The Cannibal Giant
The Secret Book kept letting out exclamations of awe, but I couldn't really feel the weight of it. Everything had just happened so naturally.
Whatever. First things first—I need to recover that arrow. Talk about lucky. Scoring something this rare.
I felt a grin spreading across my face, even if I did feel a twinge of sorry for the serpent who'd been teetering on the brink of death from Artemis's Arrow. This thing was a genuine divine artifact. Keeping it around would come in handy for sure.
Treasure it well, Peleus. That arrow can wound even gods. By this world's standards, it's no exaggeration to call it a strategic weapon.
"The arrow… it's gone… Such an astonishing thing!"
The serpent clearly hadn't expected me to actually extract Artemis's Arrow. It stared in shock, flicking its tongue repeatedly as it inspected the wound. The necrotic tissue on its injury began healing at a visible rate. A mystical lime-green glow enveloped it, mending what had seemed like an irreparable gash in real time.
Feels just like receiving nature's blessing.
To my surprise, the Secret Book agreed with my sentiment.
Your instincts are spot on.
Really?
A fatal wound from a god's weapon. No spell, no matter how powerful, could heal that in one shot. It's definitely drawing on some immense force from somewhere.
What a bizarre world. Never imagined this stuff when I was just a temple scribe. Step into the myths, and all sorts of weirdness pops out.
"I am truly grateful," the serpent said, its voice much more relaxed as it extended its head right up to my face. I nearly toppled backward in shock. The sheer presence of a snake even bigger than a reticulated python right in my face was no joke.
"My apologies for the rudeness. Your kind—humans—tend to despise us," it murmured bitterly, then shimmered briefly and transformed into human form.
But the appearance was so far out of left field that I jolted in surprise again.
"Gah!"
"What's wrong? Does even this form displease you? I know you saved my life, but you're a picky one. When I shift to human, this is the only shape I can take."
Protesting in a somewhat dissatisfied tone was a little girl who looked about ten years old—and stunningly pretty at that. But her fiery red hair, like a peace lily's stamens, marked her as no ordinary human.
"No complaints here. You're a lady? And so young…"
"Ugh, you idiot! The kid look is just skin-deep. I'm way older than the likes of you."
Fair enough. Even among the gods, some took the form of children, so it wasn't that strange on second thought.
"My apologies. That was rude."
"Since you apologized sincerely, I won't hold it against you."
Her voice had been androgynous as a serpent, but now it was a cute, girlish tone fitting a little girl.
"Anyway, how did you end up pierced by Artemis's Arrow? And may I have your name? I don't even know what to call you."
The serpent-now-girl nodded at my question.
"I am Python, guardian of this mountain where the Great One slumbers. I dwell mainly around Parnassus Mountain, but that wretched Artemis chased me down to the forest at its base."
She didn't seem like a mere mountain guardian, though. To my Korean sensibilities, she felt more like a mountain spirit.
"Lady Python, then? And the slumbering Great One… is that the Burning Nameless One?"
I asked about the terrifying entity I'd actually encountered. In this region, what else could a slumbering great being be?
"Oh? You know of it? Do tales of ancient battles still pass among humans?"
She seemed intrigued, so I gave a quick explanation.
"Yes—the great god Apollo slew a serpent as massive as the mountain guarding Delphi's oracle with his arrows."
"No! That's wrong!"
Python shot back vehemently, without me even finishing.
"Uh…"
"No! No! No way! Apollo didn't have the power to do that in the first place!"
Snorting and fuming, Python was in full rage mode. What kind of absurd situation was this? Dealing with a pissed-off little girl in a dangerous forest under the moonlight… I had no clue how to handle it wisely.
"Did I have it wrong, Lady Python?"
"Yes! Apollo didn't kill the Great One. It accomplished its great deed and fell—and that bastard just took the credit!"
I had no idea how she knew modern idioms like "scooping the pot," but I got the gist.
"So our human legends got it twisted?"
"Exactly! You humans are all empty-headed fools!"
She seemed genuinely furious. Her speech suggested a childish mental age, so I needed to tread carefully. Innocence often hid ruthless cruelty.
"My apologies. Apollo's priests spread those tales, they say."
I didn't know the legend's true origin, but I pinned it on Apollo anyway. It worked—Python's eyes blazed with hatred toward him.
"I knew it! Apollo's dogs lied. Liars should have their mouths torn out!"
She really had bad blood with those siblings. Hating Apollo and hunted by Artemis… When I pressed for details, she clammed up.
"It's a filthy, muddy tale like the muck on your armor. Not in the mood tonight."
"Understood, Lady Python."
"More importantly, I must repay your life-debt. Come with me to the mountain?"
"The mountain?"
"Yes. I'll hole up deep in a cave this time. First outing in decades, and Artemis is still waiting? What a tenacious hunter."
For some reason, Artemis seemed obsessed with finishing Python, even after decades.
"Hunters are all about persistence, after all."
"Ugh! Such annoying pests! Anyway, come to the mountain with me. I have a lair deep inside with treasures I hid long ago. I'll give you one as thanks."
If she wasn't luring me to eat me on her back, it sounded like a sweet deal. Tempting, but I couldn't go. Even if my search for King Atreus was half-hearted, I couldn't vanish for two whole days. I needed to link up with Agamemnon, pretend to scour the woods, and rack up points.
"That's incredibly generous, Lady Python. But I have someone to find in these woods."
She looked visibly disappointed when I declined due to circumstances.
"Is that so? What a dilemma. I can't face myself without repaying my savior…"
After pondering, Python taught me how to summon her and told me to visit later. As mountain guardian, she couldn't leave the range.
"Never tell Artemis this method?"
