Chapter 130
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 130
Chapter Title: Chapter 130
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 130
Chapter Title: Atalanta's Aspiration
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Chiron's office.
Anyone residing in the Hero's Forest could request a private audience with the forest's master and their teacher.
However, due to being swamped managing the forest alongside Karyklo with no time to spare, Chiron was finally sitting face-to-face with a disciple who had requested a meeting after what felt like ages.
No matter how busy he was, he couldn't possibly turn away his foster daughter—the most precarious and thorniest issue in the entire forest—who had come seeking word of her lover's whereabouts.
"...That's how it happened."
"I see."
It had been fully two weeks since Poseidon had dropped by unannounced to inform them that Dianes had been summoned to his kingdom.
Chiron was well aware of the war between Dianes and Theseus that had engulfed the entire forest, but he never dreamed that Atalanta—the very center of that conflict—would throw herself into the fray.
Yet here she was, after declaring her participation and staying away for so long, showing up after just two weeks to inquire about Dianes' whereabouts.
"Surprised?"
"No, I expected it."
"....."
The Atalanta who once bared her fangs at everything like a wounded beast was gone.
Her unshakable posture. Her calm red eyes meeting his gaze without flinching.
She had shot up in height lately, her once lithe limbs now rippling with beautifully toned muscle that radiated healthy allure.
Above all, the neurotic venom had vanished from her demeanor, replaced by a beauty that sparkled with serenity and caution. It was a clear sign that she was ready to step out from under Chiron and Karyklo's wings and stand on her own.
'Ehh... What are these men all about anyway.'
Still, it left a father's heart feeling bittersweet that the catalyst for her change was none other than a man.
At least it was some comfort that he treated Atalanta not as an object of lust or mere affection, but as a warrior in her own right.
-Kuwoong...!
"Whoa!"
A sudden tremor shook the table, sending Chiron's cup and wine teetering on the edge.
"Hm!"
"Hup!"
-Thump!
But in a flash, Chiron snatched his cup, while Atalanta blinked and scooped up the wine bottle and her own cup, lifting her head.
"You need to be more careful. Earthquakes have been hitting pretty often lately."
"You're right. Is Poseidon getting an earful from Lady Amphitrite again?"
The father and daughter duo, who had deftly caught the wine cups that nearly spilled amid the recent spate of quakes, exchanged smiles.
Chiron couldn't hide his inner admiration for Atalanta's movement just moments ago.
Exquisite speed, dynamic vision, and split-second judgment to boot.
Her grasp was like an eagle snatching a fish from the water, her motion so lightning-quick that even Chiron lost track of it for a heartbeat.
And there wasn't a single wasted motion in the seamless sequence of leaning, reaching out, and seizing the cup and bottle.
The very model of a warrior refined to the absolute limit.
The hero absent from this room had unlocked and blossomed Atalanta's potential—something even Chiron himself had failed to do.
"Your training with Dianes seems to suit you perfectly."
"Thank you."
The enigmatic hero guided here by a god from the profound depths, whom Chiron had personally brought to the forest: Dianes.
No amount of wisdom could pierce the murky depths of that man's thoughts—what on earth was he scheming?
He had agreed with Hermes to simply observe whatever he did, so for now, they were leaving him be without much interference.
Yet oddly enough, Dianes was positioning himself as the catalyst for growth for heroes great and small—starting with Atalanta, then Heracles, Asclepius, Orpheus, and so many more.
Dianes roamed the forest with the eyes of a craftsman who couldn't bear to idly watch talent go to waste—not as fellow disciples or friends, but something more.
And the result? He had sparked a massive incident not even Zeus foresaw: Heracles' awakening.
The final clash of the ancient Titanomachy.
The duel between Dianes and Heracles called to mind the Titan god Cronus swinging time and the vast earth in his hands, clashing against Zeus's thunderbolt Astrafe.
Having witnessed that, Chiron couldn't help but eagerly anticipate just how far Atalanta would grow.
Heracles, whom he had only indirectly tested and given pointers here and there, had become one of history's rare heroes to awaken divine power.
How much further would Atalanta soar, having trained directly under him?
And Chiron's expectations were not disappointed.
Atalanta had grown as stunningly beautiful and powerful as the maturity blooming within her.
The Atalanta who would rampage like wildfire at the slightest insult or wandering glance toward someone she cherished.
Even her brutal clash with Dianes at their very first meeting stemmed from nothing less than jealousy over Chiron's attention.
Yet that same girl was utterly composed upon learning her lover was off spending time alone with another paramour.
"You expected it, huh..."
"Hehe..."
But why did those words send a chill down his spine?
The warrior woman seated before him seemed perfectly serene the whole time.
'Women truly are an enigma...'
Aphrodite's adage—that a woman's metamorphosis was innocent, nay, the very essence of her nature—flitted through his mind.
The old sage could only sigh inwardly.
"Ahem. Well then, have you gotten all your answers?"
"No. I have one favor to ask."
A favor?
In the midst of the three-way war currently roiling the Hero's Forest, Chiron was providing impartial aid to all parties.
Ares' Colosseum reconstruction had brought Cyclopean artisans to the forest, and Hermes had personally carried word of the massive incident up to Olympus.
The gods themselves had requested Chiron's oversight of the tense standoff between two men vying over a woman, leaving him unable to meddle in the war beyond basic support.
"Is it about this war...?"
Was Atalanta about to leverage his neutrality for some special request?
Just as Chiron began to furrow his brow...
"No. This has absolutely nothing to do with the war."
What Atalanta placed before Chiron was a single letter.
