War God's Mantle- Underworld

by James Hunter

  I stopped. We still had about fifteen minutes until the top of the hour, but something was moving in the pristine blue waters. Three big shadows were carving through the waves and the ocean spray, heading straight toward us. Behind them, even more darkness spread through the sea like ink from an octopus. What in the hell is that? I thought. Some kind of giant sea creature? No, that was an incoming army. The 2 p.m. attack would be starting early.

  I turned on the messaging system. I was loathe to use it, since it would alert Antiope to the fact that we knew the attack was on, but at this point there was no other option. I hit every Amazon in the city. We have incoming enemies in the western ocean, going for the beach. I need everyone up and at ’em.

  And then the first of the huge shapes broke the surface. It was a forty-foot-tall monstrosity with a face like the Creature from the Black Lagoon, fish-headed with pink gills running along its neck. This thing also had four arms, all with webbed fingers and claws as long as two-handed swords.

  In one of its hand, it held—I shit you not—a massive jellyfish. The damned ball of goo and tentacles was the size of a Volkswagen Beetle. The incoming abomination took aim and let the jellyfish fly, arcing the enormous blob high into the air. It was a doozy of a throw. The jellyfish struck the walls two hundred feet above, smacking into the stone with a great wet slapping sound that I heard even from where I stood below. The monster jellyfish’s flesh jiggled as it fixed itself against the wall, and then the stink hit us: rotten tuna fish and decaying seaweed fried in pig shit.

  A moment later, the jellyfish’s tentacles exploded outward, shooting over the walls and dropping into the ocean like a bunch of gooey zip lines. Son of a bitch! That was how they were going to try to storm up our walls, by using the jellyfish tentacles to climb up. Nagas—scaly snake men with fat snake tails instead of legs—slithered out of the water and started their ascent, bows across their backs and swords at their sides. Those nagas had powerful arms to pull themselves up and their tails anchored them to the coils. I was surprised at how well they could climb.

  The next two monsters emerged from the water. These two big kraken things were also forty feet tall. One was a scaled cyclops, six gill slits on his pale throat surrounded by green scales. He, too, had webbed hands and webbed feet. In one clawed hand he held a huge tree trunk studded with jagged chunks of razor-sharp coral. I couldn’t imagine getting hit with that club would be fun. Even worse, the Cyclops-Kraken had a bag of jellyfish and he was hurling them willy-nilly into the side of our western ramparts. There they stuck, splat, and promptly spewed out more of the fleshy zip lines.

  The other kraken thing had the head of a man, complete with a huge seaweed-green beard, but instead of arms he had eight flailing tentacles, which he used to sweep the hedgehogs and razor wire off the beach. That was when the sea centaurs came rushing out of the surf like a charge of heavy cavalry. They had the bodies of horses, the torsos of men, and the heads of various ocean creatures—lobsters, crabs, sharks, octopi, and even a few stingrays. The sea centaurs had strange fins on the bottoms of their legs that helped them swim through the water, though they were just as deadly on land.

  The aquatic nightmare herd rushed up the beach toward the gate below me, Doris, and Ianthe.

  The Gatling guns in the three pillboxes started up, letting loose a thunder of bullets, which strafed the nagas climbing up the jellyfish tentacles and the sea centaurs galloping across the beach.

  But Hades wasn’t done yet. He’d also sent other soldiers. Werewolves broke from the surf, shook the saltwater out of their fur, and raced toward us—some on two legs, others loping along on all fours. They weren’t wearing their rune-encrusted armor, at least, which was a small mercy. They did, however, carry swords and battle-axes across their backs. Their paws were human enough to wield those weapons, but their claws wouldn’t let them climb the jellyfish tentacles, which was another small blessing.

  Our luck, however, ended there. Harpies raced up and out of the ocean, scurrying across the sand. They raised their feathery wings, sleek and oiled, and took to the air. I blinked. Oh, shit. These weren’t the regular, run-of-the-mill harpies—these freaks had the heads of moray eels with a spiked fin running down the center of their backs. The sea-harpies banked hard, dropping down to scoop up the land-bound werewolves. Then, with deadly cargo in hand, they soared up our walls like flying fish.

  I grimaced, watching the invasion unfold. We certainly had our work cut out for us.

