Regression - Rise of Mythos Read online

  “Hersch!!” warned Edmunds, “Enemy at your six!”

  Unfortunately Herschel was unable to hear anything over the roar of the combustion. Several chicken soldiers had managed to out flank him and were coming from his blind spot. He isolated himself and although Edmunds tried to help, he was mauled by the enraged poultry beasts. No mercy was shown as they snapped him in two like a wishbone at a Thanksgiving dinner.

  Edmunds, unable to wait for the uncertain drone attack, rushed into the chaos. With his assault rifle bedded into his right shoulder and his eye lining through the sight, he cleared a path. The constant recoil into his upper armed spurred him on like an over excited mutt jumping for a ball. One by one, then ten by ten, Edmunds was fuelled by an unmatched rage. He was so focused on the immediate threats that he had not noticed Achilles launching himself over the masses. A swiping back-handed stroke from Achilles’ left wing bowled Edmunds to the ground. Edmunds, slightly dazed from the king hit, began to pick himself up. As he got up on one knee, Achilles’ foot came swiftly through, connecting with the underside of his chin. The force sent Edmunds into the air before landing awkwardly and sliding on the rocky outcrop. Achilles made his way over to the struggling man, pausing just far enough away that his staunch shadow left Edmunds in the dark.

  “You embarrass yourself” boomed Achilles, “You embarrass your people. I am speechless that this is the best you can do”

  Spitting out a mouthful of blood, Edmunds pushed himself off the ground to get a better look at his opponent. Gazing up he saw the sheer size of the towering beast and began to laugh.

  “What amuses you so, you wingless chump?” questioned Achilles.

  Trailing off with the laughter, Edmunds replied “You chicken shit little bitch, I think I ate your sister for breakfast!”

  Achilles, enraged by his ignorance, planted his talon square onto Edmunds chest. “You’re a big man making jokes when I’m about to crack your skull like you crack our young!”

  “The yolk’s on you pal, your crew is about to get scrambled!” Edmunds quipped as a formation of drones flew overhead.

  Achilles, distracted by the infiltration of the aerial attack, didn’t see Edmunds pull out his trusty Desert Eagles. He did however notice when the first .50 ripped through his left thigh, tearing the muscle right off the bone. Grabbing at his leg and staggering backward the second shot was more direct, piercing through his lower rib cage. Edmunds, fighting the kick of the pistols, stepped toward Achilles with his fingers pulsing on the trigger. It was at the fourth shot when Edmunds had his sight in and was going for the kill. As he compressed his index finger toward his thumb a large blast threw him to the ground, his shot going astray. The explosion had landed no more than thirty feet away, leaving a vehicle-sized crater. It had seemed the orders for the drones were not to selectively take out the enemy, but instead were brought in as a blanket extermination.

  Bombs stormed down as soldiers were ripped apart from the raw energy exploding out. Limbs and wings were scattered across the battlefield as the body count rose. Confusion and anger surpassed any fear as humans became a common target. No longer were these brave warriors fighting for their side’s cause, but were surviving the slaughter of pawns.

  Edmunds lay motionless nearby in a small clearing in the valley. The chaos around him was a world apart from his current, conscious state. It was at this stage that the wounded Achilles swept his wing down toward his chest as he pulled himself up. He surveyed the area, finding his opponent face down. Shuffling over to Edmunds, he knew he was the victor, but he wanted to make sure of the kill. Finally approaching Edmunds, he raised his uninjured leg, the shadow of his talon allowing him to line up the skull. As he lifted his knee before stomping down, a mighty roar unleashed from the far ridge line. Startled by the magnitude of the sound, Achilles glanced up to see an incredible sight. Mythos had arisen from the mountain range. The sun gleamed off his gargantuan body, commanding awe from all who fought on the battlefield below. His half man, half chicken, half T-Rex appearance was truly amazing.

  With the battlefield still seemingly paused, Mythos scanned the valley. His powerful gaze momentarily stopped when he saw Achilles, bleeding heavily over the unconscious Edmunds. Mythos quickly arched backwards, head to the sky, before thrusting downwards, unleashing an almighty sonic boom that instantly washed through the armies. Reminiscent of an electromagnetic pulse, the unilateral sphere of energy expanded exponentially. Machine, man and chicken were all instantly thrown to the ground. Missiles and drones deactivated in the sky, falling earth bound with no purpose. Mythos perched proudly, at height, continued bellowing out the deafening sound “Waaaaaaaaauuuuuuummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!”

  It was only when Mythos chose to end his almighty war cry that the effect was truly seen. The anarchy ceased. The sounds of battle stopped. Silence consumed the field.

  Epilogue

  Seven Years Later - Foothills of Mythos’ Stronghold – 16:20

  SEVEN YEARS HAD passed since the fateful battle. The rise of Mythos had seen mankind’s collapse and retreat into hiding. Pockets of resistance had managed to evade the wrath of the tyrant leader and these factions were growing stronger by the day.

  On a rocky outcrop overlooking Mythos’ stronghold, Edmunds, Lyssa and Lyssa’s son, Harland, carefully watch on. They had been on a scouting mission for the past week and had finally reached it.

  “God, they must be a hundred million strong!” Edmunds remarked.

  “Hypocrites – so much for that peaceful ways,” retorted Lyssa, “that army sure doesn’t look like a bunch of happy campers.”

  Edmunds, ever aware of their mission interrupted, “Okay, we’ll get this intel back to the group and begin to formulate our strategy.” He then continued. “Although the early bird gets the worm, it will be us that will get the cheese…”

  At that moment, the mass army halted. Taking a knee to face their valiant leader the flocked formation let out a booming chant

  “Mythos – long may he reign!”

  Acknowledgements

  The Authors would like to acknowledge those who gratefully helped with the research and writing of this short story. They include; Bob Meggitt, Emma Thomas, Brenda Walker

  Cover artwork by Brent Stephenson of Early Bird Design https://www.earlybirddesign.co.nz/