War God's Mantle: Ascension: A litRPG Adventure (The War God Saga Book 1)

by James Hunter

  I also had four Ability Points to play with, and a good idea of just what to do with them. The first, I dropped into Divine Spark, which jacked up my Essence Points through the roof! Damn, could I do some shit now. I also decided to invest a second point into Lightning Lance, which increased the overall damage and opened the door to chain lightning. Let me say it again: fucking chain lightning.

  I invested the next point into a new Crafting skill called Aceso’s Blessing, allowing me and my Rune-Casters to inscribe armor and jewelry with sigils of power, which could boost attributes.

  Up until now, I’d been largely avoiding the Path of War Tree, since that didn’t really fit my play style so well. But I also wanted to be able to hold my own if it came down to a straight-up brawl between me and Praxidike, so I put my remaining point into the Warfighter ability.

  Happy with my decisions, I quickly toggled over to my character sheet, checking out the result of all the changes. They were impressive as hell:

  Finally, I closed out of my interface and headed back up onto the beach, throwing on my armor as I walked. As nice as the little breather had been, ample downtime was a luxury I didn’t have right now. Praxidike and the vanguard of Hades’ forces could hit us any time, and I still had towers to make. But I was also feeling damn good and had a shit-ton of Essence to burn, so I was ready.

  Loxo, I sent, I want you and your crew to get back to the city—get some rest, I have a gut feeling we don’t have long now. Myrina and Phoebe, meet me over by the southern wall, near that old arachnaswine nest. I have points to burn, and it’s high time we finish building. Oh, and bring Thymos Crystals. Lots of them.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Two Towers

  Asteria banked hard, twirling right, wings pumping as we dropped toward a small grassy clearing near the base of the worn steps leading up to the arachnaswine nest we’d wiped out just days before. Myrina and Phoebe were waiting for us; the Rune-Caster was chugging Mountain Dew like a fiend, while the Battle Warden tapped her foot impatiently, ready to be back on the training ground. Not far off, Phoebe’s two main assistants, Brontia and Steropia, loitered in some sort of modified steampunk monstrosity.

  I squinted at the contraption. Holy shit, it was the harvester I’d seen them tinkering with a few hours ago. The thing was almost totally unrecognizable. Now it was a war machine through and through. Bulky metal plates had been fastened on with brass rivets. The wheels had been reinforced and were now studded with huge spikes. And then there was the Gatling gun, attached to a rotating gunner’s mount, controlled by a small army of pistons and relays. The things looked like a mashup of Wild Wild West and Iron Man.

  I was pretty impressed, actually.

  Asteria touched down on the grass, her hooves leaving divots in the earth before she transformed back into her human form.

  I was nervous about what was to come, but I was also optimistic. We’d been working on an extremely tight deadline, but remarkably, everything was really coming together. We’d fortified the southern wall, the northern wall had a new gate, and we had an army ready and waiting—even if it was a small army. Once the towers were up, we’d be in decent shape, especially with the siege weapons Phoebe had created. I couldn’t help but steal another sidelong glance at the modified harvester.

  That lady had some serious know-how and some crazy mechanical chops. I knew a master sergeant engineer—Top Cortez—back at Incirlik Air Base who would’ve given his left arm to have her in his unit.

  “I see you appreciate my newest design,” Phoebe said, nodding toward the machine with cocksure satisfaction. “It’s pretty rad, no doubt. Now let’s see if you can come up with something that’ll be half as bitchin’.”

  “I don’t know if I can top that”—I hooked a thumb toward the death harvester—“but what I have in mind will be pragmatic, even if it’s not flashy. This is probably the first place Praxidike is going to hit, so I want to put one mean ol’ tower right here. It’ll be about twenty feet from the main wall. It can serve as a lookout tower and our first line of defense. Those guys want to get to the perimeter wall, but first, they’ll need to go through the gatehouse.”

  Myrina nodded. “Yet, when we fought them before, they had a retinue that came around from the north. So, two towers might be the wise course of action.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. “Yeah, Tolkien, two towers … it’s totally a thing.” Sadly, no one seemed to appreciate my wit.

