world, which sat outside of time. Despite the fact that we’d been in the Cavern of Nyx for several days, that dust hadn’t moved. Not an inch.

It hung there: motionless and perfect.

Behind the frozen dust was the mosaic-covered staircase, which led back up to Stheno’s lair. Before stepping back into the flow of time, I studied the images on the steps in closer detail. At the bottom was a tiny baby—one I’d seen not so long ago—curled around the bright blue scythe I now held in my hand. As the stairs ascended the little baby grew older and older, a boy of ten here, a young man of twenty-five there, a fifty-something man with flowing black hair, followed by a bent-backed old-timer with a head like a hard-boiled egg.

Cronus.

He was alive, that much I knew, and I couldn’t help wonder whether we’d ever see him again. I guess time would tell … Ba-Dum-CH!

“Alright,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “Let’s do this. It was 5:55 a.m. when we entered, which means we have less than five minutes to get through Stheno’s lair, back to the surface, and over to Lycastia City before the next wave of Earl’s forces hit.”

“Do you really think the attacks will continue since you so soundly defeated Earl?” Asteria asked, head cocked to one side.

“Yeah. Every eight hours, right?” I replied. “I mean, it’s possible he didn’t have a raiding party ready to hit us, but I wouldn’t count on it. Better to be safe than sorry. So once we get back through, Sophia is with me. We’re gonna teleport up through the caverns and get back to the city ASAP. Everyone else follow as quickly as you can. Now, let’s get gone. On three. One … two … three …” We stepped through as one.

The second I passed the invisible barrier separating the Cavern of Nyx from Stheno’s lair, the dust I’d tossed days ago promptly floated to the floor around us, settling on the stone.

But that wasn’t the only thing that happened. Not even close.

I immediately dropped to a knee as time seemed to settle back around me like an iron cloak. My bones ached, my muscles groaned, and my stomach twisted itself into a knot. I felt older. As though the time we’d spent away was slamming into me all at once like a runaway pickup truck. My Essence didn’t waver, not even a little, but I noticed my HP plunged by over a quarter, leaving me instantly weary and nauseous. I glanced to my left and right and saw that my Amazons were likewise grabbing the floor, their HP drastically reduced.

Apparently, there were side effects to living outside of time. Ones that we hadn’t known about. We’d only spent a few days in there and returning had nearly killed us. I couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened had we spent a week or a month or a year inside. Or a hundred years for that matter? My mind flashed to Euryale. Would I have simply turned to dust on the spot? Eradicated as time crushed me under its merciless heel? I didn’t know and was damned glad I hadn’t accidentally killed myself—boy would that have been embarrassing.

As I shook off the sudden sickness and stood, the ground trembled and quivered beneath me. I turned back toward the jungle-filled cavern, brow furrowed in concentration as I inspected the entry. At my side, the Sower’s Glass began to bleed golden light, radiating terrible heat. The ground trembled more insistently, rocks cracking, fissures forming in the jagged stone overhead as dust and pebbles rained down—a few at first, then more, and bigger.

Well shit. That wasn’t good.

“It’s gonna collapse!” I shouted, wheeling toward the stairs. “Everyone, move your asses!”

My Amazons were anything but stupid and were running for the stairs before I’d even gotten all the words out of my mouth. I followed them up, taking the steps two and three at a time as the passage leading down to the Cavern of Nyx imploded on itself. A faulty mine caving under its own weight. By the time I was at the top, the stairwell was gone, and a jumble of rock and dusty scree was the only testament that it had ever been there at all.

“A safeguard, maybe?” Phoebe asked, quirking an eyebrow at me, breathing hard. “Or maybe it was the power of the Sower’s Glass that kept the cavern fixed in time?”

I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t know whether I’d ever know. Eventually I would need to get some answers—could I reopen a way? what happened to the people still inside?—since the cavern had some tremendous strategic potential, but before I could voice my thoughts, my watch beeped, brrp-brrp-brrp, sounding the time: 6:00 a.m. Shit, shit, shit. We needed to move and move now.

“Later. We’ll talk later,” I said to Phoebe. “Sophia, you’re with me. Get me back to Lycastia City as fast as you can shake it. Everyone else, you know what to do.”

Without another word, my Teleporter padded her way through the ranks of Amazons, latched onto my wrist with one hand, and teleported us away in a puff of purple. Sulphurous stink filled my nostrils and crawled across my tongue. The trip back through Stheno’s lair was a disorienting series of jumps—disappearing and reappearing over and over again as we zipped through the cavern, arriving topside in under a minute.

The second we cleared the stony-walled cavern, a message blared inside my head like an emergency beacon. War God, where are you?! We are under attack and about to be overrun at the southern gate! It was Hippolyta, and even through the mental link she sounded more than a little bit desperate.

