Page 79 of The Ruin of Gods


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Maddox

Despite the factthat I’m physically stronger than I’ve ever been in my immortal life—thank you, Zora, for whatever the hell you breathed into me—I’m exhausted.

After completing my mission in Honduras, getting all the people to safety and cutting down a number of drug lords in the process, I asked for another assignment.

One that would be more complex.

I definitely asked for something more violent and Onyx came through for me. I requested audience with the Council, appearing at the base of their dais.

Only four of them were present, and I couldn’t help the first question out of my mouth. “Where’s Zora?”

I’d assumed she was back with her brethren, doing godly things and living her life.

Veda answered. “She doesn’t attend to us unless we demand it.”

“She’s in a snit,” Circe huffed.

“Zora doesn’t snit,” I snapped, causing Circe to growl with irritation before I returned my attention to Veda. “What does that mean?”

Veda offered a thin smile. “It means we don’t see her unless we summon her, and even then, sometimes she doesn’t respond.”

“Is she okay?” I demanded, incredulous that they didn’t seem to care.

“She seems to be,” Veda replied, and that’s all she offered.

I was too proud to ask for more information about Zora so I asked for myself. “I’d like another conflict. Something far more difficult than where you just sent me. Long-lasting, bloody and against all odds would be fine.”

Veda appraised me with a knowing look as Circe turned her back on me. She was miffed I’d defend Zora, and frankly, I was pissed at myself too.

Onyx stepped forward and offered me the dream: a dimension named A’buston, in the throes of a brutal civil war. It was created with the barest amount of stone magic possible and its evolution progressed without the aid of further magic. They’re barely in what the First Dimension would consider the Middle Ages, so the fighting is basic with swords, lances, crossbows and the like.

I’ve only been here a week, but it’s been nonstop brutality as I help the legions Onyx assigned me to. I came to them as a revered general and completely withheld every bit of magic, and most of my strength, while fighting alongside the troops. The soldiers here consider me the bravest they’ve ever seen, since I’ll charge into battle before any of them, and the most skilled in the land. I’m so fast and accomplished, I can strike down ten men with only a few moves. Sure, I let myself take hits so as not to seem too magnificent, and every slice into skin and muscle I bear gratefully. When I’m in the thick of battle and my own blood wets the dusty ground, it’s bliss because I don’t have time to think of Zora.

It’s why, although I’m exhausted as I enter my tent after a long day of death and brutality, I’m already yearning for the next day. Starting now, without the clanging of weapons and the screams of pain, it’s Zora who I’ll think of all night. I don’t even have any immortal-strength liquor to dull my senses, although I could easily pop into another dimension for some.

I choose not to because I’m a glutton for punishment.

A servant opens the flap to my tent and gives a low bow. “General… would you like your bath first or a meal?”

“Bath,” I say, moving to a chest sitting beside a pile of rugs and furs that serves as my bed. I remove my thick cloak and drape it over a chair. A’buston is in the midst of a strong winter and while the snow and sleet don’t bother me, I have to appear as if it does.

As servant after servant comes in, each carrying a bucket of hot water to fill the copper tub in one corner of the tent, I remove the rest of my clothes. Frowning, I notice a slice through the leather of my vest that reached my skin. The blood is crusted and the wound will be healed by the end of my bath. Fully naked now, I pour a metal tankard of ale to quench my thirst and turn around as the last of the hot water is dumped into the tub.

The woman standing there holding the empty bucket is beautiful—a camp whore who has offered herself to me on more than one occasion.

“Would you like anything else, General?” Her eyes roam over my body, right down to my cock, which has a mind of its own. It doesn’t mind her attention and starts to thicken under her bold appraisal.

She’s fucking ripe for the taking, and gods know I’d feel better if I took her, but I find myself shaking my head. “Not tonight.”

A pout makes her even prettier and I almost reconsider, but then images of Zora flood my mind and I know I can’t do it. My hand squeezes the tankard, crushing the metal easily.

Fuck Zora for making my life miserable.

“That will be all,” I say, dropping the lump of pewter and moving to the tub. The woman leaves silently and I settle into the hot water with a sigh. I waste no time in washing, using a fancy bar soap left by my attendants on my skin and hair. Within the privacy of my tent, I use my magic to drain the tub and refill it with clean water so hot, it would melt the skin off most. I lean my head back on the edge of the tub, close my eyes and consider my dilemma. I figure in about a thousand years I might be able to put the frustrating god of Life out of my mind.

It more than chafes that she’s fucked up my head, especially since I was very happy living a non-monogamous lifestyle for a few millennia. It’s also a ding to my pride that I was hurt by her rejection of my feelings. I’m a fucking demigod and nothing should hurt me.

A cold breeze wafts over me along with a brightening of my tent, and I open my eyes to see who has opened the flap to enter. I’d assumed possibly the camp whore to attempt another seduction, but there’s no one there.

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