An army of dead marched toward us. A hundred skeletal Roman legionaries led the way with shields and spears. Behind them came an equal number of British redcoats with bayonets fixed. In the middle of the host, Hades himself rode a black-and-gold chariot pulled by nightmare horses, their eyes and manes smoldering with fire...I yelled, and the River Styx exploded. A black tidal wave smashed into the Roman legionaries. Spears and shields flew everywhere. Roman zombies began to dissolve, smoke coming off their bronze helmets.
The redcoats lowered their bayonets, but I didn't wait for them. I charged.
It was the stupidest thing I've ever done. A hundred muskets fired at me, point blank. All of them missed. I crashed into their line and started hacking with Riptide. Bayonets jabbed. Swords jabbed. Guns reloaded and fired. Nothing touched me.
I whirled through the ranks, slashing redcoats to dust, one after the other. My mind went on autopilot: stab, dodge, cut, deflect, roll. Riptide was no longer a sword. It was an arc of pure destruction.
I broke through the enemy line and leaped into the black chariot. Hades raised his staff. A bolt of dark energy shot toward me, but I deflected it off my blade and slammed into him. The god and I tumbled out of the chariot.
The next thing I knew, my knee was planted on Hades's chest. I was holding the collar of his royal robes in one fist, and the tip of my sword poised right over his face.
Silence. The army did nothing to defend their master. I glanced back and realized why. There was nothing left of them but their weapons in the sand and piles of smoking, empty uniforms. I had destroyed them all.
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