War God's Mantle- Underworld Read online

  Table of Contents

  Summary

  Shadow Alley Press Mailing List

  Resurrection Fun

  The Madness of the Godstone

  Beach Blanket Battle Royale

  Cold Shoulder Grudge Match

  Goddamn Goddess

  Memory of Murder

  Tears, Wine, and a Kiss

  Insane Levels and Sane Jewelry

  Staircase Through the Stars

  Where Are We Exactly?

  A Side of Mushrooms and Distrust

  Books and Waterfalls Don’t Mix

  A Tasty Little Snack

  Don’t Drink the Water

  Mortal Terror

  A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Minos Omega

  Fun With Farm Animals

  Bull. Shit.

  Harvester of Enemies

  Sane Decisions and Insane Weapons

  When Good Gods Go Bad

  Ice, Ice, Baby

  Total War

  Sometimes They Come Back

  A Moment of Silence

  No Going Back

  Bonehead

  Having a Nice Tine

  Hot, Hawt, Haute

  Strange Things are Afoot at the 7-Eleven

  A Million Dreams

  Rockford Bloodbath

  Tartarus Sauce

  Colossal Asshole

  What Marines Do Best

  Homebodies

  Books, Mailing List, and Reviews

  Chapter 1: Meltdown

  Books by Shadow Alley Press

  litRPG on Facebook

  GameLit on Facebook

  Copyright

  About the Author

  About the Publisher

  Summary

  A MARINE TURNED GREEK God. An Army of Beautiful Amazons. One Final Battle against Death Itself.

  Jacob Merely has secured the ultimate weapon against evil, the Crystal Scythe, and now it’s time for him to bring the fight to Hades himself.

  Unfortunately, Earl Necro Earl and his undead forces stand in the way, so if Jacob is going to defeat the god of death, he’s going to have to take out Earl first. Knocking Earl’s teeth into the back of his throat? Yeah, Jacob is totally okay with that.

  And when a mysterious new woman arrives unexpectedly at their gates with no memory of who she is—but seems to know of a secret passageway into the heart of the Temple of Hades—Jacob finally has the last piece of the puzzle. But with every new battle won, Jacob is tempted to give into the rage and arrogance that consumed Ares.

  Can Jacob resist the temptation to become a total douchebag? Can he and his Amazons unravel the mystery behind the ancient Olympian War and finish a battle as old as time itself? And what new demons does Hades have to throw against the War God?

  Continue reading War God’s Mantle by James A. Hunter, author of Rogue Dungeon and the litRPG epic Viridian Gate Online, and Aaron Crash, author of the bestselling American Dragons series.

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  Resurrection Fun

  THE GORE WAS STILL drying on my skin.

  Let me be perfectly clear—it wasn’t my blood, but viscous monster blood coating me in a fine sheen. I’d waltzed through a hundred enemies, killing them all with my new Crystal Scythe. That was one badass weapon. Not only could it cut through pretty much anything, it harnessed the power of time itself. Without a doubt, all our prehistoric Greek myth hijinks had been totally worth it.

  But back to the blood on my skin. I looked like I’d crawled through a monster slaughterhouse, but I didn’t care. Not one bit. I felt no remorse, no fear, no worry, no horror. Those things were monsters, and if they didn’t perish, the human world would. Besides, thrashing werewolves in magical armor with a weapon that could kill a god had been almost too much fun. Then I’d given a big speech and basked in the adoration of my army. Now I had work to do.

  I jogged across the walls of Lycastia City and down the steps, a breeze from the western beach whispering across my skin. My generals—Myrina, Phoebe, and Asteria— followed me. Loxo, my Huntress, had disappeared with Sophia, my Teleporter, to run recon. We had to make sure we’d taken care of all the 6 a.m. baddies that had laid siege to our town. We had another eight hours before the next batch of Hades’ nightmare army hit us again, crashing against our gates with clockwork precision.

