War God's Mantle: Descent: A litRPG Adventure (The War God Saga Book 2)

by James Hunter

  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 Ama
zons. “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, y
ou 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.”