  Especially when the Cyclops-Kraken stormed up the beach and lifted his coral club to demolish the gate below me.

  Nope. That wasn’t going to happen. Not with me around.

  I whipped the War Blade out its sheath. We didn’t have the troops to hold the western gate—not yet, anyway—so it was up to me until reinforcements arrived.

  Suddenly, I was glad I’d brought the Sower’s Glass—though I wasn’t going to use it unless these aquatic assholes pushed me back into a corner. Instead, I had another one-off trick I decided to burn. I aimed the tip of my sword at the sky and used the once-per-day Shockwave function. Above us, the sky swirled with clouds; flashes of lightning and resounding peals of thunder followed in short order. Gale-force wind screamed down, driving the eel-headed harpies back for a second. One of the beasties lost its grip on a werewolf, and it went crunching onto the wall to our right.

  Thunder boomed again, and a finger of lightning reached down and arced around my sword. Raw, elemental power danced across the metal and raced around my body, energizing my cells. I took aim at the beach. I was a level twenty-five war god, and the sword knew it. The beach shook, sand exploding up as bolts of lightning erupted from the ground in great geysers—each bolt dealing out three times my Miracle Damage, which was a whopping 1,320 points of damage. Most of the first wave of sea centaurs disintegrated in a flash, literally turning to ash around me.

  Snap your fingers, Thanos, and help a guy out.

  Then it got even better. The lightning continued its merry jig across the sands, adding a 100 points of additional destruction every fifteen seconds. At the end of the interval, the creatures on the beach were taking 2,820 points right on the chin. All three of the kraken dropped to their knees, roaring in pain. The fuckers were wet, and that only conducted the energy better. The electricity ate through flesh and shocked them down to their bones. The smaller creatures storming the beach never stood a chance, not against me—they’d been reduced to sizzling statues. But the big suckers were just tough enough to survive.

  I flung the War Blade off the wall, mentally ordering it to engage the four-armed Kraken from the Black Lagoon. Because of its Spectral Blade ability, it could fight as a level-ten Battle Warden without me. I then swiveled and used three rounds of Lightning Lance to take out some of our airborne foes who’d managed to escape the carnage of Shockwave. More lightning burst from my fingertips to fry eel harpies along with their werewolf cargo. Birds and beasts fell from the sky. They struck the beach in pulpy explosions of burnt flesh. All the while, the pillbox Gatling guns picked off snake men ascending the jellyfish tentacles.

  Doris and Ianthe hurled javelin after javelin at the harpies, werewolves, and nagas crawling up the cliffs. Once they were running on empty, they sprinted over to a nearby weapon rack and retrieved English longbows and quivers of arrows, then took up the fight with feathered shafts.

  The Kraken from the Black Lagoon was bleeding from a dozen wounds. It kept trying to reach for the War Blade, but the magical sword was having none of that shit. It slashed, feinted, darted right, then slashed again, carving deep furrows in scaled flesh.

  The Cyclops-Kraken took up his race toward the gate, charging it like salvation just might lay on the other side. He flung more jellyfish, but these were for the lower ramparts, not the upper ones. Those stinking things slapped against the stone and shivered like spoiled Jell-O, unfurling more tentacle lines to the beach and waters below.

  I couldn’t wait. I leapt down onto the sand and called the War
Blade to me.

  Meanwhile, Old Man Kraken had finally reached the wall. He used two of his tentacles to lift him up, and then he used the rest to try to bash Doris and Ianthe into Spam. Doris rolled out of the way and sent two arrows into his chest. He didn’t care a bit. The bearded monster raised another set of tentacles, bashing at the ramparts, frantically trying to crush my Amazons. Ianthe grabbed her spear and set its butt on the stone. Old Man Kraken impaled his own pink-suckered coil on her weapon. He let out a roar, but he was far from done.

  The minute my hand touched the War Blade, I used its twice-a-day lycanthropy function to turn myself into a werewolf, fifteen feet long, several tons of fur and muscle, and as fast as bootleggers running from the law. To add a little spice to the mix, I triggered my Fury ability. They would pay for hitting me. Every time I lost 1% of my total Health, I’d increase my physical attack by 1%, and my Health would regenerate by 1%. Also, my armor rating would improve by 1%. Maybe I’d take a pummeling, but that would only add fuel to the fire.

