War God's Mantle- Underworld

by James Hunter

  Phoebe had piggybacked on my vision. Okay, now I know why you’re pausing. Yes, we have a problem.

  When I’d first created Myrina, under Battle Warden I’d had an option to create Myrina. Her avatar had been spinning there. Then again, I hadn’t been in the Underworld with her spirit right next to me.

  Other times when I’d pulled a soul from the abyss, I’d given them the same name, and they’d returned with the same personality, with only dim memories of their past lives. Like with my generals before, they’d remembered Ares well enough to know that I certainly wasn’t him.

  Something swooped over my head. Then something else. A third thing swooped low.

  “You would pull our prey from us,” one of the Erinyes cackled. She was little more than bones and feathers, and yet her black cloak had kept the pieces working well enough for her to fly. Of course, killing something that was already dead wasn’t easy. My Amazons had chopped them up, but the Erinyes had pieced themselves together. Because nothing could ever be easy.

  “We will stop you,” another of the winged women said in a husky voice. This one was full of arrows and crossbow bolts.

  “Our lord is coming, and you will know death,” the last Fury rasped. This one had the ballista bolt through her middle. It wasn’t stopping her from floating there. All were painted in lurid colors thanks to Persephone’s rainbow light.

  The goddess of spring was sweating, arms trembling to maintain her spells. “Newsflash, War God, we have three of these warriors to forge,” she called out. “And my vines will only last so long. Might want to get going.”

  Sophia appeared, all three of her, and hacked at the Erinyes with three glowing katanas. When the winged women went to attack her, she vanished.

  Asteria swooped in as a pterodactyl, talons first. Toxaris and the other Pegasus riders joined in the fight, and just like that, the newly reanimated Erinyes had their hands full. But who knew how long that would last—plus Hades was drawing nearer by the second. As my dad used to say, time to shit or get off the pot.

  I had to risk it. I chose Battle Warden from the menu option, entered Myrina’s name, and then saw that the River Phlegethon had heated the doll up to two thousand degrees Fahrenheit. Well, we had our forge. This was it.

  “Okay.” I motioned for Persephone to place the Myrina doll onto the anvil with her burning vines. Then I hefted the Hammer of Hephaestus. I willed for this to work, for me to bring back a fully restored Myrina.

  The ghostly convenience store workers next to me looked on, eyes wide, mouths open. It was pretty epic, standing in Charon’s boat, now a makeshift forge, with a battle above us and behind us, over a hundred of my soldiers fighting Cerberus and the three Erinyes.

  Aella had recovered enough of her wind magic to sweep one of the Furies into the river of liquid fire. The demon’s clothes went up in smoke and her bones smoldered, but she flew up, now a vision of pure terror. A fire-covered skeleton with whips of flames.

  She lashed out at my Air-Witch, but Sabra was there, conjuring up a wall of thorny vines to keep the whip lengths at bay. I shook away the battle—the endless distraction—and paid attention to the task.

  Chubby Myrina blinked. “I’m not from Michigan, am I?”

  “Nope. Not even a little.” I slammed the hammer down onto the doll lying on the anvil. Like all the other times, the figurine grew. But Myrina’s spirit let out a yelp. She blurred, and part of her became smoke, sucked down into the figurine.

  Above, Charon nodded as though finally reaching some decision he’d been mulling over for a good long while. He reached out with his skeletal right hand. “I will give you a gift, War God, but you cannot tell anyone, and we cannot do this again. She will remember. She will be as she was before.”

  I laid the hammer down a second time, a thunderous clang ringing out. More of the ghostly mist left the polyester-clad woman standing next to me and entered the figurine. It was now three feet long, rough features taking shape on her face.

  A whip lashed down and struck the back of my neck, breaking the skin. Blood poured down my back, but I didn’t turn away. I couldn’t lose focus.

  Phoebe had Doris’ doll on the Inferno Shield. We were going to do this quickly, assembly-line style. But all the movement was rocking Charon’s boat, and I couldn’t miss. If I did, if the strike didn’t land true, I would cripple Myrina just like I had Phoebe.

