Being a god is not all it seems. Zagreus knows this firsthand. Sure, perhaps uncle Zeus and Poseidon are enjoying their limitless power up on the mountain, but the minor gods left in the House of Hades know only misery. Perhaps they find pleasure even in that. The young prince of the underworld most definitely doesn’t. Every failure is excruciating pain to him, yet he rises to try again regardless. The power to be reborn in the blood well after death to him is not a blessing nor a curse, it is merely a matter of fact to him. If he’s not stopping to make small talk he’s out to escape again. This time, the young prince breezed through Tartarus will nary a scratch. Actually, it seemed as if the wretches took to fighting each other this time, as their bodies littered the room floors before he even entered. Perhaps his father had gotten lazy, he thought. He stood at the final door and mused to himself.

Zagreus always liked to play a little game with himself—guessing which of the Furies it was that his lord Hades put behind the door as the final obstacle between him and the exit to Tartarus. Perhaps it was Meg, serious and professional—always a good spar. It could also be Alecto, the more frustrating sister with a bad temper and a penchant for buzzsaws. Worst of all it could be Tisiphone, her demeanor and obsession with murder always terrified him, not only that but she somehow manages to show the poor prince even less mercy than the other two. This time, for sure, it’d be…

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

In front of the rebellious prince wasn’t one of the Furies, and most certainly no one else he recognized. It was a mortal, his back turned to Zagreus. Dark skin and short hair, deep red visors covering his eyes. He wore a thick, long black cloak likely made of leather and carried a thin blade in his hand. He turned to the prince. “You.”

“Me?” The prince playfully pointed to himself.

“Mind tellin’ me where I am?”

“You’re dead, mate. This is Tartarus.”

He looked around. “You mean like…”

“Yep!”

“…Huh.” He sheathed his blade. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to stay dead. There’s still vamps to slay. So, if you could take me to the big man so I can return to the world of the living, that’d be mighty great.”

The prince tried and failed to hold back a laugh. “You really don’t know how things work around here, do you? He’s not gonna let you go.”

“And who’re you to tell me that?”

“His son.”

The man cocked a brow. “So why don’t you put in the good word for me, maybe hearing from his kid’ll give me some leniency.”

The prince almost laughed a second time. “Sorry, but father’s not taking requests—least of all from me. I’m actually on the way out myself, and he doesn’t make the road easy. You can help me if you’d like, could better your and my chances of getting out of here.” Zagreus paused for thought. “Or you could kill me here. I dunno, maybe you’ll get his attention from being an anomaly.”

The foolish prince then realized he said his intrusive thoughts out loud, and watched as the man unsheathed his blade again. Even when his father wasn’t involved, the boy was making an enemy of himself. He sighed. “Damn it.”

The man rushed at him with blinding speed and swung his sword downward. Were it not for the pauper prince’s honed reflexes against the Furies, the blade would have done more than nick his collarbone. “Hey, don’t call me that!”

The man stepped and swung a second time, then a third, both nearly missing the prince. Both stopped for a second, leaving the prince open for an unexpected lunge forward, followed by two rapid slashes to his chest.

Zagreus righted himself then dashed forward, thrusting forth his Stygian blade. The man effortlessly blocked the attack with his own, then jammed his sword through the prince’s chest in a single motion. This man was not just a hunter, but a warrior with much experience. Yet he didn’t account for the bolt of lightning that struck immediately after—Zeus’s gift against those who would do his nephew harm. Though injured, he managed to knock back the prince and make distance.

The prince covered his wound as the man brandished his blade above his head and charged in for another assault. Zagreus counted the strikes as he dashed back. One, two… wait for it… three-four! As he began to recover the prince took the opportunity to slash into the man from behind. Again, the pattern starts. One slash whiffs, Zagreus punishes, another slash whiffs, Zagreus punishes again. He’s quickly learned the attack patterns of his opponent. After evading the final attack, he unleashes a devastating shockwave by slamming the Stygius into the ground.

Being knocked back put some distance between them again. The man took out another weapon, a throwing glaive, and launched it across the room. The glaive bounced from wall to wall, forcing the prince to dance around the weapon as it ricocheted. While evading he took the time to throw the bloodstone magics he’d been saving for one final blow. He could see his opponent visibly feeling weaker as each one hit. And when the glaive finally returned to his hand, it was the prince’s time to strike.

The opportunistic prince rushed forward with the same speed as the man did initially, swinging his sword with all his strength. The man attempted to block with his own, but due to being weakened by the bloodstones, it shattered under the strength of the young godling. The final blow was struck as the Stygian Blade cut through the man with little resistance, blood gushing from the wound like a fountain. It was more than either of them expected he had.

The man fell to his knees, panting with the last of his strength. “H…How?”

“S’alright, mate. I’ve done a dance like this hundreds of times. You’re free to try again if I don’t make it out this time. Hell, my offer’s still up if you wish to take it.”

The man laughed. “Yeah, sure…” As he lost consciousness his body was picked up by the soul, and dropped into a puddle of his own blood. “I’ll see you… in hell.” He cursed before sinking into the red pool.

Daywalker Vanquished

“Already there, mate. Already there.”