  Just the thought of another battle made me grin. The fist-sized diamond in my chest glowed. Its power overwhelmed me. The gem wanted those bastards to come every four hours. No, every fifteen minutes. It wanted battle, all day, every day. To maim and kill and bask in the glory of what it meant to be a god of war. Then I had the idea of finding a bed and hooking up with Asteria, Loxo, and Phoebe. If the godstone couldn’t have battle and bloodshed, it would settle for sex.

  I hit the cobblestones of Lycastia City and kept on going, my cloak fluttering behind me like a battle standard. Phoebe limped, trying to keep up. She had a withered leg, and even with her mechanical steampunk brace, she was slower than the rest of us. Asteria helped her out by turning into a mighty blue mare for her to ride.

  The wind picked up again, carrying the smell of the ocean and the acrid odor of a charnel house thanks to the battlefield nearby. And, underneath those smells, was the scent of all my Amazons. That, at least, was one smell I didn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, the godstone and I loved it. I should take them all and attack Hades straight on. Kill the god of death.

  I stopped, hunched over, hands on my knees, and tried to clear my head.

  Dammit, the godstone was loud in my head. The noise from it, the eagerness, nearly drowned out my own thoughts entirely.

  “What is it, War God?” Myrina asked. “What is ailing you? Were you wounded?”

  Asteria shifted back into her human form and caught Phoebe before she fell. Black hair fell across the Beastiamancer’s blue skin and her dark eyes showed worry.

  The three generals crowded around me. Myrina was tall, muscled, and blond. Her icy blue eyes showed her warrior spirit. She was the toughest of my Battle Wardens—the frontline soldiers who were stronger, faster, and better than simple humans.

  Standing next to her was Phoebe, a Rune-Caster, a type of mystical steampunk engineer. She was girl-next-door gorgeous. A willowy brunette, she had striking gray-green eyes, a quick laugh, and a love of sarcasm. Totally my type.

  Asteria, though, had captured my heart as well as my body, and it wasn’t because she had blue skin and could shapeshift into anything—the list was growing longer by the day and even included a Tyrannosaurus Rex. She’d picked up that little ability not hours before. No, Asteria was carefree and liked to laugh.

  A trait of hers that I couldn’t get out of my mind.

  Phoebe sent me a worried message. She preferred to use the gaming system to talk since she could communicate faster and use more twenty-first-century slang. Something up? Seems like there’s something just a little off about you, my dude.

  I straightened and rolled my eyes at Phoebe. “No, I’m fine. It’s the godstone in my chest.” I absently itched at my sternum, even though it was covered by a metal breastplate. “It likes the Crystal Scythe a lot. Maybe a little too much.”

  It should, Phoebe sent. You went through those werewolves like they were a third grader’s papier-mâché project.

  Myrina let out a pissed off sigh. “Phoebe, I know you can message Jacob directly, but it is rude. Please speak to him so we can all hear. And we still have Antiope to consider.”

  Fucking Antiope, the spy who’d killed Sabra and nearly killed us. Stole some really cool magical it
ems from us as well.

  “Fine, I will use my speech,” Phoebe conceded. “Though I do not like it. No, I don’t like it. I will use contractions. Dammit, I’ll use contractions. Ugh, my mouth is so slow and stupid. Like how I walk.”

  I felt a flash of guilt, here then gone like a bolt of lightning. That was my fault. I’d messed up her leg when I’d first created her. I’d been new to the god game then and hadn’t realized what I was doing. Still, Phoebe was the one who had to live with my mistake. She was a consistent reminder that what I did as god of war had real, lasting consequences.

  “Enough of this nonsense,” I spat, pushing the thoughts away, feeling annoyed. “We have to get Sabra back from the Underworld. We must not tarry lest we lose her soul to Hades.”

  “Jacob,” Asteria purred. “Are you feeling ... well? You do not sound like yourself. Perhaps a good meal of hay would ease your belly?”

  “Seriously. Dude, you used the word ‘lest,’” Phoebe said. “Something’s definitely up with you.”

  Myrina frowned at me. Was that concern in her eyes? Or was it fear?

  I squinted. “Uh, yeah.” I shook my head. “I’m not sure where that came from, ‘lest’ and ‘tarry’ and all that. But we do have to hurry.”

