A magnetic attraction drew me close to my grandfather’s side as we flew.

“Grandson.” The Regent acknowledged me over the tremendous rushing of winds.

“Grandfather.” I replied.

“Why are you tanned, boy?” He asked.

“Long story. Akillos used radiation and mutagenic commands against me.” I said. I could tell that he was going to press further but a gleaming flash from the city of the gods caught both our eyes and distracted him from interrogating me more closely. That intermittently shining source of light built to a climactic surge. Not just light. Lightning. Augustas put his hand out to catch the bolt, spitting out commands of his own, but the thunderstrike still deafened me, bursting my eardrums and raking my poor retinas into a spotty mess that could barely be called vision at all. Every natural, unnatural, and supernatural sense that I possessed was shaken, each of my nerves half-fried from being this close to the sheer power of one of the Skyfather’s legendary lightning bolts.

Blinking the spots in my sight away, I saw that Augustas had snatched a bronze projectile shaped into a zigzag form. His gigantic hand was flayed to the bone by the blast and the metal sizzled in his hand. The Regent moved to throw the godly weapon back in a counterattack, but it dissolved into steam and smoke. It knew who its true master was.

I looked back to see our legions of Regnators and my companions were still following but had been shaken off course by the titanic explosion. Persias Fulvion was laughing with the exhilaration that only he could hold after the near annihilation of his entire being by the same instrument that had vanquished Kronos and Typhon.

“It’ll take more than that.” My grandfather grimly promised the king of the gods.

A poor choice of words. When the second bolt came an instant later, it embedded itself in Augustas’s chest, piercing through armor and superhuman flesh. I came to full awareness faster this time around than the first. Maybe because I was more ready, perhaps because the more distance and duration I put between me and Akhillos’s death, the less weathered I became.

The Regent’s eyes were that of a berserker’s, his teeth clenched like a wild beast’s bared fangs and twice as ready to tear flesh as any wolf or lion. Whatever shreds of humanity that he might have clung to evaporated in the wake of his rage. Flames of red and gold and violet rushed out of cracks in his stony skin, a halo of incandescent runes scoring themselves into the very membrane of reality around his head, rewriting themselves into new existence every time he moved. I wondered if this was how it felt to stand near me when I blazed with borrowed glory.

We rose above the rim of the lowest section and landed in a downward arc on the most luscious grass I had ever seen and left it all the worse for our presence. As more of our army followed suit, I had no doubt that by the time the war was finished, this peaceful expanse of greenery would be left a dirt field pockmarked with the craters left by the landings of thousands. But if only for a moment before blood and ichor was spilled on these grounds, I had to admit that Olympus was beautiful. Angelic even.

On this ethereal mountain’s peak flourished a small city built for immortals. It was beyond age and decay, devised to be pleasing rather than practical. No winds or rains would torment this paradise if Zeus did not allow it. No insolent vine or creeping moss would defile the clean marble and granite if Demeter did not wish it. Nor would even the most ludicrous and unreasonable architecture crumble if designed by the minds of Athena the Scholar or Hephaestus the Smith. The myriad gardens, secluded sanctuaries, fountains, and shrines to Olympus’s inhabitants had never known Chronos’s passing hand.

It was too perfectly crafted to have possibly come from nature’s chaos and yet too majestic to be the creation of mundane man. This city was a monument to entities that stood apart from the rest of creation. Every stream a perfect brushstroke, each gleaming spire or towering column of silver an etching into a grander history than was written in the schoolbooks I had read as a child. It was almost a waste to fight a war in this blessed kingdom in the clouds, but I had already laid waste to Elysium as trial run. My ambitions had already ruined one selfish paradise once; I could do it again if it had to be done, and it did. The only route left to me was forward.

Chariots led by unearthly stallions raced towards us along the city’s main roads, chips of the street’s material breaking off in the wake of the speeding wheels. The riders were natural laws and elemental domains compressed into singular humanoid forms. Olympians. Each led a host of their own chosen elite, their finest creations. Sons and daughters of their patrons’ Paths that had been called into eternal service rather than be abandoned to the Underworld. Forgotten souls now but no doubt glorious in their own time to be picked by one of the Twelve.

