Magic Murder Cube Marine - Chapter 60: A Real Fight
As everything went to hell, Willow was strangely calm. She had more or less predicted that Hades, or someone like him, would show up to ruin their fun. But this wasn’t her first rodeo, and Willow was a more experienced High Priestess than most.
Instead of trying to take him head on, she put her hands together and reached out to a few of the smaller pantheons. It was time for Hades to learn a valuable lesson about the dangers of flying solo.
***
The god of death floated above the city, his hands raised high as a ball of fire began to grow between them. Hades could see the people down below, their faces turned towards the approaching Titan instead of the god about to burn them to ashes.
“Such a shame,” he said as the spell he was weaving reached its climax, “They would have been great followers.”
Once the spell reached its maximum potency, he hurled it downward without stopping to monologue. He didn’t hold back or try to give anyone a sporting chance. Unfortunately for him, Mac was still hiding beneath his robes.
The demon wasn’t sure it could punch through Hades’ Deflect. The very vulnerable targets dangling above were still deific in nature. So, instead of wasting the element of surprise, Mac teleported into the path of the fireball.
“Oh shit!” the god of death called out as a spell meant to level entire city blocks blew up in his face.
“Haha!” the demonic cat cackled as it emerged unharmed from the flames. It was fireproof, obviously. “Tell me. If a god can harm himself with a spell, is he weak or strong?”
Still fuming (both literally and figuratively) Hades began to roll up what was left of his sleeves. “I’m going to kill you for that, Lucipur.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” the demon pointed out.
Instead of responding, Hades summoned a longbow made of bone. He pulled back the string, summoning a black and green arrow made of pure necrotic energy. “Try intercepting this.”
He let the arrow loose and watched with satisfaction as it destroyed a cart full of goods and everyone standing nearby. The demon cocked its head to the side. “I’m over here, you know.”
Hades frowned. “I thought you were going to try and catch it.”
Now it was Mac’s turn to frown. “Why would I do that?” the demonic cat asked as it began to almost absent-mindedly pelt Hades with small Technicolor fireballs.
It took the god of death a second to remember that he was dealing with a demon and not some virtue signaling adventurer. “Your fire isn’t powerful enough to break through my defenses. So, I’m not sure what you are trying to accomplish, besides annoying me.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Mac continued to toss little rainbows of low intensity flame at Hades. Then, without warning, the demonic cat disappeared.
Hades tried to say something clever. Instead he screamed in outrage and pain as Mac scored a critical hit on his unprotected undercarriage. The god of death tried to remove his attacker, but the demonic cat had latched onto his divine jewels like a miniature pitbull.
He barely had time to wonder how the demon overcame his Deflect before a polite tap on his shoulder revealed the answer. There was a burst of discordant notes as Astley, the head of the memetic pantheon appeared.
The god of surprise and music slicked back his red hair. Then, in one smooth motion, he sucker punched Hades in the gut. “Surprise, mother fucker.”
Before the god of death could react, a kitten with a rainbow afterburner and a pink horn slammed into his chest. Hades felt ribs break and internal organs pop, some of which he was pretty sure were vital to his continued existence.
Neko, the goddess of chaos, rotated to face Hades without bothering to take her horn out of his chest. “Don’t try to run, you’ll only die tired,” she giggled.
Hades tried to teleport away, but a pair of rough hands grabbed him by the shoulders, anchoring him in place.
“Congratulations,” said a soft voiced god wearing a magnificent beard and a flannel shirt, “You managed to piss off not just your own pantheon, but ours as well. Now, I’m going to have to break my foot off in your happy little ass.”
Mac took the opportunity to teleport away and watch the impending beatdown from a safe distance. Murder Cube floated over to enjoy the view as well.
“KICK HIM IN THE TAINT!” it screamed as the other meme gods began their attack.
***
Down on the ground, Francis was blissfully unaware of what Willow had roped him into. But only because he was much too busy trying to not get killed by a giant, hyperactive, fire breathing lizard.
Stompy swatted at Chuck with his tail, missing by a hair. The Marine knew that unless he could get his staff into Stompy’s mouth again, there was no point in wasting his Mana on offensive spells. The Titan’s natural armor was too thick to penetrate from the outside.
A memory from what felt like months ago elbowed its way through Francis’ subconscious and tried to get his attention. Eventually it clicked, and the Marine remembered a very important detail about Titans. Willow had told him that the backs of Stompy’s knees were less heavily armored than the rest of him.
Unfortunately, even with Chuck’s help to reduce the Titan’s Deflect, Francis barely made a dent. He was hurting the beast, to be sure. But he couldn’t crit. And with every passing minute, Chuck got a little bit slower.
Stompy had over twenty thousand HP. It would take time to wear him down, time that neither of them had. All it would take was one lucky swipe from the Titan’s tail to kill either of them. Francis watched as the tree trunk sized appendage smashed the forest behind them to splinters.
“Chuck, I’ve got an idea. It’s a pretty shitty one, but it’s all I’ve got,” Francis said as he ducked to avoid being decapitated by a flying log. But before he could tell his friend what it was, the world around them began to darken. Time slowed to a crawl, and finally stopped.
Chuck stood immobile, his trail of rainbow exhaust frozen in the air behind him. The Marine looked down to see Wilbur, their local eldritch horror and newly appointed baker.
The old man was wearing a kitchen apron and smiling like the cat that got the cream. “Hello Francis,” he said, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.”
