Chapter 241
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 241
Chapter Title: Iron Club Periphetes
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Reschius (Iron Club), Kallaros (Lamefoot), and countless other epithets belonged to Periphetes, the son of Hephaestus.
His father, Hephaestus, was a god so lame he could only hammer away at his forge on Mount Etna without even a belt. Periphetes, born between him and a human woman, would constantly say he had to do the same.
But on a deep night, in the brief hour when that cripple who only knew how to forge slept after a hundred days, Periphetes stole the massive iron club he had seen in his warehouse and fled.
Having escaped like that, Periphetes began his activities centered around the valley of Mount Erymanthus, bordering Achaea.
Countless demigod heroes who underestimated him due to his ugly appearance and crippled leg were instantly turned into corpses, their skulls smashed by his iron club.
Periphetes, with his ferocious temperament and innate strength, claimed the Erymanthus Mountains as his territory.
He saw the powerful nation of Arcadia reeling from its most dangerous threat and Achaea's alliances blinded by their own turf wars, laughing that his time had come as he made the entire mountain range his own.
Then one day, a massive roar and the stench of blood came echoing from the direction of Arcadia into his territory.
Sensing something ominous had happened, Periphetes sent his underlings to investigate.
The bandits in the mountain stronghold bordering Arcadia reported that Arcadia's dark ruler, King Iasos, had been dragged down by his own people.
Instead, the great heroes Atalanta and Heracles had defeated the twin Aloadae of Thespiae and Poseidon.
And centered around Jason of Iolcos, swordsmen were ravaging the entire mountain range, slaughtering bandits who ignored Cocytus's warnings, their appearance as terrifying as the merciful Three Goddesses themselves.
At that news, Periphetes halted all activities and hid deep in a secret lair in the Erymanthus Mountains.
No matter how fearless Periphetes was, the protagonists of the recent Heroic War that had shaken all of Greece were opponents he could never face.
Then, as the screams and blood scent in the mountains faded and the sound of birdsong returned,
Periphetes emerged from his lair once more, gripping his well-honed beloved weapon, the iron club Corenetes.
"Kuhuhu, you fool. By now, Tegea probably only has that young queen and her tasty bitches left, right?"
According to the rumors carried on the wind, Jason, who had them all trembling, had turned his reins toward Thespiae and was currently tormenting the Mercenary King.
Which meant Arcadia was still in the midst of reconstruction, full of vulnerabilities, and had no choice but to welcome outside manpower.
"Yeah, that old nag's disciples are devouring the country, and some mere girl who's not even a demigod has taken the throne. What country couldn't we take?!"
What Periphetes was targeting was Arcadia itself.
And in Tegea, he planned to claim the queen Atalanta who awaited him, give the demigoddesses below her to his underlings as brides, and become king of Arcadia.
His bandits might not be as good as he, the son of Hephaestus, but they were still proper demigods.
With them seasoned by years of real combat and the women grown like greenhouse flowers under the old nag's protection, the outcome was obvious.
Periphetes boasted boldly, and bandits swayed by his threats and bribes gathered one by one, their numbers enough to overwhelm a kingdom stripped of Jason's swordsmen.
Moreover, rumors said neither Atalanta nor Heracles had been seen for a long time, surely meaning some incident had forced them to leave or immobilized them.
"Kuhahaha! Look! The era of Lord Periphetes has arrived! No doubt about it!"
"Boss! The demigod Ereineia—I've got dibs on her?"
"Kuuh, so now I get to be a general too?"
"Yeah, yeah! I just need to take that Atalanta bitch, that's all!"
Born a demigod son of Hephaestus, he had endured days of humiliation due to his ugly face and crippled leg inherited from his father.
But as if in reward for those days, a flower path stretched bright before him. Periphetes drank and feasted with his underlings.
"But boss, can we really beat Atalanta and her warriors?"
"What the hell?! You don't trust my words?!"
Periphetes exploded at a timid underling's words, but it wasn't entirely wrong.
Atalanta, cloaked in red aura before the kings and gods of Greece.
The power of great heroes like Bellerophon who hunted the Chimera and Perseus who slew Medusa was fearsome even to Periphetes.
"You think your boss wouldn't have prepared properly?"
With a sinister smile, Periphetes pulled a small vial from a precious box he kept by his side.
"This is the aphrodisiac I barely stole from Hecate's temple. One drop, and even Artemis would collapse and shake her hips on a man—Hecate's aphrodisiac!"
Periphetes might be called a bandit, but he was undeniably the son of Hephaestus.
With his half-brother reportedly in Tegea, he had ample pretext to approach Atalanta.
"Go pretend to pledge loyalty to Tegea, and by xenia customs, Atalanta will have to welcome us. Slip one drop into her cup during that gap... kuhuhu!"
—Ooooh!
The underlings roared with laughter at the obvious implication.
"So you lot rest easy! Tomorrow, we cross the mountains and head straight to Tegea!"
—Yes sir!
Periphetes nodded in satisfaction at his underlings' loyal response.
"Kuhuhu... Huh?"
Rumors said Atalanta was beautiful enough to rival Aphrodite.
The thought of such a woman shaking her hips atop him made his own waist ache already.
As he chuckled imagining tomorrow, when beauty and kingdom would both be his, a strange shape flickered beyond the distant forest.
"Huh...?"