  And if Lycanthropy and Fury didn’t do the job? Well, I had two other tricks up my sleeve.

  I directed the War Blade to go help Doris and Ianthe against Old Man Kraken’s tentacles, while I turned my attention to the Cyclops-Kraken. With a beastly howl, I launched myself into the air, wind ruffling my thick fur. I landed on Cyclops-Kraken’s thigh like a fucking bunker buster, sinking my cruel fangs into rancid meat. It tasted like tuna gone all the way bad, but I refused to let go. The Cyclops-Kraken let out a bellow, equal parts rage and pain, then spun, flinging me free. I flipped ass over teakettle; he swatted me from the air with his coral club like a batter sending a pitch into the stands.

  The blades of coral ripped into my skin and a bright white jag of agony sprinted through my body, carving away 200 points of HP in the process—nearly 20% of my total Health. Good. I felt myself powering up, growing thicker and bigger, and losing my shit. I didn’t need to think to tear the arms off this dickweed. I landed on the sand, clawed paws digging in as I triggered both Defender and Burning Aura. In a blink, I was down 100 Divine Essence Points, but now I was a stainless-steel werewolf, surrounded by a halo of fire.

  The Cyclops’ one eye widened.

  Yep, bad move, asshole.

  I sprang onto him and the ripping commenced. I ripped his chest open with my front claws, ripped off a leg with my hind claws, and ripped out his throat with my fangs.

  The bag of jellyfish rolled onto the beach and his club dropped from nerveless fingers.

  One kraken down, two more to go. I’d blasted through the first batch of sea centaurs with Shockwave, but a second wave came kicking out of the rolling waves, galloping across the beach at full tilt. I wasn’t too worried about them, though, not when I had Black Lagoon and Old Man Kraken to deal with. Both kraken charged me.

  That was when an icy blast of cold extinguished the burning flames swirling around my steel lupine frame.

  A familiar laugh echoed across the beach.

  Antiope.

  The Dark Amazon had come like a bitch blizzard, armed with the Vambraces of Boreas and a cold hatred filling her heart.

  Cold Shoulder Grudge Match

  I TURNED.

  Antiope blasted me again with another arctic wind flecked with bitter snow. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. The War Mammoth Cloak had transformed with me into my werewolf form. Though it no longer fluttered behind me, it still cut the cold damage by 25%, and because of Fury, every attack made me stronger.

  Antiope was a short, muscled woman. Her haircut was part fauxhawk and part ponytail. Heavy bracers, their silver filigree glowing, covered her forearms. But she had a new weapon in tow as well: an ebony trident, carved with runes of fallout-green power and carefully worked underwater scenes. She was also sporting some fancy new jewelry. On her index finger was an onyx ring cover with more flickering runes. It all stank of necromancy, certainly. And all that silver and green luminescence made her look like a neon sign on the fritz.

  She was surrounded by sea centaurs with bows. Their arrows bounced off me. No way would they be able to pierce my steel hide.

  Growling, snarling, snapping, I went for the Dark Amazon’s throat—

  I was too slow by half a heartbeat. One of Old Man Kraken’s tree-trunk tentacles slipped around me just an eyeblink before I ripped out Antiope’s jugular. Spiked suction cups sliced through my fur and bit into my skin, and then, before I knew what in the hell was happening, I was flying through the air before slamming face-first into gritty sand. Then I was temporarily airborne again, only to smash down onto the beach. Over and over, Old Man Kraken slammed me into the ground, finally tossing me away like a spent beer can.

  I tumbled and rolled across the beach, sand sticking to my bloody fur, before finally coming to a stop on my back. Damn, that dude packed a punch. I lay there for a moment, breathing hard as I surveyed the battle above me.

  Nagas continued their climb up the cliffsides, wrapping their snake tails around the jellyfish tentacles as they hauled themselves up with their hands. Eel-headed harpies, clutching werewolves in their talons, hit the top of the cliff, but my Amazons had already filled the terraces and walls and were taking those fiends down.

  However, other nagas had slithered out of the ocean and were climbing up the jellyfish stuck on the lower walls. Doris and Ianthe wouldn’t stand a chance against the sheer number of snake men they’d have to fight. And. to make matters worse, the Black Lagoon kraken had picked up the coral club and started toward the gate. A dozen arrows from Doris and Ianthe hit him, but he kept right on going, completely indifferent to their attacks.

