Chapter 59
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 59
Chapter Title: Atalanta's Hunt
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Yes, how did you know?
To start with, Atalanta's standing in the Heroes' Forest was extraordinarily high.
First off, regardless of the inside story, she was a princess so vital to her homeland Arcadia that the king dispatched an army into the Heroes' Forest just to retrieve her.
Moreover, as the daughter of Artemis, raised in a bear's embrace, she embodied the hero beloved by the gods. She was one of the rare few whose fate was foretold by an oracle, destined to grasp the destiny of a nation.
Atalanta herself had zero interest in Arcadia. She had even planned to send a letter renouncing the royal family that abandoned her and her princess title.
But Chiron and Karyklo had persuaded her to put the matter on hold for now, insisting she shouldn't worry about what she didn't know.
On top of that, her personal prowess seemed innate. After single-handedly crushing the followers of Ares's daughters and Aphrodite's daughters,
she proudly ascended to the ranks of the Golden Generation alongside Heracles, Theseus, and Jason, becoming the captain of the Artemis Huntresses.
However, a tremendous trial had now befallen her.
Love.
The cruel yet beautiful golden arrow of Eros had pierced her heart.
Last night, while everyone else was joyfully welcoming Dianes and Nesneria in a warm banquet hall,
Arsis, the vice-captain of the Artemis Huntresses, and his faction hurled sharp criticisms at Atalanta for mingling with Dianes from behind.
How could a huntress who claimed to be Artemis's daughter wear the rags of those lowly commoners and throw herself at some pretty-faced nobody of unknown origins, thereby shaming Artemis?
Atalanta had no retort to that.
She was someone saved by Artemis, sworn to eternal hunt under her crescent moon.
The huntresses who followed Artemis had acknowledged her and elevated her to captain, building their faction in the Heroes' Forest under Artemis's name.
Yet for her to fall in love—no, to fall for a man—was nothing short of betrayal to those who called themselves Artemis's daughters.
Her huntresses fell into chaos, and the ambitious vice-captain, who had led the faction before her promotion, seized the moment to publicly humiliate her that very morning.
But unlike usual, she couldn't boldly counter Arsis.
Even when the dress personally gifted by Lady Hera was nearly ruined, she staggered like a deer struck by an arrow.
Because no one was more confused than Atalanta herself.
She had lived her entire life gazing only at Artemis, who had saved her.
One day, she would leave the forest, become a hero renowned across Greece, and roam the hunting grounds eternally with her goddess.
But this sudden emotion called love had crashed into her like an accident, and she was pursuing it with all her might, just as she would a quarry on the hunt.
First impressions? The worst for both him and her.
First meeting? If she recalled it or if Dianes brought it up again, she'd gladly hurl herself into the sea.
No matter how she thought about it or looked back, there was no reason for her to fall this hard, like a madwoman.
Of course, Dianes was objectively handsome.
Having clashed with him body-to-body herself, she knew without asking that his martial arts were no joke.
Plus, he had this strangely different aura from other minor heroes like Heracles or Theseus, making him a hot topic among the women from day one of enlisting.
Even the Artemis Huntresses gossiped that they'd never seen such a handsome boy.
No matter that they were huntresses sworn to chaste Artemis—they were still young women in their prime.
A comet-like newcomer who matched Master Chiron, yet had inexplicably sad eyes, was plenty captivating.
But Atalanta, bristling with thorns, hated hearing this minor hero on her huntresses' lips. She vented all the pent-up resentment inside her in a massive outburst.
Yet the result was her defeat.
Not just in martial arts or speed—even her heart had been swiftly stolen by him. Now she wandered, torn between love and pride.
In the end, after last night's reprimands left her heart in tatters, she dragged herself to morning class, only to face humiliation from Arsis and his pack, who pounced like vultures.
Then Dianes appeared like the wind, and she understood why love was called ugly and cruel.
She resented Dianes for filling her with such anguish, especially while keeping another woman(?) by his side.
But his sweating back as he stood up for her.
His large hand seizing hers.
And his silent comfort, considerate of her feelings—all that melted away her resentment, wrapping her heart in sticky sweetness.
The finishing blow.
Amid the whispers watching them, he boldly seated her right beside him.
Ignoring the murmurs, focusing solely on her—faced with Dianes like that, she had to admit it.
A huntress was a gambler.
Always locked in tenacious battles with prey, warriors dancing fiercely with the forest.
And Atalanta the huntress had to concede her defeat before the love that appeared before her.
Realizing that defeat and acknowledging the love made everything surprisingly simple and clear.
No, it wasn't even defeat.
Just a failed hunt.
A huntress's pursuit continues until success, fixated solely on the prey until the hunt ends.
She was sorry to Artemis and her sisters.
But the prey she would chase for life had already appeared before her eyes.
'Forgive me, Goddess.'
But no matter how much she agonized and tormented herself, she could never let go of this prey.
No matter the crashing waves or others' condemnations, how could she release the prey that seized all her senses with just a smile?
Above all, seeing the Nereid nymph smirking from behind, savoring her plight, Atalanta had a gut feeling.
If she didn't hold on tight, this cruel, alluring mass of torment would spawn countless pitiful victims like her.
More unexpected victims like her—no, more meddlesome interlopers like that nymph with her sticky eyes, pretending innocence while manipulating Dianes—were inevitable.
Look, weren't Aphrodite's and Ares's daughters already swarming her prey, strutting noisily through the forest?
They seemed to rely solely on their looks and fame.
But Dianes, irritated by their appraising stares, clenched his fist as if ready to charge.
