The Pursuer of Turmoil — Iason
What is it that a hero truly needs?
It was a question that felt like fate, always dogging the heels of the young heroes who aspired to carve their names into the history of Greece through great, world-shaking feats.
One great hero answered that it was a chosen destiny. A certain sage claimed it was the foolishness to charge forward without looking left or right. A queen once said it was a love worth risking one's life for.
But in Iason’s estimation, all of those were merely secondary outcomes. They were not what a hero truly needed.
What a hero truly needed was nothing other than the golden opportunity granted by Nike, the attendant of Athena. That, in itself, was everything.
‘And I did not let that opportunity slip through my fingers.’
It felt like an age ago now, that moment when a black turmoil descended upon the Forest of Heroes. Iason had been certain that the turmoil was an unparalleled opportunity for him, and he had seized it with the resolve of a lifetime and the spirit of one who had already embraced death.
“Heh, hehehe...”
He turned his head away from the stone tablet he had been studying for a moment and looked out the window. In the distance, he could see the Valley of the Wolf King—where he and his unit had once marched like the demons of Phlegethon—and the path leading toward the old homeland of Perseus.
Queen Atalanta, having inherited full authority from Dianes, had gladly granted Iason the management and total control of Sparta, a prize won after driving out those filthy, barbaric Thespians.
Currently, Iason’s rank in Arcadia was Archon. Just below Queen Atalanta, alongside the Chancellor Ereinea, he was the second-in-command of this vast Arcadia. Archon Iason, the Governor of Sparta—that was his name now. He had become the master of a territory that rivaled the leaders of most major poleis.
And unlike before, this name was not achieved through the cunning and stratagems of Athens, but through his own strength, a power that the subjects of all lands had no choice but to acknowledge!
Was that all? Even now, if he subtly drew in the surrounding winds with the power he had been taught by Dianes, the whispers of the breeze tickled his ears with praise.
- The Captain of the Phesakaines.
- The Demon King who wields the sword, leading the ghosts who carry blades!
- The swordsman who fells ten with a single swing, and cuts down an entire army with ten!
- Siphosdemonias! Siphosdemonias! Siphosdemonias!
- Iason!
“Hehehe...”
For a man who had spent his whole life holding his breath, could he have ever imagined that such thrilling, fantastical days would come? Avenging his father, rescuing his mother from the wretch who had taken her by force—none of these were mere pipe dreams anymore. And above all, cutting the throat of his enemy, Pelias, and reclaiming his true throne was no longer an impossible task.
“Yes... it’s not a stretch at all.”
The reputation of Siphosdemonias Iason was already known to all of Greece, alongside Heracles and Atalanta. Naturally, the enemies and sycophants of Iolcos were no different. His desk was overflowing with letters: threats thinly veiled as conciliation regarding his mother’s safety from the traitor Pelias and his cronies, and missives from the elders and merchants of Iolcos who had stepped forward to support Iason, now that he had ascended to the rank of a true hero following the glory of the Heroic Tournament.
“Hahaha... it’s too late! It’s all too late!”
But threats, conciliation, oaths of loyalty, and calculated support—none of it mattered to him now.
Arcadia. If Athens was the cutting edge of Greece, a city like a modern-day Olympus loved by gods and men, then this Arcadia was an ideal land, closer to the Elysium spoken of by philosophers and theologians.
Of course, it had nearly collapsed under the previous king, Iasos, becoming little more than an old tale. But as a result of Dianes’s demonic influence (?), the current Arcadia had achieved an unprecedented golden age.
Under the name of Arcadia, the Peloponnese was effectively unified. The legendary Poseidon clan, which had supposedly vanished beyond the seas of hardship, had even formed an alliance, promising superior technology and military might.
And Iason was a central figure of such an Arcadia, serving as the Archon of the Arcadian territory of Sparta. With the name of Arcadia becoming so vast that the throne of Iolcos seemed laughable in comparison, he had no reason to be swayed by the threats of enemies or the support of cunning merchants.
