Descendants of the Myth

Chapter 37 - The Angel of Death

Chapter 37 – The Angel of Death

Adam was fuming.

And he knew he had every right to be.

After that asshole fake-Galahad insulted him on the weakness of his magic, calling it, deeming him as "useless without it", he dared use it against them?

The Egyptian slammed his fists for the nth time on the thick metal cage—remembering all too well how he crafted it with his strength, focus, and power to cage Ladon. And now they were caged inside it, fortunately with no dragon in sight, but almost powerless.

His scepter was gone, and so was Aleisha's axe, Finnian's scythe, the weapons of the twins—all gone. Taken away from them. And whatever spell Loki enchanted this cage with, it grounded their powers to minimum. Adrian could only heal them up until he got himself all nauseous and the one almost needing the healing.

It was like Loki was trying to prove him a point. He was useless without his scepter. He held no power other than limited magic without it. Heck, even he would admit to himself that his power was still limited even with his scepter.

Maybe Loki was right? Maybe—

"You should really need to stop thinking so much."

His head snapping back to the voice in slight frustration, it immediately softened when he looked down at the worn-out telepath sitting beside him. Dexter's back was literally pressed up against the cool metal, eyes forced closed, his brows furrowed, and his arms crossed as if he himself too was barely handling everything.

He was the one who probably looked the most dead among all of them. Adam remembered Adrian mentioning earlier that due to some power constraint, he couldn't heal his own best friend. The Egyptian thought how that sucked, like baking a pie for someone only to find out they're allergic to it.

Adam sighed slightly in concern. His thoughts were probably too loud that even Dexter's powers took a hold of it.

"Sorry."

Dexter waved a tired hand in the air, limply falling back to the side after a few moments. "It's nothing," he muttered. Adam wasn't even sure if the Oracle still cared if he heard it or not. "Totally not your fault."

The Egyptian conceded at what the telepath said, although he barely felt any assurance from what he heard. He slid down to the floor tiredly too, watching as the other Descendants also looked distant from everything and everyone else.

Aldrin was still unconscious beside Dexter, and his twin looked close to losing it when his brother wasn't replying to his calls for him to wake up. Probably the only thing that kept the demigod sane was Dexter's hand on his shoulder, who seemed to use his powers to keep his best friend stable—although Adam may be over exaggerating things a bit, since he sort of knew Adrian as someone who was a drama king when it comes to emotions.

Although the demigod had a point to be stressed out, Adam thought, since Aldrin secured the second on the most beaten up list in his opinion. Wounds covered his arms with what looked like scratches from a creature with five fingers, his shirt was torn, bloodied, and his face was slightly covered with bruises. That wasn't the worst, since there was a wound on his head that Adrian took immediate attention to when he noticed it. It was probably the thing that worn out Adrian.

Adam could only wish he could do something to help.

Just across them was Finnian, who was also in a corner looking all distant as he stared at the surrounding leaves around them. The leaves were slightly comforting, but Adam figured the man was already asleep with his gold eyes wide open with the way he stared blankly at his surroundings. He didn't look any better than him, though. His blonde hair was unkempt as hell, Council uniform torn also torn apart and bloody, and his entire demeanor still looked like he was just pulled out of the stimulated sand box Loki prepared.