Splash
"WAKE UP, DAMN IT!"
A shout and a bucket of water pulled Hermes out of his deep slumber.
The shock made him flail on that cold wooden floor. He turned, bewildered, toward the direction the shout—and the water—had come from.
He saw a group of people. Miserable, filthy, sick. Old men, women, men, and children.
They all stared at him with blank expressions. Yet the atmosphere radiated sadness and exploitation.
Hermes inhaled the heavy, damp air, which carried a fetid stench of excrement, urine, blood, and every kind of filth he could remember.
"Get up, white boy!" A rough-looking man in a leather armor growled through clenched teeth at Hermes, who was huddled against the bars at the back of that massive wooden cage.
Those people were passing through the short entrance of the cage. All were bound by a chain, from the feet and hands of one to the feet and hands of the next, and so on.
Hermes tried to make sense of the situation. He had no idea how he had ended up there. His mind was foggy, his memories scrambled and shadowy.
He looked around, recognizing the place as some sort of wooden cell.
He wasn't given much time to think. A tug at his arms and legs made him realize that he too was chained like the others.
The brute glared impatiently at the white-haired man, grinding his teeth.
Hermes looked to the side, then realized he was in a cart.
"Where am I, mortal?" the young man asked the brute with a lost look.
"Mortal?" The man felt insulted. Fury surged through him.
A mere slave, how dared he?
"This bastard!" He started entering the cage.
Hermes stared at him, confused.
The man then pulled a whip from his waist. A thin, leather whip.
Hermes didn't seem afraid. The man clenched his teeth tighter, gripping the whip's handle and raising it high.
Schlap
A lash struck Hermes straight across the face, forcing him to turn his head.
His eyes widened in shock. He brought two fingers to his cheek, finding a cut there. Soon, a burning pain began to spread.
"Pain?" His face twisted in disbelief.
How could a mere mortal cause pain to a God? Worse—injure him?
The guard didn't give him time to react and continued lashing him.
Schlap Schlap Schlap
Hermes raised his arms to shield his face.
It was useless.
His mouth twisted in pain. His eyes squeezed shut.
He clenched his fist and tensed every muscle in his body, forcing them, as though trying to do something. Nothing happened.
His eyes opened wider, even more shocked than before.
"Bu-but what happened to my—" The man didn't give him time to think.
The lashes continued.
Hermes gritted his teeth, curling on the floor. Helpless.
The water thrown at him earlier made the stinging worse, running through every cut the whip had opened.
"Hump- Hak!" The soldier roared, striking harder and harder.
"Ghahah- Gah- Argh-" Hermes groaned in pain, writhing on the soaked wooden floor.
His back arched in anguish.
The boy's blood splattered inside the cage, cast both by the impacts and the whip's soaked swing.
Hermes was stunned. His mind and body in chaos.
From clenching his teeth so hard, his mouth too began to bleed.
He looked defenseless, submitting to the pain—and this seemed to satisfy the man. He smiled sickly, swinging the whip rhythmically, as though enjoying music in the sound of it striking the poor boy's back.
The people outside spoke in desperation, some shouting, begging for the young man being beaten mercilessly.
Hermes couldn't hear them.
Someone rushed into the cart.
"HUMP!"
Pump
The whip stopped suddenly.
The soldier lay on the ground, a fist mark glowing red on his face.
"Do you want to die?" A tall, intimidating man in black armor asked angrily.
"B-but Captain Ixion, he—" The man on the ground tried to protest, pointing at Hermes writhing in pain.
"SO YOU WANT TO DIE!?" Ixion barked even more aggressively. "DO YOU WANT TO KILL THE LORD'S MERCHANDISE!?" He spat rudely into his subordinate's face.
"N-no, sir, I just—" The terrified man shrank into a corner of the cell, just as Hermes had earlier.
Ixion didn't give him a chance.
PUMP Creck
A punch smashed into the guard's nose, the sound echoing through the nearly empty cart.
