Chapter 131
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 131
Chapter Title: Farewell, Healing Life. Welcome, Shura Field.
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Farewell, healing life. Come, shura field.
Time flew by like an arrow.
For some, in pursuit of ambition; for others, in fulfillment of earnest wishes; and for most, in hopes of reunion.
The young heroes, born with divine blood, trained and honed themselves to an unprecedented degree.
That latent power transformed them into warriors each worth a thousand men, and when combined with the strategic and tactical brilliance of the heroes leading them, their might was enough to rival an entire nation.
The swiftest messengers of Olympus and their windborne companions spread tales of the heroes' feats, growth, and the passionate dramas entwined with them far and wide. Crowds of eager spectators flocked to Messenia to witness the grand clash of these heroes.
The Cyclops master smiths, who had been wrapping up the Colosseum's reconstruction, called in even their cousins and set up shop in Hestosi'as forge. The winds darted through the forests with their winged lovers, cooling the heroes' sweat.
And that was not all.
Envoys from countless kings arrived by sea and land alike, bearing gifts piled like mountains.
Of course, Chiron's sanctuary—permitted only to gods and heroes—barred them entry.
Under strict orders from their kings, they pitched camps outside the forest and formed their own makeshift village.
Among them were not only royal kin but even kingdom heirs. The bards who witnessed this sang that the future of all Greece—the era of heroes and kings—had manifested in Messenia.
Even the noble mortals were joined by the great gods themselves, dispatching envoys to request attendance.
The chief among them was none other than the radiant Dionysus.
The king of revelry, who brought ecstasy, madness, savagery, and abundance in his wake, decreed that the first banquet of this Messenian pilgrimage would be held right in the Hero's Forest.
The young heroes rejoiced at the news.
The grandest festival—open only to invited renowned heroes and gods—was to unfold not elsewhere, but in their very own forest.
Dionysus's banquet, a once-in-a-lifetime glory for even a single attendance.
The chance had come to share wine cups with the great gods of legend, known only through tales to the young heroes.
And if they shone brightly in this war and caught their eyes?
They might even etch their names into history, like Perseus ascending to Elysium through the blessings and aid of the mighty Olympians long ago.
Even Heracles himself had stepped back from the war to spectate, bound by his pact with Dianes.
This conflict, born from a love triangle among three, had become the young heroes' final chance to break free from Heracles's shadow and firmly imprint their presence upon gods and kings.
Yet glory and renown were not the only temptations luring the heroes.
"This time, Father will finally acknowledge me!"
"Even the gods won't be able to help but admire my feats!"
"Hmph, whispering that I'm a monster behind my back. And now they want brothers to reunite?"
"Oh, how thick-skinned. Calling me a filthy witch rolling with other men. What? Proceed with the engagement? I was only five back then!"
At first, the men had simply dreamed of encounters with beautiful nymphs.
At first, the women had merely scorned those bewitched by beautiful nymphs.
But as the stakes grew and time wore on, whispers began reaching their ears.
The scent of love and recognition from the great gods who had dangled but withheld their other halves. The brazen, groveling attention from kings and princes who had once mocked and shunned them.
Cut off from the outside world, the heroes who had purely honed themselves now heard the murmurs of the profane realm seeping in.
A trait all humans possessed, regardless of gender, age, or status.
The all-too-kind Erinyes of the underworld and strife-bringing Eris presided over this essence of humanity.
Surrounded by great sages and verdant forests, they had momentarily forgotten those emotions—but now they ignited wildfires in the hearts of those joining the war.
Darker than the Abyss of Tartarus, heavier than Sisyphus's boulder, hotter than Hephaestus's forge.
The human essence cherished by the heavens of Mara in the desire realm and favored by the asuras of the hellish path.
The Hero's Forest had become a cauldron of desire.
"...Yes, the Hero's Forest is truly a cauldron of desire."
"Good. Very good."
Delpheusias, the dolphin who had grown close and now served as my personal secretary in these seas.
Whether by Poseidon's or Amphitrite's grace, he had been relaying surface news to me during my stay in Nesneria's pearl palace.
And today, on the morning of my ascent to the surface, the news he brought was utterly satisfying.
"Oh ho... And your delight suggests the Black Wave foresaw this turn to your advantage?"
Good grief.
Modern tales said dolphins had childlike intelligence, but in myth-ridden Greece, even dolphins outthought most humans.
Worthy descendants of the dolphin granted a constellation for wit and silver tongue.
"Exactly. Music to my ears—and Nesneria's too."
The news from Delpheusias was a jackpot among jackpots.
To the point I wondered if my unseen sisters, the Fates themselves, had blessed me.
"Why is that?"