Use the Shield of Perseus! I barked back through the link. We’d won the shield after defeating Stheno, and with it, the wielder could cast a stone gaze spell once a day, which had proved to be invaluable on more than one occasion.

I already did, came her immediate reply. That is the only thing that saved us from being overrun by a squad of cyclopes, but there are reinforcements pouring in. Elite werewolves, at least a hundred strong on the southern front. Please hurry!

“Let’s move, Sophia!” I hollered.

Once more the Teleporter grabbed ahold of me and we were off, the Gorgon’s lair vanishing in a blink, replaced by a thick swatch of forest, but then that was gone too. Flash, waterfall. Flash, a rocky outcropping on the north mountain. Flash, more dense jungle, a rotted log jutting up like a broken bone. Flash, and then we were there, my feet touching down on the rebuilt southern wall. We’d repaired the wall itself, but we hadn’t had the resources to fix the southern gatehouse, and its absence was showing.

Big time.

The southern field was littered with bodies and barbed wire, trenches, berms, and incoming horrors. Most of my Amazons were down there, hooking and jabbing with spears and short swords, working in squads of three and four. Eight enormous cyclopes stood frozen, their thick bodies petrified into solid stone. But the incoming werewolves were as vicious as they came, and my troops were still reeling from the last battle we’d had against Necro Earl and his hellish forces. We had minutes, tops, before they breached our defenses and flooded into the city proper.

Thankfully, there was no sign of the necromancer himself, and all of the troops rushing our defenses were alive and breathing—which meant they would be that much easier to kill.

My air support swooped in, led by Toxaris on her Pegasus, Flutterhoney. Arrows and javelins fell like rain, momentarily darkening the sky, but the incoming werewolves were wearing heavy armor as black as midnight, which turned away every projectile. Holy shit, but they seemed to have as much armor as M1A1 tanks. It was surprising they could even move with so much metal clinging to their bodies. I squinted, noting the acid-green runes etched into the dark steel. Some sort of magical protection.

Which meant Earl and his minions had somehow managed to unlock their version of Elemental Smithing. Fuck. I had some catching up to do, but for now it was time to put the smackdown on these mangy mutts.

“Thank the gods, you’re here!” Hippolyta said, rushing over to me, a streak of crimson trailing down her face, her left arm dangling uselessly at her side, blood dripping from her limp fingers. “These werewolves are impervious to all but the most brutal assaults—not even the ballistae bolts can put them down. What would you have us do?” she asked, her eyes flicking to the Crystal Scythe in my hand, curiosity burning in her gaze. She didn’t ask about it, though.

After resurrecting her, I’d learned that Hippolyta was a firm believer in hierarchy. Amazons needed to know their place, and asking the war god about his business? Yeah, that wasn’t their place, at least not in Hippolyta’s mind.

I reached out one hand and touched her shoulder, releasing a dose of Healing Touch, whisking away her wounds with a thought and a trickle of Divine Essence. “What would I have you do? I’d have you watch and learn.” I grinned, hefting the Crystal Scythe so it caught the early morning light. “Because this right here is a game changer.” I pulled the War Blade free and tossed it into the air. It shuddered to life, floating beside me as I leapt over the retaining wall and hit the ground like Wrath incarnate.

The Crystal Scythe blazed in my hand, ready to taste blood.

I triggered Fury and Defender and rushed forward with a roar, my legs churning as I met the first wave of attackers like the tip of a deadly spear. I smashed their ranks and scattered them like dust in the wind, shouldering some out of the way, smashing jagged teeth in with my knees and elbows. The War Blade fought with hellish fury, slaying any werewolf who tried to flank me, and the scythe? It cut through heavy metal armor and furry flesh as though they were made of surgical gauze and flower petals. The heavy, rune-etched armor didn’t stand a chance, which made perfect sense. Hecate’s Edge allowed the scythe to slice through spells, blessings, and miracles alike.

And holy shit did it work like a charm.

Even more badass, its blade burned with arctic blue light and dealt frost damage at every touch—leaving behind blackened, frostbitten skin in its wake.

I spun and twirled, laughing like a madman as blood flew in arcs and splattered across my face and chest. The whole while, a roaring bonfire of Divine Essence flooded into my body with every kill I made, stolen by the Leech Touch enchantment that came with the scythe. I drove deeper into the mass of werewolves, letting them surround me—a circle of fur and fangs five deep on every side. There were at least fifty of the bastards fighting to get to me. Boy were those bad odds. For them.

I checked my combat interface while I fought. The scythe had a bunch of special features and new options, many of which were still locked.

But not all of them.

I triggered Time Orb, a twice-a-day ability tied to the weapon.

