The Merope of the Temple

Sisyphus had received his orders: the date for his departure to Crete to hunt the Minotaur King was set. "That's one hell of a ship." Two weeks before the departure, a massive sailing vessel had docked at the eastern pier. It was a transport ship that regularly traveled between Athens and Crete.

"Sisyphus! So this is where you were!"

Clea and Cassandra were busy packing their own gear, leaving him to wander alone. As he stood there admiring the ship, Socrates approached, fussing with excitement. "I have heard much of your recent exploits. I heard you hunted down the burning hawk that appeared in the North. Truly astonishing."

"You mean that roasted chicken breast? It was delicious," Sisyphus said, smacking his lips.

"Hmm. Sisyphus, must you really take this Minotaur King contract? There are plenty of excellent requests that would allow you to stay right here in Athens," Socrates asked, his voice laced with concern. "It is said that fewer than half of the heroes who enter the labyrinth survive to return. It is a place of great peril."

"There isn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠another contract that pays as well as this one, is there?"

"That may be true, but..."

"I'll just hunt the thing and come back. That's all there is to it."

The Sisyphus party had been shattering records left and right. Officially, they were registered as the Perseus Party, which led people to call them the "Perseus Party without Perseus."

If only Heracles hadn't suddenly refused the expedition, I wouldn't have missed out on Sisyphus. Socrates felt a pang of regret. Originally, the Heracles party alone was supposed to be enough for this Cretan dispatch. Heracles was an S-rank hero, but his foul temper and penchant for causing trouble were legendary. The plan had been to clear him out of Athens by sending him to Crete, but instead, they had ended up losing a benefactor like Sisyphus. That Heracles fellow, he must have gotten cold feet at the last minute. Socrates cursed him inwardly.

"I pray for your safe return, Sisyphus. Please, take whatever support you need." For now, all he could offer was encouragement and prayers for their survival.

"Support, huh? Come to think ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of it, there is one thing." Sisyphus decided to take care of a task he’d been putting off due to his busy schedule. He headed toward the nearby Temple of Athena. It was time to get rid of the Cyclops's Strength—that annoying trait. To be honest, it wasn't like his body smelled like a sewer. But while some people, like Perseus, couldn't smell it at all, others like Cassandra were sensitive to it. Still, it was bothersome. Putting aside the benefit of the third eye, it was just too distracting to use.

"Ugh, a Spartan."

"Careful, don't make eye contact."

"If he picks a fight, we're in trouble. Let's avoid him."

He was often misunderstood when he walked alone. It was fine when Clea or Cassandra were by his side, as they carried an air of nobility. Stupid idiots. Just because someone has big muscles, they're a Spartan? Nobody understands the benefits of muscle. Strength training needs to be popularized, and fast. Sisyphus lamented.

"Hey, you bumped into my shoulder! I'll rip your waist apart!"

"Ooh, ooh, ooh!"

"Eek, please, spare me!"

In the distance, a group of Spartans was causing a scene before being restrained by guards. It was a common sight. Seeing that, he could understand why people were wary of Spartans. He understood it, but being the target of that suspicion was incredibly annoying. He didn't even have tattoos like those guys. But in a neighborhood where black hair was rare, it couldn't be helped.

Should I just shave my head? No. He was still young. Only twenty-one. And his hair was so thick, too. The "Bald God-Slayer of Greece." Somehow, he felt that would only make people mistake him for a Spartan even more. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠While those who knew who he was—like Socrates or the guild members—greeted him warmly, that was its own kind of nuisance. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise: while many avoided him, no one dared to pick a fight. That was enough for him. Sisyphus didn't feel much inconvenience, so he let it be. But when he arrived at the temple, the inconvenience became reality.

"Eek, a Spartan."

Most of the priests in the temple were priestesses. Since most of them were terrified and ran away, Sisyphus was left standing there blankly, unable to even get a guide. Should've brought Clea. As he sighed and turned to leave, someone approached him.

"You are a visitor. What business brings you here?"

Sisyphus held out a small slip of paper—the voucher he had received when he registered at the guild.

"Oh my, you are a hero. Thank you for always fighting the monsters."

"Are you not afraid of a Spartan?"

