Chapter 239
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 239
Chapter Title: The Sword Demons' Advance
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Athena's letter included apologies for sending her thanks and rewards via messenger despite the great service rendered to Greece, along with expressions of gratitude and high praise. A reward was also enclosed.
"This is...?"
It was a hefty bow and arrow set, heavy even in one hand.
The silver body curved gently, engraved with owls and olive trees, while the bowstring was made of metal—cold to the touch, yet its tension surpassed that of steel tendons. Each arrow was a masterpiece with steel arrowheads.
Not quite on the level of Artemis's bow from before.
But it effortlessly absorbed the divine power, demonic qi, and divine demonic qi I infused without issue, marking it as no ordinary item.
"A divine treasure once offered to Athena long ago..."
Apparently, Hephaestus had gifted it to her during his courtship. But Athena, bound by her virgin oath to the River Styx, couldn't carry such a thing.
It had languished in her temple for ages—a shame, but now she insisted I take it, as I was more than capable of wielding it.
"That said... how the hell did this come out?"
I opened the sealed envelope to unfold the letter, only to find something left inside.
Curious, I shook it out—and out tumbled a massive bow and arrow set the size of my height.
The envelope was barely big enough for a folded umbrella, yet here it was.
I'd seen plenty of spells and sorceries by now, but these practical, everyday(?) magics still startled me every time.
Anyway, a fine acquisition—this was good fortune indeed.
Next up...
"What words does Her Majesty the Queen of the Gods have for me?"
Hera, Queen of the Gods.
I broke the seal stamped with her symbol of the peacock and unfolded the letter, revealing elegant script.
Along with various updates—somehow she knew—I received praise and thanks for splendidly awakening the divine duties I had inherited.
At the end was my first mission from her.
[...Before mortals chronicled history. Orthos, the twin-headed divine hound, grandson of Gaia whom I once sheltered.
That child is in peril.
Long ago, the shepherd Geryon to whom I entrusted Orthos sought Hermes' aid to implore my help.
Unlike Cerberus under Lord Hades, this child's divinity, left on the earth's surface, nears its limit. Before long, it will forget itself and devolve into a rampaging beast.
Please claim it before its divinity fades and it becomes a beast, plummeting into the abyss at Zeus's hand—carry on its divine essence.]
"...Orthos."
Anyone familiar with Greek myths would know the beast.
Heracles, likely awake now and practicing the breathing technique I taught him.
Orthos appeared in one of the Twelve Labors Hera imposed on him to lift her curse.
Unfortunately, it was the tale of stealing Geryon's cattle, so Orthos and the giant weren't the main focus.
With its superior counterpart, the three-headed Cerberus famed as the underworld gatekeeper, Orthos ended up a tragic afterthought: "Oh, right, that guy."
But that was modern standards. In this mythic age of Greece, Orthos was no mere monster to dismiss.
Just bearing divine blood earned awe from heroes and zealots—like Polyphemus. Antaeus, though secluded outside Heroes' Grove, commanded obeisance from every king passing his domain.
Divinity demanded reverence, and the higher the hierarchy, the more untouchable its kin and surroundings.
That was the law and order of the mythic era.
"I didn't build such ironclad justification for facing the Aloadae rabble for nothing."
And Orthos, however minor, was undeniably Gaia's blood kin.
Even Olympian gods couldn't scorn such lineage, and its sire Typhon's might terrified the divine.
This confirmed it.
'Had I not appeared, guided by Nyx, Hera would've used Heracles' punishment—via labors—to clean up these fallen beasts as they lost divinity.'
But my arrival on this land changed her heart.
"Time to move my plans forward."
Olympus's seclusion, Zeus's shifting moods.
Now the divine duties began.
No time for delays.
And so, a certain demigod advanced his schedule.
The king who meddled in divine harmony for personal gain, scheming for world domination—his first step was utterly erased in the blood of soldiers.
-Uwaaaack!
-S-Spare... Gahk!
Like wolves scattering sheep, the Pessacaines pierced the fortress in perfect formation.
Each swing of their blades sprayed soldiers' blood into the air. With every advance, the troops before them stumbled back.
"D-Don't retreat! Hold your ground!"
A captain—distinguished by his ornate helm—bellowed orders.
But before noticing the soldiers' scornful glares, he became a guest in the afterlife.
-Slash!
"...Huh?"
Precisely two halves.
One clean stroke from crown to crotch split helm, head, and body alike.
"Uwaaaack!?"
"D-Demons! Sword-wielding demons have appeared!!"
