Chapter 19: The True Task -1-
With so many things piling up, I'd completely forgotten about it, but my original task was to enter Adamantia's forge and earn recognition as a true craftsman.
In other words, it was a task that kept me from leaving this island until I obtained what you might call a "blacksmith's license" under the master smith Adamantia herself.
At first, I took it lightly. Adamantia was as steadfast and kind as a bear, and I was her husband now. Given her personality, I figured she wouldn't be too harsh on me—a crappy but reliable prediction.
But my expectations were way off, and I ended up enduring days of grueling training.
"No! This doesn't count as finished. Do it over."
"...Got it, Adamantia."
Up until now, Adamantia had been the world's one and only smith who could work iron. From the day she forged the Adamant sickle in Tartarus to drive out Uranus, she'd been silently hammering away at metal for thousands of years.
So, if there was even the slightest delamination, cracking, or dent the size of a grain of rice, she'd scrap it as worthless iron and melt it down again to prevent it from ever leaving the forge.
Only perfect, unyielding works counted as finished products.
I'd only been an apprentice for a year and a half, so there was no way I could steal her skills and know-how. My prototypes ended up as scrap metal more often than not.
"And obviously, no oil quenching in my forge. I only accept water. This is a matter of my pride."
"..."
What drove me the craziest was this part. Adamantia absolutely refused oil quenching. She only allowed cold water.
If it didn't shatter from the sudden temperature change, you could count yourself lucky. Even if it somehow held its shape, there was always a crack or a brittle section.
Every time, I felt like I was going insane. I couldn't see any way to pass this task.
But we'd already become husband and wife, so running away wasn't an option. That would ruin our relationship, and while I could force her to pass me, that wasn't a method I wanted to use.
"It's not just the crafting method. Making tools I can actually use is the problem too."
A mutter that slipped out unbidden. This was a problem born from me being Heracles—the reason the original myth had Heracles using an olive wood club, and why Ladon let him snap off a branch from the golden apple tree.
Weapons like swords, spears, or bows couldn't withstand my superhuman strength for long; they broke constantly.
I thought iron weapons would hold up, but my clumsy smelting meant the already delaminated and pitted ones fared no better than bronze against my power.
"Don't make tools you can't use yourself."
That was Adamantia's teaching to me. No matter what tool you craft, it had to be usable by its maker.
But my works were little more than fractured iron trash—tools even I couldn't use. That was my biggest issue right now.
Swords or spears, it was all the same. Blades would curl or shatter under my strength, and spear shafts snapped. Even if the shaft held, the blade would crack or pit.
Most weapons got melted down by Adamantia for inspection before I even touched them.
Half a year flew by like that, and I still hadn't produced a single proper "work."
Growing frustrated with the endless delays, Adamantia finally laid down the law.
"This next one will be your final test. If there's no progress after this, it just means you're not fated to become a smith."
I objected—half a year seemed too short to wrap up the task—but her follow-up words shut me down.
"It's not about skill. In half a year, you haven't even figured out what you need. You can't become a craftsman if you don't know what to make. Maybe try finding another god."
She was right; despite honing my skills with her advice and help for half a year, I hadn't identified what I needed. I couldn't argue.
But giving up like that wouldn't make me a proper consort to the goddess of the forge. It wasn't just for her sake anymore—I wanted that divinity myself.
Her words only fueled my competitive spirit. If this was part of her plan, I'd never be able to hold my head high around her for life.
But the problem was...
"Everything I make fails and breaks, so how am I supposed to figure out what I need...?"
No matter what, I needed to craft a tool I could actually use first to even start figuring that out. But it always ended the same.
Everything I made failed. Despite Adamantia's concession that she'd approve anything I truly needed, I still couldn't decide what to create.
I just kept pounding metal with echoing blows.
Huh?
The realization hit right then. As I mindlessly hammered iron to the now-familiar rhythm, it dawned on me that this hammer hadn't shattered under my superhuman strength.
I'd assumed it was because Adamantia had made it specially for me with care, but this wasn't her personal hammer—it was a spare she'd pulled from storage.
She made everything near-perfect, so it must have taken effort, but there was no reason she'd poured extra love into this one.
I set the iron aside and tested my hunch, pouring all my strength into slamming the hammer onto the empty anvil.
CLANG!
A chilling metallic ring assaulted my ears, sparks flying everywhere. The deafening boom echoed through the forge, startling even me.
Typhon, who was spewing fire, Adamantia in the middle of smelting, and even Echidna and Gaia from the room rushed out, staring at me in shock.
And sure enough, the hammer didn't break. The head was slightly chipped, but otherwise fine.
Thrilled by this discovery, I set the hammer down and headed to Adamantia.
"Adamantia—no, Master."
"What's up, Heracles? Why'd you smash the empty anvil?"
"An experiment."
"Experiment?"
"Yeah. The hammer you gave me doesn't break under my strength."
"Oh?"
Her eyes lit up at my words. It seemed I'd finally found and buttoned the first step to solving the problem that had stumped me for over half a year.
"So? How'd the experiment go?"
"A huge success. As expected, the hammer you gave me holds up to my power."
"Of course. It's made to match my strength, so it can handle yours too."
"Right?"
"Though yours is just a bit stronger."
"..."
Yeah, the goddess Adamantia's strength was on par with mine. As a Protogenoi of the volcano and island, she had superhuman power. She'd hate hearing it straight from me, but it was true.
Saying it to her face, though? She'd loathe it.
Anyway, I told her this custom hammer she'd made let me decide what to create.
She was overjoyed, practically leaping.
"Really, Heracles? You've finally decided what to make for the final test?"
"Yeah. And even though it's the final one, I don't plan on failing."
"Good thinking! Great thinking! So? What'd you decide on?"
"Can I tell you in advance?"
"I'll inspect it anyway, so it's better if you do."
"Gotcha."
I hadn't realized that was a deduct point too?
"I'm going to make a hammer. Not just keep using the practice spare you gave me, but one custom-made for my body and environment."
"Perfect, Heracles! The best choice you've made yet. A true craftsman needs their own personal working hammer. Succeed, and you'll be a proper artisan."
"Knew it."
It was actually a lucky realization, but her joy made me swell with pride. It felt like a choice worthy of her final chance, and with direction set, my mind cleared up.
I'd wasted half a year, after all. No more time-wasting now.
This time, I'd pass her task and truly become Adamantia's consort.
I hadn't agreed to her overall plan yet, but this was my stubborn pride. A proper answer to that innocent smile of hers.