"Are you from Sparta?"

"No."

"My eyesight is poor, so please understand." The priestess lifted her veil slightly. Her eyes were dark and lacked luster. Aside from that, she was a beauty rarely seen anywhere on the continent. A small face, smooth and fair skin, a sharp nose and jawline. She possessed a mysterious charm. "Healing, blessings, trait removal. What support do you need?"

"Trait removal."

"Many seek that. Please, come this way."

Sisyphus followed the priestess into the Temple of Athena. The temple seemed to function as a kind of hospital. Aside from the large statue of Athena in the center of the altar, it was a clean and decent building. They entered a small room—perhaps a private examination room—and the priestess clicked the door shut.

"If you lie down there, I will take a look."

"I'm counting on you."

Sisyphus lay down on the stone bed. The priestess placed both hands lightly on his chest and thighs.

"You have the Cyclops's Strength trait. I intend to remove it."

"Cyclops's Strength, I see. That is unusual. You are the first hero I've seen who wants to erase that trait. Everyone else is desperate to get it."

"It smells. It's unpleasant."

"Is that so? I wouldn't know."

Pop. An eyeball bulged out from the chest where the priestess had been touching him.

"Oh my."

"See? Unpleasant, isn't it?"

"Pfft. Indeed, it is." The priestess laughed lightly and drew a circle. Divine power slowly penetrated Sisyphus.

"Huh?" The priestess tilted her head. "That's strange. I've never seen a case like this..."

"Is there a problem?"

"How should I explain this? Hero, you have the trait, but you also don't."

"What are you talking about?"

The priestess explained carefully. "Usually, a trait is engraved on the heart like a seal. It influences the mana you release. But right now, it's not that; it's in a state where only the effect is attached, like a blessing... or a curse."

"What's the difference?"

"The result is the same. However, blessings and curses have a duration, so they disappear on their own over time."

It wasn't a permanent binding, but a temporary buff. Sisyphus understood. "Then does that mean the Cyclops's Strength will disappear on its own?"

"Yes, that's right. And... you don't just have that one trait. You also have Wolf's Instinct."

"What? When did that appear?" Sisyphus recalled the time he had spent happily beating wolves to death.

"What kind of effect is that?"

"Um... it's a bit difficult for me to say."

"What is it? Is it that bad?"

"It is..."

"Tell me quickly. What is it?"

The priestess turned her head and said in a voice that barely rose above a whisper, "It's a trait where, when you fall asleep, there is roughly a 2 percent chance you will pounce on someone like a wolf..."

"What." Sisyphus broke into a cold sweat. He had such a dangerous trait? It was a good thing it hadn't activated; he could have almost pounced on Clea. As for Cassandra... well, she would have handled it somehow.

"If it's a probability-based activation, that means it's a ticking time bomb that could go off even today."

"Th-that's right."

"Get rid of it, right now."

"Since you only have one voucher, if you purify this, the purification of Cyclops's Strength will require an additional fee. Is that alright?"

"How much will it cost?"

"Ten gold coins."

"Why is it so expensive?"

"I'm sorry. We would like to provide it for less, but curse purification requires very expensive materials..."

Listening to her, it seemed it wasn't something that could be removed with divine power alone. The temple used an orb bestowed by the god they served, which was a consumable item, hence the high cost. No wonder that dog of a hero hadn't bothered to remove his traits. It was a relief that at least one was free.

"Just erase it for now."

"Understood. I will begin the purification."

The priestess placed the orb and began to massage Sisyphus with care. After the divine power swirled around him a few times, the orb was soon filled with a pitch-black energy.

"Phew, the Wolf's Instinct has been removed."

It must have been quite an exhausting task, as beads of sweat had formed on the priestess's forehead. "What would you like to do about the Cyclops's Strength?"

"Hmm." Ten gold coins was steep. He had almost finished collecting the reward for the subjugation battle he was supposed to give to Theseus, and since the Crete contract was starting soon, spending a large sum here would only delay things further. "I'll erase it next time."

"Don't worry too much. It doesn't really smell that bad. Oh, come to think of it, I didn't ask your name. I need to fill out the record, so could you tell me?"