“Don’t be distracted. If they must, they’ll draw you into full bloodlust or perhaps even sacrifice one of their own to make my spear devour you. If push comes to shove, let Thrax die for you. Run and run fast.” Augustas ordered me.

I was willing to make tough choices, if need be, but it was easier said than done to avoid being locked into combat. I was the second biggest target for the increasingly close Olympians, I wasn’t exactly going to be tiptoeing past them unchallenged and I carried an ever-growing burden.

Artemis, goddess of the hunt, met my gaze as both sides of this battle charged to cross blades. Reflected in her eyes were the mirrored images of every mortal, animal and monster she had ever slain. The scores of successful hunts wheeled around her pupils, spinning until they formed a single image. Me. My body laid low, broken and bloody. Her smile was a predator’s grin, all teeth and no goodwill. I returned the expression in kind and wove images in my own eyes to mimic what she had done. Mine showed her silver bow snapped in two, her chariot’s wheels shattered into kindling for Hestia’s hearth.

Her smile warped into a contemptuous sneer. I ran faster, and she drew her unloaded bow back. I tracked where it would have flown if there was something nocked to the string. There was some trickery about to be pulled. A shimmering projectile coalesced into place when she had drawn the bow fully, taking aim for my heart. I called a psychic construct into being, a rounded shield of azure mental energy engraved with Thaekyrian runes and depictions of my deeds; of my burning in the heat chamber of the Scholarium’s tests, of my slaying of Akhillos the Golden Demigod, of my resurrection from death’s cold clutches, of each Rank I had won and every tribulation I had faced.

It could have withstood the fury of city-destroyer class missiles without a scratch marring its surface. It still wasn’t enough. Artemis’s arrow sang as it flew through the air and pierced my makeshift defense, lodging in the armor I had been given. Right above my beating heart.

But not in it.

My shield might not have made a complete mockery of the huntress’s attack, but it had slowed it. All with human means, nothing of the divine behind it. Artemis drew again, just before I was close enough that I could have lunged at her with my own two hands or with the spear if I dared to visit the Corpsefather a second and final time. It hungered for her undying soul. I couldn’t let it feed though. I only had one murder of a major god in me, and it had to be her father.

Two arrows came at me, one knocked aside with that infernal lance and one barely missing my left eye as I yanked my head aside. Corrupted fluid and pus ran from the cut left on my cheek, a mere scratch from how I had jerked away and yet as putrefying as a hydra’s bite left to fester. Poisoned then. Or cursed. Or both. I would need to deal with it and soon.

I dove out of the way of Artemis’s passing chariot in a tumbling roll.

My weapon grew heavy and writhed in my hand, a petulant child denied the chance to feed on a choice meal. Now was the moment to take care of two problems at once. A light heat warmed my veins as I called upon Heracles’s funeral fire, jointly feeding the spear in intermittent pulses of energy and giving authority to my vocal cords.

“Heal this wound. Purify this cut.” I ordered my own body. The spear grew lighter, and the accursed wound shut itself as I ran, my armored boots shattering the stones underneath me, my body twisting and ducking out of the flights of Artemis’s arrows. I snaked my way through this perfect little city, my breath ragged.

With my speed and strength, this length to travel should feel like nothing at all, but our foes were just as fast as I was, and this strange place played tricks with the distance I had to travel. I could have sworn I had sprinted past some of the same buildings as I plowed through shrubbery trimmed uniformly to the nanometer and danced through cramped rows of sculptures. In the background, I could hear the Regent roaring though I dared not waste the time to look. He would be fine; it was me who was stuck carrying a tool that was slowly killing me and that I could only use once against a higher deity.

“You can’t escape me, mortal.” Artemis’s voice came from behind me. She had abandoned her chariot to follow my trail on foot.

As I passed a statue of the goddess herself, I manifested a blade covered in the black fire of an Afrit Imperator and sheared the head from its shoulders. I caught it on the flat side of the obsidian spearhead and used the length of my spear acted as lever.

Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world, Archimedes had once said.

