Chapter 22
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Pride-Shattered Huntress
-----------------------------------------------------------------
‘Whew~ That girl’s our princess? She’s a real beauty.’
‘So, if we just snag that woman, the kingdom’s mine, right?’
‘Man, suitors are already lining up nonstop. Should I throw my hat in the ring?’
Those filthy gazes that saw her not as Atalanta, the huntress and lesser hero, but merely as a prize to claim, a tool for power.
Facing the ugly lust of men for the first time in her life, she didn’t know what to do.
And the so-called general, who came out to welcome her on behalf of her father, King Iasos of Arcadia, was an even greater spectacle.
“Hmph, even Your Majesty’s gone too far. No matter how desperate he is for a son, sending me to fetch some girl you abandoned in the woods? Well, she’s pretty enough—might be useful for a political marriage.”
Words devoid of courtesy or respect, utterly belittling her.
And the words that followed were the spark.
“Princess, how about I become your husband? I may not know much, but I’m top-notch in bed.”
The general cackled, his eyes brimming with bottomless filth.
A foul mouth mocking her pride.
Filthy eyes defiling her honor.
By the time she came to her senses, her entire body was drenched in blood.
She had ripped out the tongue of the general who dared insult Artemis’s daughter.
She had gouged out and crushed the lecherous eyes that dared ogle the huntress raised by the mountain king.
A horrific slaughter in the blink of an eye.
As the general screamed, having lost his tongue and eyes in an instant, soldiers from all directions rushed into the barracks. They stared in horror at the blood-soaked girl.
‘A monster! A monster born from the king’s bloodline!’
Ha.
She laughed coldly.
With a chest burning in rage, reason frozen in icy cruelty.
The men whose eyes had gleamed with ugly desire moments ago were now dyed in fear and terror—it was laughable.
Though more familiar with bow and spear as a huntress, she had come empty-handed, trusting in the pride of Greece. She drew the sword from the screaming general’s waist.
A sharp, sturdy tool of murder, gleaming with cruel light.
She gripped it with both hands as taught, gazing at the man crawling on the ground like a worm.
Then slowly swung it toward his neck.
As she had been taught: slowly, without wavering.
-Clang!
But the sword never sliced the filthy man’s neck.
“Master...”
“...I’m sorry, child. I never wanted you to learn of this.”
Chiron had burst through the Arcadian army in an instant and blocked her sword.
Easily scooping her into his arms, Chiron bellowed at the Arcadian soldiers gazing up in awe and fear.
“How dare you insult my disciple, Chiron’s pupil, the lesser hero blessed by Artemis!”
-Boom!!
Chiron’s furious hooves shook the earth, his divine might crushing the filthy Arcadian army.
And the immortal, blood of Cronus who had witnessed Olympus’s first glory, to whom the king of gods had shown respect, unleashed a roar.
-Zeus! King of Olympus!! Was the honor you promised me so worthless!!
-Rumble!!
The fury of the eldest sage drew the mightiest heavenly fire from sky, earth, and underworld alike.
The clear morning sky darkened with pitch-black thunderclouds in an instant, menacing lightning flickering above, glaring at the sinners.
-Artemis! Guardian of maidens!! Will you truly stand by as your daughter suffers such humiliation!!
-Shaaaa!!
From the heart of the thunder-shrouded sky, a pristine crescent moon wailed in rage as response.
Blade-sharp moonlight flashed coldly toward the sinners who had insulted her daughter, like a guillotine.
A scene both terrifying and awe-inspiring.
The humans, directly facing the gods’ distant yet near wrath, wailed pathetically, begging for mercy—but the sage’s hand gently covered her eyes and ears.
“Enough. Let’s go home. To our home.”
His voice, soaked in sorrow and pity, no longer held the rage-filled roar from before.
What became of those lowly men? Atalanta never learned.
Only that the nymphs of the forest were busy for a week restoring the site where the Arcadian army had been.
And that Arcadia, punished for its foolish king, writhed under the curses of lightning and crescent moon, plagued by all manner of disasters, falling into ruin.
It was after that.
That even the fellow lesser heroes who had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her began to sharpen her blade against them, seeing them all as filthy men anyway.
Except for Actaeon, who shared her admiration for Artemis; Asclepius, who treated her with calm eyes; and her eternal teacher, Master Chiron.
