Chapter 156
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 156
Chapter Title: Privilege of the Strong
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What was the privilege of the strong?
There were countless, but if he had to pick one representative example, it was leisure.
Overlooking the martial arts of a promising later-generation disciple from the righteous faction, who might one day become his enemy.
Taking in an assassin from Salmak who had come to kill him, keeping her by his side, slowly cooking her up until she fell.
Sparing a dangerously alluring woman who had sought an opening to kill him over some petty grudge.
Sending away a mythic hero who bared fierce hostility toward him, time and again.
All this magnanimity was possible because of that leisure, and that leisure stemmed from his utter confidence in his own strength.
Yet even so, as he gazed at the fool before him, he felt that leisure slowly draining away.
What filled the void was not danger or wariness, of course.
Irritation, pity, regret... and perhaps a faint touch of gratitude.
"Still, most of the guys around here have a bit of romance left in them, so I hoped that sharp mind of yours would figure out what I meant..."
The prime example was Heracles.
He'd reacted instantly to the initial provocation, rampaging like a wild boar that had first tasted blood—but once his senses returned, he'd coolly admitted defeat and accepted instruction without hesitation, all for the promise of growing stronger.
Thanks to that, during last morning's training run, he'd even awakened his aura, displaying prowess reminiscent of Zeus himself.
"And the same goes for that Jason guy and the others over there."
Jason, the weakest of the upper echelon in the Golden Generation, whose spirit hadn't broken even after defeat.
Yet he'd withstood the Heaven-Reversing Aura that had shocked even seasoned murim warriors, standing firm on his own two feet. His mental fortitude passed the selection, and those who chose to fight in response were now spending their time without envy for Paradise Elysium.
That was the ruler's doctrine he espoused.
Strength to those who followed him. Instruction to those who sought it.
And abundance overflowing for those he needed.
Yet the hero of wisdom, whom he'd paid even more attention to than Heracles in some ways, had trampled his hard-won advice—the very counsel that tens of thousands of murim warriors had hung on—and dared to lay filthy hands on his carefully selected disciples and examiners, no less his lover's sisters.
"Truly lamentable."
And look at this.
"Ugh... uuuugh!"
Even with him planted squarely in front of him, the man trembled and shrank back.
If your enemy was right there, fueling your hatred, at least muster some hostility.
Personally speaking, these were the types that were more dangerous.
Ah, not to him, of course—but to the organization he'd build or its members going forward.
Those with exceptional backgrounds and talents, yet driven by pointless inferiority complexes to scheme in the shadows.
They'd made him tremble with rage more than the Murim Alliance's suicide squads that charged at him to die, or the Grand Imperial Guard that swarmed with myriad weapons and overwhelming numbers.
His wisdom and cunning were a terrible waste, but he wasn't Liu Bei, going to the lengths of three visits to the thatched cottage for trash like this.
This wasn't a guy who'd mastered the Seven Military Classics; in a land where armies topped out at a few thousand, there was no force or power demanding his strategic genius.
Why bother keeping a head full of nothing but venom by his side, inviting needless trouble?
"I was tempted to just scrap you."
But he'd found an unexpected use for him.
This guy had been dodging death with exquisitely uncanny luck.
At this point, it almost felt like a message from his unseen triplet sisters: Save him.
"Wha... what?"
"No need to look so shocked. This isn't your grave."
As he smiled chillingly and raised his hand, pitch-black demonic energy already roiled there.
Witnessing it flicker like black flames, Theseus ground his teeth and shuddered.
Judging by the venom and obsession in those clever eyes, leaving him alive would surely breed future trouble.
But with the supreme god of that bloodline gazing down on him now, better to spare him and rack up a debt than kill him outright.
['He was marked for death by my hand anyway. But silencing his kin from defending him and saddling him with debt to boot...']
His gratitude wasn't solely from his boundless magnanimity.
Still, he couldn't just send him off unscathed. He'd terrorize him thoroughly enough to keep him bedridden until even that future trouble could be turned to good use.