They'd nearly gotten wrecked pulling the same arrogance on Heracles, only let off due to Jason and Theseus's intervention.
And now they dared try it on her prey.
Atalanta resolved to reveal her true self to him—and to herself—without hesitation.
"What, you mean the ones whose own mommies and daddies didn't even call them, so they begged their way into the forest?"
Blood for blood.
Insult for insult.
For daring to spew such vile insults about her and him.
They deserved tenfold in return.
* * *
"...What?"
"W-W-W-What did you just say?"
"Whoa... Atalanta, have you lost your mind? Wanna die?!"
"Gh... Guh...!"
"...I'll kill you?"
Whoa...
They say when a woman holds a grudge, frost falls even in early summer.
This was less frost and more like dumping liquid nitrogen.
Atalanta had said with her own mouth.
Most minor heroes here were indeed born of divine blood.
But those born not as humans but as the gods' sudden offspring, without prophecy, were often shunned among humans.
Their extraordinary traits from birth and noble divine lineage might make mortals cherish them as precious children.
But more often, they were tabooed as aliens, rejected as illegitimate bastards without Hera's blessing.
Half-gods, stirring endless strife with their innate dispositions and attracting incidents, had no place in normal human society.
Even gods like Ares or Hermes, who doted on their children, rarely embraced them after a one-night stand—earning them the label "mongrels."
In the end, spurned by gods and rejected by humans, they gathered here in the Heroes' Forest like exiles.
'The life of a hero born in the wrong era is more brutal than a farmer's daily toil.'
Thus, most minor heroes here bore great and small scars within.
Twisted pride in their bloodlines and wounds from abandonment led some—like Atalanta before, or Orion scheming to assault Nesneria without even seeing her face properly—to explode, accelerate wildly, or trample others like that quintet to soothe their egos.
But Atalanta, you who warned me to be careful with words like that.
How am I supposed to handle you dropping a nuclear-level personal burn?
'Should I open a trauma counseling center instead of a mind-reform clinic?'
With heroes' childhoods all like this, no wonder myths and legends are such a mess.
Reviving my Eastern Confucian sensibilities from this morning's events, I was plotting a counseling center when
the quintet, punched and hit with a nuke in return, slunk around encircling Atalanta.
"...These bastards?"
Who do they think they're trying to gang up on in front of me?
My lover, whom I've publicly declared to all?
I was raising my relaxed fingers, about to unleash the loving discipline of the Golden Egg Counseling Center,
when
"No. Stand back."
"Atalanta dared insult our goddesses. The punishment belongs to them!"
"Third parties stay out!"
Suddenly, burly thugs with menacing faces blocked my path, growling.
That wasn't all.
Men with mirror and sword emblems on their clothes swarmed, trying to push me away.
No matter that I had the third-highest mental age here—my body was that of a hot-blooded youth, and its vigor occasionally overrode reason. It'd happened thrice since arriving, flipping the forest each time.
What gave these guys the guts to charge?
"We are Aphresia, guardians protecting the beautiful daughters of Ares and Aphrodite!"
"No matter how skilled you are in magic and martial arts, rivaling Heracles..."
"You can't block our passion and faith!"
"Snagging that nymph and Atalanta is fine, but seducing our goddesses and ignoring their words!?"
"Jealous... I'll kill you!"
...Fan club meatheads?
Fan hearts are unbreakable, huh.
I could somewhat empathize, so I forced a smile to persuade them.
"Hey, guys? Your fandom's cool and all, but I've overdone it three days straight—can't control my strength. Get it?"
Meaning if they didn't back off now, it'd be the Golden Egg Counseling Center turning into Asclepius's trauma ward for several.
"Uh..."
"Wait, hold on..."
"He dueled Heracles one-on-one..."
"Can we even take him?"
My earnest persuasion(?) worked; the fan club muttered quietly, hesitating.
Should I smash one to scatter them? Or one more word? As I pondered,
"Gahk?!"
"Kyaa-!"
Shrill screams erupted amid the sweaty bulkheads.
"W-What's that?"
"No way... Not Lady Eireneia or Pesilenii, who trained so hard."
"You gonna lose to Atalanta agai—"
Bulkhead 1 was explaining when a whooshing shadow flew overhead, silencing everyone.
"Kyaaak!"
"Oof."
A hot-pink meteor hurtling my way.
No, the gang leader calling herself Eireneia. I considered dodging briefly,
but to avoid hassle from mishaps, I lightly caught her mid-air.
"Wh-Wha?"
"You should've picked your opponents better..."
The five were fairly skilled for their conduct.
Hot sauce head and ultra-violet were well-trained.
The hot-pink, fluorescent, and deep blue I caught had an alien aura from Greek ancient magic.
Yet Atalanta was a level above them all.
"Kweeng!"
"Uwak! Lady Pesilenii!"
With odd noises, hot sauce Pesilenii crashed into the fan club, toppling them.
Beyond the cleared view, Atalanta had floored deep blue and fluorescent, now pressing ultra-violet hard.
"Th-This... This can't be!"
"What's can't?!"
Purple Smurf showed trained form too, but was crumbling under Atalanta's flashy assault.
It was almost expected, but I inwardly sweated at Atalanta's fists and feet.
'How is she using that fighting style?'
Was I seeing wrong? Refocusing my eyes confirmed it.
Atalanta's martial art was crude and unrefined, but unmistakably one I knew.
A rough, orthodox style—precise and sharp, the hallmark of a born brawler.
A legendary bare-fisted technique that reached the pinnacle without a scrap of mana, sweeping the martial world alone.
The Fighting Demon Art of the Infinite Battle Demon flickered in Atalanta's hands and feet.