A dome of shifting, opalescent energy exploded out from the scythe in a perfect circle, fifty feet in diameter and forty feet up. A countdown timer appeared in the corner of my eye—thirty seconds. The werewolves caught within the dome continued to move, but slowly. So, so, so slowly. They inched along as though trapped in molasses-coated quicksand. Not me though. Nope, I felt light as air. I shot forward, lashing out with the scythe, cutting down the nearest werewolf like a sheaf of wheat.

His head left his shoulders and tumbled down at one-eighth speed, but I was already moving on to the next wolf. My next victim. On I danced, working my way through the crowd, my War Blade following behind, unaffected by the spell, slaying indiscriminately. In less than twenty seconds, every werewolf inside the dome was dead or dying. The countdown timer finally flashed and disappeared, taking the dome of opal light with it; my enemies hit the deck in perfect unison as time caught up with them all at once. I paused, breathing heavy, and spun in a slow circle.

Not a single werewolf was left standing. At least not near me, and I grinned as the few survivors turned tail and ran, breaking for the jungle and away from the killing field.

Around me my Amazons were just staring at me, mouths hanging slack in sheer awe. And I couldn’t blame them, not a bit. After all, as far as most of them were concerned, I’d only left the city a little over an hour ago. And now, here I was, a couple of feet bigger, cloaked in Steel Skin, and wielding the weapon of a long-vanished Titan while my War Blade fought by my side unassisted. Their confusion was justified. I called my sword back and stashed it in its sheath.

A shadow flickered over me, and I glanced up to see Asteria glide by in the form of a giant blue eagle, Myrina and Phoebe riding on her back. The Rune-Crafter had left her mech back at the cave it seemed.

Hey beautiful, swoop down and give me a lift back to the wall, I sent to Asteria. The giant bird complied at once, issuing a bloodcurdling shriek in reply. She banked hard right, wheeled around, and dove, her talons extended. She picked me up as though I weighed nothing at all and set me down on the wall a moment later. She pumped her wings and landed, Myrina and Phoebe sliding off as the Beastiamancer shifted back into her human form—naked and gorgeous.

With a giggle, Asteria slipped up on my right, threading her arms around me while Phoebe did the same on my left. Myrina stood just behind me, one hand resting lightly on my shoulder. I could feel the respect, the fierce pride, radiating off her in waves. Below, my Amazons gathered, forming a semicircle as they stared up at me. Sophia appeared in a cloud of inky purple, depositing Loxo, Ariadne, and Euryleia on the bloody battlefield—their mounts were absent, at least for now.

Seeing them, knowing they were safe, put my soul at ease. They were my family, and it was good to have them so near. We had a long road ahead of us, no doubt. Enemies to kill. Levels to grind. Defenses to build. Amazons to create and resurrect. But dammit, I had the best crew in town and together I knew there was nothing we couldn’t accomplish. I pulled my War Blade free and raised it in my left hand, then lifted the scythe high in my right.

Myrina pulled her hand away and moved around until she was facing me. Slowly, she dropped her gaze and genuflected, her knee dipping toward the ground in a sign of respect. Of reverence even. “War God,” she said, standing, that same pride I’d felt moments ago filling her face. “There was a time I doubted you.” She spoke loudly enough for all the assembled Amazons to hear clearly. “A time I doubted your prowess. Your strength. Your ability to do what needs to be done.” She faltered, a ghost of a smile appearing on her lips. “Yet you have proven me wrong. A truth I will rarely confess to.

“You have proven to me, to my sisters”—she swept a hand around in a circle and the rest of my Amazons fell to one knee—“that you are a war god worth following. Worth serving. As the Sage Warrior of your people once said, you have crushed your enemies, driven them before you, and we have heard the lamentations of their women. You have come as a conqueror, and we live to serve.”

I couldn’t help but snort softly—I wasn’t sure anyone would consider Conan the Barbarian a Sage Warrior, but I appreciated the sentiment all the same. “Thank you, but this wasn’t my victory alone,” I replied, voice carrying over the deathly quiet battlefield. “I may have defeated Necro Earl and his army, but I couldn’t have done it without each and every one of you.

“I might be the god of war, but we are a team and this is your victory as much as it is mine. We have a lot to do. We have to resurrect Sabra, right away. Earl is still alive and kicking—something I aim to rectify as soon as possible—the ancient sigil is still damaged, and it won’t be long until Hades walks among us again. But for now. In this moment? It’s time to feast! To eat. To celebrate. And then tomorrow we’ll set out to kill a god!”

“All hail the god of war!” came the thunderous reply.