  Phoebe looked at me expectantly. Well, don’t keep us in suspense any longer, my dude. Open the interface, and show us what you got. I wanna get crackin’ on this.

  Marina folded her arms across her chest and nodded. “Yes, let us get cracking,” she agreed stiffly. “We have seen no sign of our enemy, yet my gut says the time is near. Praxidike will strike soon. I can feel it.” She paused, squinting as she surveyed the tree line beyond. She was uber paranoid—but like in a cute, insane sort of way. She was probably also right. “Asteria, take to the air,” she said absently. “I want a heads-up in case anything is moving out there.”

  Instead of being indignant at being dismissed, Asteria brightened. “Oh, thank you so much, Myrina. This sounds sooooo boring. I would much rather be in the air, soaring through the skies, the sun on my feathers, wind caressing my face.” She twirled, spun, then leapt up, transforming into an enormous blue eagle as she streaked heavenward.

  “Alright, Crystal me,” I said, holding out both hands as I opened my interface and toggled over to the MANAGE ISLAND settings. I could repair or build, so I chose the BUILD option naturally, then scrolled down to a CUSTOMIZE menu. That, in turn, pulled 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. There was a ton of stuff, but I found it all intuitive and easy. Wicked-cool.

  With a little effort, I shared the customized build screen with my two Amazonian generals.

  Can you see what I’m seeing? I asked them.

  Hells yeah! Phoebe said. Dude, this is fucking amazing. Why didn’t I know about this earlier? Immediately, she started offering suggestions, tweaking this and that as I imported a basic blueprint for a blocky medieval-style gatehouse—heavily fortified and loaded to the gills with traps.

  Myrina simply watched in silence for a time as Phoebe and I designed the walls and staircases, traced out narrow windows, and designed archways. Don’t forget about the arrow slits and murder holes you mentioned earlier, she finally added-, pretending to be uninterested and failing epically. Employing murder holes might not have appealed to Myrina’s strict moral code regarding combat, but I could tell she was totally engrossed.

  Phoebe was already paging through my brain. What! Damn, but humans are cruel. Yep, I think we should definitely include both of those. She chuckled madly like Doctor Frankenstein on the verge of bringing his monster to life.

  And just like that, I watched as Phoebe hollowed out a death-trap tunnel running through the heart of the tower, then added a pair of metal portcullises, one at each mouth. Phoebe wasn’t done though. Next came cross-shaped arrow slits, followed by a series of grate-covered holes, perfect for pouring down boiling oil into the tunnel below. She slapped on a false floor—which concealed a deep pit studded with a series of sharpened stakes—and wooden pegs that would act as rudimentary stairs up into the tower.

  Phoebe added a few steam-powered launching mounts, perfect for housing the Sidewinder and AMRAAM missiles. The 3-D blueprint was almost perfect, but there was still one minor detail missing: an easy way to get out of the upper tower in case of an emergency. A zipline could work, I sent after a moment of careful thought. We’ll run it from the back of the tower, over the wall and directly into the city. That way, if our Wardens lose the tower, they can just cruise back in quick and easy. Whatcha think, Phoebe?

  Hang on a sec, the Rune-Caster sent, rummaging through my head. Yeah, Jacob, I see it. A zipline. You di
d one when you were eight. Wet your pants waiting on one of the platforms. You were very embarrassed.

  Should we build one? I sent, ignoring the comment.

  I don’t see why not. I like it. Let me throw one on. And warning horns. Everyone likes a big ol’ horn.

  I waited for the double entendre, but Phoebe wasn’t Loxo. Instead of making a dirty joke, the Rune-Caster simply changed the schematic to include the cable down to Lycastia City and the horn. And with that we were ready to rock and roll. I checked the price tag—eighty-five Essence Points and ten pounds worth of raw Thymos Crystal. That was steep, considering we only had about thirty-five pounds of the sacred mineral left. But no point stockpiling the stuff for a rainy day. Metaphorically, it was about to fucking pour.

