𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 [Jason Grace]

62

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞, Jason felt like he was winning. His new sword cut through the arai as though they were made of powdered sugar. One panicked and ran face-first into a tree. Another screeched and tried to fly away, but Jason brought down a bolt of lightning, he sliced the wings off another and sent her spiraling into the chasm.

Each time a demon disintegrated, Jason felt a heavier sense of dread as another curse settled on him. Some were harsh and painful: a stabbing in the gut, a burning sensation like he was being blasted by a blowtorch. Some were subtle: a chill in the blood, an uncontrollable tic in his right eye.

Seriously, who curses you with their dying breath and says: I hope your eye twitches!

Jason knew that he'd killed a lot of monsters, but he'd never really thought about it from the monsters' point of view. Now all their pain and anger and bitterness poured over him, sapping his strength.

The arai just kept coming. For every one he cut down, six more seemed to appear.

His sword arm grew tired. His body ached, and his vision blurred. He tried to make his way toward Dante, but he was just out of reach.

As Jason blundered toward him, a demon pounced and sank its teeth into his thigh. Jason roared. He sliced the demon to dust, but immediately fell to his knees.

His mouth burned worse than when he had swallowed the firewater of the Phlegethon. He doubled over, shuddering and retching, as a dozen fiery snakes seemed to work their way down his esophagus.

The curse of basilisk venom, The arai cackled, excellent choice.

Jason tried to speak. His tongue felt like it was being microwaved. He remembered his victories against monsters on quests and Juno who appeared to him warning him not to press his luck.

Nothing good had come from the goddess' attention on him.

Jason figured the only reason she had wiped his memory in the first place was to get him to trust her again. He hadn't really listened to her after the kiss fiasco. Maybe Juno thought he might not rush to help her if he remembered their meeting.

Jason wished he had never helped the goddess out of her cage.

Now he was in Tartarus, dying from basilisk venom plus a dozen other agonizing curses, while he watched his... Dante wasn't his anymore, actually. He stumbled around, helpless and blind not remembering Jason. He clutched his sword. His knuckles started to steam. White smoke curled off his forearms.

I won't die like this, he thought.

Not only because it was painful and insultingly lame, but because Dante needed him. It didn't matter if he hated Jason or even if he didn't remember him. Once Jason was dead, the demons would turn their attention to him. He couldn't leave Dante alone.

The arai clustered around him, snickering and hissing.

His head will erupt first, the voice speculated.

No, the voice answered itself from another direction. He will combust all at once.

They were placing bets on how he would die... what sort of scorch mark he would leave on the ground.

"Hipp," he croaked. "I need you."

A hopeless plea. He could barely hear himself. Why should Hipp answer his call? The Giant knew the truth now. Jason was no friend.