defeated campers. All along First Avenue, giants sharpened their axes. Telkhines

repaired armor at makeshift forges.

 

Kronos himself paced at the top of the plaza, swinging his scythe so his

dracaenae bodyguards stayed way back. Ethan Nakamura and Prometheus stood

nearby, out of slicing range. Ethan was fidgeting with his shield straps, but

Prometheus looked as calm and collected as ever in his tuxedo.

 

"I hate this place," Kronos growled. "United Nations. As if mankind could ever

unite. Remind me to tear down this building after we destroy Olympus."

 

"Yes, lord." Prometheus smiled as if his master's anger amused him. "Shall we

tear down the stables in Central Park too? I know how much horses can annoy

you."

 

"Don't mock me, Prometheus! Those cursed centaurs will be sorry they interfered.

I will feed them to the hellhounds, starting with that son of mine — that

weakling Chiron."

 

Prometheus shrugged. "That weakling destroyed an entire legion of telkhines with

his arrows."

 

Kronos swung his scythe and cut a flagpole in half. The national colors of

Brazil toppled into the army, squashing a dracaena.