Chapter 12: Predator

The most frustrating thing about watching Adriana and Davos escape on the boat was knowing he had won the fight. Adriana hadn’t been able to do much more than scald him with her new powers, and he’d been wearing her down. If he had just one more sliver of Divinity, enough to get him to the third level of ascension and the Steel Skin that it gave…well, it didn’t do to dwell on what ifs.

“That bitch!” Mykos spat. “That stupid, lucky bitch.” He continued to rant and rave, still trying to impress him. Synto tuned him out.

They were little more than a dot in the distance now, thanks to Davos’ secondary power, Gust. It had been the primary reason Synto had hired the two, honestly. They could get around the Archipelago almost twice as fast as any other small band of mercenaries. An extra sword in the form of Adriana had been a bonus at the time.

That worked out well.

“Enough.” Synto slashed the air with his hand, and Mykos fell silent. “What’s done is done, and we can make her pay for it later. We need to focus on what’s important.”

Mykos fought with himself, then spoke anyway. “And what do we need to focus on, father?”

Synto whirled on him. “Do not call me that. Just because your mother can’t remember which man fucked her that night doesn’t mean I’m your father.”

The boy took a step back. Speaking was obviously difficult, but he said, “Then why did you take me in? She said there was no one else…”

“They always say that,” Synto scoffed. “People lie, you fool. They’ll say whatever it takes to convince people their shit doesn’t stink. Your mother was a sad, lonely woman, who would spread her legs for anyone who gave her the time of day.”

He might as well have backhanded Mykos. The teen stared at him sullenly, but he didn’t bring it up again. Good, he could be trained. Synto decided to throw him a bone. “I took you in because you’re healthy enough, you had no one, and I was fond enough of that woman. The moment that fondness wears thin, you’ll be on your own. Understood?”

Mykos nodded wordlessly. Anger tinged his eyes, not quite hate. Good, that meant he could be trained. He could milk it for a year or two, maybe more, if he gave the boy enough little tastes of what he needed. Synto had never intended to be a father, and he still wouldn’t. He could, however, handle a young adult who wanted to find his way.

“Good. Then to answer your question, the important thing is that they may have the boat, but we have all the loot. They may have gotten away, but as you so charmingly screamed at them, we can track them anywhere. So all we need to do is find a working boat, load it up, and go after them.”

“And survive if there are any other big monsters or followers of the Maw,” Mykos added.

Synto smiled. “That won’t be a problem anymore. I’m well into Hero and will be a Demigod before the year is out. I can take anything they throw at me. Don’t worry boy, I’ll protect you.” He laughed at the scowl sent his way.

Speaking of the Maw, a black glint caught his eye as Synto looked back at the body of the acolyte and one of her brood. He left the shore and picked it up. He held it up to the sky and watched the light absorb into darkness. “Well, would you look at that?”

“What is it? I’ve never seen black Divinity before.” Mykos came up beside him and looked at it.

“This right here is Maw Divinity.”

Mykos recoiled. “We need to destroy it, right?”

Synto pulled the orb to him protectively. “We will do no such thing. Yes, the Maw is an insane Titan bent on killing everyone, but do you know how valuable this is? At a guess, this is no small amount of Divinity. If this is anything less than ten percent, I’d be surprised. Maybe we’ll sell it.”

There was a very large part of him tempted to pop it in his mouth and get to the fourth, maybe even fifth level of ascension. The idea that this forbidden Divinity alone could make him a Demigod tormented him. Synto had to take a deep breath and put it in the cart in a special, cushioned spot separate from the Bestia.

Although they needed to find a boat, they weren’t in a hurry. They pulled the cart along the beach, cursing the one wonky wheel that wasn’t properly aligned. Every so often they found more Bestia, or a few weapons in good condition. Their cart filled up, and Synto estimated that they could go very far when they sold it.

Definitely enough to get him up to Demigod and Mykos up to Hero, even without consuming the Maw’s Divinity. From there, they could form a new crew, and Synto would have the clout to keep them in line as they grew and took over. Many people, when they became Gods, spent less time in the mortal world and more time on Mount Ouranos with others of their kind. He wouldn’t do that, no matter how powerful he became.

What was the point in being worshiped and praised if you weren’t among your followers? There were only three God-kings in the archipelago, and he would become the fourth. All he needed was a little more treasure and Divinity to establish a base of operations, a center of power.

It was around noon and starting to get hot when they made a near-full circuit of the entire island, and found a boat in good condition. The only problem was, they weren’t the only ones to find it.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Stay right where you are!” A muscular man with a large ax on his back commanded. Two other men, both teens, stayed behind him. “We found it first, it’s ours.”

“Is that so?” Synto asked, completely unconcerned. He let go of the cart and rolled his arms around in their sockets. “Then one of two things is going to happen. Either we share it and get off this island together, or -- “

“Not happening,” the warrior said. He drew his ax and slapped the haft down in his hand threateningly. He looked more closely, then smiled. “You can leave all that Bestia and haemar, though. While I let you leave.”

Synto laughed openly. “Then I guess that leaves option two, now doesn’t it? What’s your name, friend?”

“I am Finteus, the Headsman of Barbos,” he proudly proclaimed. “And yours, dead man?”

He drew his club and used it to scratch his back. “Synto. No titles or other names.”

