Corrupted blood sprayed everywhere as the thirty of us rammed swords, spears, daggers and axes into the monstrous guards over and over again. These Ghostforged weapons cut well, but they didn’t leave the molecular scale scorch or emit Thanatosian particles like a proper Keenblade. If it was just me here doing this alone, I would have pierced the brain of one, likely be defeated by one of the other two, almost certainly finished by the two working together, and then be guaranteed to be beaten and broken by the third regenerating its brain back together and getting back up. With all of us, we just kept going and going, hacking and dismembering our prey until there was only fur and blood and chunks of flesh.

Achilles took one by himself easily, dominating it and giving the rest of us a bigger advantage over the other two. No doubt the other teams were facing a much more uphill battle.

“Take their swords.” The King of Heroes commanded.

I grabbed one, hefting it in my left hand. Grecian xiphos, a leaf shaped blade good for both stabbing and slashing. The bronze sword was pocked with corrosion marks, lacked any leather wrapping on the hilt, and crudely sharpened, but power hummed in it. We moved inwards toward the closest other attack party and met Pollixa on the way.

“Here.” I said, handing her the sword.

“I’m a bit nervous about having to get into a fight in order to remember my past memories about war.” She admitted, as the thirty-one of us jogged. “What if I screw everything up?”

“Good point,” Albas said as he turned to her. Then he hammered a fist into her stomach. Pollixa flailed with her new sword but the Bright who looked like a fourteen-year-old boy hammered his head into her nose, crunching it. The others slowed to a halt to watch the violence.

“What the hell??” Pollixa said as blood and mist poured from her nose.

My fist tightened on the hilt of my weapon.

“Hold, Heraklion.” Achilles said.

“Why?” Albas and I said simultaneously and then looked at each other.

“Talking to your cousin, Albas.” The King of Heroes replied.

“His… cousin?” I said, looking at the boy.

“I took command of my father’s fleet to glass a rebellion on a planet right next to Terra. What family did you think I came from?” Albas said before kicking Pollixa.

Anger wrestled with curiosity within me.

“Leave Albas to it.” Achilles advised me. “He won’t be able to Blur her this quickly and the injury will only be temporary.”

“Get up.” Albas commanded her. “Pick up the Beast’s sword and try and hurt me.”

“I don’t remember how to swordfight.” She protested.

“Then I’m going to keep on knocking you down until you do.” He said, grey eyes locked on her.

“The rest of you, let’s move.” Achilles said.

“Wait-“ I cut in.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

“I said, let’s move.” Achilles said, the sting of his authority like a slap across my face.

My limbs started moving of their own accord just as my mouth had when I had been forced to repeat the message that summoned the host of Brights. I had been getting used to being the one who gave the orders and being the most dangerous person in the room. Down here, separated from all the powers and abilities granted by the Regent’s ring I was painfully aware of how much weaker, how much more vulnerable I was. Less than even a Servus in all but regeneration.

At the next station we had taken over, we met up with more of our compatriots who held stolen weapons of their own. On one side of the obsidian wall encircling the Fields, our forces were lowering down a rope to the ground and the same was happening on the exterior. Our soldiers climbed up, took spare weapons, and then started rappelling down the other side, their feet slipping against the smooth obsidian bricks. My anxiety was only relieved when Pollixa and Fish reunited with me on the ground, the three of us finally freed from Asphodel.

“Hungry.” Fish said, his teeth gnashing.

“I know. Soon.” I replied.

“Your cousin’s an ass.” Pollixa muttered, no injuries remaining but her expression was sour.

“He’s not my…” I started to say, only I supposed he was. Technically.

“Get a grip on those memories?” I asked instead.

“Yeah. Mostly. Enough to get him to back off but not enough to get revenge.” Pollixa said, clenching her fists.

“Leave it.” I advised her. “He claims to have orbitally bombarded Mars and killed over a billion people. My… cousin isn’t someone you want to mess with, even if he looks like a child.”

Pollixa scraped at the frosty earth with her feet before looking up at me.

“Would you leave it?” She said pointedly.

I sighed. “No.”

At this point in my life, I’d probably challenge him again if I was in her shoes to prove I could beat him rather than purely out of anger, but I wouldn’t have let the score remain as it was.

“Then why should I if you wouldn’t?” Pollixa replied.

“Because I’m a poor example to follow. I’d drench myself in gasoline and then set myself ablaze to give my enemies a blister.” I said.

“Why bother with gasoline when you already burn?” Fish said absentmindedly but did not elaborate.

“I suppose if the word of Achilles that you were my kin didn’t suffice, that statement works well enough as genetic test.” Albas said, coming over to us.

Pollixa glared at him. “I haven’t forgiven you.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I was helping you.” Albas said dismissively.

“That can’t have been the only way to get me combat ready. You think that being a vicious bastard is helping? That we’re just supposed to be friends now?” Pollixa said, pointing her stolen blade at the boy.

“Yes.” My cousin said calmly. “I don’t leave my enemies capable of moving. By the fact that you’re still moving your mouth to make sounds, I suppose that makes us ‘friends.’”

“Unbelievable.” Pollixa said, shaking her head.

“Anything up?” I asked him.

“The King wants you and me to come ahead with him and few others.” Albas said.

“How far ahead are we going?” I said.

He smiled. “Far. Very far. A week’s travel while the rest of the army prepares.”

…

…

“This smells awful.” I said to Albas, trying not cough or vomit from the noxious aroma.

“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed.” Albas replied sarcastically.

“Mouths shut.” Achilles said, not bothering to look back at the group of seven he had brought with him as an advance guard.

The reason for the smell was that I was wearing the cloak and fur and skin of an Infernal Beast, as were the others, the combination making any aerial surveillance by harpies miss us and the terrible smell of animal musk and rot and molding keeping anything with a strong sense of smell from investigating too closely. For all intents and purposes, we were what appeared to be from a distance eight Infernal Beasts striding one of the Underworld’s many roads.

“How is Grandfather?” Albas asked me quietly.

“I think he’s perpetually irritated with every one of his subordinates but otherwise well.” I whispered.

“Ah, then nothing has changed since my demise. Anything particularly of note?” He said.

“Two Golden Demigods and nine Golden Imperators are doing their best to bring the Dominium tumbling down.” I said.

“Nine? We have nine Gold Imperators now? When I was alive there were only three, not counting the Regent.” Albas said.

“How old are you?” I said in surprise, staring at him. The Nine had reigned under Augustas for pretty much the entirety of the empire’s existence as far as I knew.

“Shh!” Achilles said. We’re nearly to our targets.”