Books, Mailing List, and Reviews

If you enjoyed reading about Jacob and his crew of badass Amazonian warriors and want to stay in the loop about the latest book releases, awesomepromotional deals, and upcoming book giveaways be sure to subscribe to my Mailing List Your email address will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time.You can also connect with me on my Facebook Fan Page: James Hunter Fan Page Be sure to check out Aaron Crash’s Fan Page as well: Aaron Crash on Facebook

Word-of-mouth and book reviews are crazy helpful for the success of any writer. If you really enjoyed reading about Jacob and the gang, please consider leaving a short review—just a couple of lines about your overall reading experience. You can click here to leave a review at Amazon, and thank you in advance: War God’s Mantle: Descent

If you love my books and need more litRPG right this minute, then you might want to pick up Viridian Gate Online: Cataclysm (Book 1) Already read that? Well, you might also like my Yancy Lazarus Series, which is gritty, tough, shoot-em-up Urban Fantasy at its finest. If Harry Dresden had an older, grumpier, drunker, more gun-happy uncle, you’d have Yancy Lazarus. Get the first book here: Strange Magic (Yancy Lazarus Episode One)

Other Works by James A. Hunter

James A. Hunter

Strange Magic (Yancy Lazarus Episode One)

Cold Hearted (Yancy Lazarus Episode Two)

Flashback: Siren Song (Yancy Lazarus Episode 2.5)

Wendigo Rising (Yancy Lazarus Episode Three)

Flashback: The Morrigan (Yancy Lazarus Episode 3.5)

Savage Prophet (Yancy Lazarus Episode Four)
Brimstone Blues: A Yancy Lazarus Novel

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MudMan (A Lazarus World Novel)

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Two-Faced: Legend of the Treesinger

Soul Game: Legend of the Treesinger

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Viridian Gate Online: Cataclysm (Book 1)

Viridian Gate Online: Crimson Alliance (Book 2)

Viridian Gate Online: The Jade Lord (Book 3)

Viridian Gate Online: Imperial Legion (Book 4)

Viridian Gate Online: The Lich Priest (Book 5)

The Artificer DLC 1.1: A Viridian Gate Online Novel

Other Works by Aaron Crash

Aaron Crash

Damnation Robot: Galactic Demon Hunters (Book 1)

Neutron Dragon Attack: Galactic Demon Hunters (Book 2)

Black Hole Werewolves: Galactic Demon Hunter (Book 3)

Books from Shadow Alley Press

eden Hudson

Revenge of the Bloodslinger: A Jubal Van Zandt Novel (Book 1)

Beautiful Corpse: A Jubal Van Zandt Novel (Book 2)

Soul Jar: A Jubal Van Zandt Novel (Book 3)

Garden of Time: A Jubal Van Zandt Novel (Book 4)

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Halo Bound (Redneck Apocalypse Book 1)

Lion’s Den (Redneck Apocalypse Book 1.5)

Hell Bent (Redneck Apocalypse Book 2)

God Killer (Redneck Apocalypse Book 3)

About the Author

James A. Hunter

Hey all, my name is James Hunter and I’m a writer, among other things. So just a little about me: I’m a former Marine Corps Sergeant, combat veteran, and pirate hunter (seriously). I’m also a member of The Royal Order of the Shellback—’cause that’s a real thing. I’ve also been a missionary and international aid worker in Bangkok, Thailand. And, a space-ship captain, can’t forget that.

Okay … the last one is only in my imagination.

Currently, I’m a stay at home Dad—taking care of my two kids—while also writing full time, making up absurd stories that I hope people will continue to buy. When I’m not working, writing, or spending time with family, I occasionally eat and sleep.

Aaron Crash

As Aaron Michael Ritchey, he writes award-winning and bestselling young adult novels. As Aaron Crash, he writes adrenaline-fueled odysseys into the extreme regions of sci-fi/fantasy. If you're looking for cyborg vampires or jellyfish centaurs, you've come to the right place. Either way, he grew up reading fast, fun, action novels, and so he decided to write those kinds of books. They're kind of a departure from his AMR stuff, but not really. You'll still get excitement, drama, and explosions, man, lots of explosions.

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And, if you love litRPG and want to find more of wonky books like Viridian Gate Online, check out the GameLit Society on Facebook! Or check out this excellent group: HaremLit

Special Thanks

I’d like to thank my wife, Jeanette, and my wonderful kids, Lucy and Sam. They are my constant motivation and inspiration. A special thanks to my parents, Greg and Lori. A quick shout out to my brother Aron and his whole brood—Eve, Brook, Grace, and Collin. Brit, probably you’ll never read this book either, but I love you too. Here’s to the folks of Team Hunter, my awesome Alpha and Beta readers who helped make this book both possible and good. And of course a big thanks to my editor, Tamara Blain who rocked this book (if you need editing, go to her, she’s seriously awesome: (www.acloserlookediting.com/ ). Also, can’t forget the esteemed Aaron Crash, who is a great friend, a badass writer, and a constant support!

—James A. Hunter, June 2018

Copyright

War God’s Mantle: Descent is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2018 by James A. Hunter and Shadow Alley Press, Inc.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email the publisher, subject line “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address below.

JStrode@ShadowAlleyPress.com