Chapter 187
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 187
Chapter Title: Beyond the Golden Wall
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Honestly, compared to the massive show I put on in front of Atalanta and Nesneria, the duel was unfolding in a way I hadn't anticipated at all.
The first variable.
Acis's growth.
These Greek lesser heroes had far more potential than I'd imagined, and as a result, they were putting on performances that even caught me off guard.
Just by giving them a slight(?) push on the back and dangling some carrots, they'd shown such dramatic growth in a mere three days.
And that from the son of a minor god—not even Zeus's kid or one of the Twelve Olympians' bloodlines.
If the son of a pastoral god could pull off that much without any real battle experience, just how far had the others come?
Greece.
It was a savage, monstrous place beyond my wildest expectations.
And the second variable.
What that Cyclops was doing.
"What the hell is that Demonic Cult vanguard-lookin' bastard doin' spoutin' Orthodox Sect rookie nonsense for?"
His utterly baseless, sky-high self-confidence.
Starting shit first, then strong-arming his way through it.
The bizarre habit of suddenly blabbering about "showin' my true power!" the moment he realizes his opponent's no pushover.
And that ridiculous mindset where the world revolves around him.
Wasn't that exactly like all those Orthodox Sect later-generation disciples I'd seen plenty of in my past life?
Cyclops Polyphemus was the textbook example of an Orthodox Sect spoiled brat.
'Well, looks-wise, sure. He counts as a famed sect's later-generation disciple in this place, but...'
But you know what really threw me for a loop?
"Hahaha! That's right! Polyphemus, a son of Poseidon worthy of his bold spirit!"
"Man, I thought he was just some lovesick fool. But he sure knows how to fight with style."
The two male gods right next to me—genuinely impressed and chuckling at that one-eyed freak.
Simple explanation.
I'd sent Atalanta off with her warriors to focus on learning from the duel.
And Nesneria to keep Galatea from jumping in dangerously, sticking her with Jason's crew.
So I'd planned to find a spot and watch casually.
But these Olympus muscleheads had kidnapped me.
Thanks to them, I was honored to spectate from the premium seats of the Colosseum, handcrafted by Cyclops smiths, alongside the Sea God and War God as my warrior clashed with Poseidon's son.
'Honored my ass...'
Ares or Poseidon, these old-timers dragged me around so much they just felt like local uncles with nothing better to do.
The kind who casually grab you after work or on the street for a drink.
"Look at those bold lines and that attitude of acknowledging his foe. Isn't that the mark of a hero who holds his own anywhere?"
"......"
Oh, damn, he means it.
At Poseidon's genuinely proud words, I silently clutched my forehead.
Sure, it sounded good on the surface.
But that guy was clingy with a woman who'd rejected him outright, strong-arming the guy she was dating.
'No wonder they weren't blaming Acis—they were comforting him and hyping it up.'
Maybe that's why Acis and the whole Jason crew had fought like cornered beasts for three days straight—not out of resentment, but sheer crisis. The fear that they could end up like Acis someday.
Setting aside the Cyclops's potential and surprisingly glimpsed intellect, imagining those powerhouse bastards eyeing their women would hit too close to home.
No wonder even decent demon cultists were foaming at the mouth and fighting desperately against impossible odds. With gods—the pinnacle of this world's power—stuck in that state, it was a natural worry.
"Hmmm...."
But setting aside those minor(?) side stories, the duel between Polyphemus and Acis was quite the spectacle.
The foundation of the qi-manifesting warriors I'd shaped came from the Heavenly Demon Cult's top assassins and swordmasters, the Soul-Stealing Phantom Corps.
Their arts—still ones I favored—included the Wanderlust Steps and the Wanderlust Sword, unmatched in subtlety.
Stripped of all flash and form, focused purely on extreme practicality and speed, that killer sword was being wielded masterfully by Acis.
Unlike three days ago, he wasn't overwhelmed by the intimidation and fear, calmly targeting the giant's weaknesses and landing two solid hits. It evoked the image of a battle-hardened assassin.
'However, Polyphemus isn't a pushover either.'
"Hey, young god. Don't look so grim. No matter how freely you've shared your divine powers and martial arts,"
"The fact that this son of Poseidon drew blood from a pastoral god's son is already a monumental feat for you and that boy."
Misreading my focused expression, Poseidon grinned and tried to console me.
But I'd been surprised precisely because Acis was fighting better than expected—and because Polyphemus was showing a hero's strategic sense rather than a monster's brute force.
Honestly, "tough" didn't even cover it.
Even if he'd bled from those two exchanges due to carelessness, stripping away his temperament, Polyphemus was a top-tier warrior by my standards.
Absurd muscles that stopped bleeding with sheer tension, overwhelming destructive power, relentless charges blocking Acis's hit-and-run, physical prowess, and tactical acumen.
Discarding his earlier recklessness and rage, pushing his strengths while compensating for weaknesses, Polyphemus was displaying keen, strategic prowess unlike his infamous reputation.
"Definitely... quite the promising talent."
"Kahahaha! You've got an eye for it. Where else would you find a warrior like that?"
As Poseidon said, if only he could fix that arrogant mindset, he'd be quite usable...