  I took a deep breath, held it for a two count. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast, I said, picturing my days on the rifle range. On the exhale, I brought my arm down. CLANG!

  The final hammer strike was perfect. Myrina’s ghost disappeared in a flash of opal light, and the woman who tumbled off the anvil rose on steady feet. Even though she was naked, she didn’t hesitate for a moment. She leapt from the boat, rolled across the asphalt, and sprinted to the Helios Chariot. She plucked Athena’s Spear out of the vehicle. I remembered the weapon’s tag line. She’d be able to fight with it, but she wouldn’t be able to unlock any of its divine powers.

  Myrina ran to engage Cerberus, who was heading straight for us. Part of the oversized doggo was on fire, thanks to Summer Tooth, and one of his rear legs was covered in ice. That was all Loxo’s doing. With Snow Claw, Winter Tongue, and the Vambraces of Boreas, she was our ice queen.

  Myrina’s perfect ass flexed as she waited for Cerberus to run into her spear. I’d never seen her look more heroic. More capable. No time to check her character sheet. She certainly didn’t seem like a first-level Battle Warden. She seemed like my Myrina.

  That gave me confidence.

  Doris’ doll was on the anvil, right there. I didn’t pause. Three strikes. Bam! Bam! Bam! And Doris tumbled into the bottom of the boat, her uniform-clad ghost vanishing in an instant.

  Phoebe laid Ianthe’s figurine onto the anvil. The doll smoked slightly from the intense heat of the river. I forged her a new body with another three hammer blows.

  By that time, Cerberus was above me. I stared into the huge mouth of the beast’s center head. I didn’t switch weapons.

  I launched myself off the boat, straight up, while whirling the Hammer of Hephaestus. I felt like Thor as I laid into the pup with the weapon, punching a hole through his wicked fangs. Channeling my inner Asgardian, I swung the hammer again and again, pulverizing the inside of the dog’s mouth. And since I had Lightning Lance at my fingertips, I figured I might as well use it. Electricity arced out of my hands and through the hammer as I channeled a bolt of pure power down Cerberus’ throat.

  Then, just for good measure, I added Plague Locust. A cloud of angry hissing bugs exploded from the thin air and surged forward, down the hound’s pulsing red gullet. The insects were absolutely merciless as they went to work snacking on his esophagus.

  Then I raced out of the mouth as the dog went insane, scratching at itself, whining, yelping, and yipping. He writhed on the bank of the Phlegethon, near Charon’s boat. I’m a dog lover, so seeing the poor guy in agonizing pain was like a knife to the heart, but there was nothing I could do about it. I mean, Cerberus was the size of a fucking dump truck and would’ve ripped off my arms and legs and used them as chew toys, given half a chance.

  Asteria had left her fight against the Erinyes for a minute to land on the parking lot on the other side of the wounded monster. She changed into a triceratops. Ariadne was a Minotaur, and my other bull riders had their mounts ready. Myrina was with them. She’d dropped the spear but had her hands out.

  I saw what they were going to do and skated down to stand next to my newly resurrected general. I messaged my Rune-Caster. Phoebe! Get Persephone and the others out of that boat! We’re going to push Cerberus into the river!

  Persephone had enough Divine Essence left to toss herself, Phoebe, Doris, and Ianthe off the boat and onto the asphalt of the parking lot using her flowering vines. The four scurried away.

  “Amazons! Let us end this!” Myrina shouted, every inch the commanding general she’d been before her demise.

  “One ... Two ..
. Three!” As one, we rushed forward, shoving the giant three-headed dog onto the boat, which promptly capsized, tossing the hellish guardian into the flaming waters. Cerberus thrashed and snarled, his heads breaking the molten surface for a beat before vanishing below. Was he dying? I didn’t know. Shit, I wasn’t even sure we could kill the guardian of the Underworld. If he was half as resilient as the Erinyes, this would only buy us a little time.

  Still, a mist hung in the air, as did the scent of burning dog hair. The overgrown junkyard dog didn’t emerge from the river. Charon’s boat popped up to the surface and went floating away into the copulating bodies of the damned.

