The Thirteenth Trial: Unveiling a Goddess's Beauty and the Arrow of Love
The thirteenth trial(?)—I had sort of expected it to some degree. Heracles' instincts vouched for the fact that the goddess hammering away right in front of me was actually a stunning beauty. And since it was the instincts of Heracles, son of Zeus, I trusted them completely.
"……"
But this blew past my expectations in the most spectacular way. I'd figured, since she always hid her face and stayed cooped up in the forge, she might be a tomboyish beauty at best. Of course, starting from the premise that tomboys could be plenty cute too.
Yet the goddess Adamantia went way beyond just "beautiful" or even "pretty." Ash-dusted silver hair, sharp crescent-moon eyebrows, piercing sapphire eyes, impossibly white skin despite everything, delicate features, vivid pink lips—why on earth had she hidden her face for seven thousand years?
I stared at her dumbly, and that's when Adamantia's whiny protest came flying.
"What? Say something, you mute bastard!"
"No, I... I thought you'd be pretty, but you're way more beautiful than I imagined."
"......You thought I was pretty? And you think I am pretty?"
"Yes, you are beautiful."
I'd at least expected her to be pleased or act all confident like it was obvious. But her reaction was totally out of left field. Adamantia clicked her tongue and shook her head like I was some lunatic.
What the... why's she reacting like that?
"Listen, I've lived thousands of years, and that's the craziest bullshit I've ever heard. If you think I'm pretty, at least put some spit on your lips before lying."
"Huh? No, Goddess?"
"Kid, dozens of male gods have ditched me because they hated me. You think they'd do that if I was pretty? You're just talking nonsense 'cause the work's hard. It won't get you a longer break, punk."
"No, I think it's because you've kept your face covered the whole time."
If she hid her face for thousands of years, of course the male gods would bail—no one could see those gorgeous blue eyes, that smooth white forehead, or that alluring silver bob.
But the goddess saw it differently.
"Hey, they've said since ancient times that a truly beautiful goddess's beauty shines through even under a veil, right?"
"Huh? No, who said that nonsense?"
"Thalassa did."
"......"
Coming from a Protogenoi of the sea, I couldn't argue—but judging by her expression and knee-jerk reaction, this was straight-up gaslighting. Sure, goddesses' beauty might radiate through a veil or whatever, but this attitude was clearly off.
"Goddess, just one question. How long ago did you hear that?"
"Hmm, around the eleventh time we replaced the nettle tree outside—about 5,500 years ago? Why?"
"You've believed that for 5,500 years? That Thalassa said you're ugly?"
"She never said I was ugly outright. She just told me the traits of a beautiful goddess."
Oh boy, this is bad. She was definitely gaslit.
"What were those 'traits' exactly?"
"Hey, you gonna make me say it out loud? Quit nagging and clean up this mess already—it's a disaster."
"Yes, ma'am."
I wanted the details on Thalassa's gaslighting, but she turned away, clearly repulsed by the idea of spilling it. She hid her beautiful face behind that ugly black mask-like cloth again and ordered me to handle the chores. Of course, now with scorch marks dotting it, those deep blue eyes still peeked through, captivating as ever.
Is there any way to break through that ironclad gaslighting?
I pondered endlessly as I cleaned the forge, dirtied by the earthquake, just as she'd commanded.
"......"
It felt awkward. My comment about her beauty must've hit her hard, because she'd been sneaking glances ever since. Cleaning the vast forge bit by bit would take me half a day even at my pace, so my back-and-forth with the steady rhythm of her hammer on metal would echo for hours. But with her peeking and obviously dying to say something, it was making me antsy.
"Goddess."
"Uh, y-yeah? What, what?"
"......Do you have something to say? Should I stop cleaning and do something else? Or get a snack?"
"No, it's not that—it's that weird thing you said earlier! It's bugging me!"
"Weird thing? You mean when I said you're beautiful?"
"Yeah! No matter how I think about it, it's weird!"
Finally, I asked first, and she sounded like a kid dragged kicking and screaming. She shot me a suspicious glare, full of doubt and irritation. She must've decided I was slacking off with made-up flattery.
Aigoo, never saw this coming. What now?......I took a deep breath to clear the suspicion and opened my mouth.
But then.
*(Sting!)*
"?(?) "
A sharp sting hit the back of my hand, like a wasp bite. What the—? A gleaming golden arrow, about two handspans long, was embedded there. The goddess had one too. Looking toward the open forge door, there floated a winged boy with a bow, grinning like the protagonist of some famous god manga that got axed before finishing—trapped in his own trap. He stuck out his tongue in a nyeh, then vanished like smoke. The arrow disappeared from sight too.
The real problem came next.
"......"
The goddess and I went silent. Myth says even gods can't resist the love impulse from Eros' golden arrow. That plenty had mocked him and ruined their lives. I'd thought it exaggerated to highlight love's divinity and uniqueness.
But no. This was way more vicious. Romance movie tropes were child's play—this was a blaze filling my chest and lungs.
Those blue eyes peeking through the charred mask felt like they were scorching my heart. I rushed to her and yanked off the damn mask.
"W-wait, you bastard!!! What the hell?! Why'd you take off my mask!!!!"
"Goddess!!!!"
"......Why?"
"I love you! No—let's get married right now!"
Honestly, I wanted to start right there. Press my lips to those small vivid-pink ones, ravage the full maternal curves visible even under soot-blackened clothes, thrust every boiling urge from my dantian deep into the goddess before me. I needed her—no one else would do. Her shoulders burned hot in my grip, my hands burned hotter. The heat raced from my fingertips, thrilling through my heart and body. Her face, seen through heat-fogged eyes, drowned my reason like drunkenness.
Desperate not to do something irreversible, I clung to sanity. Modern soul? Heracles' instincts screaming not here? Didn't matter. I fought to escape with words.
"I want a goddess like you by my side forever."
"......"
"I want to call your name, Adamantia. I want to be by your side."
Cheesy lines from somewhere? Whatever—I was losing it. She feels it too, I decided. Gripping her trembling shoulders, I suppressed the urge to bury my face in her newly bared white neck, spitting blood to force out those three words.
A desperate confession I'd never made even in my past life.
What was she thinking? No answer—the anxiety tore at me.
"F-first, let go and we'll talk."
"S-sorry!"
"Hoo... Have you, uh, said that to other women?"
"I've been married, dated plenty, but I've never said anything like this."
"......"
She went quiet. Anxiety surged. Follow instincts? Impulse boiled in my head. Luckily, before I snapped, she spoke, trembling.
"G-give me some time."
"Yes???"
"This is my first time. No guy's ever said this to me. I'm totally new to it."
"......"
"N-not a rejection? I... I don't know how to do this. I really need time."
"Hoooooo......"
A sigh to vent the inner blaze. A sigh to endure.
......Yeah, for now, that was enough. Conviction bloomed.