In the pitch-black forest, a violet body gleaming fiercely, blue eyes sparkling like embedded jewels, and a pure white mane shimmering like sprinkled gold.
"Haha, it's the will of the gods! They've sent a horse to support my great undertaking!!"
Not just Periphetes, but all his underlings gaped, eyes following the captivating white horse.
"Let's go! That horse is mine! I'll ride the divine steed sent by the gods and breach Tegea's gates!!"
And so the chase began.
But as if it were a horse sent by the gods, the hunt was no easy task.
The white horse dashed through the forest like galloping across plains, even luring them to cliffs or beast territories upon noticing the pursuit, showing cunning beyond measure.
It even shattered the skulls of beaters trying to drop from trees with kicks, rampaging ferociously.
Many underlings died driving it to a dead end and binding it with lassos.
"Pruuurrrng!!"
"Kuh, kuhuhu... Should've let yourself get caught sooner."
Yet despite that, seeing the horse glaring at him before his eyes, Periphetes no longer cared about his dead underlings.
"Yes, for a man who'll become Arcadia's—no, Greece's greatest hero—it needs that much spirit!"
Though bound tight in lassos, unable to move, the white horse flashed its blue eyes fiercely at Periphetes.
"What're you gonna do, staring like that? Huh? What?"
Though inwardly flinching at those savage eyes, Periphetes teased the horse with forced laughter.
His face soured at the horse's unblinking gaze even as he thrust his club threateningly.
"You... still don't recognize your master?"
The club that smashed oxen in one blow and crushed famed demigods' skulls.
As Periphetes gripped it tighter, the club glowed red-hot, scattering thick acrid smoke.
Corenetes, forged by Hephaestus with his own flames infused into flame-bronze.
No one had ever withstood its heat until now.
"Guess you need a taste of the heat to come to your senses!"
It pained him to scar that pristine white body, but surely even this beast would submit after a burn.
As Periphetes smirked and moved to press the heated iron club against the horse's neck,
—Crunch! Quaaadunch!
"Gaaak?!"
"Guhk...!"
Suddenly, a twisting sound rang out, followed by his underlings' agonized screams.
—Pruung!
"Wha? Wha? B-Boss! The ropes!"
"Hiiing!"
"Huh? H-Huh?!"
At the same moment, the ropes binding the horse slackened and fell away.
The white horse seized the chance, rearing its front legs as if to crush Periphetes any second.
Twice the size of an ordinary warhorse, its massive hooves raised high were weapons in themselves.
"Uwaaak!!"
The instant images of underlings with hoof-crushed skulls flashed in Periphetes' mind,
"White Flash!"
"Hiiing!"
A sudden intruding voice.
As the horse neighed in response, Periphetes hesitantly turned at the vanishing presence,
To find a man amid corpses of underlings split at necks, waists, and backs.
"Yes, yes. You should've been more careful. No injuries, right?"
"Hing..."
"It's fine. Not your fault."
Ignoring the surrounding underlings and Periphetes entirely, the man cooed over the nuzzling white horse.
'...Tch!'
Born ugly like his father, with a crippled leg to boot, unlike Periphetes, this man was breathtakingly beautiful and healthy.
Long black hair flowing like it sliced the night air. A beauty that even Aphrodite might envy blended masculine boldness with feminine allure, captivating the eye.
And judging by how he one-shot his underlings, born of divine blood despite being Hephaestus' offspring, his power was no ordinary thing.
This man possessed everything Periphetes lacked, even stroking the horse he'd coveted as if it were his own, ignoring him completely.
"You... who the hell are you?! Do you know who I am?!"
Jealousy and rage surging from his depths, Periphetes aimed his red-hot club and bellowed at the sight of the horse following him.
"That's the horse I spotted first! Get lost, or..."
"Spare the horse."
"Wh-what?"
Not even glancing his way, the black-haired man stroked the horse and stated firmly.
Though not spoken loudly, the voice spreading softly everywhere sent chills down Periphetes' spine.
"Tonight I need to haggle with the ferryman over fare and pass news of my little brother. Wasting breath already is pointless."
"...Mad bastard."
Periphetes spat at the sudden nonsense about brothers and ferrymen.
Figuring the guy was deranged and babbling from fear, he laughed off the unease he'd felt moments ago as mere fancy,
When suddenly his instincts screamed a warning.
"Urk, wha!"
—Shaaak!
On pure instinct, Periphetes threw himself to the ground as something chilled past his head.
—Qua-dunk!
—Wood-crack!
Before he could grasp the situation, horrific crushing sounds echoed from all sides.
—Thud!
—Thud thud!
—Thud thud thud!
Moments later, round things began dropping one by one beside him on the ground.
They were unmistakably his underlings' heads, blinking in confusion and silently screaming, unaware of their fate.
Demigod underlings scraped together from across the Erymanthus Mountains.
And the black-haired man raising pitch-black aura from his pointing finger.
Guys who could easily lead bandit gangs anywhere turned into headless corpses with a mere gesture.
—Hiiing! Hiiiing!
"Hm? That one? No need to worry. Even trash like that is kin to your creator. Better finish cleanly to avoid backlash."
"Hii, hiiiik!"
A leisurely voice descended over the suddenly silent surroundings.
At the man's words, soft as soothing a child, Periphetes sprang up and bolted,
But who could have known that every path led only to a miserable death?