The captain grabbed his subordinate by the collar, dragged him to the entrance, and hurled him outside.
Turning, he found Hermes trembling on the floor, his back burning.
"Hmph. Still alive," he muttered aloud, his rigid face slightly relaxed.
Approaching, he crouched beside the boy. Grabbing Hermes by the armpit, he tried to lift him. Hermes resisted.
"Get up, or I'll finish the job myself," Ixion threatened.
Hermes had no choice.
Through the pain in his back and weakness in his legs, he forced himself up. His legs buckled, and Ixion grabbed him by the neck.
Ixion dragged him the same way he had the soldier, then tossed him outside as well.
The boy landed face-first in muddy ground, covering his forehead. His face, half buried in mud, forced itself up.
And finally, with the help of the one who had put him there, he managed to stand.
His eyes took in the scene before him.
Countless people, even more wretched than those before, all lined up in rows.
The place was a grassy hill, a muddy road running up its center. The sun barely shone—likely close to setting.
Hermes looked around, still trembling, and confirmed what he already knew. He had no idea what was happening.
"Go, get in line." Ixion ordered, shoving him harshly in the back.
The pain from the rough touch made Hermes not even resist. He walked to the front of one of the rows. Ixion stayed behind, speaking with other armored men.
Hermes kept glancing around, his body hunched, his back burning with open wounds.
He was surprised and confused. There were so many chained people. Suddenly, his mind clicked.
"This is a slave caravan!?" he asked, eyes wide.
"But how did I end up here?" His confused mind searched for answers that likely wouldn't help. "I was in Olympus and then—"
Trying to push through the fog in his mind was a mistake. No memory came, but fragments assaulted him. A flash of wide yellow eyes, shocked and betrayed. The sharp, discordant sound of a lyre string snapping. The sick, soft sensation of his Caduceus piercing something it should not have.
"Garghh!"
He clutched his head, an excruciating pain stabbing his skull like an icy blade. An agony not from wounds but from his very soul, a violent barrier rising to stop him from facing the truth. Gasping, he felt the pain slowly recede, dragging away the memory fragments.
He couldn't remember what had happened, but the echo of tragedy, the stain of an unforgivable sin, lingered cold and heavy in his chest.
At the top of the hill stood circular wooden walls enclosing the area.
Before long, a group descended from there, approaching the soldiers. All wore cloth garments, with a sword on one side of the waist and a whip on the other, strapped by a sash.
One of them, plump and larger than the rest, approached Ixion with a filthy smile. Hair only at the sides of his head, a bald crown, a thick beard, and a scar crossing his face from forehead to cheek, leaving one eye blind.
They walked slowly along the rows of "merchandise," conversing calmly.
Once close enough, Hermes overheard them.
"This time I'm in charge of sales. And that means the profits too," Ixion declared smugly, grinning.
"Don't think you'll fool me, idiot!" the other man replied with disdain. "Your boss tried and failed."
"Fool you, Geryon?" Ixion raised an eyebrow. "I'd never try such a thing." He finished with a sly smile.
Geryon sniffed, not noticing.
Ixion stopped at the first row. Geryon walked along it, examining each person.
All kept their eyes down, afraid to look at the ogre before them.
His men followed at a distance.
"This one," Geryon pointed at a strong-looking man with empty eyes.
His men approached, unshackling the man and leading him away. He didn't resist.
"This one." Again, he pointed at another.
He selected several until he came upon a man with a disturbed expression but strong build.
The man raised his head, face pale, eyes desperate.
"N-no! Please, not me!" he begged, clasping his hands.
Geryon's men approached, ignoring him, dragging him away. He screamed toward Ixion, calling him boss, but was ignored. Geryon walked arms crossed.
The man was beaten into submission, carried away.
Hermes watched in shock from the second row.
Soon, Geryon reached the row's end.
Hermes shivered.
"I need to get out of here!" he thought.
But seeing his condition and surroundings, he knew it would be suicide.
He clenched his teeth, tensed his body, forcing it. Nothing happened.