  Ding! I’d leveled up and was now a level twenty-nine god of war. Holy shit ... Maybe we had killed him. That was definitely something I planned to add to my resume. Jacob Merely, Myth Killer. I would divvy out my points in a second, but there were still a few more threats to see to first. But all of those thoughts fled my mind as Myrina grabbed me and spun me around using all her strength—which was definitely at least level fifteen. She didn’t hit me, or berate me, or yell.

  No, she kissed me, and kissed me hard.

  Yes, Hades was coming, and we might lose, but at that moment, I knew I had done the right thing.

  I didn’t need destiny on my side.

  I only needed Myrina. Her and my other two generals. We’d started this journey together, and by the gods, we were gonna finish it together.

  A Million Dreams

  THE ERINYES COLLECTED in the sky, circling overhead like vultures just waiting for a meal. Two were little more than skeletons covered in rags with only a few feathers left on their wings. One still burned, a nightmare of bone and flame.

  “We shall return with our lord and master,” they said in unison, their voices a weird harmony that grated on my ears. “We will eat your souls for all eternity. We will know every part of you, and we will relish your agony until time itself dies.”

  Phoebe limped over to me and planted her hands on her hips as she glowered up at the Erinyes. Do you think they’re using the word “know” in the biblical sense? I hope not. I mean, the one on fire is kind of cute, but really, none of the Erinyes are my type.

  The Furies shrieked laughter and flew off over the rooftops of Rockford—or at least the Underworld’s version of it.

  The godstone hadn’t been a dick for a while, but then it flared in my chest.

  In an instant, I found myself taking to the sky and racing after the Erinyes, partly to appease the godstone, partly out of anger, but mostly I wanted to get my first glimpse of the Underworld proper. I wanted to see what lay beyond the river lands and the Asphodel Fields. Unlike the darkness of the Vale of Tears, this place had light that came from a moon-like glow to the north. I cruised above Rockford, coasting past familiar neighborhoods and cookie-cutter houses, until I came to a plain of stone, perfectly flat, where North Alpine Drive should’ve started.

  I turned, gaze brushing over the doppelganger town. The River Phlegethon was about where the Rock River was in the real Rockford, so the layout was the same, though the entire north side of the city was missing.

  Turning back, I let my eyes travel over the flat stone, which I knew was the Plain of Judgement. It was hard to measure distances here; it felt like my eyes weren’t working right. Still, I squinted, straining to get a glimpse. After a beat, things crept into focus, though time and distance didn’t seem to matter much here. This was the land of the dead, and both stretched away into madness.

  Straight ahead was the source of the ghostly illumination washing over the landscape: an enormous palace of white marble, or was it bone? Hard to say, though the harder I looked, the more I was inclined to say bone. The distance made it almost impossible to know for certain, though. The palace could’ve been a hundred miles away or farther. But the place was massive, that much I did know. A thousand spindly spires jabbed at the heavens overhead like reverse lightning bolts, and at the top of each tower was a glimmer like a distant star.

  To the right of the gleaming palace lay sprawling green meadows full of sunshine. Those had to be the Elysian Fields, a perfect heaven for heroes to spend all eternity. To the left of the palace, though, was the exact opposite. Tartarus. The walls holding the evil inside might’ve been a thousand feet tall, or a million. An iron gate the size of the Empire State Building held the damned back. A moat of fire flickered in front of the wall, fed by a snaking tributary that jutted off from the main body of the blazing River Phlegethon.

  On the other side of the river and the walls were the Titans, languishing in captivity, along with the insidious giants of Greek mythology and everyone’s favorite monster, Typhon, born from Gaia when she fell in lust with Hell itself.

  My eyes returned to the Palace of Hades. Was it made from the same bone as Charon’s boat? Were these the bones of the very universe? Or maybe they were pieces of the eggshell that Acmon, Erebus, and Chaos shattered to birth creation. Nevertheless, the palace gleamed. The shining gates opened, and a vast army marched out.

  They stormed across the flat Plain of Judgement like blood gushing from a mortal wound.

  At their head marched Hades.

  I’d seen him before, when Ares showed me a vision of that final fight in Lycastia City’s temple.

