Chapter 61
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: Hera's Judgment and Apollo's Rage
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A Heavenly Demon who lives a hundred years hones their instincts to prophetic levels.
-Slap!
Artemis felt like stars burst before her eyes from the shock of the blow striking her face.
As the blinding flash filling her vision faded and she came back to her senses, the queen was glaring at her with cold, merciless eyes.
"The crime of daring to hold your head high before the queen herself, without so much as a whimper."
-Slap!
"The crime of daring to invade Chiron Forest—a sacred site recognized in the name of Lord Zeus and the honor of Olympus—out of petty personal grudge."
-Slap!
"The crime of daring to harm the children I, Hera, have blessed in my name."
-Slap!
"The crime of daring to act with tyrannical possessiveness toward a child who hasn't even pledged herself to you yet."
-Slap!
"The crime of daring to draw blood from the young hero with your unseemly conduct and recklessly unleashing your divine power, staining the honor of Olympus."
-Slap! Slap! Slap!
Each time Hera's elegant hand whipped across her cheek, Artemis felt Elysium shimmering faintly in the distance.
After the queen's unsparing slaps, laced with her full divine power, poured down relentlessly alongside the litany of her sins...
Hera roughly hurled her to the ground, and the bow and quiver slung across her back scattered in a clattering heap.
"Invading a sacred site over personal feelings that tarnish Olympus's honor, when your own reputation and divine deeds weren't even at stake—this crime is no light matter. But I'll let it pass with this."
Hera sneered coldly at the silver bow lying at her feet.
Even in her dazed state, that smile sent chills through Artemis, and she lunged desperately toward her bow.
-Crack!
"No!!"
Artemis watched in horror, right before her eyes, as the goddess's kick snapped her divine treasure clean in two.
"Interfere in my affairs once more, and you'll learn just how merciful I was today."
With a final scornful glance at the stunned Artemis staring blankly at her shattered divine weapon, Hera vanished gracefully.
"That's how it happened."
Not only the ordeal at Hera's hands, but also the encounter on Pasos Island with that insufferable Dianes or whatever his name was.
The wretch who had dared invade her hunting grounds had instead chewed her out.
And right when she was about to punish him personally, he turned the tables and attacked her, even wounding her shoulder.
Artemis poured out every last incident to her dear brother.
"Ha...!"
Apollo clutched his face, unable to hold back his lament at his sister's tearful tale.
Hermes had informed him that a human hero, favored by Ares, Poseidon, and even Father Zeus himself, had received Hera's blessing and gained a destined lover.
But even so, for Olympus's queen to strike another goddess of Olympus so harshly over a mere young hero?
And the target was a demigod whose bloodline was still uncertain, who had committed the grave sin of drawing a goddess's blood.
The justification sounded plausible enough, but this was a situation where his sister had bled to protect a single demigod.
Even if their relations with Hera were strained, and Artemis bore significant fault...
One of the Twelve Olympians—a pillar of Olympus—had shed blood and tears like this.
And the one persecuted was his precious sister, whom he wouldn't trade for the world. Apollo surged to his feet, seething with rage.
"This won't do."
"Brother..?"
Apollo's sun-like eyes flashed with fury.
In an instant, a golden bow appeared in his hand, and a quiver brimming with sunlit arrows slung across his back, proclaiming his resolve.
"Even if it's Lady Hera, this is too far. No one—no one—will be allowed to persecute my sister like this!"
But even Apollo couldn't march up to Hera and demand answers.
Artemis hadn't been entirely wronged, and Atalanta hadn't joined her hunting band yet—making a lover wasn't a crime.
But the true culprit behind all this was someone else.
"That insolent fool who scarred the skin of a virgin goddess and seduced the hunter my sister had claimed, borrowing the queen's authority—he shall taste the sun's wrath!"
Proclaiming words that would have left Dianes dumbfounded—"What nonsense is this?"—with utter conviction, Apollo comforted his sister.
"Just wait a little, sister. That fool who dared insult the goddess of the moon will learn the sting of divine retribution soon enough!"
I had no idea how I'd stumbled through the day in such a daze.
Atalanta had dragged the whining Neris—who insisted on sharing my room—off to the women's dormitory.
Meanwhile, I was rolling around on the bed in my assigned quarters.
The dorm was a six-story insula, the Greek equivalent of an apartment building.