"What are you waiting for? If you dared target those who accepted my invitation, you must have some means or method."
Go ahead, show him everything.
"Though it'll probably be useless anyway."
Just like your schemes.
Seeming to grasp his intent, venom surged in Theseus's fear-filled eyes.
With demonic energy suppressed in both hands, arms spread wide as if to accept any attack, he glared at him—then abruptly pulled something from his bosom and hurled it.
"Dieeeee!!"
"Ho...?"
What he'd thrown was a semicircular ceramic painted black and fused into a sphere.
That familiar shape was probably...
"Receive Theseus's justice, you filth!"
With his voice, a hissing sound emanated from the sphere floating in the sky.
"No way... a thunderclap grenade?"
As if answering his question, the hissing inside the sphere abruptly stopped, and at that moment...
-KABOOM! KABOOM! KABOOM!
The thunderclap grenade's deafening roar, etched vividly in memory, shook his ears once more.
Yes!
It worked!
Theseus's dead black eyes gleamed with sticky ecstasy.
For over a month, he'd skimped on sleep to perfect this secret weapon, solely for this sight.
Using sacred Hestia's firewood as catalyst, fueled by the wild centaur's tail hair, it erupted in black venomous flames—Justice of Theseus, devouring the impurity hidden in this forest.
The explosion was so fierce it forced the surrounding black fog to retreat momentarily. Theseus threw back his head in mad laughter, pouring all his strength into it.
"Kahahaha! No matter how high you fly, once swallowed by that poison, you won't survive!"
No, perhaps he'd already melted into a puddle of toxin.
A fitting end for the vile usurper who'd dared obstruct him and steal his rights and glory.
"Yes, your arrogance is what killed you. Kahahaha!"
Now, at last, all justice would be revived.
Standing against Heracles: himself.
Gathering admiration in this forest: himself.
Claiming beautiful Atalanta: himself.
And departing this forest to shake all Greece with fame, becoming king of the Athens-Troezen allied kingdom, ascending to Olympus one day: himself.
"It will be me, Theseus!"
Forgetting even what he envied or hated.
Consumed by blind hatred and rage toward the one who'd shoved him aside, Theseus cheered in frenzy.
"Know what that poison is? Huh?!"
Asclepius always collected myriad drugs and poisons.
His wisdom—that even drugs could become poisons, and poisons drugs—had captivated Theseus, who had listened raptly.
And to his excellent student, Asclepius had secretly shown his most dangerous and precious specimen.
"The venom of mighty Python, the serpent that terrorized Apollo, Artemis, and Zeus's bloodkin like me!"
The old beast's poison, gifted by Asclepius's father Phoebus Apollo in praise of his healing arts.
Venom comparable to Lerna's Hydra—Theseus had pilfered a bit to arm his weapon.
Even the great gods of Zeus's line, burdened by it, had felled Python with arrows. No mere demigod—let alone non-Zeus blood, not even royal—could withstand it, especially not blasted by his divine-flame-and-centaur-wick superweapon!
"Kuhuhuhu... it's all over now..."
As Theseus twisted in mad laughter, a hazy silhouette flickered beyond the black poison smoke.
-Step.
"Wha...?"
A heavy footfall rang in his ears. Doubting his hearing, Theseus faltered and looked up.
-Step! Step! Step!
One step, then another.
Footsteps approached through the black poison smoke that seared the lungs just to behold.
"Im... impossible...!"
Want me to tell you what's truly unbelievable?
A voice whispering right in his ear.
Heavy and cruel, like Tartarus itself murmuring—Theseus froze, as if facing Medusa, body locked rigid.
That after this pathetic stunt, you still won't die.
Truly unbelievable, right?
-Shaaaa...
No sooner had the voice whispered with clear mockery than black mist devoured Python's poison smoke, swallowing him in an instant.
"U, uwaaaaaah!"
Screaming amid a dizzying sense of plummeting into the abyss, Theseus's consciousness quietly faded.
Thus, with an unsightly scream, Theseus collapsed.
At his feet, the black reaper gazing down turned his head slightly toward the eagle.