Heracles stood at his doorstep, eyeing the visitors. His muscular frame, chiseled like a modern sculpture, exuded raw power, each muscle a work of art.
Though news of Heracles's exploits had reached Morpheus only a month ago, the limitations of human technology and the rarity of magic meant those tales were already half a year old.
In other words, it had been over six months since Heracles's marriage.
His wife, Megara, a strikingly beautiful woman, stood beside him, her belly slightly swollen with pregnancy, her eyes filled with curiosity about the three unexpected guests. She observed them gracefully from the side.
Morpheus gazed at Heracles's mountain-shaking physique, awestruck. This isn't a man... it's a stone giant come to life!
Seeing him in person was far more visceral than any depiction in media.
I believe it now. Heracles really could bed forty-nine women in one night, get them all pregnant, and not feel a hint of fatigue. Truly Zeus's son.
Morpheus kept these thoughts to himself, offering a polite smile. "First time meeting you, Heracles. Your appearance matches the legendary tales of your valor. Truly impressive."
Heracles was no brute. On the contrary, his demeanor was refined. Were it not for his Herculean build, one might mistake him for a gentle scholar.
Morpheus knew well that many of Heracles's violent acts stemmed from uncontrolled emotions... like when, as a child, he accidentally killed his teacher in a fit of rage, provoked by relentless humiliation and abuse. Throwing a lyre in retaliation wasn't exactly vicious.
If Heracles had any fault, it was simply that his strength was too great, leading to the old man's death.
Morpheus recalled that the precedent of acquitting someone for killing in self-defense began with that very incident.
Heracles studied the three visitors, a flicker of doubt in his mind.
Especially the woman with the bow. He remembered her at his wedding, offering heartfelt blessings.
She was his sister, Artemis, the moon goddess, now posing as "Diana" To conceal her divine identity in the mortal world.
Why is she hiding her identity and traveling with these two? Are they intriguing to her? Or is it one of them specifically? Curious indeed.
Though questions swirled in Heracles's mind, he wouldn't expose his sister's disguise, respecting her choice to remain incognito.
"Welcome, travelers from afar," Heracles said with gentlemanly charm, gesturing them inside. "Come, rest. I'll prepare food and wine."
"Thank you!" Morpheus accepted gratefully, and the trio stepped into the courtyard.
The house, though not lavish, was spacious and bright, accommodating Heracles's massive frame with ease.
They settled in, and Heracles soon brought out a feast: fresh flatbreads, vibrant fruits and vegetables, fragrant roasted meat, and rich wine.
"What brings you here?" Heracles asked while eating, suspecting they sought his aid. As a renowned hero, such requests were common.
As a man pursuing a path of virtue, he was always ready to lend a hand.
These two likely had a similar purpose, and his sister Artemis was probably just tagging along for amusement.
But Morpheus replied with almost earnest politeness, "Heracles, we didn't come seeking your help. We were passing through, drawn by your legend, and simply had to meet the famous hero in person."
Artemis, listening to Morpheus's words, stifled a laugh. They deliberately came to Thebes for Heracles, and now he calls it passing through? Her face betrayed nothing.
"Just passing through?" Heracles's tone held a hint of skepticism, but his warm, friendly gaze soon returned. He shook his head, dismissing the detail.
Morpheus sensed the doubt and added, "Truly, just passing through. But if I must name something we need from the great Heracles, how about this meal? We were starving, and this food is a lifesaver!"
Heracles paused, then burst into hearty laughter. He clapped Morpheus's shoulder gently, careful not to use too much force.
In a calm state, Heracles was meticulous about controlling his strength.
"This meal's no help at all! Guests deserve good food and wine... it's only natural hospitality!" he said.
Medea's eyes sparkled, noting Heracles's shift in demeanor. Any initial suspicion had melted away, replaced by a relaxed, approachable air.
Morpheus played that well, using the meal to disarm his doubts, she thought.
"Since you put it that way, I'll admit we don't need anything else," Morpheus said, nodding firmly to reinforce that they were just here to see him.
His true goal was indeed to meet Heracles, tag along for the Gigantomachy, test his magic, and bask in the event's significance... no help required.
After the meal, Heracles suggested hunting to enrich the evening's menu. Morpheus had no objections. Eating game hunted by the great hero Heracles? That'd be a story to make Illya jealous.
Morpheus smirked inwardly, watching Heracles grab his quiver and bow and stride out of the house.
But as Heracles neared the edge of sight, Morpheus caught a fleeting glint in his eyes... a mix of ferocity and madness. It vanished quickly, and Heracles resumed his normal demeanor.
Watching him head toward the forest, Morpheus's gut tightened. Something was off. "I'm coming too!" he called out.
"I... " Medea began, but Morpheus shook his head. "You two stay here. With Heracles and me, hunting will be quick."