"Once ignited, desire burns without end."
I hadn't idly watched Atalanta and the young heroes, wondering if I should open a counseling den instead of a Demonic Cult branch.
Born belonging to neither gods nor mortals, they faced near-neglect from gods and monstrous rejection from humans.
That innate thirst—for recognition, to shine—had merely been soothed under Chiron's guidance and Karyklo's care.
Now, festering beneath that oblivion, their desires manifested as near-disease.
'Atalanta's inner demons, Heracles's alcoholism, Theseus's obsession with ships, Jason's thirst for fame.'
In myths, packaged as heroic bravado or mere mistakes—but from what I'd seen, they stemmed from traumas of innate rejection and loneliness afflicting most young heroes.
'Cases I saw plenty of playing god in the Central Plains.'
Humans always seek to fill their lacks.
Thirst for fame and honor stemmed from unmet needs for recognition.
For these chronic sufferers, the chance to shine and assert presence had arrived.
Like an oasis before the parched dying of thirst.
But their thirst was an abyss no mere puddle could sate.
In sanctuary's peace, they might forget again—but revived, it would never fade.
I would become their sole path.
To power absolute, granting rule, fame, gold, and more.
They would seek temples to offer faith and sacrifices—but craving strength, they would kneel before me, begging teachings.
Then none would dare touch me or mine.
Not even the heavenly gods.
"Sigh... Looks like I'll have to don the cap of success."
"Cap?"
"An old saying from my homeland for rising to prominence."
Honestly, this life I planned to wander leisurely, free as a leaf on the wind—even if roaming the jianghu.
Damn paperwork, damn politics.
My past life as Heavenly Demon, craving death beams a thousand times daily, had been torment enough.
Teach these kids in the forest, build ties so they wouldn't charge me screaming "Demon scum!" on my travels later, settle somewhere cozy, raise a family...
But this damn world wouldn't leave me be.
"Um, Lady Neri is..."
"Ah, sleeping. She was pretty worn out."
Neri. Nesneria.
This impish minx, this enchanting sea goddess.
Somehow, she'd shouldered the prophecy of the great war in her sister's stead—my lover.
A nagging thought from past life: was I too soft, too swayed by my women?
Because she was the one who made me release my last grip on the healing life.
'Di... Dia... just one more time...'
'Hyah! So... good...'
'Eh? W-wait. I'm tired...'
'Kyaa! J-just a little rest...'
'I... I'll be good...'
No regrets, though.
Even after early seduction, her fainting from my endless stamina awakened the latent Greek macho in me.
Recalling her loveliness, sobbing desperately in my arms last night—what was there to fear in the world?
'From the Pasos uproar, healing was doomed anyway...'
Artemis first, then tentative enmity with brother Apollo.
If she learned what I did to Artemis, even Zeus might turn foe—a precarious state.
Many sided with me, from Queen Hera on—but highest god as potential enemy meant no easy fate.
And Nesneria's grand prophecy nailed the ambition I'd merely sketched: rebuilding the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.
'More precisely, the Dianes Federation—or Kingdom.'
The forest's youths rivaled first-rate warriors in raw prowess, untrained in martial arts.
Teach martial arts to the promising ones, train like Atalanta, and their power could rival gods.
Olympian triad or Cronus kin aside, even Artemis fell to me effortlessly at peak.
Not my level, but half that—bound as master-disciple, spread across kingdoms—and honor-loving Greeks would follow.
"And this war is tailor-made for me."
Monstrous as they were, hovering between first-rate and peak, they remained unpolished gems.
Imprint the gap between us, offer hope and path to match me—they'd gladly become my new Demonic Army, new Four Heavenly Kings.
Not a bad end for them either.
I'd save their bloodlines, doomed to wipeout in Trojan War.
Myth already twisted beyond repair.
Time to return as true Heavenly Demon.
"If heaven bars me, I'll drag it down and trample it. If earth crushes me, shatter it and scatter to the void."
Gods, heroes—who gives a damn.
You lot dragged me from quiet healing life, you bastards!
'Healing gone for real—starting to lose it a bit.'
What choice?
Momentum favors me.
Sigh...
"Well, shall we go? Tell Poseidon and Amphitrite my deep thanks."
"Aw, no need. They were thrilled too—finally a foe worth the fight after ages."
"Then relay to the ladies as instructed: come as planned."
"Yes, sir. No worries. The ladies are primed and waiting. They made a fuss when I brought Dianes's message."
Good. All set.
Theseus's army: total 600.
Atalanta's army: total 400.
And Heavenly Demon Divine Cult: total 1.
The Messenian skirmish, later dubbed the Heroes' Great War.
Its final participant emerged from the deep sea.