The entire arena sucked in a collective gasp, blood pressure spiking, and more than a few people felt an almost overwhelming urge to pin this healer to the ground and beat him senseless.
Deliberate. Absolutely deliberate. Got it. You're not letting him die—you're making him wish he could die but can't.
At that moment, Samael's eyelid twitched uncontrollably. A random stab of guilt hit him, and a hint of suspicion surfaced in his eyes. Now he kind of wanted to ask:
How much does this VIP service cost?
"The hunting goddess worshipped by Arcadia, correct? By the decree of Her Majesty Artemis: Atalanta was raised by sacred beasts sent by her. King Iasus, you abandoned this child at birth and have never once fulfilled your duties as a father. You have no right to decide her future. Therefore, the goddess decrees that her follower shall be sent to Areopagus to escape harassment.
From this day forward, Princess Atalanta shall stand under the protection of Areopagus and possess the freedom granted to her by law."
The God of Medicine handed the moon-white parchment to the dazed old king. Then, under the murderous stares of the crowd whose blood pressure was already through the roof, he groped around in his sleeve for a while before reluctantly producing a golden parchment bearing a sun emblem.
The Delphic Oracle. Apollo, the god of light, is backing them too?
The spectators below watched with relish, eagerly waiting for the God of Medicine to pull out an even bigger bombshell.
However, Asclepius hesitated again and again before grudgingly muttering as he tore open the seal and revealed the contents.
"The Delphic Oracle decrees: Hippomenes violated the principles of the Olympus Games. Theseus's act of self-defense is deemed a counterattack, did not interfere with the competition, and his result stands. The despicable one shall be barred from participating in any form of athletic contest."
Delphi had always been the leading authority responsible for hosting the Olympus Games. With even Apollo, the relatively neutral god of light, ruling that Hippomenes alone was at fault, the outcome was beyond doubt.
After the proclamation, the God of Medicine stuffed the famed Delphic Oracle back into his sleeve with obvious distaste. Skirting around the king and a certain demigod, both completely stupefied, he walked up to Hippomenes and gave the patient a calm, indifferent look.
"Lastly, the patient is instructed to report to Areopagus within seven days to surrender himself and stand formal trial."
"What? I won't go! Why should I go there?!"
Hippomenes snapped out of his stupor, his face drained of all color as he stumbled backward, shaking his head in hysteria.
"Because you are suspected of attempting to murder a demigod during the games—Athena's foster son."
The God of Medicine quietly revealed the victim's identity. The demigod from the Temple of Poseidon next to him trembled with rage, as if watching a repeat of that infamous case involving the Son of Poseidon.
"I'm not going! The Golden Apple was bestowed by Aphrodite! She was the one pulling the strings! Go after her! Why are you clinging to me?!"
Cowering in a corner, Hippomenes could almost hear endless waves of derisive laughter drilling into his skull. Every gaze around him seemed laced with malice and contempt. The dizzying plunge from heaven to hell shattered the young demigod's flimsy mental defenses, and he let out a neurotic roar, like a hyena howling its grievances.
At those words, expressions across the arena shifted at once. On the stands, the demigod of the Water Temple felt his pupils constrict sharply.
The God of Medicine's gaze turned as cold as a coroner's. He glanced at the raving youth, then silently backed up a few steps, putting some distance between them.
"BOOM!"
In an instant, the sky went dark. A crimson ring-shaped arcane array appeared in the clouds, the circles locking and turning against one another. Accompanied by a man's furious snort, a razor-sharp beam of light slashed down. Hippomenes, frozen where he stood, was instantly vaporized in the blood-red brilliance.
As the crimson pillar of light slowly dimmed and vanished, the demigod who had dragged King Iasus away to safety stared at the smoking crater in the ground, horror written across his face. He drew in a sharp breath, cursing inwardly through gritted teeth.
Idiot. If you'd just kept your mouth shut and taken the blame, you'd have gotten life at worst. If the gods were ever in a good mood, you might've even clawed your way back someday, released from the prison on Areopagus.