It felt as if his body disobeyed him.
Hermes stopped resisting.
"I… my body… I became mortal?" he wondered, unwilling to believe.
He was cornered.
"NO! MY SISTER!" A small boy ran desperately toward Geryon, who held a young girl by the arm.
The boy ran at his sister, who looked at him in fear.
"No!" she screamed, reaching out to stop him.
Schlap
A whip struck the boy's face, knocking him down.
Geryon looked down on him with disdain.
The boy, tears in his eyes, looked up, covering his wounded cheek.
The ogre grinned repulsively, showing crooked yellow teeth, one missing.
"Don't worry, little one." He squeezed the girl's arm harder, making her whimper. "We'll take very good care of your sister."
He licked his lips vilely. The girl glared at him with tearful eyes.
The boy rose again, desperate, leaping at Geryon, but his men held him back.
"NO! Don't hurt him, please!" the girl begged, rushing toward her brother.
Geryon held her, tilting her chin to force her to face him.
"If I were you, I'd worry more about me." He laughed chillingly.
The girl sobbed as she watched her brother dragged away, screaming her name—Agatha.
Soon, she too was taken.
Hermes stared at the ground, thoughtful.
His back still burned, though less than before.
"This one's all beat up!" Geryon shouted. "I want a discount."
Hermes raised his head at the shout.
Only then did he realize the words were about him.
"I don't think he can work well, boss," one of Geryon's men said casually as he unlocked Hermes's shackles. "He looks weak."
"Work?" Geryon sneered. "That hair of his got me feeling something below the belt!" He laughed loudly. "He'll have another use…" Geryon massaged himself with a disgusting look.
Hermes's eyes flared with rage.
He wouldn't tolerate such insult.
Geryon smirked at him, then gestured to continue walking.
The moment Hermes was freed, he gripped his shackles in both hands and leapt onto the ogre's back. Wrapping the chains around his neck, he pulled with all his strength.
Geryon staggered, eyes wide, grabbing at the chains.
"THAT SON OF A—KUHAAK!" Geryon croaked, struggling against the choke.
His companion froze, afraid to strike and hit his chief.
The captives looked on. Some frightened, some secretly cheering.
Ixion approached, face stern.
Geryon tried punching Hermes in the head but failed.
The boy clung tightly to his back, avoiding direct hits.
Hermes twisted the chains, crossing his arms around Geryon's neck.
Ixion arrived.
In a swift motion, he kicked Geryon's heel, toppling him backward onto Hermes. The boy's eyes rolled from the crushing weight.
The choke broke. Hermes scrambled up.
"THAT BASTARD!" Geryon roared, teeth grinding.
PUMP PUMP THUMP PUMP
All his rage poured into Hermes in punches and kicks.
The boy lay defenseless, shielding his face.
Hermes had no options.
How had a god ended up like this?
How could someone like him feel so powerless?
Ixion yanked Geryon back.
The ogre turned, furious.
"Not before you pay, friend," Ixion said seriously.
Geryon glared, breathing hard, then shoved his shoulder and turned away.
Ixion looked at Hermes on the ground, then signaled to Geryon's companion.
"Since you damaged the merchandise, you'll have to take him."
The man hesitated but didn't argue.
He struggled to lift Hermes, the boy taller than him.
Raising his face, Hermes glared at Ixion with murderous eyes, teeth clenched.
The man recoiled slightly.
He felt something in Hermes's eyes. Something threatening.
"Take that bastard away!" Ixion ordered.
The soldier carried Hermes off with difficulty.
Ixion watched them go.
The soldier shivered at Hermes's wounded back, blood dripping from every lash.
He felt as though each scar was a cell door holding a monster trying to escape.
He shook off the thought, returned to the caravan's front, and waited impatiently for Geryon to pay so they could leave.
...
Hermes lay in a filthy, stinking cell. Curled, hugging himself, covering his wounds. Even his white hair was caked with mud, blood, and sweat.
