The Steel Anchor
She was the hero who could trade blows with the monstrous Aloadae, the only one capable of matching Heracles in a clash of strength.
At the same time, she was the one and only queen to ascend the throne of Arcadia, standing tall amidst the adoration of the masses!
The fame of Atalanta in these times was such that it could bring down the birds flying in the sky; even the most prominent kings and gods had no choice but to bow their heads and offer her reverence.
In truth, Atalanta had lived her past life with walls built high and thorns bristling in every direction, so she did not find these gazes—filled with favor and awe—to be unpleasant.
"...Hehe."
No, to be precise, she found it quite delightful.
How many times had she had to suppress the corners of her mouth from curling upward at the sight of the young priestesses in Aphrodite’s temple, their eyes filled with longing and envy? Every time she sat upon her throne to conduct state affairs, and every time her generals and ministers bowed their heads with reverence, a thrill would run down her spine.
Even though she was the most powerful female warrior in Greek history, and a queen who had ascended the Arcadian throne draped in the mantle of her lover, she was, in the end, a woman of a young age who loved to dress up and boast.
The thirst she had felt until now, and the sudden shift in the gazes of those around her. Having gained power and authority that no one could argue with, Atalanta faithfully governed her kingdom according to the teachings of her mentor, Dianes. Yet, several times a day, she would dash through Tegea, Taygetos, and Sparta, savoring the envy and respect directed toward her to the fullest.
Of course, the people, unaware of what lay beneath, were merely moved to tears by the sight of a hero-queen—as beautiful as a goddess and possessing power ranked among the top in Greek history—personally running about to protect them.
In any case, to borrow Dianes’s words, both Arcadia and Atalanta were on a smooth path, sailing with the wind at their backs.
However.
Even in such a smooth state of affairs for the kingdom, there was one thing that irritated Atalanta.
It was the insane marriage proposals that arrived from who knows what kind of mentality, and the idiots who shamelessly rushed in to propose.
“Haa....”
Well, it wasn't as if Atalanta was the type to obsess over purity like Artemis’s hunters and fly into a rage just because someone dared to harbor lustful thoughts while looking at her. But the kings who sent matchmakers as if they were just trying to shoot an arrow at a bird they knew they couldn't catch, and the pathetic excuses for heroes who would barge into the training grounds or the palace, shouting at the top of their lungs for her to marry them, made Atalanta’s mood extremely foul.
There were even some who would demand that if they fought her fair and square and she lost, she should give up her life, and if they won, she should marry them.
There was even a shameless wretch who, upon being told that she already had a lover—someone she held deep in her heart, namely Dianes—would smile craftily and say that even if she married him, he would turn a blind eye to her relationship with the other man.
In the end, Atalanta had pulled out every single one of that man's joints and had him carried off to the infirmary of Asclepius.
But perhaps that show of force had the opposite effect; a rumor began to spread quietly that one could marry her if they managed to achieve victory over Atalanta.
“...I was already in a foul mood.”
-Crunch!
There was a mountain of work to resolve just this morning, and a third of it consisted of marriage proposals disguised as dueling challenges. The ones who had brazenly barged in demanding room and board under the guise of being suitors had been thrown out into the street with broken wrists before breakfast.
And now, Thespios—who had calmly committed atrocities that forced her to reflect on her own abandoned past—was scanning her body and face with his filthy eyes.
The only reason she hadn't ripped the throat out of that filthy wretch right then and there to throw to the wolves was entirely due to the results of Dianes’s education.
‘A monarch’s choice is not a choice for oneself, but a choice on behalf of hundreds and thousands of people. You must consider hundreds of possibilities for even a single matter to derive the best result. And you must hold the reins of state affairs firmly and stand resolute so that even if a result goes awry, neither you nor the country will falter. That is why, when deciding on state affairs, you must deliberate repeatedly, not based on your mood...’
“Aack! Even here with the nagging?! I’m doing just fine!”
It wasn't for nothing that she said the days of martial arts training, where her arms were broken and she was rolling in the dirt, were more comfortable. No matter how deeply she adored and craved her lover, Atalanta couldn't help but be exhausted by the injected education of Dianes, which lasted from morning until night—even after the nights they burned with passion.
And now, even when she thought of him, all that came to mind was that relentlessly injected nagging...
“Tch, just you wait. Watch how effectively I handle this...”
The young babies who must have died in terrible agony simply because they were girls, simply because they were considered weak, even before they could open their eyes. The cries of those vengeful spirits, who might have been the fate of the demigods now residing in Arcadia, seemed to ring in her ears. The cheers of the starving and devastated people, who had suffered under the rule of that barbaric and inefficient tyrant and then rejoiced when Iason arrived, still rang out with a thrill.
The complete downfall of Thespiae, the complete expansion of Arcadia. The complete downfall of the filthy and base Thespios, the pride and prestige of the great and brilliant Queen Atalanta. And even those annoying suitors who dared to covet her without knowing their place.
She would deal with them all today.
“Atalanta. Are you ready?”
“Good. Very good.”
Atalanta rose from her chair, loosened her wrists, and smiled pleasantly. At that smile, Ereinea, who had been trying to encourage and calm her, had to quietly shut her mouth.
It was because the smile Atalanta wore as she passed by her looked too much like Dianes’s.
‘...My god.’
The Black Storm, the Black Tempest. People were simply bewitched by the overwhelming power he unleashed, giving his exploits the names of storms and tempests. Ereinea knew all too well how meticulous he was, and how, whenever those black eyes sparkled, gods and heroes alike would be swept up and overturned before they even knew what was happening.