  Nervousness and excitement wrestled in my gut as I accepted the blueprint and raised the Thymos Crystals high into the air. In a flash, brilliant azure light exploded from the crystals as a tsunami of raw power surged out from the godstone in my chest.

  Rocks rose up from the ground in a whirlwind of force as the elements themselves bent to my will. The smell of the dirt mixed with the greenery around us as roaring gale-force winds ripped up nearby timbers and pulled huge boulders from the loamy earth. Wood and dirt and rock mixed and mingled as divine power merged them together, creating something new. Walls rose, up, up, up, and a slate-tiled roof materialized into existence, capping the three-story building. Hulking iron gates appeared, along with arrow slits, rocket mounts, and the steel cable.

  Damn. The sight was truly incredible.

  Phoebe nodded at our work. Now that? That is amazeballs, my dude. Good work.

  “Surprisingly,” Myrina said, eyeing the newly formed structure, “I agree. It is, how you would say, amazeballs.” She walked into the guardhouse and worked a metal crank to raise and lower the portcullis. “Yes, this will do nicely. I will bring over half a platoon to hold this position. We can then use Teleporters and our winged warriors for reinforcements. The north gate will have a smaller force, but we can shift troops quickly if it comes to that.”

  I knew you’d come around eventually, Phoebe said, slapping Myrina on the shoulder. You get the guards in place, and I’ll get Pyracia to head up and start the oil boiling while Brontia and Steropia haul over some of those fancy-pants kablooey missiles. We’ll get those bad boys rigged up in no time. Honestly, the triggering mechanisms were complex, but I’m a quick study. And you, Jacob, paid very good attention during all those boring training sessions. To think, your buddies even teased you for taking good notes. Well, they can suck it now. We’re saving the motherfucking world! Hopefully. Assuming we don’t die horribly.

  What should I do, land-bound? came Asteria’s voice, cool and aloof.

  I thought about it for a minute, tapping at my chin with one finger. Just keep scouting the air. Your eyes are the best we have, so stay sharp and let us know if you spot anything fishy.

  I will look for invaders, came her solemn reply, but if I find a fish, I will surely eat it. Nothing is better than a raw fish on a hot day.

  I grinned. She was so goofy. “Alright, Team War God, we have a plan,” I said, turning back to my other generals. “Let’s break. You all know what you need to do—I’ll head up to the north gate and whip up another one of these things while you ladies get everything in place down here.”

  Myrina and Phoebe returned to the city.

  Alone, I went and built a duplicate copy of the guard tower on the north hill, complete with its own portcullises, booby traps, and stylish zipline running back to the city. By the time I was done, the sun had dipped low, moving into twilight as the sky filled with foreboding storm clouds. The southern tower was cocked, locked, and ready to rock, and Myrina was already on her way up to the northern tower with guards. Phoebe and her crew of Rune-Casters wouldn’t be far behind, ready to trick the new building out with enough armaments to make a pack of T. rexes think twice.

  I sighed and shivered as a sharp, unnaturally frigid wind blew up from the south. It had been a long day, and though there was still more work to be done—always more work to be done—I’d accomplished a lot and was ready for a break. I took one last look at the tower, then turned and headed through the northern gate and back toward the city. I trudged along the winding cobblestone path, enjoying the relative peace and quiet, then made for the banquet hall. At some point, someone had relocated the food back into the dining hall, where it belonged.

  I slipped in and piled up a plate full of roasted chicken and seared vegetables, then moved over to a nearby table and plopped down, glad to be off my feet. I took a deep breath, enjoying the aroma wafting up, then picked up a piece of charred chicken that smelled like heaven. I got exactly one bite into my meal when the alarm from the north tower went off, its clarion call hanging in the air like a foghorn. A handful of seconds later, the south tower followed suit.

  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. We were under attack. I knew it was what we’d been preparing for, but now that it was here, I felt panic rushing through me like a wildfire. I dropped the chicken breast, scrambled to my feet, and beelined for the exit, running out into the courtyard near the old clay pits. Asteria, I sent, what in the hell is going on?