"Of course not."
"I trust you. Come claim your treasure later. Otherwise, I'll lose all face."
The little girl nodded vigorously. Her cute looks undercut the vibe, but she clearly had high pride. Makes sense for a guardian of the Burning Nameless One. If her master was tied to world-ending apocalypse stuff, that self-importance was warranted.
"Um, before I go, one small favor?"
"A favor?"
"Could you help find someone? King Atreus…"
I explained my forest wandering. I figured a mountain spirit like her could easily oblige—maybe command beasts to guide me. A majestic wolf leading the way, perhaps?
"Surely you can manage that, Lady Python? Send an animal to show the path."
"Ugh…"
But Python looked deeply troubled. Her flushed face fidgeted with her fingers before dropping her head.
"Lady Python?"
"That's… not possible…"
"What? But you're the mountain guardian? Protecting the mountain where the Burning Nameless One slumbers? No ability like that?"
I hadn't meant to, but my tone came off accusatory in my bafflement. Python wailed.
"I—I have no friends!"
"Huh?"
"I'd love animal friends! But no one plays with me—how can I ask them to guide you?!"
Come to think of it, she was alone groaning earlier. No dryads or meliads in sight. Probing further might hit a sore spot, so I dropped it.
"Got it. Any other way you can help?"
Since I'd met this being, getting her to assist with Atreus seemed worth a shot. Wandering aimlessly sucked, but knowing the goal would help.
"Of course. You were wrong to demand animal guides—that's too harsh for a friendless guardian like me."
"R-Right…"
No friend-related favors next time.
Soon Python, sweating on her brow and still looking unwell, began chanting some spell. She pointed one way.
"That direction. A dozen humans far off. Weapon clashes too. Not sure about your 'Atre-whatever,' but humans entering this forest are rare—worth checking."
"Thank you, Lady Python!"
"Head straight, then follow the valley down. You'll hear the weapons."
Her help made things easy. Weapon sounds meant battle—better hurry. Dangerous, maybe, but as Zeus's great-grandson, King Atreus wouldn't fall easily.
"Thank you!"
"Farewell. Visit later."
Python slipped into the darkness like melting away.
Quite the peculiar bond you forged. Trouble follows you everywhere.
Not this time. If she's truly tied to the Burning Nameless One, helping her wasn't bad.
Honestly, I never wanted to see that massive serpent again. But that transcendent being had spoken of a fated connection in another time. Words from an apocalypse harbinger carried weight. Unavoidable, probably.
True enough. But the night is young, Peleus. If Atreus's group is fighting, it might be the cannibal giant Eunomia mentioned.
Strong?
Has to be, if a goddess called it dangerous. King Atreus has a fierce rep, but his might is unmatched among men. A superhuman beyond mortals as Zeus's great-grandson. For him to be at risk means it's no joke.
Maybe the giant has divine blood too.
* * *
"Hurl the javelins!"
At Agamemnon's shout, the royal elite flung theirs with all their might. Elite throwers worthy of Olympic podiums—but useless against the foe.
"Is that the so-called cannibal giant?!"
Boom! Shields and soldiers flew into the air. Agamemnon groaned at the sight.
A mismatched build, oversized jaw, bald head covered in tattoos. Tusks like a boar's, muscles grotesquely swollen—utterly hideous.
"Rise, spawn of Zeus! Have you no faith in besting this body, heir to the great giant gods?!"
The giant mocked relentlessly. King Atreus was already critically wounded. He'd led his men like a lion, but the cannibal giant showed no fatigue.
Without Agamemnon's timely arrival, he'd have died already.
"Protect the king! Follow me!"
By heaven's grace, Agamemnon had found his father's group amid the woods. Rallying the crumbling soldiers with heroic prowess.
"Kuhahaha! The son outshines the father! Good! Squirm more—that'll make devouring your pounding hearts all the sweeter!"
The giant reveled in the intensified fray.
Agamemnon held firm, but how to fell this immortal brute? Swords didn't cut, spears didn't pierce. Unknown lineage, but unmistakably Titan descent—immensely powerful.
Zeus! What must I do? No way to defeat this foe!
Agamemnon lamented inwardly, mindful of his men's morale. But Zeus, who'd sent him here, gave no response. As if not watching.
Your bloodline's father and son will both perish tonight!
He knew Olympus's king was ruthlessly pragmatic. Fail here, and they'd be discarded. The throne would pass to ruthless, ambitious siblings.
"I won't fall like this!"
Agamemnon roared, charging the giant—a blood oath to himself. But his valor was futile.
"Graaah!"
Soon crushed underfoot. The end loomed.
"Not bad, Zeus-spawn. Kuhuhuhu! Wonder what arrogant high-god blood tastes like? My tongue savors the umami of the finest humans. You must be exquisite!"
The giant's eyes gleamed murderously. Agamemnon braced for death as a pot-lid-sized hand reached for his head.
"Urk!"
Yet the massive hand halted mid-air. Agamemnon peeked, eyes clenched.
"Sniff sniff! Sniff sniff!"
Suddenly, the giant wildly sniffed the surroundings. What now?
It lost interest in Agamemnon, tilting its head.
"Strange? Something weird—a human rushing here? What is it? Why does it smell tastier than Zeus-blood?!"
Thwack! It kicked the fallen Agamemnon aside and glared into the dark woods.
Grinning with torn lips, it rhythmically smacked a huge tree-club against its palm.
"A hero? Yes—a god-backed hero for sure! That's why the aroma is so divine! Kuhuhuhuhu!"
Viscous saliva drooled endlessly from the toad-like maw packed with needle-teeth. Wiping futilely with its handknuckle, it kept flowing.