The Guide of the Night who had led him had already shown him the way. He had taught him how to slaughter enemies without scattering blood, and how to witness with his own hands and eyes exactly how kings and gods fall.
“However, to ensure this, I need even greater power.”
The black sword Siphos, forged solely for him by the Cyclops smiths who had been inspired by the divine might of Akis. The biting wind of Cocytus contained within that blade needed to become sharper and more ferocious.
Enough to make his enemies in distant Iolcos tremble just at the mention of his name! If he could reproduce even one-tenth, no, one-hundredth of the divine might Dianes had displayed that day!
No one among the Phesakaines could forget the vision of Tartarus that had swept through Tegea. How could one who wields a sword forget the divine might drawn by that blade—a sight so terrifying yet beautiful, so ecstatic yet horrifying?
And if he could capture even a fraction of that abyss... even the gods themselves would be unable to help but praise the Phesakaines.
Above all, the pleasure of his sword and body shedding their layers one by one, step by step, was more addictive than any indulgence.
Thus, he had stained Sparta, Erymanthos, and the foothills of Acrocorinth with blood. Yet, the many sword-demons, including Iason, were half-mad with thirst for that level of mastery, despite the arduous divine might of Dianes.
In the midst of this, the new swordsmanship Dianes had left for Iason before departing had quenched his thirst while simultaneously stoking an even greater one.
Iason was desperate to find an opportunity to truly unleash his skills, make his name known, and break through his current limits.
And such an opportunity would surely be found at the edge of a tremendous crisis and adventure. As soon as Dianes left, Iason had hurried to find one of the most powerful men he knew, a warrior as parched for such an opportunity as he was.
“...So, Heracles. What do you think?”
“Certainly. If we follow Dianes, we’re bound to find something.”
Dianes had returned from his recent journey having displayed truly astonishing feats. To think he had brought the Laestrygonians, the forgotten giants of Poseidon, and Antaeus, the fallen god of earthquakes who had once nearly reached the ranks of the Twelve Olympians, into an alliance! Furthermore, subjugating Orthrus, the two-headed dog of Typhon’s lineage, was proof of a power that would make even Zeus fear.
If that was the case, wouldn’t following him on his next journey naturally lead them to a massive adventure and a golden opportunity?
Heracles agreed with Iason’s prediction.
“Ugh... I’ve already beaten all the other Laestrygonians, but I really can’t beat Brother Antaeus. It’s definitely a moment that calls for a drastic remedy.”
“...Hah, the world is truly vast. To think you, Heracles, would be whining about something other than Dianes.”
“Exactly! He’s given me this much agony, so Dianes naturally has to take responsibility!”
Despite his words, Heracles, who had rushed to the edge of the Erymanthos mountains at Iason’s call, looked bright. The presence of a rival he had met after Dianes had stimulated the great hero even more, making him look toward even higher peaks!
“Good. Once we start the journey, he can’t really say anything if we just join up with him, right?”
“True. That dark-hearted guy is more easygoing than he looks.”
Especially when they saw how he watched them grow with the pride of a father watching his children; if they followed him, he would likely accept them, even if he grumbled a bit. However, if Iason and Heracles followed, the other Phesakaines, including Atalanta, would surely make a fuss and try to follow as well. So, the two who had met quietly decided to join Dianes quietly as well.
“Hmm... I’ll just say I’m going on an emergency inspection of Sparta, and since Idas is there, it’ll be fine. What about you?”
“I’ll just give Brother Antaeus a heads-up, and he’ll handle it. That guy, despite his mountain-sized frame, is surprisingly good at his job.”
“This is why it’s comfortable to have capable people by your side.”
“Right?”
-Kikikil!
They shared a laugh of gratitude for those who would fill their empty seats. In the time they had been talking, the two had kicked off cliffs and peaks, leaping over the mountain range, and cheered as they saw the Great Temple of Aphrodite at the summit of Acrocorinth beginning to appear in the distance.
“Great! It’s a stroke of luck that Dianes set out on horseback this time too!”