That was why, in the Forest of Heroes, he was called the Hero of the Storm, or rather, the Wicked Hero, in a different sense.
The wicked smile he would wear while everyone else was in chaos from the storm, watching them all get overturned while he quietly reaped the benefits and stepped back. Most of that chaos was even instigated and triggered by him in the first place.
And today, that wicked smile was visible on her liege, Atalanta.
‘...Lady Aphrodite. Please, I beseech you, protect this Greece.’
Greece was already suffering from one Black Storm, and now a Red Meteor was following in his wake. Ereinea was deeply worried for Greece.
***
-Hahahaha! Serves you right! King of the barbarians!
-What kind of king is that! He’s just a lowly gladiator!
-If you’re a barbarian, act like one and show us some tricks!
“Th... Thiiiisss!!”
Thespios, who had been standing in the middle of the Colosseum for a long time listening to the jeers of those who were once his people, felt that the prison cell would have been better. To be insulted by the hands of lowly wretches who lived day-to-day, in the bright daylight under the gaze of Apollo.
“Don’t tell me, are they trying to execute me as a gladiator?”
He had heard of it. Athens, the place Thespios had once aimed for. It was said that in Athens, they threw criminals into the gladiator arena and made them fight endlessly, using freedom as bait. Lions, leopards, magical beasts, and even demigod heroes. They were all thrown in as a single meal’s worth of entertainment for the people.
“D, don’t tell me... me too?”
-Grrr!
Before his question could even be fully formed, as if to answer it, the iron gate opposite him opened. The Colosseum, which had been filled with jeers, fell silent in an instant at the presence that revealed itself.
“Wh, what is this...”
The drunkard who had been throwing wine bottles at him straightened his clothes and bowed his head. The woman who had been spitting at him stood tall and showered her with flowers.
An intense loyalty and reverence that even Thespios had never received. It was the ideal image of the people toward a liege that he had always dreamed of.
Atalanta looked around at the people filled with reverence and raised her hand in response.
-Woooooaaaah!!
-Atalanta!
-Atalanta!
-Atalanta!
The floor of the Colosseum trembled at the cheers that poured out toward her as if exploding.
[My people, my friends, my family!!]
And at the queen’s roar, which echoed majestically, the people once again shut their mouths and began to listen to her words. Atalanta, who had instantly captured the attention of thousands, stood tall with her dignified beauty and faced the people.
[Everyone knows! How wicked and cruel that barbarian king, Thespios, is!]
-Long live the great hero Atalanta!!
The queen, who smiled calmly at the voices calling out to her, began to list Thespios’s crimes one by one before all the people. In the spectator seats, where Iason and Ereinea had quickly moved to gather those who had fled from the Thespiae region to Tegea, anger began to rise slowly. As the story extended to the Mountain of Fate and the cruel execution of the children, some of the women even collapsed in their seats, wailing.
[Therefore, even the gods of Olympus have been angered. My lover and mentor, Dianes, could not contain his sorrow! That man shall pay the price for his sins today!]
-Boom!
No sooner had the queen’s declaration ended than the two iron gates of the Colosseum opened, and the Phesacaines came out, whining as they dragged something along.
“Th, that is...?”
“Ugh... i, it’s freaking heavy...!”
“Oh...!”
-Grrr... Thud!
What the Phesacaines had sweated to drag out and place on both sides of Atalanta were large iron chains connected to heavy handcuffs, and at the ends, a massive steel anchor, the kind one might use on a large warship, was firmly fixed.
‘Wh, why that?’
No sooner had the spectators and Thespios shared the same thought than Phesileni, the vice-captain of Atalanta’s warrior corps, and Ereinea, who had followed behind, locked the handcuffs connected to the anchor onto the queen’s wrists and turned the keys.
“...What?”
“Thespios. For you, a simple execution wouldn’t be fun, would it?”
-Click!
Atalanta, who smiled fiercely and slyly, checked the state of the handcuffs and pointed with her chin to the open iron gate behind her.
“You may use any method you like. Run, attack, use any method to avoid me and get out through that door. Then you are free.”
“What did you say...?”
“It’s not even a difficult task. A ‘weak’ woman like me is tied up in these ‘heavy’ handcuffs.”
“H, how dare you insult me...”
“For your information, I’ve told the soldiers, so whether you kill her or avoid her, you’ll be able to get out of Arcadia safely.”
Word by word. At Atalanta’s words, which were filled with mockery and insults directed at him, Thespios’s vision turned blood-red.
“Y, you bitch, you’ve gone mad...! To insult me like this...”
[Then! Let us begin!]
Atalanta, who rolled her eyes as if bored, declared the start, and just as Thespios was grinding his teeth to shout back.
-Thud!
“Haaaaaaap!!”
With a fierce shout, a massive shadow covering the sky loomed over Thespios’s head.
“Uh...?”
-Whoosh!
The steel anchor. The massive iron anchor that one might use on a warship. That massive lump of metal, which even a warrior like Thespios would need a hundred men to move. Those iron lumps, the connected chains of which were as thick as Thespios’s forearm. They were cutting through the air as lightly as kites flown by young children, falling toward him.
On this day. Arcadia—no, all of Greece—realized. What kind of absurd existence a Great Hero was, the kind that Perseus and Bellerophon had ascended to, and Heracles and Atalanta had attained.
And how foolish a recklessness it was to challenge such an existence.
-Kwang!!
The massive steel anchor that flew like a butterfly and fell like a meteor. That dance had only just begun.