He didn't understand why all the other slaves were taken to the mine's lower levels and only he was dumped here.
The guards said nothing, only looked at him with disdain while carrying him.
Many times Hermes glared back with fury, but they only smirked and mocked him.
The cell had a small barred window in the ceiling. That was how he knew night had fallen.
His nearly naked body still burned from lashes, shivering in the night chill. His captors had given him only a torn chlamys, barely covering him.
He reflected on his situation, trying to recall how he ended up here, when footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Lifting his head, he waited.
Four guards arrived, standing before the gate. Hermes glared at them with vengeance.
They smiled.
Then, behind them, appeared the ogre.
Geryon walked in with a malicious grin.
"Were you waiting for me, little white boy?" he asked, standing before the gate with his repulsive smile.
Hermes didn't answer.
Geryon's smile faded slightly. He took the ring of keys from his waist and unlocked the cell.
He ducked to fit through the small door, towering in the tight space.
The guards followed, forming a line behind him.
Hermes struggled to stand, bracing on his knee.
"Ah, don't bother standing—" Geryon took a step forward. "You'll be on the ground all night."
The guards laughed, Geryon too.
He pulled the whip from his waist, stepping closer.
The guards just smiled.
Hermes stared up at the giant without fear.
The situation felt oddly familiar, though he didn't know why.
The ogre stank of excrement, rot, filth, and sweat.
Hermes was sure the man hadn't bathed in ages.
With a twisted grin, Geryon gripped the whip's handle.
His mouth opened, releasing yet another foul odor.
"I couldn't finish earlier. Ixion always ruins the fun," the titan said, raising the whip.
Hermes inhaled deeply, bracing himself.
"GRAH—!" Geryon roared, swinging.
Hermes shot his hand forward, catching the whip before it struck.
His hand burned. His face twisted slightly with pain. But he refused to falter.
"Y-you little shit!" Geryon screamed.
Then he kicked Hermes in the gut. Hermes couldn't dodge, too weak.
His body slammed the wall, collapsing.
"Kuhk—" Hermes coughed blood.
He tried to rise again.
In the abrupt movement, his broken rib pressed against his organs, stabbing him with agony.
He stayed on all fours, clutching his side.
Geryon grinned, enjoying his suffering.
His eyes traced Hermes's wounded back, down to his nearly bare backside, covered only by a torn chlamys and the whip marks. A bead of sweat rolled from his forehead.
He looked at Hermes's face, twisted in pain from his broken rib, and smiled demonically.
"I was even planning to use that little wench from earlier tonight…" Geryon said, stepping closer to Hermes, who still lay on the floor. "But you've earned it."
Geryon then used his whip to strangle Hermes, who panicked, bringing his hands to his neck, choking with an anguished face.
"Kuhaaak—!"
"Shackle his hands!" Geryon ordered his men, who rushed forward, nervous but obedient.
Even in his desperation, Hermes shot them a murderous glare. They didn't flinch.
They clearly feared their chief more than a mere slave.
Two of them forced Hermes's arms behind his back while the other two clamped wooden shackles on him.
"THOSE SONS OF BITCHES REALLY—" Hermes screamed inwardly, shocked.
Geryon released the whip. Hermes fell face-first on the filthy floor, unable to break his fall with bound arms.
His face pressed against something foul, the stench of the cell overwhelming him. For a moment, he felt like vomiting.
"Kukukuku—" Geryon laughed disgustingly, then sat on Hermes's legs.
The boy felt the weight and gasped.
Geryon grabbed a fistful of Hermes's hair, yanking him closer.
"You know, I like it when they submit to me," he whispered in his ear as Hermes groaned, his broken rib grinding. "But I love it when they resist!" He slammed Hermes's head against the stone floor.
Pain shot through Hermes. Something wet ran from his forehead. His vision blurred, but he stayed conscious.
Geryon smiled again, licking his lips repulsively.
Then, Geryon untied the cloth around his waist, letting his chlamys fall.