The Beast Of Both Worlds: A Drunk Mythology 16 Class Of The Titans

Moderately lost but not entirely clueless, Ginrius pushed deeper into Tartarus. To hasten up the search, he tried some of his generic G.o.dly tricks, only to find them out of order. Flight was a no go, among other things like the G.o.dsight and super-sensory perception. He also found that he was considerably weaker in the region, and that he couldn't even hero-jump his way out of obstacles. His best consolation was his retained immortality (but then again so did all of its dwellers). It was refreshing to know that stumbling down a cliff wouldn't kill him, and that getting eaten by creatures would only leave him double-locked in inferno. With regard to peripherals, his hammer worked just fine as a weapon, and Hades' helm still made everything oblivious of his presence—both were welcome leg-ups against such impa.s.se.

He started by making landmarks out of the biggest structures therein. Since he was looking for the tallest inmates of the joint, it made sense that if he couldn't see them in the open, they must be housed in containment that suited their dimensions. One of the mountains fit this description like convenient plot device, and he found himself crossing streams of fire, heavy soul traffic, and rock climbing just to get there.

But as he descended upon an empty valley, he began to notice a presence. It was different from the rest he had encountered by far, neither Erinye nor mortal remains. There was a palpable sense to it, as though it was the very ma.s.s that made up the mountains—the land altogether. That being said, it didn't make sense that he couldn't see something of that magnitude. So he went on, ironically feeling stalked when Hades' helm should have made him the ultimate stalker. He began to skirt the sides, clinging close to the rock walls just in case he wasn't as invisible as he was led to believe.

He was no closer to his mark when he started hearing a loud hiss, and then a whispery summon of his t.i.tle, "Sssswhere are you little G.o.d?" the voice traveled with the wind—or caused it. "I sense you, yet I cannot see you…"

Terrified, Ginrius squeezed into the largest crack, before peering back out for his predator. His hammer was now drawn and ready for trouble, him, not so much. Whatever it was, it should appear in the valley's clearing any moment now—it sounded really close and really big; there would be no missing it if it came to pa.s.s.

To his added surprise, however, his hiding spot started to shift—no, slither, prompting him to vacate it with haste. He tumbled out of it in a clumsy save, and as he hit solid ground again, the Helm of Darkness dislodged and bounced away. The eerie voice came at him again, this time with a more ominous message. "Sssssthere you are, little Olympian!"

Right then, the already bleak ceiling of Tartarus turned even darker, darker than when the Erinyes swarmed out of it. The valley continued to rattle out of form, until it was no longer just a lifeless ma.s.s of stone and fire. Now it blocked Ginrius' path as a coiled undulation, cutting around the mountain that supposedly marked his destination. It was a living fortress, and rising over its battlement was this rough tower crested by brimstone cas.e.m.e.nts. That was the impression until another opening gaped from directly under, spitting out a fleshy, forked tongue and the same voice that's been goading him all this time. "Sss-found you!"

Everything in Ginrius wanted to run, but then he remembered why he came in the first place. This gargantuan, armored serpent before him fit the description of a t.i.tan, and he even recalled how Hephaestus addressed him. "Greetings, mighty Python! I am Ginrius, Hephaestus' successor, and I have come seeking aid!"

Python lowered his head to give the G.o.dsmith a closer look, all the while sticking his tongue out, as if it was doing just that. The ground was smothered by his acidic saliva, scorching it further, but Ginrius remained steadfast. "Hephaestussss is dead?" it inquired.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Thisss isss unfortunate… The G.o.dsmith wa.s.ss very generousss to usss..." Python seemed genuinely stricken with remorse, even rearing back his head to better process. "Wa.s.ss he the one to sssend you here?"

"Indeed," Ginrius lied. In his defense, he suspected Hades' name to be a red flag for these creatures. Also, he thought this sympathy for his predecessor could work to his advantage. At the very least, it would probably spare him from getting eaten—or flat out constricted. What he couldn't work out was the fact that this highly dangerous being was not at all bound, leaving him to guess on its role on the premises. It was possible that he was not a prisoner at all, but an added safety feature; in which case, he was better off with the chief as character reference. So when his next statement was demanded, he sounded a bit uncertain.

"For what rea.s.sson?" the serpent asked again.

He braced himself for the outbreak of trouble, swallowed hard, and then said, "…to wage war against Zeus and Olympus!"

As Python hyped up in support of this uprising, the rest of his companions stepped out of concealment, which included some of the fabled but slain monsters of yore. The Nemean Lion was there, as well as the Hydra and the Chimera, with scores giants and other lesser creatures that exceeded even Hephaestus' knowledge. Rising above these newcomers were two other that rivaled even Python's girth, one that soared the red sky as the big daddy of all Griffins, and another resembling a wolf, but with two heads, and a diet that probably consisted of entire worlds.

"Where do you want usss, sssuccessor of Hephaestusss?" Python spoke tornadoes one last time. To which Ginrius pointed to the Underworld, and finally, his father's command.

***

Rid of further distractions, Ginrius reached the t.i.tan mountain at last. It proved bigger up close and just as intimidating, though nowhere near the omen of an armored world serpent. At that point he was too antsy to get the Alighieri c.r.a.p done with, so he quickly reconned the area for that point of entry.

But there was none to be found. In the end, the landmark was as useless as his G.o.dly gifts. And although it was annoying, he was not about to give up; not when he had already filled most of his recruitment quota. He will find those t.i.tans for their rebellion, even if he had to turn Tartarus upside down.