“At this rate, we’ll have beaten him here, right? Let’s entrust ourselves to the Temple of Aphrodite and observe the situation.”
If others had heard them, they would have laughed and called them liars, noting that one had leaped over mountain ranges the moment he heard the news from the other side of the Peloponnese, and the other had caught up to a man on horseback while running. But for the great hero of divine strength who could leap over small hills in a single bound, and the sword-demon who ran across sheer cliffs and fortress walls as if they were flat plains, this conversation no longer felt strange.
“...Besides, Despoina contacted us too.”
“Hm? What did she say?”
“Ah, nothing.”
Anyway, Heracles and Iason arrived at Acrocorinth, having outpaced Dianes. Heracles rushed to the temple as soon as they arrived, while Iason, momentarily pushing aside the temptations of Aphrodite’s hetairai, focused his keen eyes on the path leading to Corinth.
“Hmm. What’s that?”
On a sheer cliff on the outskirts of the Temple of Aphrodite, Iason sat nonchalantly waiting for Dianes, when a familiar scent drifted on the wind and stimulated him.
“...The smell of blood.”
-Caw! Caw!
-Flap flap!
That wasn’t all. The flocks of birds taking flight from various parts of the mountain range, and the killing intent that pierced his skin, carried on the cool mountain breeze—it all pointed to one thing.
The turmoil, Dianes. He had entered the Acrocorinth mountain range.
“I thought he might be taking a leisurely tour with a new lover. Was it a new disciple instead of a lover?”
Iason and Heracles had made all sorts of guesses about the presence of an unfamiliar companion, but given Dianes’s unpredictable behavior, they had decided to just ask him directly. But seeing him set out to draw blood from the very beginning, it was likely a new disciple.
Anyway, Iason set those thoughts aside for a moment and focused on reading the wind with his eyes closed.
-Shaaaaa...!
As if he had become Zephyrus himself, the flow of the wind began to give him a rough estimate of the aura and the flow of blood scent.
“Hmm...”
He didn’t have the ability to see the entire mountain range like the palm of his hand as Dianes did, but by listening to the wind like this, he could grasp the general situation and flow. Combined with Iason’s innate genius, inferring Dianes’s movements wasn’t very difficult.
“Tsk, this is going to take half a day, isn’t it?”
Whatever idiot bandits had offended Dianes, a storm of aura presumed to be Dianes’s was wreaking havoc across the entire mountain range. Last time, in the Erymanthos mountains, he had wiped out every single bandit, earning the awe and terror of the displaced people who had crossed into Arcadia all at once. It seemed he was having fun rampaging again, as if he’d truly lost his temper.
“Shall I rest for a moment...”
-Giggle!
-Hohoho!
He had been so busy with work that he hadn’t seen his lover, Thetis, for quite a while. ‘Plus, it’s been awkward going to the Tegea brothel because of the girls in Atalanta’s warrior unit...’
His patience was reaching its limit, and behind him, beautiful hetairai were laughing and calling to him. It wouldn’t be bad to enjoy himself for a moment while Dianes was busy.
“Oh my! Archon Iason! You’ve come!”
“You look very tired, please entrust your body to our hands for a while.”
“Heracles said you ran all the way from Tegea in one breath?!”
“As expected of Arcadia’s Siphosdemonias, famous throughout Greece. Please, grant us the honor of serving you♥”
As soon as he stepped back inside, the beautiful priestesses of Aphrodite surrounded Iason. Priestesses of different charms served him, praising and admiring him, acting as if they were lovesick and pining for him.
‘Hehehe...’
Born as a hero, could there be a more ecstatic moment than this?
“Hmm...! Rather, it is I who should ask. For the sin of coveting the roses that bloom in the Temple of Aphrodite. May Aphrodite forgive me!”
-Kyaa!
-How romantic!
By the time his master and friend had slowly finished clearing the mountain range and was having a scuffle at the gate, Iason was able to get thoroughly drunk on the power and fame that Dianes had bestowed upon him.