Chapter 33 – Warning: Titans of Tartarus
Finnian dodged as an incoming Titan lunge came to him.
He didn't know which Titan it was, but he had damn paws.
Not literally, but Finnian was sure the Titan had judging by the way he was knocked back with an open palm from the convict. It was like getting slapped again by those Werewolves back in the diverse Slavic Universe.
His dodge was proven useless as he was pulled back by his hood, was turned and was met by an open palm at the chest, knocking him back towards the edge of the broken prison—where a fiery geyser from the River of Phlegethon burst upwards to their towering height and missed Finnian's hair by an inch.
Sweat dribbled at every part of his body—his forehead, down to his arms and lower towards his entire frame. His Descendant uniform was already sticky. Blood stains decorated the once chrome-colored uniform while his scythe looked utterly used and unreflective with the way blood of different colors was dripping from it.
Standing up, with an aching chest and a bleeding arm, Finnian brought out his scythe once again as he began fighting back against the Titan, slashing and dodging his way through the primeval creature. In a distance, could hear Sef chanting Egyptian curses as the flames from the flaming river began moving its way and following his scepter—all because of the Egyptian's wishes.
A punch came unpredicted and hit Finnian on his chest. And the Descendant was sure this time that he got a few of his teeth knocked out, and was thrown again on the edge of the prison.
This was the hardest thing about not being able to fight long distance. The only thing he knows he could do was induce and pull creatures to sleep—but Finnian doubted he could do that to a Titan, who he also didn't know which one. He could be fighting Cronus—the King of the Titans—now but he didn't know.
The Titan was about to come and throw him over the prison when it was lunged by a huge dog from the side. Finnian instantly recognized it, the giant paws, dark fur, the three heads. It was the legendary Cerberus, the guardian of the gates of the Underworld.
It gave Finnian a small moment to lay down, and a quick look around him. The battle cries, the roars, the howls of pain, Lord Hades's mad apocalyptic cry, the shrieks, the heat, and the putrid stench of different creatures' sweat and blood immediately filled Finnian's senses.
The scent and sound around them were toxic, and it continuously drove Finnian's adrenaline insane. He could hear Lionel battling another Titan with bombs, weapons, and his other form of power, while Adam continuously released incantations which drove other Tartarus prisoners away.
A Heca—whatever it was—was preventing a huge creature from escaping, at the same time punching and attacking other creatures with its hundred hands. There were flying creatures from above, some from the Council while some were from Lord Hades's army, which worked in threes as they pulled back up to the prison the different creatures who dared jumped and escape the pit of Tartarus.
The need for freedom was as strong as the humid in the place. And the Council and the army of Lord Hades did their best to counter them. Deaths surrounded them from everywhere, and Finnian predicted that different Death gods from different Universes would be busy after this.
A familiar howl from earlier echoed in the place, making Finnian turn to Cerberus, before it was suddenly thrown away by a massive force from underneath. Finnian stood up from his crouching position and took a deep breath as he held his scythe once again tightly, while a pair of bright yellow-green eyes stared back at his with hatred.
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Descendants of the Myth
Fantasy"We aren't just empowered freaks. We are soldiers for war." Our world isn't alone, it never was in the first place. It is in a twisted reality that the ancient gods themselves forged. But as the multiverse gets darker, it begins to threaten the bal...