"It's a letter to King Iasos of Arcadia."
"Hah...!"
As she slid the letter toward her foster father, Atalanta's eyes blazed with a passion fiercer than any Chiron had ever witnessed.
"The rightful princess of Arcadia, Atalanta Elte Arcadia, will soon come to reclaim her throne. Please convey that message."
Daughter of Artemis. The huntress raised on a bear mother's milk.
The greatest female warrior in Greek history, heir to the peerless teachings of the two demons who reached the pinnacle of martial nothingness.
This was the moment Atalanta declared her will before the assembly of the gods.
Two weeks prior.
More precisely, the night she learned Dianes had vanished without a word to her, chasing after a sea nymph.
The vile nightmare she thought banished forever slithered back into her slumber.
A dense loneliness coiled in her chest, mingled with bitter resentment toward her lover who had pursued that bland seawater over her—it had ensnared her utterly.
-"Hey there, princess! How about me for a husband? Don't let the looks fool you—I've got skills in the bedroom..."
-"Whoa, what a pretty face."
-"That's not all! Marry me, and all of Arcadia's riches are mine!"
Kekekeke.
Kekekeke.
"Haa..."
At the resurgence of this moldy old nightmare—one that might finally evoke a twinge of nostalgia—she merely sighed deeply.
"Who would've thought I'd fall head over heels for a man like this..."
After that outlandish first encounter, the twilight shore where they strolled side by side for the first time.
When that white nymph crashed their perfect moment, Atalanta burned with jealousy and rage... yet found herself oddly accepting it too.
"Even that pathetic fake king of a stepfather keeps a harem. Honestly, he's too big a prize for me to hog all to myself."
The key to hunting was discerning prey from predator.
In that light, the Dianes she saw was a hunter's hunter.
A predator's predator, capable of devouring the world with ease and claiming all it surveyed.
But like a well-fed beast lounging idly in the shade, he was simply savoring the now in deep repose.
Women swarming such a captivating beast? Inevitable, really.
"I thought I'd made my peace with it..."
Just a week's lapse in attention, a disappearance to soothe some other woman's ire—and here she was, moping so hard she dredged up ancient terrors.
If Dianes, who had trained her with such sincere devotion, ever learned of this...
"He'd crank the training up fivefold on the spot. Hehe..."
For reference, it was triple the intensity when her arm snapped.
Of course, post-training always brought his tender care and loving kisses...
"Hehe... *smack!"
Her thoughts trailed there, and saliva naturally pooled in her mouth.
His scent, his flavor, his gaze.
To Atalanta, who knew nothing of men, the deep, intoxicating kisses he bestowed were more exhilarating than any hunt, sweeter than the finest wine.
She didn't await Dianes' sessions solely for his formidable arts or her own growth.
-Kekekekekeke!
As she fondly (or so she thought?) replayed her moments with him...
This blasted nightmare, tone-deaf as ever, cackled shrilly to mock her.
"Ah, shut it."
But the protagonist trapped in the nightmare was no longer some frail creature.
Like Atlas' fist propping up the heavens, the female warrior's brutally honed fist arced skyward—then plummeted in a flash.
Anyone watching would've sworn the fist teleported from zenith to nadir. A punch of blinding speed and savage might.
Atalanta dubbed it Hippolyma Pita.
The technique known as Residual Shadow Fist Break.
-Thuboom!
A colossal blow mighty enough to drop a massive beast in one shot hammered the nightmare's floor.
Unable to endure that crushing force and sheer will, the nightmare shrieked.
-Kyaaaahhh!
She was no longer the nightmare's slave.
A warrior's warrior: shatter mountains in her path, sever raging rivers clutching at her ankles.
-Crash!!
Beyond the nightmare's crumbling shards...
The true vision she craved materialized.
The kingdom of Arcadia: fertile expanses of vast plains.
Shepherds piping lazily as they herded goats, farmers wiping sweat amid fragrant vineyards—a land of plenty.
And in the palace all revered, a couple laughed amid their children.
-"Yes! Parhesia, that's it!"
-"Ah! Mom! Ease up on the joint locks!"
A black-haired girl and her red-haired partner sparred under the bright sun, sweat beading on their brows.
-"Waaah!"
-"There, there. Mommy and big sis too noisy, huh?"
The black-haired man watched the women, soothing the red-haired baby boy fussing in his arms.
The children: Arcadia's princess and prince. The woman: its queen. The man: her husband and guardian god.
A scene of utter peace and love.
Born to a bear mother's embrace in place of her own.
Made Artemis' daughter from the cradle.
A vista Atalanta once dared not dream—she had claimed it with her own hands.
"Haa..."
A sight she'd gaze on forever, yet Atalanta turned away and strode toward the opposite horizon.
"I won't let this end as just a dream."
She would never relegate that vision to mere reverie.
Press on relentlessly until your desires are won.
No matter the naysayers, force your will through to victory.
True to those tenets fused into her very blood and bone, she would do whatever it took to fulfill the aspiration unearthed so late.
Fortune smiled: the chance to declare her intent to all the gods loomed near. Now remained only to prove herself and seize her prize.
Her dream-wandering mind surfaced to reality; the hazy dawn sky filled her eyes.
-Rustle!
"Mmm! Kinda feels like I had a good dream."
Stretching briskly upon rising, Atalanta's body buzzed with the urge to dash out and train.
The next two weeks ahead.
War's outcome be damned—to manifest her dream, she set out today as ever, awaiting him through training.
-Rumble!
"...Why the hell are these earthquakes so damn frequent lately?"
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