But you had to shove the blame onto a Divine Spirit. Did you really think that goddess of love and beauty wouldn't kill?
Even if Aphrodite can't be bothered to bloody her own hands, her crowd of lovers could snuff you out in an instant.
And the one who struck just now was none other than that goddess's longtime lover—Ares, the God of War.
Besides, ever since that last trial on Areopagus, this brute has held a grudge against His Majesty Poseidon. Now that he's found an excuse to kill you, there isn't even anywhere to complain.
"Friend, you don't look well. Need some treatment?"
The god of medicine beside him leaned in, asking with apparent concern.
The demigod of the Sea God's Temple shot him a wary glance. A sudden chill ran down his spine, sending goosebumps across his skin. He hastily pulled his face into a forced, stiff smile and declared with righteous indignation:
"I'm perfectly fine! I'm just fine! Hippomenes desecrated the gods—he deserved to die! I'll report the details to His Majesty Poseidon. Nothing else to discuss here. I'll be on my way!"
With that, the demigod—now deeply traumatized by the sight of physicians—tapped his trident. Ripples of light spread across the ground as clear spring water gushed from the fissure, and a chariot drawn by three sea horses emerged.
He leapt onto the Water-Patterned Chariot and sped away without looking back, desperate to escape this dreadful place as quickly as possible.
"Hmm, why can't they just follow medical advice? Really..."
The God of Medicine glanced at the deep pit beside him and shook his head. He then lightly waved his serpent staff. A white halo condensed into a fine rain, showering the arena before him and the streets and alleys of Arcadia.
Wounded contestants felt their wounds tingle as they healed. Sickly patients were purged of the black mist of disease brewing within them by the surging divine power, leaving them with renewed vigor.
After bestowing healing, Asclepius nodded to Samael amidst the crowd and strolled leisurely toward the city gates.
Sure enough, nothing comes that easily.
The Ancient Serpent rolled his eyes, tugging the somewhat familiar owl perched on his shoulder and ruffling its feathers vigorously. He then addressed the gathering crowd, each member driven by their own motives, his voice rising.
"Halt! In the name of the victor, I now declare: contestants who upheld their principles shall be pardoned. Those who blindly followed with malicious intent—you shall perform ten days of labor for the Kingdom of Arcadia. I will request the Areopagus Arbitration Tribunal to oversee the follow-up. Any complaints? Take them up with your employers!"
Samael decisively shifted the blame, dumping the trouble onto King Iasus, who stood frozen on the stands.
Atalanta glanced at the figure gradually swallowed by the crowd—part terrified, part delighted—and felt a wave of disgust wash over her. She immediately grabbed Samael's arm and strode toward the city gates without a second glance.
Outside the city walls, Hippolyta hurried after them, intercepting the pair and demanding in a muffled voice:
"I won Atalanta, right? When will you come back to Themyscira with me?"
Atalanta's expression stiffened, about to respond, when Samael suddenly seized her shoulder and pulled her backward.
Gazing at the relentless Amazon Queen, the Ancient Serpent's smile faded. His eyes grew dark and ominous as he spoke slowly:
"Hippolyta, enough. You seem to have forgotten that I saved your life in that canyon. You offered yourself and your entire tribe to me.
You—and everything in Themyscira—belonged to me long ago…
Betting with chips that were never yours to begin with, even if you win Atalanta, the spoils won't be yours either..."
Hippolyta's expression froze, her words caught in her throat several times.
Samael grew impatient, his serpentine eyes narrowing slightly.
"What makes you think you have the capital to wager against me? To think you could restrain me with such childish tricks is nothing short of naive."
Then, the Ancient Serpent's voice lowered as he gazed down indifferently at the Amazon Queen, a head shorter than him, his tone tinged with a touch of bleak boredom.
"The joke is over. It seems I have indeed been too merciful toward you lately."
