Hell let out a yawn of boredom, and Hound flopped over, which caused the boat to rock.
Yes, I’d named my hellhound protectors what they were. No one else could see them anyway, just another perk of having a monstrous creature lineage.
All three of us were exhausted by the act of standing still.
We weren’t bred to be patient.
We were bred to devour.
The violence—the chase—was everything. Every second stuck in the stupid boat was a second I could be tracking my prey through a forest. Following them for hours, then attacking when they weren’t expecting it.
Now I was stuck in the bumfuck dolomites twiddling my thumbs.
Fuck the federation and their political machinations. If they think forcing me to babysit their toddlers will make me more empathetic toward Olympians, they’re gonna be in for a rude awakening. I’ll kill them all.
The fact that they forced us into the Assembly of Death in the first place proved how brainless they were. The federation thought they were keeping Chthonics occupied by forcing us to fight Titans for a living.
Little did they know, it wasexactlywhat all of us wanted to be doing anyway.
We were just sharpening our skills.
Biding our time.
Unlike useless Olympians, Chthonics were handcrafted by Kronos himself. We were born to kill, and we did it well.
It was ourpleasureto slaughter.
To fight.
The violence was divine.
Sitting up straighter in the fucking dingy they called a boat, I stared at the towering mountain pass and waited for the Olympian bastards to arrive so I could torture them to death.
I cracked my knuckles.
The fact that the federation was trying to soil our Chthonic bloodlines by forcing us to marry weak, pathetic, whiny Olympians was beyond absurd. Taking a marriage oath and binding my dark soul to one of those fuckers was a fateworsethan death.
When Chthonics bonded, they got stronger, but when Chthonics bonded with Olympians, they weakened.
It was unacceptable.
I refused to be neutered.
Olympians called their puny characteristics “abilities,” but we Chthonics knew the truth.
They were powerless.
They couldn’t taste the bloodlust like we did. They didn’t crave the games, the hunt. They didn’t know the glory of ripping apart prey with their bare hands while their heart pounded with the pain of usingrealpower.
They didn’t experience the rush of the kill, because they weren’t predators like us.
Olympians were the Spartans who weren’t strong enough to wield true power.
They were barely better than pathetic humans, and compared to our illustrious bloodlines, they werenothing.
I spat into the River Styx with disgust.
The new marriage law was proof of how desperate the federation was getting.
