The Last Hunter - Ascent (Book 3 of the Antarktos Saga) by Jeremy Robinson Read Free Book Online Page A

friend.
    “You are confused?” the Nephilim says.
    I get my feet under me. I’m typically afraid of Nephilim, but the fact that this one has black hair puts me at ease. I’m dressed in my normal clothes and Whipsnap lies on the floor beside me. I bend and pick up my weapon. The giant just watches as I wrap it around my waist and clip it to my belt.
    The fact that this Nephilim hasn’t shouted at me for not answering is also surprising. They are not known for their patience. I decide not to push it and say, “You’re Nephilim?”
    “You know I am,” he replies.
    “But, your hair?”
    He gives a slow nod, acknowledging my confusion. “I am not corrupted.”
    “But your father…”
    “A demon,” he says. “Yes. I was one of the first born. An accident. Overlooked by my father. Despite my…deformities, my mother kept me. And loved me. And raised me…as one of you.”
    A mother. A loving human mother with a Nephilim child. It sounds unbelievable, but if everything I’ve been taught about the twisted early days of mankind is the truth, then such a thing must have happened. And more than once.
    “But my size soon made me stand out. As word spread, we learned that there were others like me. We were the first of our kind. Twelve of us. Titans among men. And soon, our fathers took notice.”
    Titans…
    “Our fathers sought to corrupt us, to turn us against mankind, whom they detested. But we resisted them. Our human mothers, who had all passed away by that time, had taught us to care for, and protect mankind. But there was one… The eldest of us, the first born, who desired power more than anything else. He was seduced by our fathers, and quickly corrupted.”
    “Nephil,” I say. The story is beginning to make sense.
    “Nephil. Lord of the Nephilim, his followers. That is the name you know him by,” the giant says. “I know him as Ophion.”
    I know the name. All of this is in my mind somewhere. I reach for the knowledge, seeking out the familiar words. Nyx. Ophion. Titans. Tartarus!
    The information arrives in a flash. “You’re a Titan,” I say. “You were the Greek gods before being overthrown by Zeus and the Olympians, who are also Nephilim. When the Titans were defeated, they—you—were imprisoned in Tartarus!”
    Before he can confirm or deny this information, I continue, “Ophion. He was an evil Titan. The serpent. He ruled over the Earth long before the Olympians. But he was overthrown by Cronus, whose time on Earth is referred to as the Golden Age.”
    “Some of what you say is true. There was a war between the Titans and the younger generations of Ophion’s followers now known as the Nephilim, but the Titans were not confined here. It is the Nephilim who escaped . Tartarus is a prison only for those whose hearts are dark. For the uncorrupted, it is an oasis. When the Titans realized that our time among men was causing more harm than good, we requested sanctuary. We were given Tartarus.”
    “Given by whom?” I ask.
    “By the only one able to give such a thing.” It is a horribly vague answer, but the story continues without elaboration. “When the Nephilim felt the weight of what they had become, and refused to change, Tartarus became unbearable. They fled. Fearing for mankind, the Titans fought to imprison the Nephilim, but most of them escaped.”
    “But not Ophion,” I say.
    “Ophion escaped Tartarus. But I gave chase and slew my brother before he could begin dominion over humanity.”
    “ You defeated Ophion,” I say. “You—you’re Cronus!”
    The giant actually grins and dips his head in a bow.
    “It pleases me that my name is still known among men.”
    I don’t tell him that very few people would actually recognize the name, let alone remember the history of it. He’s generally not given more than a few sentences in history books or encyclopedias, often as a footnote to the more popular Greek gods.
    “And what about the giant with two heads?” I ask
    “Eurymedon,