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Magic Murder Cube Marine
Book 2 Chapter 11: You've Got Mail

Book 2 Chapter 11: You've Got Mail

“Shit,” the Marine swore as he grabbed a gray and blue slate from the attendant. Strangely enough, it was easier for them to transfer his mail to the stone tablet instead of printing it all out. They still charged him for the device, but he could afford it.

The Marine slipped it into his bag of hoarding for later. He hated reading and was planning on having Willow review the messages with him later. Francis could read, he just preferred having people read to him. He certainly wasn't about to make an asshole out of himself by sounding out the words in front of everyone.

Francis didn't think that his buddy would use any big words in the report. But you couldn't be too careful. Language was tricky, and he would rather attack it as part of a team than go in solo.

He looked over at System, who was showing a notification to Jack. The hound was holding in a laugh and System was getting more irate by the second. “What's going on?” Francis asked.

System gritted his teeth. “It seems that I may have made a mistake. I was not at my best last night and accepted a quest. One that is… problematic.”

The hound laughed at System's misfortune. “He signed up for a suicide mission. Apparently our fearless friend here thought he could take on a dragon.”

Even Francis knew that was an incredibly dumb idea. Dragons were like walking weapons of mass destruction. Assuming you managed to kill one before it could cook you alive, the fallout would probably kill you.

Dragons didn't go peacefully into that goodnight. They went kicking and screaming and did their best to take you with them, along with whatever part of the countryside was unlucky enough to be within the blast radius.

Then there were the other dragons to worry about. They didn't like the idea of would-be dragon hunters. Francis shook his head. “System, you are so fucked.”

***

Down in the underworld, Hades was laying on the couch and eating his way through an entire tray of baklava. As the god of death devoured the sweet, sticky pastry, he watched a scene unfold in his new scrying pool.

It was much bigger than the one he usually used and had come with a free enchantment that would let him watch sporting events. The magic would wear off after a year and need to be renewed. But until then, Hades could watch all the decathlons and gladiatorial fights his black heart desired without wasting any mana.

If Hades was being honest with himself, he wasn't operating at peak performance. Persephone had cleared out their vault when she left and currently the god of death’s remaining minions were tasked with retrieving or replacing his missing stuff.

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That was part of the reason why he hadn't used an Artifact of Doom to level Brexis. He was fresh out of city destroying super weapons. The other part was politics.

As a former divine heavyweight, Hades had collected his share of enemies over the centuries. The other pantheons had wasted no time embellishing and spreading news of his defeat. They also seemed to genuinely enjoy Francis' company, which was puzzling. There was even talk of inviting the Marine to join one of the major pantheons.

A soft crunching noise caught Hades’ attention. He looked up to see a goddess with golden eyes and caramel skin happily biting into an apple. He let out a sigh. “How did you get in here?”

Eris shrugged. “The door was unlocked.”

“Son of a bitch!” Hades swore, cursing himself for not being more careful. He took stock of the situation. “What brings you to my domain, dear niece?”

The goddess frowned. “We aren't on the best of terms and you aren't my uncle, no matter what the myths say.” She stopped and chuckled. “Nice new chariot by the way. It doesn't absolutely scream ‘mid-life crisis’. I take it that Persephone wasn't a fan?”

Hades was a few seconds away from kicking the smug minor goddess out the door. Eris had always been a shit disturber and apparently that hadn't changed. “I'll repeat my question. Why are you here?”

“Very well. Right down to business then.” Eris tossed her half eaten apple and flopped down on a couch. “It has come to my attention that Francis may be leaving the protection of Brexis soon. If someone were so inclined, they might be able to take him by surprise.”

The god of death knew there had to be more to this particular puzzle. “I'm assuming that you aren't telling me this out of the goodness of your heart. Killing Francis must benefit you somehow.”

“How cynical,” Eris pouted, “Are you saying that I can't do a favor for my favorite uncle in his time of need?”

“As you previously pointed out, we aren't even related. And I know better than to take a gift from the goddess of strife.”

Eris cocked an eyebrow at him. “You know, I always hated that portfolio. Strife sounds so much more serious than what I actually do. It's quite unfair.”

“The goddess of discord then,” Hades corrected himself, “Either way, I'd have to be a fool to accept your help. Whatever the cost, it's too high.”

“But what if it was free?” Eris asked.

“Then I definitely can't afford it.” The god of death got up and stretched, feeling his back pop. “It's been nice seeing you, Eris. But I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Boo!” Called out the goddess in mock disappointment. Eris gave Hades a hug and a peck on the cheek before she departed.

Once the god of death was sure she was gone, he let out a sigh of relief. Dealing with Eris, or Discordia as she was sometimes called, tended to be more trouble than it was worth. She loved causing chaos and wasn't too choosy about who got caught in the crossfire.

Hades sat back down on the couch and frowned. Something was in his pocket. The god of death reached into his bathrobe and felt a cold metal lump. It radiated power and destruction.

He brought it out to see a small golden apple with the word “Void” written on the side in ornate script. Hades smiled despite himself as he looked at the Artifact of Destruction. It seemed that Eris had left him a present, and he was looking forward to seeing what it could do.

His smile turned into a wicked grin. “Oh Francis, you are so fucked.”