Soldiers screamed at the bisected corpse spraying blood and the swordsman emerging behind it.
The other wolves terrified them, but this lone swordsman was on another level.
Even faithless non-cultivators sensed it instinctively.
Surrounded on all sides.
Already pushed to the fortress's edge, cliffs mocked their backs as swordsmen scaled walls and rampaged atop.
Before them stood the lone demon who beheaded their general—mercenary king’s right hand, Karkis—hunting officers with mocking precision.
Above, winged assassins cackled with spread wings.
Yet their number was a mere fifty against nearly three hundred soldiers.
Not even a proper encirclement—overwhelming force disparity.
Had a shrewd commander remained among them, the tide might have turned.
Soldiers were hands and feet; commanders, the brain.
Jason, versed in strategy, had methodically eliminated them.
Forty-seven gleaming swords licked their lips at the sight. Windy jeers echoed above. The sword demon's icy gaze from on high paralyzed Thespiai soldiers' minds.
"S-Surrender!!"
The frontmost fleeing soldier, first facing Jason's killing intent, yelled.
"Y-You bastard! Dare betray the king...!"
Another soldier raised his voice at the surrenderer, sword drawn—but the tide had turned.
"We surrender! Spare our lives, please!"
"M-Mercy!"
-Clang! Crash!
Weapons hit the ground as knees buckled one by one.
The zealots clinging to resistance drew the full ire of savage Pessacaines and Jason's killing intent...
"Kuhk... Guhuk!?"
"Keh... Ack!?"
Unable to withstand, hearts stopped, breaths choked—they collapsed on the spot.
Soon, only Jason towered above the Pessacaines in vantage.
Surveying the prisoners—kneeling willingly or not—Jason pondered, then spoke slowly.
-...
-!!
The Pessacaines, like receiving divine decree, hearkened to their fiercest, strongest sword demon leader.
The three hundred kneeling soldiers, begging godly mercy, shivered and sobbed.
"No matter how I think about it..."
What thought crossed his mind?
Swordsmen anticipated; kneelers dreaded—as Jason's verdict fell heavy.
"Useless. Meaningless."
-!!!
The strategic genius who calculated every variable for optimal outcomes.
Their numbers few, foes many—once, he'd have gleefully exploited these prisoners for schemes.
But realizing their realm, their power's stature in this world changed that.
No reason to risk betrayal or leaks by sparing these paltry, greedy barbarians.
Their leaders ordered it, but Thespiai troops' savagery and arrogance were infamous across Greece.
"My comrades. Grant one final mercy: painless deaths to these greedy weaklings."
"By the gracious goddesses, we shall obey, O Sharpest Blade."
At Jason's command, adjutant Idas bowed respectfully. Drawn blades followed—unit members charged the kneelers with cold faces.
"N-No!"
"Mercy, please—mercy!!"
"Y-You filthy dogs!!"
Terror, fear, rage.
The three hundred clamored chaotically.
The Wolf King's Valley, briefly loud with screams, soon regained silence—no long wait needed.
Turning from hellish inferno, Jason glared beyond the deep gorge—to Thespiai, where backstabbing Thespios lurked.
"Zetes, Castor. Tired?"
"~ What're you saying?"
"This? Not even post-meal stroll for us."
Blood-soaked twins arm-in-arm, chuckling—Jason smirked back.
"Then one simple request. Deliver this to our friend Thespios and our comrade Atalanta."
A small box and a scroll—blood oozing, wet friction sounds within. Their meaning clear without words.
"Even if I severed our friend Thespios's right arm. Returning lost property to its owner—isn't that heroic duty?"
He handed over Karkis's head, the mercenary king's right hand.
Delivering it: a warning. Prepare everything you can—we're coming.
The scroll to Atalanta conveyed Jason's intent: total conquest of Thespiai.
Jason had no plans to squander Dianes's gift trivially.
"Kekekeke! Makes sense!"
"That damned mercenary scum calling himself king... Time he got a beating!"
Storm Twins took their parcels and soared skyward.
Bidding farewell, Jason slowly raised his sword.
Pristine blade gleamed through dripping blood.
No hesitation or sorrow in its reflection—only honed killing intent and rage.
-Crunch!
"Wait for me. Pelias."
Just one step remained.
After this conquest, none in Greece could overshadow Jason's name; usurper Pelias would tremble at its whisper.
Jason ground his teeth at the coward's vivid face, silently glaring toward his homeland, Iolcos.
-Aak!
With that final short scream, the long night ended.