Chapter 43
12th of December
Dungeon of the Tyrants - One of the four S level dungeons of Thyrsopolis, under the King of Spades Tower
Floor 5/? of the dungeon
Icarus soared above the tyrannid horde, his enchanted machine guns spitting fire and death. Gaunts fell in droves, their bodies riddled with bullets. The air was thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder and the screams of dying creatures.
"Eat lead, you bastards!" Icarus yelled. Below, Bellatrix Black, on her hovering Discs of Tzeentch - a reward from a A-rank dungeon, hurled spells left and right, her wand a blur. Magical shields enveloped her allies, and bursts of energy sent enemies flying. Medusa moved with lethal grace, her scythe a whirlwind of death. She danced through the battlefield, slashing throats and cleaving skulls. A group of gaunts rushed her, and with a single glare, she turned them to stone. Behind her, Daedalus piloted his gigantic mecha Mark V - Glory to Dio!, its metal fists pulverizing a Mawlock that tried to surprise him. The ground shook as he stomped forward, crushing enemies underfoot. He laughed, a wild sound that echoed through the dungeon.
"Six months since Dionysos hanged himself, and look at us now!" he bellowed, blasting a Mawlock with his cannons.
A Tyrannofex roared and charged, its massive bulk barreling towards Daedalus. He fired a volley of rockets, the explosions tearing chunks out of the beast's hide.
"Come get some, big boy!" Daedalus challenged, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
The Tyrannofex swung a massive claw, but Daedalus dodged and countered with a plasma blast that seared the creature's flesh. The air was filled with the stench of burning meat.
Icarus swooped low, unloading his machine guns into a cluster of Gaunts. "Keep it tight, team!" he called out. "We're not done yet!"
Bellatrix unleashed a storm of lightning, frying a pack of enemies. "Icarus, stop hogging all the fun!" Medusa flipped and twisted, her scythe carving a path through the horde. "Focus, Bellatrix! Just buff us! Stop wasting energy, you dumb slut!"
Daedalus engaged the Tyrannofex in a brutal melee, his Dreadnought's fists colliding with the beast's claws. "This is what I live for!" he roared, driving a fist into the creature's jaw, shattering teeth and bone. Initially, he hadn't wanted to join the fight; his heart lay in engineering. He had descended into the first dungeon solely to ensure his son Icarus's safety. But who could have predicted that combat would be this exhilarating? And discovering the plans from those "Adeptus Mechanicus" guys, whatever they were, as drops from an A-rank boss? That was just the cherry on top.
The team fought with a brutal efficiency, their movements honed by six months of relentless dungeon exhuming. They were a well-oiled machine, each member playing their part to perfection. Gaunts fell by the dozens under Icarus's relentless fire. Medusa's scythe flashed in deadly arcs, decapitating tyrannid warriors. Bellatrix's spells lit up the dungeon, a dazzling display of magical power - "Buffs", screamed Medusa. As the Tyrannofex staggered, Daedalus seized the moment. He drove his Dreadnought's sawblade into the beast's heart, twisting it cruelly. The creature let out a final, gurgling roar before collapsing in a heap.
"Another one bites the dust!" Icarus shouted triumphantly.
Daedalus sighed.
He really should teach his son better catchphrases.
12th of December
The town looked like it had stepped straight out of an old western. Dust swirled lazily on the wind, carrying the arid scent of the surrounding plains. A tumbleweed rolled across the deserted street, and an old man, hat pulled low over his eyes, snored gently in a rocking chair on the porch of the town's only pub.
Dakota and Hazel, centurions of the Roman Camp, sat at a corner table. Dakota was a rugged young man, his dark hair cropped short, and his sharp eyes constantly scanning the room. He fiddled with a coin, the metal glinting in the low light. Hazel, beside him, was a striking woman with rich brown skin and deep, intelligent eyes. Her dark curly hair framed her face as she took a slow sip of her drink, her posture relaxed but alert.`
"Think they'll show up?" Dakota muttered, flipping the coin in the air.
Hazel's gaze flicked to him briefly. "They will. Bacchus' people are usually on time—Greek time, at least. Which basically means they will be late."
The door swung open with a creak, drawing their attention. Two figures stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the harsh sunlight. As they stepped inside, Dakota's breath caught in his throat. The first man looked almost identical to him, right down to the way he carried himself. The resemblance was uncanny, and Dakota couldn't help but stare. Probably a son of Bacchus - Dionysos, they called him.
Hazel, on the other hand, had her eyes fixed on the second figure—a woman. She was tall and imposing, with a body that looked like it had been sculpted by Michelangelo himself. Her abs were chiseled and perfectly defined, her muscles rippling with every movement. She wore a tight, sleeveless top that showcased her powerful arms and broad shoulders. Hazel licked her lips unconsciously. She wouldn't mind getting to know this Greek a little better.
The tension in the room was palpable, a Mexican standoff in the making. Both parties stood still, sizing each other up. The silence was thick, stretching out until it felt almost tangible.
The man who looked like Dakota finally broke the silence with an exaggerated flourish. "Castor," he said, stepping forward and extending a hand - and a flask.
"Thought we might all need a drink."
Dakota took the hand, eyeing his lookalike warily. Then, Castor moved to the bar and addressed the bartender, who was the epitome of a western cliché. The man wore a dusty hat pulled low over his eyes, a stained apron over a threadbare shirt, and sported a bushy mustache that twitched as he spoke.
"What'll it be, stranger?" the bartender drawled, his voice as rough as sandpaper.
"Whiskey for the table," Castor replied, leaning casually against the bar.
The bartender nodded, pouring out the drinks and sliding them down the bar with practiced ease. Castor caught them effortlessly, bringing them over to the table where Hazel and Dakota sat.
