Chapter 11
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Tyrant Hero Heracles
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The patients who had been groaning under the savage tyrant's bellows suddenly fell silent, and the two defeated commanders who met the tyrant's gaze head-on ground their teeth in fury.
"Weak! Weak! Is that the best you could come up with—a snake-catcher trap? Kahahaha!"
"Grrrrr!! You crazy wild boar bastard...!"
"May a crow peck your eyes out!"
The secret trap they had poured their hearts into setting up last night with Hephaestus's sons and the craftsmen from the tech division.
A strategy devised by mobilizing every tactical treatise studied in the Hero's Grove, along with the legends of past heroes and the annals of warfare.
Theseus and Jason gnashed their teeth at the tyrant's mocking laughter that ridiculed it all, but there was nothing they could do.
The tyrant was strong enough to make even his scorn tolerable.
"Kahahahaha! As promised, tonight's wine ration is mine, right?"
"Grrrr!! Tyrant! Get lost!"
"Bloodline cheat! Monster!"
"Tyrant, begone!"
"What is Thanatos doing? Why hasn't he dragged this monster away yet!"
"Kahahaha! Cry and wail all you want, you losers! The wine's still mine!"
The young tyrant laughed loudly without flinching in the face of the clinic's protests.
His lion-mane black hair whipped around as he laughed arrogantly, his eyes blazing with the intoxication of victory.
Alkmene's son, prince of Mycenae. The man who strangled snakes at birth. The tyrant of the Hero's Grove.
Heracles.
He was the tyrant who ignited everyone's competitive spirit—and the warrior they all acknowledged.
Even his arrogant words and condescending gaze were something they had to accept because it was Heracles.
Who could rebel against him? At his age, he already matched his teacher Chiron in martial prowess, and his Titan-like strength was monstrous enough that no one could stand against it.
"Heracles... just you wait. We've still got about seventy-two schemes left to catch you!"
"Tactics division, think hard today! We need a strategy that makes that bastard surrender with his hands up!"
"Bring it on! I'm ready for anything!"
The warriors' cheers heated up the air in the clinic.
One side as the arrogant king, the other as challengers—they burned with fierce rivalry toward each other, as always.
"The bastard who smashed the door—which one is it?"
"H-Hyuk?!"
The arrogantly laughing king—where had he gone? Heracles flinched and stepped back at the voice that came flying from behind him.
It wasn't just Heracles.
"Zzz..."
"Mmm, mmm..."
The warriors who had risen on their battered bodies to shout at the tyrant collapsed like corpses in an instant, closing their eyes.
"Oh, my dear Jason, the pains of battle torment me so. Ahh, it's as if Hephaestus himself is using my head as an anvil and hammering away at it."
"That must hurt terribly, my friend. May Apollo soothe your wounds."
The heroes of strategy and ingenuity, who had led them, now dramatically inspected each other's wounds as if nothing had happened, not even glancing toward the entrance where Heracles stood.
'C-Cowardly bastards!'
"It's you again, you wild boar bastard. Do you know how many times you've blown the door off this time!?"
It was a boy of small stature.
White hair, slender build. Skin as pale as snow. And those deep green eyes were so alluring they could make even the nymphs of the forest scream like girls.
The pinnacle of delicate beauty, or something like that.
However, the patients in this clinic who knew even a little about his true nature couldn't see him as fragile.
Asclepius.
Son of Apollo, the little god who ruled the clinic.
Even their teacher Chiron praised him as surpassing himself in medicine—a miraculous healer.
If Heracles reigned as tyrant in the Hero's Grove, then Asclepius was the god of this clinic.
No matter how fierce the tyrant, in the domain of the god, he was just a lowly human.
Seeing those green eyes seething with venom, even Heracles seemed to shrink back in dread.
"W-W-W-What? As?"
"Got something to say?"
Mes, small drill, bone saw, hammer, iron stakes, and so on—terrifying medical tools began appearing one by one in Asclepius's pale hands.
But it was just a threat. Heracles already knew from experience just how thoroughly this snow-white healer could torment someone if he meant business.
Even he, who had strangled two venomous snakes at birth, had to endure poisons popping out at random intervals for a whole week, mixed into everything he drank or ate.