  I pulled away from them and jogged toward the forge. The godstone had taken over for a moment and the strange thing was, it made me sound like Ares. I guess that made sense, since his essence was in the gem.

  We moved past the statue of the Greek god of war towering over a fountain that splashed cold drinking water into a wide marble basin. Behind him was the temple proper. Inside that was another Ares statue—the guy was nothing if not a world-class narcissist—marked with the sigil that kept the gate to the Underworld closed. It was why Hades and his armies weren’t pouring out to destroy the earth. That sigil was cracking, though, and wouldn’t hold for long. Our end game was for me to level up enough to redraw it and seal Hades away forever—preferably before he breached the surface and came at me head on.

  And all that was assuming the monsters comprising Hades’ advance raiding force didn’t break through the walls and destroy the sigil first.

  Yeah, level up. Since Ares couldn’t give me all his power at once, not without driving me batshit crazy, he’d created a gaming system. That way I leveled up gradually, slowly growing into his godhood. I accessed it through my helmet. I was a level twenty-five war god and gaining more experience points every day. Already, I could do some amazing shit, like build walls and create people.

  Hippolyta, Myrina’s second-in-command, had kept the walls defended, but they needed some serious rebuilding. We’d dug trenches, and I’d created razor-wire, which laid in rolls in front of the stone ramparts of our city. But after the ceaseless onslaught, that needed some re-touching.

  We headed south to the forge, nestled between Phoebe’s workshop and my decadent palace. On the north end of Lycastia were the barracks, the eating hall, and the training grounds. Above that, we had fields and livestock to keep us fed. Near the north wall splashed my Mountain Dew fountain, which kept us all heavily caffeinated and ready to rumble at the drop of a hat. Since my life had turned into a real-life video game, I needed all the energy I could get.

  But I was at that tipping point you reach in games where you aren’t a newbie, and yet you haven’t maxed out all your abilities and skill trees. No god mode for me, not yet. However, with the Crystal Scythe, I was close. Close enough to seriously consider taking a run at Hades, but maybe close enough that Ares’ influence was also starting to bleed through.

  I remembered the look in Myrina’s eyes when I’d lost control of my mouth. Yeah, it was fear. And she had reason to be afraid.

  When Ares had been in charge before, he’d gotten them all killed and had lost the temple. And it hadn’t been because of some weakness in strength; pound for pound, Ares was stronger than Hades. No, it had been a weakness in Ares’ character. His pride and arrogance had gotten the better of him, and his near death had been the end result. If I turned into Ares 2.0, the same thing might happen. I knew I was stronger when I used the Amazons instead of wading into battle myself, and yet that was what the godstone wanted me to do. To go in, hacking and slashing, ending my enemies and reveling in the massive amounts of destruction I could dish out.

  I burst through the doors of the forge. Phoebe’s assistant, Steropia—another Rune-Casters—jumped in surprise.

  “War God,” Steropia backed away. “Is ... is everything all right?”

  “We have to bring Sabra back.” I glanced around. The forge had coals, so we wouldn’t have to start from scratch, but the flames were nowhere near hot enough. On one side of the room were shelves that held various jars, glass bottles, skins jugs, and small boxes, everything labelled. A huge anvil sat in front of the forge with the Hammer of Hephaestus lying next to it. That was a big beast of a tool with etchings of Athena on one side and Aphrodite on the other. That perfectly encapsulated my ’Zons: beauty, battle wisdom, and strength.

  Phoebe limped in after me. “Steropia, bring fuel. Jacob, I shall gather what we need to forge Sabra again.” She paused, a quizzical smile on her lips. “I shall? Or I will?”

  “Just use contractions,” I growled. “I’ll get the forge roaring.”

  Fuck it, she sent. I’ll get some shit together while you flame on, Johnny.

  “Nice,” I said. “But Myrina is right. No more messaging until we can tweak the system so Antiope can’t hear us.”

  There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that she’ll get your many modern-day cultural references. Then Phoebe spoke. “But you’re the god of war, and I’m just your crippled Rune-Caster. So I’ll follow along. Look at how smoothly I’m speaking your English. Or is it ing-glitch? Do I have a glitch in my ing?”