While I humored the excited Poseidon—thrilled that his son, always overshadowed by Zeus's kids as a monster or villain, was finally in the spotlight—the duel between Acis and Polyphemus was gradually stalemating.
Instead of wild, powerful swings full of openings like before, Polyphemus wielded his pillar-sized greatsword precisely at Acis, who dodged with deft footwork at perfect timings, like performing acrobatics.
Polyphemus's greatsword missed Acis, but Acis couldn't find an opening to counter amid the onslaught.
At this rate, the duel would end in Acis's defeat.
-Boom! KABOOM!
"...."
The story I'd thought was in my palm slipped from my grasp and charged ahead fiercely.
Like house-sized boulders tumbling down a hill, unstoppable unless I forcibly smashed them—the clash of titans echoed.
"Drama at its finest."
Whether Acis's unimaginable growth or Polyphemus's blend of trashiness and potential.
This duel, far beyond my script, might even defy my conclusion.
With such anticipation, even I couldn't tear my eyes from the arena.
"Heh heh, hey. Little bro."
"Huh? Yeah?"
A low chuckle snapped me back, and Ares was staring at me with an odd look.
"What?"
"Nah, just... The War God's divinity is already full up—no room to share. Keep that in mind."
"...What're you talking about?"
Ares sometimes spouted nonsense, but his unusually cryptic vibe made me chuckle it off.
Mirroring my smirk, Ares nodded as if satisfied, turning back to the duel below.
The end of the duel—the snowball I'd set rolling—was hurtling toward its climax.
* * *
-Boom!
"Urk!"
Even by his own admission, Acis was holding out impressively well.
Who could've imagined!
The son of a pastoral god too embarrassing to boast about as divine blood—the shepherd who'd spent his life herding sheep on an island, following his father's divine duties.
That shepherd boy, locked in passionate love with a beautiful sea nymph, now dueling Poseidon's brutal, mighty son.
Even if he died today, he'd etched a heroic saga worthy of a true hero.
For a hero, Acis's life was beyond reproach.
Yet the reason he gritted his teeth and thrashed against Polyphemus's terror wasn't just because beautiful Galatea watched from above, eyes brimming with tears.
"Kahaha! Running out of steam, punk!"
"Hoo, hooo..."
Bloody and savage, Polyphemus mocked him, but Acis was too winded even to retort, just breathing shallowly.
Around the forty-fifth exchange, maybe.
Following the breathing pattern he'd grasped while dodging that black sword, an inexplicable vitality faintly revived his weary body.
At his rival's display, Polyphemus paused his sword, his single eye taking in his young foe with care.
Once filled with rage and hatred, that eye now rippled with admiration and praise, bowing slightly to the one who'd fought him.
"...When you stand before the great judges beyond the Styx, tell them this. Polyphemus, son of Poseidon, the Destroyer—died gloriously wagering his life against him for the world's most beautiful woman."
"Heh, hehehe. What an honor..."
Among this generation's heroes, one lament echoed openly.
With golden light blanketing the skies, even if they shone, no one would know.
Actaeon, Asclepius, Orpheus, Jason, Theseus.
And Heracles.
The heroes of ancient sagas that once lulled them to sleep.
To these golden generation's lesser heroes, those figures were idols—and an immense wall.
Not a chance of surmounting it; no matter how loudly he shouted, not even his echo was allowed beyond that colossal golden barrier.
But Acis sensed he'd reached the very edge of that massive golden wall.
His voice, his echo, was slowly spreading beyond it—across all Greece.
Gods and heroes from every corner of Greece watched him.
His father's father praised his feats aloud. Gods who'd existed before him and would after watched from on high.
His heart ached that his lover, gazing desperately from above, would be left behind.
Yet as a minor god's son, he'd carved his name into Greek history.
Acis had no more regrets.
"Now, let's end it. You've done your best."
"...Yeah. Let's."
He'd long passed the point where breathing could recover him.
His trembling legs and quivering sword tip could neither run nor swing anymore.
So at least on his final path, he'd die unashamed before the woman he loved and the heavenly gods.
Polyphemus raised his greatsword high like Atlas holding the sky, glaring down.
Acis, squeezing out his last strength to lift his sword, glared back.
'Not bad at all.'
A faint smile from the once-unremarkable hero, and the two demigods charged for the finale.
"Raaahhh!"
"Graaaah!"
The greatsword plummeted to shatter the earth; the black sword thrust to pierce all.
Twenty paces.
Ten paces.
Five paces.
And one.
"Raaaaahhh!!"
Even if he died here.
He'd gift an unforgettable moment to his lover, the heavenly gods, and his mighty rival.
With that resolve, a minor god's son unleashed his final strike.
Disregarding even his own death, the ultimate sword of his life shot from Acis's hand like an arrow.
-KABOOM!
A colossal shock shook the Colosseum like an earthquake, dust billowing fiercer than before to cloak everything.
-Stab!
A gruesome tearing of flesh struck Polyphemus's mind once more.
"Urk?! Graaaah!"
Acis's final, life-disregarding blow.
It pierced Polyphemus's single eye dead-on.