Chapter 193
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 193
Chapter Title: The Start of the Journey
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“Hestiosias.”
“Huh? What is it?”
The blacksmith shop of Hestiosias, which I'd visited after a long time.
Instead of leisurely sipping some wine as usual, the balding old man was brimming with unusual vitality.
“What's going on? You're the star of this banquet, after all. Shouldn't you be off having a hot time with those lovely lovers of yours?”
“Instead of coming to this dingy forge.”
“Tell me about it... I have no idea what's gotten into everything.”
My underlings were all busy tangled up with their own lovers, yet here I was—the one who'd trained them up and made them into proper people—heading back out to work again.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong!
“Even if it's a bit rough, as long as it's fun, that's all that matters... but when you have to do it, you just do it...”
“Kuhuhu, for someone loved and hated by the gods alike, is there ever a day off unless you're riding Charon's boat?”
Hestiosias was right.
Who could I blame for things flowing so busily like this? It was all seeds I'd sown myself.
Still, with events piling up one after another without a moment's rest, even if it was something that had to be done, fate felt a little too harsh.
Especially now that I had not one, but two of the world's most beautiful lovers!
A man, by nature, was a pathetic creature who couldn't get enough of women if he had the strength to hold a spoon.
Over the past month, I'd mingled bodies with Nesneria in all sorts of bizarre ways.
And Atalanta, who'd ignited after her first time just recently, seduced me with her superhuman stamina and full-body assaults.
Who knew what was so amusing, but the chuckling blacksmith aside—for all intents and purposes, I should have been spending this time in blissful ecstasy with my beautiful lovers in my cozy room.
Yet, swallowing my tears, the reason I'd come to the forge was to make preparations.
“Looks like I'll have to leave the forest in a hurry.”
“Huh? The forest?”
As both a martial artist and a demigod cultivator, with the path to the next realm pinpointed like a game guide, I couldn't afford to waste a single moment.
Corinth was a week's ride on horseback, anyway.
But what I needed wasn't a horse.
“So what brings you here? No, shouldn't you be going to see your masters instead of me?”
“My masters?”
“The Cyclops divine smiths! Didn't they promise to forge weapons for you?”
Ah, right. There was that.
Not long ago, for Jason and the warriors—now calling themselves the immortal Pessacaines—they'd volunteered to craft swords.
They'd been wandering around looking for me, inspired by my feats in the Hero Tournament.
And at just the right time, through Ares's introduction, the three of them had forged swords for every Pessacaine and handed me an invitation to their home base, saying they couldn't craft gear for me in such an unprepared spot.
But what I needed right now wasn't a decisive battle weapon—it was light travel gear...
“That's true, but I need something I can use right away.”
“Sheesh, how long ago was that whole godly uproar... What do you need?”
“Just a light sword, a sturdy cloak, and boots tough enough to last thousands of miles without wearing out?”
“...You mad bastards, at it again. Planning to run everywhere?”
Hestiosias, who intuited my order like a ghost, swept a hand over his face as if he'd lost his mind.
Every time Heracles or I set out on external training, we'd ordered those sturdy boots at least once a week.
People in the forest—even Hestiosias—treated us like monsters for dashing distances that took days on horseback using just our two legs.
“Honestly, at our level, running's faster than riding.”
“Damn right!”
“Hieeek?!”
“Ack?!”
Whoa, that startled me!
A booming voice suddenly whooshed in.
When Hestiosias and I turned, Heracles was grinning down at us, eyes gleaming, having sneaked up without a sound.
“Dianes. Where are you off to in such a hurry the moment your work's done? Eh?”
“Heracles...”
Word was, while I'd been raising the Pessacaines, he'd been immersed in Dionysus's banquets.
Even setting aside the effort I'd put into selecting martial arts to teach him, this guy—who'd been quietly laying low—had appeared like a ghost.
“Hestiosias. Whip up two pairs of boots as good as Ares's war shoes.”
“...Damn it. One guy's making a fuss about heading out at an odd time, and now the other's at it too.”
The born artisan and artist Hestiosias utterly despised crafting such simple gear.
But what could he do?
When the forest's greatest heroes asked for it.