No other man was allowed near her.
Even Chiron couldn’t ease her deep-rooted hatred and pain. Heroes like Heracles, Jason, and Theseus pitied her suffering.
But she turned away her eyes and shut her ears.
They were all beasts anyway.
Even now, closing her eyes brought it back vividly.
The beasts’ gazes leering disgustingly at her.
The beast’s filthy cries insulting and degrading her.
‘Whew~ That girl’s our princess? She’s a real beauty.’
‘So, if we just snag that woman, the kingdom’s mine, right?’
‘Man, suitors are already lining up nonstop. Should I throw my hat in the ring?’
‘Princess, how about I become your husband? I may not know much, but I’m top-notch in bed.’
Shut up.
Disappear.
In the swamp-like darkness, how many eyes had she gouged and crushed? How many tongues had she ripped out?
As she stood drenched head to toe in blood, those eyes and tongues cried out in unison.
-A monster! A monster born from the king’s bloodline!
“Shut up!!”
I’m not a monster.
Artemis’s proud daughter.
The great huntress suckled and raised by the mountain king.
“I’m not someone you lot can call a monster!!”
Her throat raw from protesting, and somehow a blade was in her hand.
A sharp, sturdy tool of murder, gleaming cruelly.
Raising it slowly, a monster lay at her feet.
A monster drenched head to toe in blood.
The monster slowly opened its mouth.
‘You are a monster.’
Artemis’s daughter? So what.
Raised not on human milk, but bear’s milk.
Steeped in blood countless times—if that’s not a monster, what is?
Monster, monster, monster.
The blood-soaked monster sang “monster” with a twisted smile, and for some reason, it resembled her.
The short-cropped ponytail of reddish-brown hair. The attractively tanned brown limbs.
Even the eyes filled with despair and mockery were just like hers—utterly hateful.
She slowly raised the blade.
As her master had taught: slowly, without wavering.
To sever the neck in one stroke.
And using the weight’s momentum, she swung the blade in one go.
-Clang!!
But once again, the blade did not sever the monster’s neck.
A foot had shot out from the side, blocking the blade atop her instep.
“Hey, enough moping around. Get up already?”
She tried to turn and see who spoke, but suddenly she was lying somewhere.
“...Huh?”
The bitter scent of herbs, a pure white ceiling.
A familiar ceiling greeted her.
“This is...”
As her hazy mind sifted through jumbled memories, she sensed movement from an unfamiliar presence nearby.
“Awake, are ya? Nutcase.”
The familiar voice from her dream haze. She slowly turned her head.
A boy with a sullen face looked down at her.
“Dia...nes...”
“Yeah, it’s Dianes, stuck here on this fine day thanks to some nutcase.”
* * *
Infinite Iron Head Art, Chapter 1, Section 3.
Collar Grab (Precise Aim) One-Strike Pulverize.
Following the scripture’s righteous teachings to the letter—an artistic Iron Head that my Iron Fist Master, the Infinite Pugilist, would’ve thumbs-upped with a “That’s my disciple!”
Honestly, the thought that hit me right after headbutting—no, Iron Heading—Atalanta into unconsciousness?
Damn, I’ve mellowed out a lot.
Back in my Heavenly Demon days, if some greenhorn junior with that attitude crossed me, I’d have snapped his limbs, thrown him in re-education camp, and ordered a full overhaul in the Heavenly Demon’s name.
But ending it with one knockout? Yeah.
Anyway, Atalanta came at me with attitude, threw the first punch, and even tried some preemptive bullshit on top.
That killing intent and feral temper screamed “Fifteen minutes of limb-snapping material,” but even for me, going brutal on a girl basically my granddaughter’s age while she bawled? Didn’t sit right.
...Truth be told, I was dying to smack the whiny brat kicking around.
But with all eyes on us, couldn’t risk the optics.
So I racked my brain and handled it in a way befitting my age(?).
And with the nosy intruder gone...
Finally time to sample the main dish. I turned, only to see Chiron looking awkward and Karyklo staring at me like I was some inexplicable artifact. They asked me to carry the knocked-out brat—not brat, Atalanta—to the clinic.
Under the pressure from those two elders that made “Why me?” stick in my throat, I ended up personally hauling the unconscious Atalanta to the clinic.