Steven's revolver cracked again, the muzzle flash briefly lighting his face, pale and bloodied, exhaustion seeping in, but his eyes were as calm as ever.
A dracaena's skull burst from a shot, turning into golden dust. He twirled the gun, ejecting the casing with a little flick and grabbing the remaining bullets to refill the chambers.
He took a steadying breath, pushing aside the anxiousness of only having six shots remaining, and focused on surviving.
His coat was shredded into strips, his shirt soaked crimson where claws had torn and ripped into his flesh. Cuts lined his arms, his legs, and his sides,
Steven's revolver cracked again, the muzzle flash briefly lighting his face, pale and bloodied, exhaustion seeping in, but his eyes were as calm as ever.
A dracaena's skull burst from a shot, turning into golden dust. He twirled the gun, ejecting the casing with a little flick and grabbing the remaining bullets to refill the chambers.
He took a steadying breath, pushing aside the anxiousness of only having six shots remaining, and focused on surviving.
His coat was shredded into strips, his shirt soaked crimson where claws had torn and ripped into his flesh. Cuts lined his arms, his legs, and his sides. Blood covered him like a cloak. Very little of himself was left unbloodied, but Steven didn't falter, ignored his body's cry to collapse, and persevered, once again aiming his revolver.
"Come now," he muttered, voice steady, almost amused, "I only have a few shots remaining, would you gents politely get in a line to make it easier for me?"
The monsters ignored his words, surging as one. A hellhound lunged. Steven sidestepped neatly, and its snapping jaws clamped down behind Steven on a demigod who was sneaking up. The demigod cried out in pain as his arm was torn from his body, and swung his sword, decapitating the hellhound, but before he could recover, a club was smashed down, crushing his skull as a cyclops walked forward, using his club to clear his path, killing all those in its way.
When the cyclops raised his club over his shoulder and attempted to swing at Steven, Steven slid beneath the swing and through the cyclops' legs, firing a round point-blank into the face of a waiting chimera, and choked back a cough as blood splattered all over him from the kill.
Soon his breathing grew too ragged, his revolver clicking empty. The sound brought confidence that had been lost to the monsters. Steven pocketed the revolver, briefly touching his pocket where a picture lay, and turned his head to see his son being pushed back under the continuous energy blasts of Medea, sighing and lowering his head.
He reached for a spear, dropped from a dead demigod, and raised it, pointing it straight at the monsters surrounding him, goading them and not showing any weakness, even though he felt his body had reached its limits.
It seems that one of the monsters was frustrated with his kind, as they were only surrounding Steven and not daring to charge in. The telekhine stepped forward.
"He's lost his weapon, his body is clearly about to collapse, you gutless-" His speech was cut short as a dagger flew into his eye, piercing his brain.
Watching the body crumble to dust, the monsters took a step back. Staring in fear of Steven. However, the throw was too late; the telekhine had already riled up some monsters. Even if Steven could throw a dagger or two, he would die if they all rushed, and that's what they did.
Steven gave a wry smile, leaning on the spear as if it were a crutch. That was his only dagger, given to him by Lucas when they embraced, to be used as an emergency weapon. Now, he only had the spear he had picked up, a weapon he didn't know how to use, with no energy left to fight.
Steven straightened, blood running freely down his chin. He fixed his jacket, ignoring the monsters, and reached into his pocket, pulling out what seemed to be a bronze pineapple.
...
Lucas heard the explosion and felt the blast of the wind forcing him backwards. Even Medea paused her attacks, affected by the blast.
His heart lurched; he knew that explosion had something to do with his father, and he guessed what had happened. Depression filled him before he quickly fought against the sorrow and focused on Medea as she once again started shooting energy blasts at him. Now wasn't the time to fall into despair or think about his father; instead, he should think of a way to survive. Yet even as he told himself this, he couldn't think of a path to survival.
Medea pressed forward, her violet eyes burning as she relentlessly attacked Lucas, not giving him time to do much else except raise barriers. These hastily made barriers were quickly destroyed, only stopping the majority of the blasts; the remaining power still hit Lucas and forced him backwards. His jacket was torn, his skin was blistered, his legs were heavy with exhaustion, and his magic reserves were about to run dry.
Even though his heart bled for his father, even though his mind was telling him he had no chance of living, even as his body told him it was about to collapse, Lucas smiled.
He thought of his friends, the family they created, his mother, and the city he had made. He laughed, knowing the impact he had and believing that even if he died here today, he would live on in other ways, perhaps as a memory, perhaps as a legacy. And for Lucas, that was a win, even if Medea killed him, he wouldn't truly be dead, a last act of defiance against his fate.
Medea saw this smile, the look in his eyes, and grew irritated. She hadn't expected Lucas to be so hard to kill, nearly dying under his schemes, and even when she went all out, he still clung to life, and worse of all, he didn't seem to be scared of the inevitable outcome.
A voice behind her broke her train of thought
"Pathetic!"
A giant stepped forward, skin like molten bronze, eyes glowing with savage hunger. Over ten feet tall and wielding a giant axe.
"Menoetius…" Medea muttered, annoyed that the titan had to interfere with her task.
The Titan sneered. "Taking so long to kill a demigod, and nearly dying. It seems you are not as strong as you want others to believe, Medea."
Lucas grinned through bloodied lips. Calling to the titan, after learning of his identity. "Oh... you're the titan she called weak and pathetic. I see... No wonder Medea was chosen to be the leader, you do look weaker than her."
Medea's pupils shrank as she opened her mouth to order Menoetius, but it was too late. He was the titan of rashness and anger; he was already annoyed with being ordered by Kronos to follow Medea's orders, believing himself stronger than her. And now she was here, badmouthing him even when she could barely handle a demigod? That enraged him.
He lifted his axe and slashed down towards Medea, who hastily raised a barrier to protect herself.
"You idiot, use that pathetic brain of yours and think. He is-"
Medea was cut off, as the titan raised his axe and continuously attacked the barrier, forcing Medea to keep injecting magic to keep it active, repairing it from the damage of Menoetius.
A dagger tore through the air, silent under the titan's roar, and pierced into Medea's shoulder blade, staggering her.
Lucas frowned. That had been his last dagger, Halcyeon's dagger. He had never intended to use it, but he saw an opening when Medea was attacked. Unfortunately, although he aimed for the heart, Medea staggered at the last second under the titan's swings, allowing her to shift the location of the attack from the heart to the shoulder. So although it was painful, it wasn't fatal.
Menoetius paused his attack, seeing Medea nearly die, and understood he had been fooled. So while Medea removed the dagger and healed with magic, Menoaetius dashed toward Lucas, axe raised high, and brought it down.