“When do you plan to leave?”
“When are we heading out?”
“At first light.”
“You heard him, old man Hestiosias.”
“Tch, good thing I have some prepped... You damned fools.”
Muttering like that, Hestiosias scurried off to his workshop, leaving Heracles and me standing there blankly, facing each other.
“Kuhuhuhu. I'm coming too. Got it?”
“Do you even know where we're going?”
“Wherever it is, there's no one left to play with but you. Might as well get some fresh air.”
Yeah.
The wild boar that even Asclepius despaired of had held out a long time.
While I'd been tussling with the gods and training the Pessacaines, I'd pushed Heracles to the back burner a bit.
He was good at entertaining himself anyway, and as a great hero, he seemed busy managing his connections.
Especially the tale of him sneaking away mid-banquet and tying with Dionysus in a drinking contest—it was legend among the satyrs.
“I've been messing around with this on my own lately...”
-Crackle!
As Heracles flexed his pot-lid-sized hand, golden lightning crackled and flickered to life.
“Feels like with your advice, I could take it further. And you know it too.”
True to form for a wild boar—great instincts.
But as he said, I'd already selected a few martial arts to pass on to him.
I'd just planned to wait until this aura-awakened guy sobered from his achievement high and came to me, given heroes' sky-high pride.
Heracles, though, was dead serious about his progress—more than I'd expected.
“I'm always welcome to an enthusiastic student. Especially one with good potential.”
“Kuhuhuhu, knew you'd say that! But I'm not asking for free help, either.”
Grinning like a kid promised a gift, Heracles thumped his massive chest and declared to me.
“On this trip, you can use Alkmene's son, Zeus's child, Heracles, however you like!”
“....Hoo.”
In other words, he'd become my limb in exchange for learning martial arts. Heracles had preemptively declared the most traditional master-disciple bond.
It was funny, a disciple declaring to his non-master that he'd become his disciple.
But when that disciple was a great hero etched into human history, it was a different story.
“Destination's Corinth for now. I gave Oedipus some advice—gotta go check on it.”
“Ah, Brother Oedipus? What's up with him?”
“Long story. We'll head out tomorrow and run straight there with almost no breaks.”
In this situation, speed was life itself.
Part of me wanted to bring the Pessacaines to show off my inaction prowess.
But with time of the essence, no room for that.
‘...Wait. Could I bring Atalanta at least?’
Atalanta, who'd reached a level similar to Heracles.
With her superhuman skill and those fast legs, she'd keep up without issue.
...Plus, after nearly a month focused only on Nesneria, I felt a bit guilty.
And training her alongside Heracles might speed things up.
‘Gotta ask Atalanta first...’
“Anyway, we're leaving at dawn. Get ready.”
“Awesome! Road trip time!”
What could go wrong on a simple trip, anyway?
I chuckled at Heracles, who sparked lightning in both hands with excitement.
But something felt forgotten...
“Just my imagination?”
Anyway, no time to waste.
Had to invite Atalanta, greet Nesneria so she wouldn't feel slighted...
And leave instructions with Jason about the newly joined Polyphemus in the Pessacaines...
“Damn, this ain't gonna be fun...”
The reincarnated sage, extreme office worker days resurfaced, sending shivers down my spine.
But what could I do? As martial artist, cultivator, teacher, and soon-to-be god.
I'd just have to endure this much.
“...But seriously, feels like I forgot something. What?”
The next dawn.
Before the sun rose, three figures raced out of the Hero's Forest.
Atalanta the red-haired twin-tailed huntress, her locks streaming like a meteor with a tail.
Heracles, Zeus's great hero, boasting his impressive bulk wherever he went.
And leading them at the front—the hottest topic in Greece right now.
The dark blue-haired Dianes.
In such urgent haste they barely said goodbyes, charging across the Messenian Plain. Someone watched from the forest shadows.
“Ughhh... Di... Dianes... you bastaaard...!”
Messy hair, flushed face, bloodshot eyes.
Beautiful goddess leaning unsteadily on a tree, unable to muster her strength.
But whether rage or longing dwelled in those eyes, even she couldn't tell—her turbid gaze chased only the hero who'd caused it all.