  War, came her terse reply. Huge force to the north, smaller one to the—

  I lost contact with her the same instant a terrible shriek rose in the air. I knew that noise. Harpies. Lots of harpies. Quickly, I checked Asteria’s Health, but she seemed to be uninjured, which probably meant she was just laser-focused on kicking ass at the moment. Which was exactly what I needed to be. I drew my sword—the thrum of power was a comfort in my hand—and sprinted toward the northern gate and the tower beyond.

  I didn’t see or hear the dark shape fly over me, not until it was too late.

  Praxidike was a ghost, her midnight skin lost in the growing dark of the storm. But I sure as shit felt it when she swooped down from the shadowy skies and snatched the helmet of Ares right off my head. The move was so brazen that for a moment I simply froze. That’s not how this was supposed to work—we were supposed to duke it out, Clash of the Titans style. But nope. She just jacked my helmet, which was about the worst possible scenario, and one I hadn’t even planned for. Eventually, my brain caught up to reality, and I lashed out with my sword, but it was already much too late for that.

  She was twenty feet up, and retreating farther every moment.

  A Lightning Lance might’ve done the trick … except without the fucking helmet, I didn’t have access to my combat interface. No interface, no miracles. No miracles meant no Lightning Lance, no Healing Touch—not even the mental comm link with my Amazons. And just like that, Praxidike was gone, the sound of her cackling drifting down as she disappeared into the clouds. I stood there, sword in hand, staring up like a moron, completely unsure what to do next. I was useless. Praxidike had hit me where it hurt the most.

  Suddenly, I was a gamer without a game.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Deep Trouble

  My mind raced as sweat broke out across my forehead and a tremble of fear raced down my hand. How the hell had Praxidike known? Or had it been simply a lucky guess? No way to know, and in the end the how didn’t really matter. The helmet was gone, and until I managed to get it back, I was useless as a shot caller. I’d just have to depend on my generals and platoon leaders to handle business. But even if I couldn’t lead, I could still fight.

  I coaxed my legs into motion and broke into a run, heading north. I’d gone maybe ten steps when a flash of violet light appeared in front of me. Sophia stepped into reality, dragging Asteria behind her. The Beastiamancer’s eyes were wild and terrified; she looked on the verge of utter panic, at least until she spotted me. She let out an obvious sigh of relief as she sprinted forward, threw her arms around me and squeezed tight.

  “The link is gone,” she said, pushing away from me and staring into my face. “I feared you were gone. Dead. But you are here. But the link …” She trailed off as she finally noticed
my missing helmet. “It’s gone,” she said, reaching up and running her fingers along my cheek. “Your helmet is gone. But how, War God?”

  “Stolen. That bitch Praxidike snatched it while I had my back turned. She’s got it, Asteria, and without it we’re boned to the max. We need to get it back as soon as we can or this whole situation is FUBAR.”

  “I do not understand FUBAR,” she replied solemnly, “but we will find your helmet, God of War. Let us fly.” She transformed into the familiar sight of a winged horse. When I was secure on her back, she broke into a gallop, picking up speed before launching herself into the air, wings thrusting down. We climbed quickly, soaring over the buildings as we cruised north. From this vantage, I could see damn near everything, and what I saw put a knot in my stomach. The forest around the city was swarming with hell-spawn, and both towers were under siege.

  Naga archers exchanged arrow fire with guards in the towers. Our English longbows were far more effective than their shorter Greek bows, but they had sheer numbers in their favor. And it wasn’t just snake men. Nope. There were hundreds of heavily armed sea centaurs, battalions of spider pigs, soaring squadrons of human-faced harpies, and platoons of elite werewolves clad in chainmail and carrying battle-axes. Praxidike had also brought a pair of big guns. Rising up from the writhing carpet of our enemy were two cyclopes, one heading for each tower.

  My Amazons were fighting back, but it was a clusterfuck. The Wardens manning each tower seemed to be doing a bang-up job, and the aerial riders were harrying the shit out of the incoming harpies, but everyone else was lost in the sauce. The Elementalists weren’t engaging, and the ground cavalry was fractured. It was almost like in a real-time strategy game, where troops acted on autopilot. They were fighting back, true, but there wasn’t any kind of cohesive strategy.