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Patro had set the GPS to a route that could get us to the Dolomites Coliseum at noon, but it was half past four and they were still driving. Achilles signed to him from the passenger seat, which he responded to by taking both hands off the wheel to gesture emphatically. There was a time crunch. We had a Spartan School event to get to.
Well, better late than never! Maybe they'd give me a fifty percent for effort. I was squeezed in the backseat of our beat-up sedan between my two teachers--who were also my husbands--and my mentors were the ones driving. It wasn't like it was my fault I'd be late. What were we even going to do there? Fight to the death? I thought that was the plan, from what I remembered.
Hours passed as we drove in silence. I couldn't really tell what Achilles and Patro were saying to each other since their swole bodies blocked their hands, and I had the wrong perspective to read their ASL anyway. At least I was between the also-swole bodies of my beloathed, betrothed husbands, whom I disliked enough that they weren't "husbands" to me, but rather "guys I had to get along with because they forced me to marry them." I noticed throughout the ride they inched closer to me like I was a hamburger patty about to slide out of its bun, stretching their seatbelts across their chest in a way that had to reduce how safe they'd be in a crash.
And I wished we would crash.
Well, I'd have been fine in my current state. I wore my seatbelt like a normal person.
We arrived at a coliseum a bit after sunset. From how high up in the mountains we were, it felt more like February than June. The wind blew my hair into my face, which would have sucked if it didn't shield the part it was plastered to from the cold. It howled in my ears, drowning my footsteps on the dark stone. I crossed my arms and shivered audibly.
"Maybe I could warm you up," Kharon suggested as we passed the last step, entering through the arched gate. It was too quiet inside. Maybe there'd still be a few Spartans willing to let me do whatever trial just happened late.
"Me too." Augustus nudged me with one of his huge arms. He didn't seem to look cold at all.
"Hey, I asked first!"
"Um, we're literally feminists? The woman needs to make the decision."
He, of course, ignored the fact that both of them forced me into marriage.
They continued bickering, pushing each other as we delved further into the coliseum, until Achilles, who was taking the lead, paused, turned around, and punched both of my teachers in the face. At the same time. Impressive, honestly. He growled through his muzzle, snatching me into his arms like a bucket. Less impressive.
Can you release me? I signed. I've gotta use my annoying-ass light magic to heal them.
He groaned, but he did let me go. I looked down at Kharon and Augustus collapsed on the ground, clutching broken noses that weren't even bleeding much. I sighed. I waved my hands around randomly in an attempt to start up my Cthonic magic, and eventually something glowed from my palms. I leaned down and cupped my hands over their faces. There was a crackling sound, like electricity, as their noses returned to their proper and very handsome original forms.
Suddenly, two men--maybe Spartans?--jumped down from wherever they were standing, towering above all of us. One of them had to have been over seven feet tall not including the blond flat top. Why was he here? The Lakers needed him. The other one, whose head was wrapped up in a thin scarf, wasn't much shorter. They were probably more muscular than any of the four guys I was with, and showing more skin too. I mean, the one with the headwrap had his entire chest out. He wore a loincloth, boots, and nothing else. The taller one had on a tight crop top with knives through it near the collarbone as well as... underwear, frankly. I couldn't help but take it all in. Both of them had dark skin that looked almost purple in the lack of light.
The shorter one pointed at me. His eyes gleamed red as he scowled. "You're a Hamon user, aren't you?"
"A what user?"
"Don't act like you don't know what you're doing. Only the most advanced Hamon users can use their breathing to heal others. The only reason I won't kill you right where you stand is because I'd like to give Wamuu a chance."
"Lord Kars," the one called Wamuu said, "I'd like to see what she can do first. That one behind her is in a mask, so he clearly hasn't been fully trained yet."
"She's taking on four apprentices at once. She must be very skilled."
"Um, I'm the apprentice here," I said, cocking my brow.
"You must be lying to me on purpose. You know what I'm after and you're trying to keep it from me."
"No I don't?" What the hell was he talking about?
It was then that I stopped believing these men were gods. They were probably just athletes who worked out so hard they started seeing things.
Augustus pushed me to the side, stepping up to the plate, looking the one called Kars in the eye. He had to crane his neck up pretty far to meet his gaze. "Don't mess with my wife or I'll kill you."
"I said the same about my husband and he died."
Oh, so he's gay. Or bi. Well, love is love.
Kars then punched Augustus through the chest, hand going through him as if he were nothing but air, and he deflated into a sheet of skin and clothes before my eyes. He tossed his corpse aside. I screamed. "No! I was just starting to like him!"
"Why would you marry someone you don't even like?" he murmured. He then turned fully to me, looking me up and down, though not in the way Augustus used to. "If he were a Hamon user I'd be able to touch him. Did you just bring him along because he's your companion? I'll have you know I don't care about humans like you. All I want is the Super Aja."
"I have no idea what you're talking about!" I yelled.
Achilles growled like a rabid wolf as Patro held him back. He squirmed in his arms. Whatever "Hamon" these guys were talking about, none of us "had" or "used" it. Anyone with half a braincell could deduce that if Achilles attacked, he'd be dead.
"Let's see what you can do, human girl." Wamuu crossed his arms, expression flat. "Attack me. Go on."
"Okay." I looked around. I was told there'd be weapons at the coliseum, so I didn't bring my own. But obviously, if there weren't any Spartans here, we were in the wrong place. "Hey, wait a minute. Where am I?"
"Skeleton Heel Stone. Near the St. Moritz."
Switzerland!?
"What the hell, Patro?" I cried. "We're in the wrong fucking country!"
"I obviously--"
In trying to talk with his hands while talking with his mouth, Patro let go of Achilles, who ran towards Kars, but passed through him. Or at least, his left half passed through. The other half had been absorbed. He flopped onto the ground, bleeding. I screamed again. "You monsters!"
"Either he wasn't a Hamon user either, or he was such a beginner he couldn't maintain a physical shield," Wamuu stated to Kars.
"If she can't train an apprentice, is she worthy of your time in battle?"
"No, master." He nodded. "I'll do it."
Do what?
By the time I could open my mouth again, his finger was in my forehead, my hand was stuck to Patro's, and his was stuck to Kharon's. Blood rose disgustingly fast into my head, and my feet wobbled as they deflated, my insides being slurped out of me by this absurdly tall--but rather handsome--person of unknowable species.
The last thing I heard before my vision went black was Kars saying, "What a waste of time."
At least I had the chance to die like I always wanted! And I'm no longer married to these bozos!