Chapter 25 – One-Eyed Lies and Two-Faced Gods
I felt the snake's breath on my neck before I heard the hiss.
Tartarus remained silent and heavy, akin to a giant stifling its breath. The moment the elevator doors closed and Clarisse vanished, the shadows surrounding me started to move. One set of footsteps, light, graceful—too graceful.
I didn't flinch.
Because that's exactly what she wanted.
"You know," I said, not turning around. "I thought Percy chopped your head off."
Medusa's voice purred behind me like poisoned silk. "He did. And yet, here I am. Tartarus is so kind to the decapitated."
She lunged.
I spun, chains flaring off my forearms with a satisfying clang. Her serpents snapped in unison, eyes glowing faintly. One blink of eye contact and I'd be a garden statue.
I activated Spartan Reflex—borrowed straight from my Kratos skillset, footwork low and grounded, head weaving under her lunge. Her claws swept over my shoulder. My counter came sharp—left chain into a shoulder drag, then Ares Slash into her torso.
She shrieked, stumbling back.
I followed up with Fury Dash, my boots sliding like I was ice-skating across molten death. I twisted midair, the chain blades arcing above like halos made of murder.
Medusa barely raised her arms before the first strike landed.
Whip-CRACK.
One snake hissed, spiralled off, and exploded into green fire.
She screamed again, hissed, and flung spikes of hardened stone at me. I rolled left, slapping one away with a reverse chain flick, then slashed the others from midair.
Parry window triggered. I saw the opening.
Right chain coiled tight.
I snapped it forward.
BOOM.
Medusa flew back, hit the wall, and stuck.
I rushed her and drove the heel of my boot into her midsection, then pivoted, grabbed her by the collar, and slammed her straight into the obsidian floor with a sickening crunch.
Her body flickered. Turned to ash.
"Respawn in five business days," I muttered.
And just like that, the room went quiet again.
Except for the stench of melted snake hair.
And me—still watching the elevator timer tick down.
The rest of the night?
Horrible.
Absolutely horrible.
Drakons.
Manticore.
Even a weird chihuahua made of lava.
I didn't even ask.
I just kept killing.
Slash. Parry. Chain pull. Berserker scream.
There were so many bodies that Tartarus finally got the memo.
Don't mess with the boy in chains.
After a while?
Nothing came at me.
Even the shadows backed off.
And through it all, Luke—real Luke—was still hidden.
Back behind a sealed wall of stone and chains, unconscious, gagged, and tied like a Greek-themed pretzel.
Yeah.
Did "Luke" accompany Clarisse and the Elder Cyclopes on their journey?
Wasn't him.
I had swapped him out before the elder Kyklopes meeting, using a Kitsune talisman I'd gotten off a very annoyed fox spirit in Chinatown. It cost me a favour, two gold drachmas, and a promise not to ever mock anime again.
Totally worth it.
The talisman created a temporary illusion clone with personality override—if you had a target soul or mind to overwrite.
Enter: a random, confused cyclops.
Poor guy.
Probably still trying to figure out why he's craving betrayal and feeling weirdly attracted to stolen thrones.
But Luke?
Real Luke?
He was sitting upright now. Bruised, bleeding, and very not happy.
"Let's talk," I said, crouching.
He growled under the gag.
I peeled it off.
"You're insane," he spat.
"Eh, not clinically," I said. "Yet."
He narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?"
"Everything you know."
He laughed.
I didn't.
I just looked at him. Let my expression go blank. Let the chains hiss around me. Let the glow of Tartarus's veins paint me in all the wrong colours.
Luke's laughter died.
"You're not another hero," he said.
"Nope."
"And you're not Kronos' pawn."
"Nah."
"Then what are you?"
I leaned in, my voice cold.
"I'm a fanboy with a dream. And you've got ten seconds to give me the answers I need."
He hesitated.
I didn't.
I drew a small obsidian blade.
Held it up.
"Start talking," I said.
He did.
About the systems.
About his system—a forge-type divine builder interface that could craft divine-level weapons, structures, and allies—but only after one pantheon was completely destroyed.
He talked about his changes to the plot: monsters released early, underground mythological black markets, and even a family of elite Nordic dwarves in Silicon Valley who build custom god-slaying tools on commission.
"Dark elves handle sourcing," he muttered. "Dwarves handle execution."
"Of course they do," I muttered.
"And the giants…" he hesitated.
I raised an eyebrow.
"There's more," he said. "Old pantheons. These pantheons extend beyond Kronos alone. Forgotten gods. Sleeping ones."
"Okay," I said. "That's enough."
"What—wait, wha—"
I drove the obsidian blade into his chest, clean through the sternum.
He gasped, eyes wide.
Then I reached into his brain.
Literally.
My hand glowed with golden energy. I pulled back.
From the brain stem outward, glowing webs of divine circuitry began to spread—thin, radiant strands embedded into his cortex.
I grabbed the central core, yanked, and felt the entire web ripple free.
The moment it left his brain, Luke collapsed.
And the system core hovered in my palm.
[SYSTEM ABSORBED: DIVINE FORGE SYSTEM – Locked State]
[UNLOCK CONDITION: DESTRUCTION OF PRIMARY PANTHEON REQUIRED]
I grinned.
"Well," I said cheerfully, wiping brain matter off my gauntlet, "looks like Papa Kratos is getting an upgrade."
I turned to the wall.
Time to leave Tartarus.
And maybe, just maybe—
Time to start pulling Olympus down from the inside.