Roger was surprised that Hades’ armor suit fitted well on him without pushing him to the floor. Light and comfy, except it smelled like rock dipped in mud.

Hades must have been small when he wore his armor suit unless the suit could change its size. Although Roger’s arms and upper thighs were exposed, the suit should protect him enough, especially being invincible.

When he placed the helm on, charcoal rushed up through his nostril. “Puuu! Did you ever wash this thing?”

“Don’t you dare insult my armor!” Hades shouted with venom in his voice. “Now, hurry!”

Roger grabbed Hades’ Bident and raced toward the door. Outside, he stopped, leaving his breath hanging.

A giant bronze man stood before him, holding Persephone in his enormous right hand. He looked like a Spartan warrior, but Roger could see the bronze giant have gears behind his knees and elbows.

A machine? Roger thought the ancient Greeks weren’t advanced enough to build contraptions from a sci-fi novel. Unless Hades built the ancient mech himself.

“What is that thing?” Roger asked when Hades approached.

The God of Death glared at the machine. “That is Talos, the former guardian of Crete.”

“You built that thing?”

“In the name of Olympus, no! Hephaestus built that damn thing to protect Europa on her island. Acrisius must have corrupted him to attack anyone here!"

The mech stomped his right foot and roared as a steam burst from his back. He screamed like a boiling kettle.

Roger gulped and pointed the pitchfork at the machine. "How do I stop him?"

Hades pointed his clawed finger at Talo's right foot. "There is a screw-on his right ankle. Pop it off, and he will fall."

Roger blinked his eyes and gave Hades a confusing look behind the helmet. "That’s it? I just have to unscrew his bolt on his ankle?"

Hades nodded, answering Roger's question.

Why would someone build a giant robot with an obviously vulnerable, weak spot? That would be the same as leaving a sticky note on a person's butt, saying, "Kick me here!" That actually happened once to Roger in high school.

Geez….. Kids were still growing up back then.

"Don’t ask!" said Hades, as if he read Roger’s mind. "I didn't build the stupid f**king thing!"

Roger shrugged and focused on the mech, glaring at him. Besides the dumb reason, Roger could run around the thing to reach his weak spot. That should be easy if the thing is slow. But ancient or not, the robot might have traps waiting to defend his mechanic steampunk body.

On his toes, Roger dashed to the right, making his swiping turn on his heel.

Suddenly, Talos kneeled and swung his metal sandal toward Roger.

Smack!

The helmet rocked as Roger flew backward and slammed into the wall. His back arched, but his spine didn't crack.

On his hands and feet, he rose while grabbing the pitchfork. The armor must have prevented him from losing consciousness, although that attack hurt like hell.

"Use my bident!" Hades shouted.

On his feet, Roger gazed at the god. "How?"

Hades positioned one fist over the other, pretending he was holding the bident. "Tap the two forks on the floor!" He swung his arms down and up, hitting the floor with nothing. "But don't slam it too harsh! Rebuilding the Tartarus is time-consuming!"

Roger felt his heart skip a beat. "This weapon is that powerful?"

"Yes! Concentrate!"

If the pitchfork could take down Mount Rushmore by one loud tap, then using the magical weapon would be like swinging a nuclear bomb. Why couldn't Hades warn him before the fight?

"Whoa!" Roger leaped before Talos' enormous fist slammed into the wall.

Hades was right. He needed to concentrate. Or else he won't see daylight ever again.

Roger raced toward Talo's ankle, but the mech shot his other foot into him. The back kick sent Roger into the wall on the other side.

After he landed on his face, Roger blacked out.