  “Whatever that means.” I grabbed the bellows and pumped them, once, twice, three times, until the coals were glowing. Steropia tossed in big lumps of coal that quickly caught fire. We’d need the fire at a balmy two thousand degrees Fahrenheit. Using my helmet, I checked the gaming readout that appeared in my vision. I went to the “Create Amazon” submenu, located in the MANAGE AMAZONS tab.

  I saw my options for Elementalists:

  <<<>>>

  Amazon Class Specialities

  1. Elementalists: Elementalists can tap into the Divine Power of creation, harnessing the elements with deadly results.

  Flóga Mágissa, or Flame-Witches, wield the destructive elemental force of fire.

  Gi Mágissa, or Earth-Witches, tap into the heart of Great Mother Gaia to control the earth itself.

  Aéras Mágissa, or Air-Witches, harness the power of the wind and sky.

  Neró Mágissa, or Water-Witches, embrace the power of Poseidon to harness the water.

  Dasikí Mágissa, or Forest-Witches, can speak the language of the forest.

  <<<>>>

  I then saw a checkbox I’d not seen before marked “Fertile.” It was unchecked by default. What the hell? There were a ton of menus and options, so I understood how I’d missed it, but it was still moderately irritating.

  It also showed me the temperature of the fire and the various components I needed to create a person, specifically a Dasikí Mágissa. Using my thoughts, I put in the name: Sabra. She had been a high-level Forest-Witch until Antiope cut her throat. Unforgiveable.

  I hoped to pull her soul out of the Underworld. Hopefully, Hades hadn’t found her spirit. According to Loxo, who’d died and come back once before, when an Amazon journeyed into the deep darkness of death itself, Hades searched relentlessly for them. If he found them, he could torture them and turn them against me, thus creating a Dark Amazon. A Dark Amazon just like Antiope. Charon, the ferryman of ye olde lore, tried his skeletal best to hide away the souls so they wouldn’t be tortured, but his efforts weren’t always enough. I didn’t plan on dying any time soon, but when I did, I planned to shake Charon’s bony hand.

  Phoebe was shaping the little figurine made from the sacred clay w
e’d taken from our supply. We’d exhausted the pits near the southern gate, but we’d found a good source of the stuff near waterfalls on the southern end of the island.

  My lead Rune-Caster fashioned a little heart out of animal fat and pressed flower petals into it. She then wove grass and twigs into the doll and sprinkled it with a mixture of diamond powder, pollen, and Thymos Crystals—the powerful natural element that fueled most of our mojo. Asteria had found a huge cache under the ocean waters, so we had plenty to work with. For now.

  Myrina strutted in.

  I slammed the bellows down. I had to laugh at how strong I was now. Back when I started, my character sheet (yeah, I had a character sheet—don’t ask) said I had a Strength of ten, which was equivalent to an average human. Now?

  I pulled up my character sheet in my display.

  <<<>>>

  <<<>>>

  NOW? MY STRENGTH ATTRIBUTE was over eighty. Part of that was my own muscle, but part of it came from a magical ring called the Might of Hercules, which added five points to my Strength. Even better, the heavy War Mammoth Cloak on my back gave me a 0.5 bonus for each character level, which, at level twenty-five, was an extra 12.5 points stacked on to my already massive frame. In the end, I was strong as fuck, and we all know how strong fuck is.

  My muscles creaked as I easily slammed down a thousand pounds of pressure. The flames swept up and the heat increased, uncomfortably warm against my face.

  “Hey, Phoebe, what does the Fertile checkbox do?” I asked, still working the bellows.

  “If you want us to get pregnant when we do the deed, you check that. Ares probably kept it off because he wanted us battling and not eating pickles and ice cream.”

  Yeah, that would be for the best. But I could turn it back on if I wanted to have little rug rats running around on the island. No wonder we never talked about birth control.

  Myrina marched over, face smeared with blood, wounds still on her skin. She reached out a hand. “Give me the Mirror of True Reflection. I will make sure Sabra hasn’t been turned. If she has, I will end her life quickly.”