Without waiting for her protest, he hurried after Heracles.
"Hm, looks like he noticed something. Heracles's state is a bit strange," Artemis said to Medea.
Medea frowned, confused. "Noticed what? What's strange about Heracles?"
Artemis didn't answer her directly, instead turning to the lady of the house. "Megara, does Heracles ever show anything unusual?"
Megara looked at Artemis, puzzled, then thought for a moment. "Lady Diana, my husband is usually wonderful... caring and loving. If there's anything odd, it's that sometimes he seems lost in strange dreams."
"Dreams?" Artemis asked, her brow furrowing.
"Yes, dreams. Even in broad daylight, without sleeping, he acts like he's dreaming. He says odd things, does strange things... like swinging his weapon in the courtyard, shouting about killing monsters…"
Megara's face clouded with worry. "It scares me, but I don't know how to bring it up with him."
Artemis pondered. "A curse?"
But who would curse Heracles now? Hera? Perhaps in the future, but not yet. So what was this?
Then another possibility struck her. "Could it be a mental affliction?"
"It sounds like madness," Medea interjected. "I've heard of it from my teacher. Those afflicted think they're in a past moment, interacting with things from that scene. If it's a pleasant scene, like a feast, they might seem to revel in it."
Her expression grew concerned. "But if it's a battle, they act as if fighting. Since the scene differs from reality, it can be very dangerous…"
"What do we do?!" Megara collapsed to the ground, clutching her belly in fear. "My child… our child is in danger!"
"Don't be afraid. This can be cured. I can prepare a potion, and once Heracles drinks it, he'll be fine," Medea said with a reassuring smile. "Trust me. I swear by my teacher's name, I'll heal him!"
Megara looked at Medea, unsure of her teacher's identity or the weight of her oath.
Seeing her hesitation, Medea added, "My teacher is the goddess Hecate. I'm her priestess."
With that, Megara's fears eased. She stared at the petite girl, astonished that she was a priestess of a true goddess... and Hecate's student, no less!
Hecate, a goddess skilled in both magic and potions, surely meant Heracles's madness could be cured.
Watching Medea reveal her identity, Artemis shook her head but felt a quiet pride.
Such a kind girl. Proud and a bit fiery, but her compassion shines through. If she holds onto that kindness, her future will surely be bright.
Meanwhile…
"Why'd you follow?" Heracles asked Morpheus, who'd caught up. "You could've waited at the house. I know this area well... hunting's quick."
"I wanted to hunt with you, see your combat style up close. I think it'll help my training," Morpheus replied.
Heracles raised an eyebrow. "Training? Aren't you a magus? Learning melee too?"
"Of course. Some Magus study close combat, don't they?"
"True, but specializing in one path often leads to greater mastery. Whether melee or magic, it's all about manipulating magical energy. If you're worried about control, focusing on magic alone is fine."
He paused, then added, "Your little companion's a pure magus, right? I can sense her power... mixed with divinity. She's a priestess of some god, isn't she?"
"She's Hecate's priestess. For now, she's like my sister," Morpheus said with a smile.
Heracles shook his head. "She doesn't see you as a brother. She's clearly smitten. Don't break her heart lightly."
He clapped Morpheus's back, laughing. "Even if marriage isn't an option for some reason, taking her as a lover's no issue!"
The openness of Greek culture regarding relationships struck Morpheus again. Even Heracles was unabashedly liberal... his lovers weren't just the forty-nine women but included several men too.
But that wasn't why Morpheus had followed. As Heracles felled a boar and hoisted it onto his back, Morpheus asked, "Heracles, do you ever experience strange mental states?"
"Mental states?"
Drawing on his knowledge of Greek mythology, Morpheus pressed, "Like suddenly feeling you're back in a past battle, fighting a monster, only to snap back to reality moments later."
Heracles went quiet, standing still for a long moment before asking in a low voice, "How did you know?"
"I noticed something off when I followed you. I suspected it might be madness, and it seems I was right," Morpheus said with a sigh. In Greek myths, Heracles's madness was attributed to Hera's curse.
But historical accounts noted he suffered from it even before Hera's interference, though it was later cured by Medea.
Now, with Morpheus's involvement, it seemed the cure would come early.
As for altering history?
Morpheus's lips curled into a smirk.
Who cares about changing history? Why overthink it?
He looked at Heracles. "Let's try treating it when we get back. If you're uneasy, we can have a god witness."
Heracles didn't answer directly, instead asking, "Why help me?"
Morpheus, struggling to reach his shoulder, jumped to pat it, looking comical. "Because you're a good guy. I don't want tragedies to unfold later."
Perhaps sensing his sincerity, Heracles smiled. "Alright. I trust you."
***
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