The entrance fee was modest—just two coins of "Hera's Silver," each stamped with the image of the Queen of Heaven herself.
Since authority was bestowed by the gods, the wealth circulating throughout Greece naturally bore divine emblems as a sign of reverence.
Gold coins carried the image of Zeus, King of the Gods, known as "Zeus's Gold." Silver coins bore Hera's likeness and were called "Hera's Silver."
Legend had it that when it came time to mint copper coins, none of the Olympian gods wished to lend their image, unwilling to lower their dignity for such a lowly denomination.
Only Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, stepped forward, agreeing to let her emblem grace the copper coins. Yet, the so-called "Athena's Copper," though the humblest in appearance, became the most widely circulated and fastest-spending currency in all of Greece.
Through constant human use, the name of the Goddess of Wisdom spread far and wide, earning her endless devotion and faith.
...
Within the city, Samael watched as the mighty Heracles meticulously selected provisions. The silver coin spinning between his fingers came to a stop; the side bearing Hera's portrait gleamed in the sunlight.
What had been an idle game a moment ago suddenly lost its charm. Samael pocketed the coin and stepped forward to help Heracles carry the goods.
However, since most of the preparations had been efficiently handled by Heracles himself, Samael soon found himself with nothing to do. Bored, he wandered through the streets, taking in the customs and atmosphere of the bustling city-state.
But upon overhearing a passing conversation, his mood soured.
Rumor had it that the King of Arcadia had finally found his long-lost daughter, Atalanta, who had now come of age.
To atone for the years he'd failed to raise her, the aging king had announced a marriage contest across all of Greece, inviting heroes from every land to compete for his daughter's hand.
Now, countless young men were already making their way to Arcadia, each hoping to win the heart of the famed beauty.
Unconsciously, Samael found himself circling back to the market where Heracles was still gathering supplies.
"Got everything we need?"
"Still missing some spices and a tent for travel."
"Forget it. We're leaving now."
"Understood."
Heracles nodded, slung the heavy pack over his shoulder, and strode briskly toward the city gate.
His unquestioning obedience and focus pleased Samael, easing his irritation somewhat.
However, when they reached the gate and reported their destination, an older guard's expression darkened. He leaned closer and offered a warning in a low voice.
"You two are heading to Arcadia, eh? You'd best stay the night. Wait until morning, gather a few more travelers, or join a caravan before setting out."
"What's wrong, old man?"
Catching the concern behind his tone, Samael asked patiently.
The veteran glanced toward the half-dark horizon and the shadowed mountain path beyond the walls. His eyes flickered with unease.
"You outsiders don't know. The road to Arcadia… it's been eating people lately."
Seeing that Samael and Heracles didn't seem alarmed, he grew more agitated.
"I'm telling you the truth! In the past few days, over a dozen travelers vanished in that gorge—no bodies, no traces, nothing! All of them young and strong men, just like you two!"
After hearing enough, Samael tossed two coins of Hera's Silver onto the table, then turned away, ignoring the old soldier's anxious protests. Side by side, he and Heracles passed through the gates into the night.
"You reckless youngsters never listen," the old guard grumbled under his breath. "You'll get snatched by those monsters before you even know it—and that'll be the end of you."
Heracles, meanwhile, moved about methodically, summoning his ogre steed with practiced ease and loading the supplies onto its back, ready for the road ahead.
The creature exuded a suffocating aura, its crimson eyes glinting with brutal ferocity.
When Heracles pulled out several slabs of fresh, bloodied beef, the ogre horse caught the scent and immediately opened its massive jaws. Its mouth split wide, revealing rows of jagged, saw-like teeth as it snatched the meat and tore into it with savage delight.
The guards at the gate turned pale at the sight, instinctively stepping back under the creature's overwhelming presence.
At that moment, Samael stopped and raised his hand, chanting a Divine Word. A sharp neigh split the air as the silver-winged Pegasus burst from a glowing crimson Magic Circle, brushing affectionately against its master's arm.
The Ancient Serpent grasped the reins, mounted, and glanced back at the veteran guard with a faint, confident smile.
"Uncle, whatever monsters are out there—trust me, they'll be the unlucky ones."
With that, Samael spurred his steed forward, galloping off alongside Heracles as the two vanished into the night's horizon.
...
A god... a descendant of the gods?
The old soldier froze in shock, tongue-tied and wide-eyed. As the realization hit him, a chill ran down his spine at the thought of how casually he'd spoken to them earlier.
Then, hearing the excited chatter of the younger guards nearby, his nerves slowly eased, replaced by a faint, hopeful anticipation.
"May those two noble heroes root out whatever's been lurking in that valley… I hope they make it."
...
After leaving the city, Samael and Heracles rode at full speed. Thanks to the unmatched power of their steeds, they reached the edge of the so-called "Man-Eating Gorge" within the hour.
The landscape was rugged and treacherous. Jagged rocks jutted from the earth, paths twisted alongside narrow ravines, and wild trees grew chaotically on both sides, blotting out most of the sky. The gloom hung heavy, as if the air itself had weight.
The uneven grass swayed gently in the wind with a faint rustle, but no birds sang, no insects chirped—an eerie, unnatural silence blanketed the gorge.
Samael narrowed his eyes, exchanged a brief glance with Heracles, and both nodded wordlessly.
Moments later, a lone rider and his steed entered the gorge at a leisurely pace. From within the shadows of the trees and the tall, brittle grass, several pairs of eyes gleamed faintly, watching.
"Something's wrong. Why is there only one? You didn't see it wrong, did you, Penthesilea?"
Under the pale moonlight, a red-haired woman turned sharply. She held a longbow in hand, a massive sword strapped to her back.
Even at night, her fiery hair and bronzed skin seemed to shimmer like sunlight. Her eyes held both gold and darkness—deep, bright, and commanding. Her body was like that of a Pegasus soaring across Olympus's skies: lithe and strong, as swift as the wind in motion, yet as steady and regal as a lioness at rest.
"Impossible! I clearly saw two people crossing the wilderness!"
From the thicket emerged a petite girl with cropped silver hair, clad in light armor. Barely five feet tall, she moved with startling speed, slipping between nine converging figures before crouching beside her red-haired elder sister, her face set with fierce determination.
"Big Sis, let me catch him first. We can make him talk—he'll tell us where the other one's hiding."
Penthesilea didn't wait for a reply. She reached to her waist, yanked free a spiked flail, and bared her fangs in a sharp grin. The air around her rippled with her fiery impatience.
"Quiet! Let me think…"
The red-haired leader pressed a firm hand on her sister's shoulder, frowning deeply in thought before speaking in a low, decisive tone.
"Did you see them split up?"
Penthesilea blinked and shook her head blankly.
"Something's wrong. Fall back!"
The red-haired warrior brought her hand down sharply, her order swift and absolute.