  With a tired heave, I rolled onto my belly and pushed myself up onto all fours—the position felt oddly natural thanks to my overlong lupine arms. Old Man Kraken was marching toward me, the ground trembling beneath his feet. A tentacle lashed out to grab me, but the War Blade darted in, a whirlwind of flashing steel, which quickly made him rethink his poor life choices.

  I didn’t have time to dick with OMK or Antiope. I had to help Doris and Ianthe.

  Still in werewolf form, I spun and bounded across the sand. At ten feet out, I leapt, ploughing into Black Lagoon’s broad back, rending his meat with my claws. I slashed up his backside, then tore off one of his arms with my teeth. The sickly taste of spoiled fish filled my mouth, but I ignored the nauseating meat, focusing instead of inflicting as much damage as possible. The creature howled. Big cry baby—the dude still had three arms left to work with.

  Black Lagoon staggered and tumbled, belly flopping against the sand. I rode his back the whole way down. The War Blade whirled around and lashed out with a will of its own, carving a devastating wound in Black Lagoon’s skull. He wasn’t gonna survive that. Two kraken down, and one to go.

  Add one Dark Amazon to the list as well.

  I was only there for a second when a fish-headed centaur charged up and rammed me with a spear. It didn’t break my skin, but it did send me thrashing and tumbling across the sand. But I was up and charging him an eyeblink later. I absolutely mauled the stabby asshole, ripping out his throat, and then kept on going. Other sea centaurs got in my way, but I was in full berserker mode. Every sword stroke or arrow point only fueled my fury. I clawed off tentacles, scratched out eyes, and bit through throats, until a dozen of the centaurs lay around me. The War Blade flashed next to me, doing its own grisly work. Another batch of sea centaurs bit the dust.

  A third wave of the oceanic horse creatures were coming—a hundred strong, at least. I didn’t care because it was only a matter of time before my own personal cavalry arrived on the scene, and then we’d drive these freaks back into the sea.

  Unfortunately, my power-ups were lapsing. My body twisted, shifted, my skin returning to normal as I transformed back into a human and lost Fury in the process. Damn. Defender evaporated a heartbeat later, and I had a full five minutes before I could use the defensive buff again. Raising my hand, I caught the War Blade.

  Antiope streaked by me
, using her speed ability, going for the gate. I Lightning Lanced her ass down. She struck the ground in a shower of sand.

  Old Man Kraken plucked the coral club off the ground. Clearly, he was preparing to make his own run for the gate.

  On the top of the wall, Doris and Ianthe were fighting back to back, surrounded by nagas. The pillbox Gatling guns tore eel harpies out of the air and slammed nagas off the jellyfish ziplines. Then the gunners shifted to help the Battle Wardens atop the western wall. Their rounds cut down nagas in a spray of noise and gore. The snake men scattered but soon regrouped. If we lost the gate, those two Battle Wardens would be done for.

  I grabbed a dead sea centaur—one with an octopus head—and hurled it at the last remaining kraken. Yeah, I was strong enough to throw horses. Old Man Kraken was a big ol’ son of a bitch, but getting hit was a goddamned horse is hard to shake off. The last remaining kraken was sent sprawling.

  Antiope, though, had used her enhanced speed to reach the gate. She stuck her black trident in the sand and clapped the Vambraces of Boreas together. Boom. A wave of cold struck the gates head on, ice forming along the wood, hoarfrost creeping its way up the stones. She was going to freeze them, make the wood brittle, and then break on through to the other side. Around her clustered fifty sea centaurs, pawing at the ground or shooting arrows at my Battle Wardens on the ramparts—buying Antiope time and cover.

  Screw that noise.

  Even at a distance, I could help. I checked my Divine Essence and saw I had enough for a round of Plague Locust and a little remote Healing Touch. I let the War Blade go; it hung in the air next to me. Gotta say, having a somewhat-sentient magical sword was awesome. I reached out my hands and fired a cloud of bugs from my fingertips. The creepy-crawly cloud hit Antiope and the centaurs like a Mack Truck. The locusts smacked into flesh, dug into eyes, and tried to squirm down throats. The Dark Amazon and her squad of horse monsters went apeshit, swinging and screaming.