by James Hunter
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.