Warlord Conquering (The Great Insurrection Book 3) by David Beers (best historical fiction books of all time txt) 📗

He started forward, his feet pounding on dirt that had been brought in for training. His eyes strained forward, taking in everything at once. This was his chance to change the tide of the battle. He had to convince these giants that they could not kill him, and he could not be killed.

Caesar was ten meters from the mass of monsters when he dropped to a knee, shaping his back like a ramp into the sky. Prometheus understood what to do. He reached the giant in seconds and ran up his back, then leapt off the giant's shoulders.

Ares turned in the sky so the two faced each other, Pro having leapt high enough that his head had reached the Titan's foot. Ares pointed two StarBeams at his face, and for one awful second, Prometheus thought he was dead.

Ares aimed both StarBeams below Alistair and started firing.

You son of a bitch, Prometheus thought with glee. The bastard had been toying with him. He looked down at the space that opened up as giants tried to dodge the beams. Insects were starting to flow from their hands, a black horde beneath him. Prometheus hit the ground in a crouch, his Whip's tentacles floating above his head.

His Whip gave him a reach of five meters, and legs detached from bodies as he spun. Screams rang out, and more insects rushed into the air. The nanotech from his enemies was creating a cloud for Prometheus, helping hide him from those who wanted to kill him. He didn't know what was happening outside of this crowd or whether his friends were dying. He could see nothing but the giants around him.

Those he hadn't cut down charged over their dying compatriots.

Prometheus had a brief second before they fell on him. He closed his eyes and let his body take over.

Ares watched from on high, barely able to keep firing due to what he was seeing.

The rest of the battle, including those on the wall and the giants at the front, had ceased to matter. Everyone knew where the battle raged—beneath Ares.

Alistair fought like a madman, a storm unto himself. The giants swung their laser blades and dove at his body. Those that did touch him could only do it for a second as he dodged and wove through the crowd. His Whip was like a red ghost, only there for a second before snatching someone's life away. Ares didn't understand the flying insects that were swarming, but they provided Alistair the cover necessary to create this havoc.

Ares kept firing, shooting through torsos, heads, and anything else he could hit.

Someone finally tagged him where it mattered—in his boot heel where the jet resided. It didn't malfunction entirely, just the jet, but he zigged in the wrong direction.

Ares was going down; there was no way to stay up. "ODIN!" he shouted through the speakers. "MAN FALLING!"

The former Titan looked up, understanding, and started to clear a path.

Ares kept firing all the way down, and before he hit, he freed his Whip from his belt.

Pro's sky cover was gone. He saw Ares falling, his remaining jet managing to slow the descent, and knew that he had to make room for him. The gigantes would rip him apart if he fell on top of them, Whip or no.

Prometheus slashed, spun, and jumped. The enemy’s insects flew in front of his face, a swarm larger than he could have imagined. He felt them scrape his skin, creating light cuts as he pushed forward.

He was finally directly under Ares. Prometheus stuck his arm out and kept spinning in a circle. Heads rolled from bodies, but before Ares touched down, Pro halted.

They knew this dance. They'd done it so many times that no communication was needed. They found each other’s backs, faced opposite ways, and started to fight. Monstrous square heads appeared and disappeared. Blades and fists sliced at them and were detached.

"DUCKING!" Ares shouted and Prometheus reacted, spinning his Whip where Ares' head had been moments before. A body hit the ground as Ares popped back up and Prometheus dipped down.

Another body dropped, then both were standing again.

"THERE ARE TOO MANY!" Ares shouted, and Prometheus knew it was true. They couldn't hold them off much longer. No matter how many they killed, more came, and those who were only injured were rapidly being healed.

Prometheus had to do something. The giants' bloodlust had to be stopped, and they had to see him as the most dreadful force ever born into this gods-forsaken universe.

A laser blade caught Ares in the stomach, burning through the metal gear. He slashed at the arm wielding the blade and sliced it off, but the damage was done.

He fell to a knee and coughed blood into his helmet.

The arm and blade still stuck out of his stomach.

"I'm hit," said a watery voice from his suit's speaker.

Pro looked over his shoulder. He'd never seen Ares in that position, on the ground and dying. He could see no other allies.

A blade sliced down his back, cutting through flesh and tendons.

Death had finally come for the great Prometheus. His Whip, his strength, his speed—none of it was enough. Even fighting with his protégé, he hadn't been enough.

A blade cut across his thickly muscled thigh, and Prometheus went to a knee.

He looked down at the ground.

He closed his eyes.

He saw Luna.

He felt the laser blade touch his neck.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“In some ways, I am my father.”

—The AllMother

The AllMother saw blood spring from her chosen one's back.

She watched as he swung his Whip, laying another one low. The Titan in crimson was on the ground, dying, a blade and arm sticking out of his stomach.

A laser cut through her chosen one's leg, and he went to the ground. The AllMother saw it all with her eyes closed.

Alex felt no fear. She alone knew she still had tricks up her sleeve, things that only one other knew about. When she was trapped on the dreadnought, she’d thought