Four guys holding me. Two of them had a lazy grip on my shoulders, clearly not expecting a half-dead demigod to put up much of a fight. Big mistake.
The other two were smarter. They stayed hyper-vigilant, locking my arms tightly against my ribs so I couldn't reach into my pocket for Riptide. They knew that as long as my hands were empty, I couldn't even scratch their heavy armor.
But four heavily plated soldiers operating in a tight formation was a tactical nightmare if you know how to exploit them.
I stopped struggling, letting my body go completely limp.
The sudden deadweight caught the two vigilant guards off . . . well, guard. Their grips loosened for a fraction of a second—and that was all I needed. I ripped my arms forward, shaking off the two lazy men, and dropped my center of gravity. As the remaining two soldiers lunged to overcompensate, I pivoted hard on my heel.
They didn't have the space to brake. The sickening crunch of Chaos metal slamming into Chaos metal echoed off the infinite, repeating columns of the ruined throne room as the soldiers collided, crashing to the stone floor in a tangled heap of armor . . .
Revealing the hulking brute charging right behind them. He was already mid-swing.
I uncapped Riptide. The familiar weight of the blade sprang to life in my hands, and I raised it in a desperate parry.
Unfortunately, I miscalculated my own exhaustion. The impact vibrated up my arms, shattering whatever strength I thought I had left. The blow lifted me clean off my feet. The endless, repeating columns of Eternity's backrooms blurred into a dizzying streak of gray before my head bounced hard against the stone. I skidded ten paces backward, the metallic tang of blood instantly coating my tongue.
My ears rang with a high, piercing whine, completely swallowing the strained shouting of Aridne and Liam. Not that they could do anything. They were pinned to the floor, fighting against their own restraints.
Groaning, I forced my eyes open. Through my blurred vision, the brute was already marching toward me, raising his weapon for the executioner's block.
This time, the tank was completely empty. It took a monumental effort just to lift my chin, let alone command my legs to stand.
Swear on ρήνας, End muttered.
The voice echoed in the cavernous hollows of my mind, the movement of the world around me suddenly grinding to a painful, molasses-slow crawl.
I can't believe you want your last words to be curses, I thought back, managing a wry, blood-stained smile. I didn't know who ρήνας—Rhina—was, but it certainly sounded like a great way to anger someone on my way out.
It's not a curse, End snapped, the mental projection of her voice laced with raw, uncharacteristic panic. It's an oath. Use it before we get decapitated, idiot!
I wanted to argue. I wanted to point out that Chaos, the literal creator of the universe, wasn't currently in the mood to listen to verbal pinky-promises. Her mind was entirely set on ensuring my immediate removal from existence. But I didn't really have a Plan B.
I dragged in a ragged breath. "I swear on—"
My voice dissolved into a violent fit of coughing as the brute's steel-tipped boot slammed into my ribs. The air evaporated from my lungs. He loomed over me, his face an impassive mask of duty.
The sword arced downward.
"I swear on ρήνας that I'm telling the truth," I choked out, a breathless, broken whisper.
YOU ARE READING
The Spirits of the Universe (PJO)
FanfictionPercy Jackson is tired. Tired of the frivolous battles. Tired of all the quests. Tired from the countless deaths. But when something devastating hits home, he knows he's tired of another thing: the entire Greek world. And when two voices appear, he...