"Sisyphus."

The priestess's ears perked up. "Sisyphus... by any chance, are you Sisyphus from Corinth?"

"That's right. Why?"

The priestess curled her lips into a gentle smile. "Actually, I've heard stories about you. That you are a strong yet kind person."

"Who says that?"

"Goddess Medusa."

"Medusa?" Why would that name come up here? Sisyphus furrowed his brow. "And you are?"

"Oh, look at me. I'm Merope."

It was a name Sisyphus had heard before. Not because he was well-versed in mythology, but because Clea had mentioned it. "Are you Merope, the Pleiad goddess?"

"Oh my, how did you know?"

"I've seen a meteor shower."

"Hehe, I hope you liked it. It's like a festival commemorating the gathering of us sisters, whom you rarely get to meet."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

An interesting connection, Sisyphus thought. "Who is your father?"

"Atlas."

"A solid lineage."

Merope brought her hand to her cheek and smiled. There was a certain elegance to her. Sisyphus knew one other goddess who smiled like that: Chrono. The Goddess of Time, born from the Titan Cronus. Come to think of it, Chrono and Medusa, and even Merope, were all goddesses of pure Titan blood. Now that Olympus held power, most of them had lost their influence and were living like humans. In fact, they possessed the beauty and kindness that made them more than worthy of being called goddesses. In truth, shouldn't they be the ones worshipped as true goddesses, rather than Athena, who was from Olympus? Sisyphus harbored a blasphemous question.

Leaving the temple feeling cleaner in body and mind thanks to the purification of a true goddess, he stepped outside.

"Give us more strength over there!"

"The rope is breaking! We need to tie it more!"

Coming outside, he saw workers sweating profusely as they moved stone materials tied with thick ropes. Merope ran over to them.

"Are you the ones here for the repairs?"

"That we are. We need to call more people. We weren't told it was this high up."

"Is that pillar the place that needs repair? My goodness. The two of you will never be able to lift it."

"Oh my, this is a big problem." Merope looked troubled. There was a cracked pillar that needed to be replaced, but the repairmen couldn't even drag the stone materials over. Since there were only priestesses in the temple, they certainly wouldn't be of any help.

"Who drags a stone this size with just a rope like a brute? You should be rolling logs underneath it."

It was then. The barbaric man, Sisyphus, approached from behind and began to meddle.

"What's this, a Spartan?"

"Hey, move aside. We're working..."

Thud, thud. Sisyphus pulled two logs from nearby and propped them under the stone. Then, the stone began to slide easily without much effort.

"Huh, I, I see. If we had attached wheels, we could have moved it comfortably."

"Why didn't we think of this sooner... Is he an intellectual?"

The repairmen's eyes widened as they turned to look at the black-haired man.

"Next time, do it like this."

He said that, and then—Whoosh! He lifted the stone in one go, leaped up to the spot where the repair was needed, and slammed it into place.

"Haaah."

"Th-that massive rock, with his bare body...?"

"That's incredible..."

The work was finished in an instant. Sisyphus began to pack his things to go on his way. That was when the priestess Merope blocked his path.

"Excuse me, Sisyphus."

"Why?"

Merope gently took Sisyphus's hand. It was a soft touch. When her hand pulled away, three rings were left in Sisyphus's hand.

"What is this?"

"An amulet. It will provide some protection against mental interference or curses."

"Why give this to me?"

"Hmm... perhaps a wish for your safe return? Please don't tell anyone I gave it to you." Merope smiled gently. "Please look for me next time you come. If the same priestess handles the treatment, she knows the symptoms quickly, so the healing is faster."

"That's certainly true. I'll put the amulet to good use."

Merope watched the spot where Sisyphus had left for a long time with her dim eyes. It felt as if his deep, masculine scent still lingered.

***

"Raise the anchor!"

"We are setting sail!"

The large sails unfurled. The sailing vessel sliced through the waves with ease.

"Now we're really off to Crete. There's no turning back. No regrets, right?" Theseus, the Hero of the Arrow Rain, asked with a relaxed smile as he opened his fan.

The man standing in front of him looked out at the sea.

"My muscles are itching for a fight."

He curled the corners of his lips.