The woman, Clarisse, sauntered over, her muscular frame moving with a predator's grace. She pulled up a chair and sat down, propping her feet up on the table with a loud thunk.
"So," she said, a grin spreading across her face, "you guys have been attacked by waves of monsters again and again too, huh?"
Dakota let out a bitter chuckle. "Yeah, it's been non-stop. One wave after another. We're lucky if we get a few hours of peace."
Hazel nodded, her eyes never leaving Clarisse's. "It's been brutal. We've lost good people."
Clarisse nodded sympathetically. "Same here. Seems like every time we turn around, there's another horde of monsters trying to tear us apart. Makes you wonder if there's an end to it."
"End?" Hazel snorted. "I think 'end' is a word the gods forgot to include in our dictionaries."
Castor chuckled, lifting his glass. "Well, here's to surviving. And to improbable alliances."
They all clinked their glasses together, the sound echoing through the quiet pub.
Clarisse leaned back, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied Dakota and Hazel. "We're here according to the will of Big D—Big B for you. Because old grandpa is waking up."
Hazel arched an eyebrow. "Old grandpa?"
13th of December
Athenes
Dionysos woke up with a throbbing hangover, the kind that felt like a giant was using his skull as a drum. Being human again had its drawbacks, and hangovers were definitely high on the list. He groaned, feeling every beat of his pulse in his temples, and forced his eyes open. The sunlight streaming through the broken windows felt like knives stabbing into his brain.
As his vision cleared, he took in the scene around him. Hephaestion, Alexander's ex-general and boyfriend, laid sprawled on the ground, one arm draped over an overturned keg, the other clutching an empty wine bottle. His toga was in disarray, barely covering his modesty. The room was a chaotic mess of scattered clothes, broken furniture, and an assortment of bizarre items. A grand piano hung precariously from the ceiling, its legs dangling in the air, while a fountain in the corner burbled with what appeared to be a mix of champagne and melted chocolate. On the grand table, a haphazard tower of Jenga blocks teetered dangerously, the words "DO NOT DISTURB" scrawled on a nearby sign.
Ominous. Never disturb a Jenga tower - it could be offended and react badly.
Naked girls were draped across various pieces of furniture, their bodies entwined in ways that defied both gravity and decorum. One girl was curled up inside a giant punch bowl, her hair floating around her like seaweed, while another was asleep on a chandelier, her limbs hanging down like a marionette. In the middle of the room, Diogenes was locked in a fierce tug-of-war with his dog over a piece of toast, both growling with equal ferocity. Dionysos did not know how the piece of bread had not broken yet. Near them, a goat in a party hat nibbled on what remained of a feather boa, and a mechanical duck waddled around, quacking "Happy New Year" at intervals to a statue of Nietzsche which had been creatively adorned with bras and underwear.
Dionysos rubbed his eyes. In one corner, a group of greek boys was playing strip poker with Alexander, who seemed to be losing badly and laughing hysterically. A pool of glitter and confetti covered the floor, sparkling in the sunlight. On the walls, someone had spray-painted "CARPE DIEM" in neon pink, while a giant inflatable unicorn bobbed gently in the champagne-chocolate fountain. He sighed, shaking his head slowly. It had been one hell of a party, but now the aftermath was something even the gods would find overwhelming. And he was a mortal. Fucking hangover.
"I need coffee—or perhaps more wine", he whined, before he heard a pleasant "ting" notification.
[You made Gabriel, the cutest and nicest archangel, fall.]
[And she cried.]
[Booo. You asshole.]
[One of the oldest conceptual being in the world, defined by its stagnation, had changed due to your actions.]
[You are the Embodiment of [Transformation]]
[The fifth of the Twelve Dionysian Labors has been completed]
[Level Up!]
[Level 65 → Level 321]
[You are now level 321]
[Uriel, as per his rules, tried to kill Gabriel before Michael intervened.]
[You Made Uriel Fall]
[Level Up!]
[You are now level 407]
[You made Uriel and Michael fight over the Fallen Gabriel future]
[You created a civil war among the angels]
[You indirectly made 17 angel fade]
[You indirectly made 2 ten-winged angels fall]
[You indirectly made a total of 67 angels fall]
[You indirectly made eleven exorcists cry and quit their job to open a circus]
[Level Up!]
[You are now level 476]
Yeah!
[You are hunted by Michael]
Fuck.
"Hey, asshole! Wake-up and bring me a vodka". What could possibly go worse?
[You are hunted by Raphael]
"Make it two!" Dionysos shouted, his voice slurred but confident. Dionysos groaned, rubbing his temples.
[Uriel loathes you, and will start hunting you once he is in better health]
"Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse..."
[The remnants of God are looking for you]
"Bring the bottle!"
What could possibly go worse? And this time, he was sure nothing could!
Just as the thought crossed his mind, an explosion rocked the building, sending a cascade of dust and debris raining down. Dionysos stumbled, clutching his head as the hangover and the sudden chaos collided in his brain.
Through the ringing in his ears, he heard a voice that sent chills down his spine. A voice he knew all too well—the dreaded, commanding tone of his stepmother.
"Dionysos! I know you're in there!" Pasiphae bellowed, her voice echoing through the shattered halls like a harbinger of doom. What the fuck was she doing in Greece ? Did she follow him? How? With his new form, nobody could track him! Nobody, not even archangels or gods!
Ah, no. Yes.
Of course.
She literally lived here. And he made a party, with speakers blasting his name in the streets.
"Alright, think, Dionysos," he muttered to himself. "You've dealt with angels, you've dealt with hangovers, you can deal with Pasiphae. Probably."