  Even though he was so far away, somehow I was able to see him as though he were mere feet from me—the optics in this place were a damned nightmare.

  Hades was huge, twenty-five feet tall at least. His face was blank under his helmet—no skin, no mouth, no eyes, no ears. The god of death had pale skin oozing with maggots and pus. A black gemstone gleamed in the upper right of his chest. He was naked except for the helmet, a dirty loincloth, and his bone-white cloak. His limbs were long and gaunt as though he hadn’t eaten a good meal in years. In one hand, the faceless god carried a formidable club—built from the thigh bone of some titanic monster and covered with barbed spikes. In the other, he held a rusted shield with razor-sharp edges.

  Look upon my forces and know despair. Hades’ voice bled into the air around me and froze my soul. No wonder he’d been able to kill so many of the Olympian Gods. He was death itself. And he was letting me see him and his lands. He wanted me to see, because he wanted me afraid.

  My Amazons and I faced an army of 150,000 easily, which, by the way, was the population of Rockford. And if those things were anything like the Erinyes, we were gonna have a helluva time trying to kill them. We, however, could die, and quite easily.

  I’d kicked ass against Necro Earl and Antiope and their army of beasties, but this army ... this was on a scale I couldn’t even have dreamed of. We were a hundred against countless. Yes, I was full of Divine Essence, and yes, I’d be able to use a lot of my weapons, but still, we’d never faced such terrible odds before.

  Even if I took out ten thousand in a single blow, that was a drop in the bucket against the battalions we faced. I needed a plan. And I needed one, like, yesterday.

  Add the gemstone of Hephaestus to your power, the godstone urged, whispering sweet seduction in my head. Engage Hades directly. Do not let his forces reach you. It is the only way ...

  Perhaps with two godstones in me, I might be able to defeat the god of death in single combat. Then none of my Amazons would be hurt or killed. I’d protect them. And if I died dealing out the killing blow, oh well. I’d gladly sacrifice myself to save them and all of reality.

  I fished the red godstone and the smaller crystal shard from a pouch at my side. Both crystals throbbed with power. I still held the hammer, and I saw it flash in my gaming display.

  Defeating Cerberus had not only levelled me up to twenty-nine, but it had pushed me right up to the edge of level thirty. Each of my weapons had additional abilities I could access then. Ever better, at level thirty, I could use Colossus off the Path of War Skill Tree, transforming myself into a Kaiju-sized warrior, at least for a little while. Taking Hades out one on one was a dangerous gamble, but if I was thirty feet tall or more and had the added muscle o
f another godstone? Especially if I was in Defender mode. Shit ... I’d be like Mechagodzilla. And Mechagodzilla might stand a chance with the Crystal Scythe in hand.

  But, unfortunately, I wasn’t there. Not yet.

  But if you use the gemstone of Hephaestus, you will gain the power you need, the godstone suggested. Even the sliver will give you additional levels. You are a fool not to.

  It wasn’t a bad idea. Even Phoebe had suggested it. However, that didn’t feel right.

  I checked the battle functions for the Hammer of Hephaestus. They’d finally come online. Maybe it was because I’d used it combat, or maybe holding Hephaestus’ godstone made a difference. Whatever the reason, it offered some new abilities now, so I scrolled through the features.

  <<<>>>

  <<<>>>

  I FLOATED DOWN TO STAND on the rock of the Plain of Judgement; the town of Rockford, also known as the Asphodel Fields, stretched out behind me. In many ways, it felt appropriate that the battle should take place here. Though the sleepy town behind me wasn’t real, it reminded me of what I was fighting for: not just for me and my ’Zons, but for all of humanity. In many ways, it also seemed to represent the battle I’d fought to get here, the battle to save myself—to retain my identity as Jacob Merely—against the onslaught of a god hell-bent on my destruction. I’d beaten Ares and the godstone in my chest, and now I was gonna drop-kick Hades’ teeth in ... Not that he had literal teeth.

  Whatever. You get the idea

  But taking Hades down wasn’t going to be easy. Time was wonky here, and distance difficult to judge, but my best guest was that we had less than an hour before the Lord of Death and his army were knocking on Rockford’s front door.