“Ahh,” said Finteus. “A bastard, then. No one will miss you.”

Synto turned his head to address Mykos. “If the other two join in, just keep one of them busy and I’ll take care of it.”

“I do not need my boys to defeat you! Let’s settle this like men, then.” Finteus advanced, starting the fight. Synto walked forward calmly to meet him. The last few steps, the large warrior sped up and attacked.

The moment he focused on the ax rising up, time slowed down for Synto. It wasn’t actually moving any slower, he knew, but his mind sped up. He saw the trajectory of the attack, and how fast it would come out. He had time.

When he dodged, it was faster than his foe but still felt like running in a dream. Every movement was deliberate and precise as he slid out of the way of the strike. The blade came within an inch of his cheek, and then his mind twinged with the awareness of when to strike. Synto decided on his course of action.

Time sped up again as he brought his club down on Finteus’ blond head. One good hit was all it took to send the ax clattering out of his hands into the sand. His knees joined the weapon a second later as he collapsed. He turned dazed eyes to Synto, who grinned at him.

“You look really strong, and I bet you’ve got some Divinity of your own, don’t you?” Synto asked as he inspected the blood on the end of his club. “Pity it doesn’t matter if you can’t hit me. Care to try again?” He took a step back.

Finteus grabbed his ax with clumsy hands and roared when he attacked. He swung a wide, horizontal arc that would’ve taken Synto’s head off if it hadn’t been so damned slow. He barely needed the Warrior’s Reflexes to duck under the attack and retaliate. The club went down on the man’s wrist.

Some people hated the sound, that terrible, sickly crunch, but it was music to Synto’s ears. One of the man’s sons on the boat made to run forward, but his older brother caught him. Synto waved at them while their father screamed.

“You got anything left in you, or should I finish this?” Synto asked.

Finteus howled in pain, literal wolf-like howls without words. It was almost enough to make Synto laugh more, but he kept his predatory smile up. It was the best thing to unnerve people. Finteus looked at him with the kind of intoxicating fear that made him draw things out until they stopped being fun.

“I think I’m going to finish this. Goodbye, Finteus.” Synto raised his club menacingly.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Finteus cried, trying to shield himself with his one good hand. “Please, don’t kill my boys. I lost, but they got nothing, they’re not a threat to you!”

“Hmm.” Synto cocked his head to the side. “That’s almost reasonable. How about this? I spare all three of you, but your boys load up my boat and you all take your chances finding another. That sound agreeable, or…?” He didn’t need to wave his club around, but it was more fun that way.

“Yes, yes. Hirce, Maximus, do as he says!”

The teens looked as scared as they were hateful, and Synto didn’t blame them. He didn’t put his club away, but rested it on his shoulder and motioned with his hands for them to get moving. They did, though it took them much more effort to pull the cart. Mykos went to help them, and he allowed that too.

“What…What Divinity do you have?” Finteus asked in a quiet, withdrawn voice. Shame tinted his cheeks bright red as he stayed on the ground and cradled his wrist to his chest. “How did you beat me?”

Synto waved him off. “Nothing for you to worry about. All you need to do is be proud of your sons for being good, useful pack mules. If they weren’t useful, you’d be dead by now.”

That silenced the warrior, who continued to kneel in submission. Synto liked that. The next fifteen minutes passed by too slowly as the three teens got everything packed away. It was a good boat, a little bigger than the one Davos had, but easy enough to sail with only himself or Mykos.

Hirce and Maximus finished and came up to them, stopping ten feet away from Synto. “W-we’re done, sir. Can we go now?”

“Sure,” said Synto. “You two can. But I’m afraid I changed my mind about your father.”

“What?” Finteus sputtered.

Synto silenced him forever a second later. The shock from the impact shooting up his arm was as sweet as the wet sound it made when his skull caved in.

“Father!” One of the boys, it didn’t matter which, screamed.

Finteus’ body fell to the ground, and sure enough, a vivid orange orb emerged from where his heart stilled. They may have lost the boat, but truly, this trip was a treasure trove.

The younger of the two boys charged him, while the other remained frozen in shock. Synto didn’t toy around with the boy. As soon as he was in range, he bludgeoned him as well. Nearby, Mykos twitched with discomfort.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

“Take care of the other one,” said Synto.

“What?” Mykos looked at the boy. He couldn’t have been older than fourteen.

“Kill him. Consider it a mercy. His family’s dead, and if we don’t do it, a monster will eat him.”

The boy backed up, grief and terror in his eyes. Then he took off, struggling to run over the sand.

“He’s just a kid,” Mykos whispered.

“And he’s getting away fast. You better go, if you want passage on my boat. Go!” Synto barked, and his son ran to obey.

Which left him with his new boat, and another piece of Divinity. It would bring him up past the third ascension, if nothing else. It was nothing compared to the greater Divinity Adriana had managed to nab. Their first goal was, of course, to track her down and take it from her. The true power of a God, wasted on that foolish, uppity girl.

“Well,” Synto said to himself as he rolled the orange orb in his hand. “First thing’s first.” He popped it into his mouth. It was fitting that this was from the Titan of greed. He wanted more, and he wasn’t sure there would ever be enough. He laughed as he ascended, bathed in an orange glow.