He figured that from there, the only right direction was up. Aside from the mountain, the only higher elevation was that of a rock wall due north. If he climbed reached for the zenith, not only would he get an unhindered view of the entire region, he may also catch a glimpse of what lies beyond that boundary.

So he scaled the mountainside, remembering to wear the Hades Helm in case something else was out for midnight snack. He saw about as much as he did when he was still at the stairway, only now, he could see parts of what was behind the sought-out mysterious wall.

The sky past that boundary was different. It was darker, complete with storm clouds and jolts of lightning. The phenomenon reminded him of Zeus' wrath, and if he had other options, he would have skipped it completely. But there was nothing else around that suggested t.i.tan presence, except that part where security was tightest. And then, moments later, he taught he saw what looked like a giant hand, holding the clouds—mayhap even the sky in place. He only saw it for a brief moment, between one of the many lightning strikes, but whenever it flashed, he could have sworn hearing another roar behind the thunders, as though the bolts were a ceaseless offense against something.

Ginrius slid back down the mountain, excited in finally getting a good lead. His celestial stamina was intact, and he meant to dash all the way past that barricade. According to Hades, all t.i.tans were fair game, with the exception of Cronus of course. What were the odds that he would run into that one, right? As Olympus enemy number one, chances were, he would be in solitary within the deepest corner, where nothing—not even G.o.ds—could reach him. His unwanted journey into heck was nearing its conclusion.

But then he noticed that he had been sliding for a while, far longer than the height of the mountain afforded. In his musing, he failed to notice how the ground was continuously shifting now, creating openings that went deeper and deeper into the subterranean. Laboring to climb back up, the land caved in on him, trapping him in darkness. Soon this nothingness became even stricter, gobbling him up without room for contest.

***

When the light came flashing back, it came with thunder. Ginrius roused, feeling lightheaded, which soon got washed away by rainstorm. He knew then that he was no longer in regular Tartarus. The sky was a dead giveaway, the pair of t.i.tan eyes ogling him down, even more so.

First of all, the popular belief of Cronus being bald was a misconception. But then he may as well have been, because what few remained of his hair was gray, not silver, but miserable gray. It was balding and unkempt, which made him look more oversized hobo than former lord of everything. Though perpetually showered by rain, his skin was dry and cracked, like that of a barren wasteland, and whatever the water held obviously pained him. The lightning bolts also appeared to home in on him, causing him to glimmer in habit.
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But even then he held Ginrius steadily in the palm of his hand, eyes unfazed and br.i.m.m.i.n.g with resolve. "Young Olympian," the t.i.tan spoke his own thunder. "I have caught wind of your new war and I offer to lend my aid."

Flabbergasted was understatement of the year for Ginrius. He thought it couldn't be that easy, so he skipped the formalities to ask for the catch. "That was easy…" he said. "What's in it for you? I honestly don't even know how to get this wall out of the way."

"Oh, but I cannot join you in battle, young G.o.d, not in my current state," Cronus said, sounding true to his debilitated form. "But my general, Atlas, will provide you with power to increase your own."

"This is true," another riotous voice dropped on the G.o.dsmith. He was so focused on Cronus that he failed to notice the hulking backdrop of Atlas, towering even higher than his king. His was the hand Ginrius saw earlier, as it was his torment to hold up the sky for all of eternity. Unlike his superior, however, he has maintained his fabulous build, and his crown was as still as black as tar. "If you take some of my essence and bind it with a strand of my hair, you will be able to fashion an ornament that augments your already G.o.dly strength."

It all sounded promising, but Cronus was yet to reveal his price and offer. It was clear that they wouldn't be able to join war effort, at least not directly, and yet, artifacts like Hades' helm may prove to be an even better deal, since they didn't have to do t.i.tan cleanup afterwards—they wouldn't be able to set their own coup if they remained locked up in Tartarus.

"I'll take it then," smiled Ginrius who stood to face his hosts. "That settles Atlas' but what do you have to put on the table, Cronus?"

For a moment, the fallen t.i.tan looked offended, and it was anyone's guess if it was Ginrius' surfacing arrogance or the fact that that the G.o.dsmith saw through his deception. Then he opened his eyes and put down his card for the G.o.d to see. "I can reveal the location of the two elements that could rival—if not exceed the might of Zeus," he revealed.

Ginrius' eyes of course glittered with hope. Matching up with Zeus was hard labor even for the chief G.o.ds combined. If Cronus spoke the truth, they may just win the war beyond ballpark estimate. The time was ripe to even out the rough edges. "How do I know that you are telling the truth?"

"Simple… I stay here until your war is won. Then you return to honor your part of the bargain…"

"Which is?"

"When you return, you return to slay me…"

And here Ginrius thought the surprise c.o.c.ktail have run out of juice. This request was baffling beyond measure, and he didn't trust the fine print line that the context was missing. He was set to straighten the crease when Cronus supplied the remaining details.

"I tire of this torment and I am through with war," the t.i.tan said. His voice sounded more drained, and the pity it commanded siphoned out of Ginrius before he even knew it. "I aim only to retire and join my vanquished brethren—to join the primordials in overseeing s.p.a.ce and time."

This turnout worked further to his favor. But now Ginrius couldn't help but ponder over his own existence. Where do dead G.o.ds go? After his transition into the shoes of Hephaestus, he probably already knew.