Hippolyta stiffened, her eyes stung by the towering shadow looming over her. She lowered her head involuntarily, her pearly teeth biting into her cherry lips until they drew blood. Her heart was filled with utter defeat.
So, her desperate struggle to break free from the Amazon destiny was nothing more than childish play in his eyes—never truly taken seriously.
From the moment I sealed the pact and left the valley, I lost all stake in the game.
"Right then, return to Themyscira. The unstable factor has been neutralized. Your sister... seems to be waiting for you in the woods..."
Samael glanced toward the shadowy silhouettes in the forest and waved casually. Hippolyta, pale and crestfallen, bit her lip and stepped back.
Truth be told, given our Age of Myth ties, I'd hoped we could at least stay friends. But you weren't just impatient—you crossed the line...
After watching his half-friend retreat in a daze, Samael felt his earlier interest fading. Yet when his gaze landed on the Amazon Queen's slumped shoulders, a hint of softness cracked through his hardened resolve.
"Regarding the arrangements for the Amazon's Day of Life and the handling of the infant, take this for the offering. Ask the goddess Athena. Her wisdom will give you proper guidance."
Instinctively, Hippolyta reached behind her. In her open palm lay a deep black serpent scale, leaving her momentarily stunned.
When she finally came back to her senses, she looked around to find that Samael, Atalanta, and even Heracles—who had been lurking in the shadows—had all disappeared.
Sorry... and... thank you...
Hippolyta lifted her head slightly, murmuring as a wave of emptiness swept through her.
...
Meanwhile, the three arrived before two ornate carriages carved with dense patterns of oak, laurel, and olive branches. Beside the second carriage stood familiar faces—stinky sister Caenis, the great witch Circe, and others who seemed to have been waiting for quite some time. A bright, sunny young man with a lyre sat at the driver's seat, flashing them a radiant smile.
Moments later, Asclepius—the same god who had provided the earlier VIP service—hopped down from the front carriage. He lifted the curtain, revealing a silver-haired figure inside.
"Hi~! I'm Artemis—cough, no, Diana! I'll be your companion for the next journey. Let's all get along, okay?
How'd I do, darling?"
The goddess beamed as she kneaded the brown teddy bear in her arms. The poor stuffed creature, its face twisted in existential dread as if trying to flee, only made her smile more dreamily.
The unexpected introduction made Samael freeze. He gave Atalanta—still lost and clueless—a strange look, unease tightening in his chest.
"So, this new journey means...?"
"We must reach the Kingdom of Iolcos quickly to complete a trial. This is also the oracle Lady Athena has bestowed upon you. The details can be explained on the way."
The God of Medicine gestured invitingly, her expression solemn.
The Kingdom of Iolcos? Isn't that Jason's homeland?
So next is the quest for the Golden Fleece—the Argonautic Expedition?
But if even Artemis is personally stepping onto the stage, this won't be simple at all.
Tsk. Dressing it up as VIP treatment just to dump another mess on me—Athena, you really know how to run the numbers.
Samael silently rolled his eyes at that unfilial daughter. But remembering the serpent scale in Hippolyta's hand, his mood lifted.
Staring at me all day? Must mean you've got nothing to do. Perfect—here's your homework.
Solve the Amazon's fertility crisis. Snatch Ares's beloved daughters right from under his nose and bring them under your banner. That's the assignment I'm giving you.
...
Meanwhile, in the Areopagus palace, Athena pressed Themis's queen across the chessboard, a bright smile blooming on her face.
I've given the grand reception—and the best treatment available. But the follow-up? That's your responsibility.
Anyone trying to abduct the huntress goddess from her sacred forests won't clear Artemis's conditions that easily.
And by the way, now that our plan is at its critical moment, after Areopagus has carried the weight for so many years, it's your turn to draw Olympus's attention, Father.
Almost simultaneously, thousands of miles apart, father and daughter lifted their lips in matching smiles. Each having schemed against the other, both were in excellent spirits.