But Penthesilea's stubborn streak refused to yield.
"Sis, what's there to be afraid of? One swing of my hammer, and trash like him would be down for good!"
"The seedlings we gathered for the [Day of Renewal] are already enough. It's time to head home. No need to waste time on pointless risks."
The red-haired leader suppressed the growing sense of unease in her chest and gave a firm nod, signaling for her sisters to withdraw toward the valley.
"No way! All we've caught lately are weaklings. Didn't we agree to find you a man actually worth looking at? I heard the princess of Arcadia is holding a marriage contest—every young hero in Greece is heading there! Even the warriors from the Calydon Hunt are returning home. This is the perfect chance!"
Penthesilea stepped in front of her, eyes flashing. The red-haired leader could only sigh, caught between amusement and regret for bringing along her youngest, most hot-headed sister.
She had chosen this day—the end of the Calydon Hunt—on purpose, to block the road leading to Arcadia. But for what?
Did her sister really think the men of Greece were as timid as the seed-bearers of their own tribe?
In these lands, even Father Ares himself had suffered defeat. The twelve thrones of Olympus were not held by the God of War alone.
"Tch. I don't get it. Just two people—what could they possibly do? What, are they going to attack me?"
Penthesilea muttered as she was dragged back into formation, still pouting in defiance.
But those words instantly snapped the red-haired leader to attention. Her instincts screamed. She turned sharply toward the gorge—and her eyes met a pair of glimmering, blood-red serpentine pupils staring right back at her.
The stranger blinked, as if teasing her—with a smile.
He was smiling at her?
They'd been discovered!
"Stay alert! The other one's on the move!"
The leader barked the warning, drawing her massive sword—a weapon nearly two meters long with an exaggerated design.
But she was too late.
A heavy impact shook the air as one of her forward scouts was hurled backward, crashing through three thick trees before hitting the ground and losing consciousness.
From the shadows, the towering figure of Heracles emerged, stepping calmly out of the dense forest. His gaze swept over the women, noting their weapons and the intricate emblems on their shields. His brow furrowed slightly.
Amazons? What are these she-wolves doing this deep inland?
"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"
The red-haired leader felt the divine pressure rolling off the man before her—a burning gale of raw, godly might. Her lungs seized from the sheer weight of it.
"Surrender, Amazons," Heracles said evenly, waiting until the shouts faded. His tone, though calm, carried the weight of command.
"Amazon—ROAR!"
The remaining seven warriors bellowed from the depths of their chests, their voices shaking the trees. They ripped their shields from their backs, gripping spears and chain-hammers, or hurling javelins as they charged forward in tight formation.
Heracles frowned, raising his hand across his chest. Divine power surged, and in an instant, a black stone axe-sword appeared in his grip—its edge uneven, jagged like the teeth of a saw.
Moving with animal precision, the hero slipped through the storm of thrown weapons, his nameless blade crashing and cleaving as he advanced.
Along his path, shields reinforced with divine runes splintered; weapons forged from rare metals snapped like twigs.
Within moments, the Amazon warriors were flung backward faster than they had charged, gouging long furrows in the earth as they hit the ground one by one, coughing up crimson-gold blood, their strength utterly spent.
The Amazon Queen's pupils constricted sharply. Her heart pounded in her chest.
Too strong!
Had he not deliberately pulled his blows, her sisters would already be dead. Even so, the man before her hadn't even broken a sweat.
Her mind raced through possibilities—until one desperate thought surfaced.
If she wanted to stand a chance against this beast of a man, there was only one way.
Find his weakness.
"Hold him off! Buy me some time!"
The Amazon Queen grit her teeth and shouted. As her sisters struggled back to their feet and charged toward Heracles, she broke into a sprint toward the cliff's edge. With a powerful leap, she hurled herself down from above, her massive greatsword slicing through the air toward the handsome youth standing in the gorge below.
Do I really look that easy to kidnap?
Seeing the red-haired swordswoman coming straight at him with killing intent, Samael blinked, caught between disbelief and amusement. He raised his hand, summoning Medusa's Shield to block before his chest.
Boom!
The deafening clash of metal sent shockwaves through the canyon. Dust and gravel blasted outward, pelting the rock walls and their armor with ringing clinks.
Crack!
When the Amazon Queen saw the earthen-hued barrier protecting the young man still holding firm, she slammed her right foot into the ground. Hundreds of fissures spread outward from the impact like a spider's web.
A deep, guttural roar erupted from her tall, muscular frame.
"Blood of Ares, ignite—Roar of the War God!"
Instantly, a dense red mist seeped from her pores, bursting into a raging crimson flame that cloaked her body.
The air distorted with the surge of heat, and the thick scent of blood seemed to drag the world itself onto a battlefield—screams of warriors and the clash of steel echoed all around them.
Crack!
With a sharp, crystalline sound, the divine barrier coating Medusa's Shield began to fracture and crumble.
Samael's eye twitched. Beyond the flickering light, he saw the woman bleeding from the corners of her eyes and mouth, her body trembling under the strain. Yet she still forced every last ounce of strength into her sword, pressing forward with grim determination.
Her eyes—half shock, half respect—met his.
Then, with a low hum, the light of Medusa's Shield dimmed and scattered into drifting motes of dust.
Success!
The Amazon Queen's face lit up in triumph—but her ears were still ringing. No sounds came from above; no response from her sisters. A sudden unease gripped her. Fighting through the recoil that shook her body, she surged forward toward her target—her final trump card.
But the easy victory she expected vanished the instant she stepped within two paces of him.
The air itself shrieked.
The man she thought was defenseless—a pretty lamb waiting to be taken—suddenly moved into her blade's path, closing the distance himself.
The Queen froze. If she killed him, the situation would spiral out of control. Instinctively, she halted her swing, wrenching her sword back.
In that heartbeat between thought and reaction, Samael slipped through the gap in her guard by the width of a hair. As he stepped in—half a pace away—his right fist, already drawn back, drove into her abdomen.
Guh!
Pain exploded in her gut. Her vision went black, the sword slipped from her hands, and she crumpled to the ground.
"Don't take it the wrong way. You put in the effort, so I figured I'd give you the fight you wanted."
Samael cracked his knuckles as he stepped forward, a faint smile curving his lips. He crouched, resting his chin on his hand, and looked down at her with mild curiosity.
"Now then, what's your name? Tell me, and maybe I'll tell Heracles to go easy."
The warrior's hand tightened around her fallen greatsword before she slowly released it. Her voice came low and strained, heavy with humiliation.
"Hippolyta. Queen of the Amazons. Happy now?"
At that, Samael froze. His face stiffened; his expression turned peculiar.
Wait… Hippolyta?
His thoughts stalled for a beat, a wry realization dawning.
So, Your Majesty—don't tell me you came all this way… to abduct me?
...
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