What was worse was that the poisons were meticulously calculated and dosed precisely to target only Heracles, making it utter agony without quite killing him.
"I'll fix it!"
"That's a given!! Why the hell do you keep smashing every door in here!! This is a clinic!!
Don't you know patients need rest above all else!?"
The explosion came at last.
Asclepius—nicknamed As—started raging like a dragon spewing fire, or rather, poison mist from his mouth.
Ah, that was unstoppable.
The clinic's nymphs and centaurs, knowing full well that no one could stop As once he went berserk, executed artistic backsteps to retreat.
The other students flipped their eyes back and stuck out their tongues even more enthusiastically, playing dead like corpses.
The two heroes famed for wisdom and strategy had slipped away long ago.
With the one brake—Teacher Chiron—absent at the worst possible time, the fury of this snow-white poison god fell entirely on Heracles.
'Father Zeus! Are you abandoning me like this!?'
"And I clearly wrote it right there: 'Enter the clinic with hands and feet clean at minimum, full bath at maximum for hygiene.' But you didn't even wash your hands and feet, let alone bathe?"
"Hey, As?"
"What."
"Why are you pulling poisons out of your pocket while we're talking?"
"Why do you think? Is your body some ordinary hunk of meat? I have to tweak the mix while looking at the test subject to dose it just right—not quite lethal."
So what exactly are you tweaking?
The question rose to his throat, but he couldn't voice it.
"Hey, we're humans, right? Talented students who even learned rhetoric from the great Teacher Chiron?"
"And?"
"So let's settle this with words..."
Good heavens.
Heracles, of all people. The tyrant who scoffed that brains were for the weak-bodied.
Was he seriously suggesting they talk it out?
The students, who had been praying to their patron gods—Apollo, Artemis, Zeus, and so on—for the safety of their ears and that wild boar's well-being while playing dead, now debated whether to just sleep for real.
-Pooo~ Poo~ Poo~
"Trumpet?"
"Three blasts, right?"
A massive horn blast echoed through the entire forest.
One blast for monster sighting, two for intruder, three for a new student's arrival.
"Newbie!"
"Newbie!"
"It's a newbie!!"
The students sprawled like corpses shot up like the undead rising to Hades' call, rushing to the entrance.
"Newbie! Kahahaha! What kind of fool is it? Finally, a new challenger!!"
And leading the charge was the superhumanly strong man shouting with a face that screamed he was alive and kicking.
With a sigh of relief that he'd survived, he vowed never to mess around in the clinic again.
"Hrm... what in the world is this?"
I was in the colosseum right now.
The moment Chiron arrived at the forest, the gatekeeper saw me and blew a massive horn three times.
Seeing that, Chiron immediately dragged me to the armory, let me pick a weapon I liked, and then brought me here to the colosseum, where nearly a thousand students with gleaming eyes cheered wildly.
-Newbie! Newbie! Newbie!
"Whoa... is it a girl? She's drop-dead gorgeous."
"Get outta here, where are your eyes? It's a boy."
"But something feels off about him..."
Teenage boys and girls around my age buzzed with all sorts of emotions from the stands.
But the most striking presences among them were three.
"Oho, another one with that kind of fighting spirit. If I play my cards right, my tactical options could double."
"That guy must know some unique stratagem or technique."
"......"
A pretty boy with sharp, clever eyes reminiscent of Guixian Scholar, my advisor and strategist from my past life as the Heavenly Demon Supreme.
A brown-haired guy with the vibe of a Golden Guard general.
And a black-haired one whose eyes gleamed with the urge to spar right then and there.
"You can tell who's who at a glance, right?"
"Theseus, Jason, Heracles, in order."
Names that appeared countless times in the internet, novels, books, and games.
Seeing them in the flesh was a fresh experience.
'They just look like talented kids.'
I guess I've lived too many years.
Mythical heroes or whatever—they just seemed like promising youngsters with bright futures.
But one thing was clear: the power emanating from them.
It was similar to the divine power and majesty I'd felt clashing with Artemis recently.
"Well, I can check out the young ones later..."
Right now, I had to deal with the seasoned half-man, half-horse in front of me.
A tricky opponent given my current state.