He'd left Las Vegas two days ago, heading southeast along a series of winding bus routes and backroads. Each time he thought he'd gained some distance, the feeling started again, the feeling of eyes watching him from where he couldn't see.
Lucas flipped a coin between his fingers. It caught the sun. "Heads, there is danger coming my way."
He flicked it, caught it, turned his palm.
Heads.
Lucas let out a sigh, "Of course."
He traveled mostly on foot now, hugging the edges of interstate rest stops and overgrown service roads. At his side, Harold bobbed in the satchel, snoring softly. At least whatever was following him, wasn't enough to worry the little guy.
Lucas' instincts warned him of danger.
He didn't waste time.
Lucas turned sharply off the roadside and sprinted into the shallow ditch. A moment later, the pavement behind him cracked open. Clawed hands broke through the surface, gripping on the earth before seeming to pull their bodies from the ground too.
Armor clanked against asphalt, ancient Greek in style but warped, cracked, rusted by centuries of wear, but what caught Lucas' gaze was their actual appearance, they had grey skin, so transparent, you could see the bones beneath. The group of warriors finally pulled themselves up, they reached towards their own bodies, gripping a rib and pulling, separating it from their bodies and holding it like a weapon. Their yellow eyes scouted around the area before they focused on Lucas.
Spartoi.
Lucas had read about them. Children of dragon's teeth. Summoned by blood or ritual. These things weren't born. They were planted.
Which meant someone had put them here. For him.
Nine total. All spread across the road like a skeletal phalanx.
They weren't rushing in. Not yet. They were waiting. Surrounding.
Lucas hissed through his teeth and sprinted across the embankment.
"Harold," he muttered, touching the satchel. "Stay put."
The drakon inside let out a low grunt but didn't resist.
Lucas raised his hand, the ground rumbling.
The earth beneath two Spartoi gave way, and they stumbled.
He seized the moment.
Lucas flung out his hand, grabbing both with telekinesis. Invisible threads of force coiled around them like puppet strings, and with a twist of his wrist, he yanked them downward; straight into the cracked asphalt, sealing the earth behind them like a mouth snapping shut.
Gone.
That left seven.
The closest Spartoi warrior had already reached Lucas, it raised its bone rib, its sharp edge glinting in the light, before swinging it towards Lucas' neck.
Lucas blinked, in a flash of smoke and mist, he was twenty feet away, crouched behind a fallen highway barrier. He released some of his illusion dopplegangers, drawing the Spartoi's attention, while he spread mist around the area. When the dopplegangers were finally killed, the Spartoi realised the entire area was clouded, they couldn't see Lucas nor each other.
The Spartoi roared.
Lucas crept through the edge of the mist, his presence masked.
He charged the nearest Spartoi. It turned at the last second, instincts flaring, and slashed.
Lucas ducked beneath the swing and slid across the gravel, kicking up dust. He rose behind the warrior and blasted a jagged lance of ice through its spine, leaving a gaping hole.
The body froze, then shattered, collapsing into glinting shards of bone and golden dust.
Lucas felt another two Spartoi closing in, they probably sensed the magic or heard the impact, Lucas flipped toward them.
The two Spartoi reeled. Lucas landed between them, driving one dagger into the hollow of a chest plate, the other arcing up into a shoulder joint. He didn't wait for the dust, he blinked backward, avoiding a wild swing, then fired a lance of flame that turned the nearest into molten shrapnel.
He turned.
Two Spartoi blocked his way, weapons raised.
The mist was thinning.
Lucas released two illusions, distracting them long enough for him to close the distance on the Sportoi on the left who was swinging towards the illusion; the attack from Lucas causing it to pause and attempt to deflect the blow, but it was too late. Lucas drove his new dagger into its ribs and used the pommel of another to crush its skull, killing it.
The Second Spartoi had realised what it saw was an illusion, but when it turned, it saw Lucas killing of the first Spartoi. The second lunged attempting to skewer Lucas on its rib-bone-weapon. Lucas didn't try to dodge, instead he used his telekineses to force the rib to his side, clearing him from danger as he punched the Spartoi in the face, crushing its skull.
The mist cleared, revealing the final Spartoi. It looked around, realising it was the final one. It let out a guttoral, boney clacking before charging Lucas. Lucas just raised his hand and released a ball of fire, it crashed into the charging Spartoi before exploding. When the dust and smoke cleared, there was no Spartoi. Just gold dust and bones.
He looked around.
The road was silent again.
But the silence didn't comfort him anymore.
These things had been placed here.
They had known where to wait.
Which meant someone was guiding them.
Olympus? Kronos?
Or both?
He exhaled.
Harold poked his head from the satchel and sniffed.
Lucas managed a tired smile. "It's okay, bud. Just making some friends."