With shockwaves and ignited air in its wake, I hooked the head up and over me, and then straight back at the great huntress. A flicker of broiling heat went to my throat and tongue.

“Be sticky and burn!” I yelled.

When it struck her in the chest, I used the pyrokinesis of the order that I had chosen when I made Gold and urged the fire to seethe. It was an angry, hateful flame now, but it wasn’t nearly as mad as the woman at whom I had just launched a copy of her face covered in magical napalm. Perhaps if the gods did not want to be so ironically attacked with their own vanity, they shouldn’t leave convenient duplicates of themselves all over the place.

“Detach, reverse.” Artemis said with a hiss.

Interesting. I would have gone with extinguish, remove, cool, and then heal. Far more commands and an extra “and”. The usage of reverse hinted at something to do with time manipulation as well. Truly curious. Something to learn from. Needed to-

An arrow struck me. Not from Artemis, but from an unseen source. A shooter hiding from my senses in the spiritual tempest saturating the whole of Olympus, combined with something special of their own merit. When the undead Venator emerged from the shadows wielding a lesser replica of her patroness’s bow, the memory of being sedated and taken to an underground location in the Scholarium arose. Except this time, it wasn’t a test. More of Artemis’s chosen followers slunk out of gaps in foliage, and around the corners of temples. I was tired and surrounded.

“You know, human, you could surrender. Zeus might spare you.” Artemis said.

“Might. I’ll pass.” I said.

“Ever the dog. Always loyal to your master.”

“Something like that.” I said. If only she knew what kind of betrayal I was planning on that front.

I wasn’t running my mouth without purpose. While the main part of my brain played a fun game of Distract a Deity, split off hunks of my neural tissue and personality were feverishly plotting combat solutions, escape plans, and figuring out why the hell she wasn’t finishing the kill. The last was the most interesting to all of my divided mental copies. The arrow that the female Venator had hit me with may have been built with the same blueprints, but it was far from the real deal. If the goddess intended to wait for me to succumb to it, we’d be here for a good half hour. It could have been to gloat, but she hadn’t indulged much so far in mockery.

I decided to bite the bullet and just ask.

“What do you want?” I said.

“Distracting you is good for the war effort.” Artemis said.

“Finishing me would be even better for your side.” I said.

“So eager to die.” She laughed. In those moonlight silver eyes the image of my corpse appeared again. “See that? It is your fate now. A successful hunt that I see is set in stone.”

“Fate can be deceptive at best. You haven’t given me a real answer though. What do you want?” I said.

“Your skin is unusual for an Imperator.” Artemis said.

“A side effect of blocking a curse from Akhillos.” I said.

“Others might be so easily lied to, perhaps even rulers of empires, but I can tell a blessing from a curse. You were given a gift from my twin brother.” She deduced.

“If I had seen the sun god, he’d be more likely to curse me than bless me.” I argued.

“His mark is upon you. If Apollo wanted to curse you, you would be ash, mortal. Why did he do it?” Artemis asked.

Not far from here, even through the obscuring distractions, I smelled the faint scent of corruption and tasted the metallic tang of blood. Toni. Antonias was coming. I needed to keep stalling.

“He wanted to assist me in my endeavors. Perhaps you should join him.” I said.

Artemis shook her head. “My twin is insane.”

“Didn’t look that way to me.” I said. Every moment, Toni came a bit closer, no doubt searching for me and hopefully with backup.

“Apollo is unstable. He bears not only his own memories through eternity, but he also sees the future and all its possibilities. Him deciding to help you and your ilk could have been him following a phantom timeline past its window of even happening.” Artemis said.

I shrugged, and then brought my hand to my chin as if I was thinking. My friend was very close now. He just needed a signal.

“Do you know where my brother is now?” She said.

I opened my mouth to speak and then bit down on my left hand with vicious intent, willing blood to gush rather than clot. Like a shark smelling wounded prey in the water, Toni was drawn right to me. He tore through a surprised Venator and dragged me forward in a dash.

And then Thrax tackled the goddess of the moon to the ground and hammered a punch to her nose.

The sheer audacity.