by James Hunter
“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, yo
u 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 ev
ery 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.