My room was a spacious 20-pyeong affair, impeccably luxurious with two bedrooms, and even a bathroom and bath attached—remarkable for this ancient era.
It really hit home that this was the academy of mythic heroes.
Of course, it was laughably tiny compared to the palace I'd resided in during my Heavenly Demon days, but compared to the suffocating closet of a goshiwon back on Earth, it was paradise.
An apartment boasting modern facilities that wouldn't pale against the 21st century, styled in ancient Greek fashion amid the ultra-ancient mythic age.
Quite satisfied, I lay on the bedroom bed, sorting through the stack of hardcore-difficulty quests.
"Ugh?"
A sudden shiver ran through me, an unpleasant chill that jolted me upright.
"What the hell? Feels like some massively annoying trouble's about to hit."
Spending half my life in intrigue and the other half in bloodbaths had honed my instincts to a razor's edge.
Whenever some major disaster loomed, I'd get these random chills like clockwork.
The problem now was I couldn't predict what, where, or when the trouble would strike.
"The most pressing issue right now..."
Was the Atalanta who'd just made those thugs kneel, sweat glistening beautifully.
No matter how rusty my martial prowess or internal energy had become, there was no mistaking the brutal beatdown she'd unleashed on my assigned psychopomp right in front of me—the same one she'd hammered me with until I mastered it.
"Argh... Touma, that mad bastard, hitting my skull even here?"
Mugeuk Touma—the Martial Apex Battlemage.
There was a legendary fighter who'd sworn to conquer the entire martial world with his fists alone—a vow others called Touma-esque audacity, while I deemed it brute stupidity—and he'd done it.
He shattered the notion that only wielders of supreme arts could challenge each other.
Despite being from the demonic path, he commanded legions of followers from orthodox and unorthodox sects alike, becoming their cult leader.
No matter how the orthodox touted their righteousness and chivalry, it all hinged on maintaining the martial world's order under their rule.
They claimed true justice, so defiance made you a criminal.
Righteous third-rate warriors coughed up blood before spoiled juniors backed by powerful clans.
Local dojos with reputations crumbled under the tyranny of martial halls propped up by influential families.
This wasn't some one-off occurrence.
Yet Mugeuk Touma had crushed those colossal sects not with trickery or schemes, but pure fisticuffs.
A demonic path figure who drew the most followers in history, regardless of orthodox, unorthodox, or demonic.
When he stormed out of his cult and rampaged through the martial world, the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Clans—who'd been humiliated by him—mobilized pursuit squads, decrying the "demonic scourge ravaging the land."
But the mid- and small sects under him united in support.
The result? His reign as cult leader was the closest the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult ever came to unifying the martial world.
And the technique that shone alongside this brawler was his signature art, Touma Gong—the Fighting Demon Art—which peeked into the realm of divine skills through external martial arts.
True to its creator, a demonic maniac who clubbed a grim reaper mid-duty, the straightforwardly named Fighting Demon Art let even those with meager internal energy surpass their limits through body techniques.
And Atalanta had unleashed it?
How the hell?
"...Not that I have zero guesses."
Back in the infirmary, the moment Atalanta and I shared our mindscapes.
The pinnacle of the Three Disasters, reached via Supremacy of the Heavenly Demon.
That vista wasn't mere mountain peaks—it embodied everything I'd cultivated, every trial I'd endured.
And transcending it all, the manifestation of joys, sorrows, loves, hatreds, and the seven emotions permeating the world.
The mist-shrouded valleys below were my life's grudges and ambitions.
The starry clusters overhead gleamed as my martial arts, insights, and attained realms.
Somehow, amid overcoming my inner demons, she'd apparently snatched a fragment from those celestial clusters.
"Sigh... Whatever."
I'd only reached out a bit because her life was withering from her own inner demons.
Who'd have thought this wild girl would pilfer from my bottomless pockets?
Of course, she hadn't meant to—likely the Fighting Demon Art's insights meshed perfectly with her.
Or maybe I'd subconsciously slipped her something.
"Starting tomorrow, I'll teach her properly."
Touma himself would welcome it with open arms if his art spread from the Central Plains to an ancient mythic hero.
Atalanta was barely mimicking the form so far.
Better to guide her closely before bad habits or distortions set in.
"Anyway, putting that aside..."
What was this nagging premonition?
The biggest issue seemed resolved, yet the prickling chill down my spine persisted.
I sat at the desk and began sorting the quests piled on the papyrus one by one.