《Hercules: Zeus's Cursed Cahmpion》


 Echoes of Blood

    The stench of iron was suffocating. Blood¡ªthick, dark, and sticky¡ªcoated his hands. A steady drip echoed against the stone floor. Red. Everything was red.


    Alcides blinked. The scene did not change.


    His bare feet were submerged in something warm. Torn bodies lay before him. His hands trembled. What had happened?


    A strangled cry shattered the silence in his mind.


    Alcides collapsed to his knees, his hands clawing into what remained of his children.


    "NO!"


    His breath came in ragged gasps. Again and again, he screamed their names, his voice raw, desperate, pleading for an answer.


    Only silence answered. A silence worse than any torment.


    Megara.


    He crawled toward her. Her chest still rose and fell, shallow and weak.


    "M-Megara..."


    Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. The light in her eyes was fading.


    Alcides reached for her, but his hands¡ªstained with the blood of his wife and children¡ªfroze midair.


    He could not touch her.


    His breath quickened, veins bulging against his skin. Then, with a scream of pure agony, he slammed his forehead against the stone floor.


    Once.


    "AAAAARGH!"


    Twice.


    Blood spilled from his brow, dripping down his face.


    Three times.


    "GIVE THEM BACK!"


    Four.


    "KILL ME INSTEAD!"


    Five.


    The ground was painted crimson.


    He trembled, his strength failing, and collapsed onto his side, panting like a wounded animal. His tear-filled eyes scanned the ruins of his home. His children¡ªtorn apart. His life¡ªshattered.


    A broken, hollow laugh escaped his throat.


    The fire in the hearth flickered weakly, casting a dim glow over the carnage.


    Why was he still alive?


    Something inside him shattered.


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    He reached for his sword. The blade was still warm, still slick with fresh blood.


    Slowly, he stood. His steps were heavy. His breath, shallow. His shadow stretched behind him, distorted like a specter.


    Without looking back, he stepped through the broken doorway and into the night.


    The abyss awaited him.


    Ificles awoke with a start.


    The scream had shaken him like a thunderclap. A raw, inhuman roar¡ªa sound of rage and despair so deep it sent ice through his veins. His heart pounded in his chest.


    His wife stirred beside him.


    "What was that...?"


    Ificles didn''t answer. He had a feeling he already knew.


    He dressed hastily and rushed outside, his bare feet slapping against the cold stone. His brother''s house was not far.


    The scent hit him first.


    Iron. Death.


    His pace slowed as he reached the doorway. Something inside him begged him to turn back. But he did not.


    And then his stomach lurched into a sickening knot.


    Blood covered everything. Flesh torn apart. Viscous footprints smeared in chaotic trails. His nephews'' bodies¡ªor what remained of them.


    Ificles fell to his knees and vomited. His throat burned, but his mind barely registered it. His eyes were locked onto the horror before him.


    Then, he saw her.


    Megara.


    Her dress was tattered, a dark pool spreading beneath her. Her chest rose and fell¡ªbarely, faintly.


    Ificles crawled toward her, shaking his head in denial. No. This wasn''t happening.


    "Megara... hold on, please..."


    He tore the fabric of her dress and pressed down on the wound with both hands. Warm blood seeped between his fingers.


    "Don''t do this... Damn it, just breathe!"


    Megara''s eyes fluttered open for a moment. Her lips trembled.


    Then¡ªnothing.


    Ificles felt his body go weak. Megara¡¯s face was frozen in an expression of pain.


    A strangled gasp came from behind him.


    "Gods..."


    He turned his head. His wife stood at the entrance, hands covering her mouth, trembling.


    Ificles wanted to say something. But what could he possibly say?


    The wind howled, breaking the silence.


    Ificles looked up.


    Alcides stood at the edge of the cliff. Sword in hand. Staring into the void.


    Ificles'' heart seized.


    He sprang to his feet and ran.


    "ALCIDES!"


    He ran with everything he had. The wind lashed against his face, loose rocks slipping beneath his feet, but he did not stop. He could not stop.


    When he reached the cliff¡¯s edge, his stomach churned. Alcides stood there, motionless, eyes locked on the abyss below.


    Ificles followed his gaze and felt his insides twist. Below, jagged rocks waited like open jaws.


    "What the hell are you doing?" he gasped, his voice raw.


    Alcides finally looked at him. There was no rage. No grief. Just emptiness.


    "I heard screams," Ificles continued, his voice unsteady. "I came into your house and¡­" He swallowed. "What happened? Were we attacked?"


    Alcides blinked slowly. Then, in a whisper, he answered.


    "I happened."


    A chill ran through Ificles. He took a step back without realizing it.


    "No..." He shook his head. "No, that doesn''t make sense."


    Alcides tilted his head slightly, as if watching a child struggle with a simple truth.


    "I was always this, Ificles. A time bomb."


    Ificles gritted his teeth, fighting the vertigo creeping up his spine.


    "That''s not true! You''re not a monster!"


    Alcides smiled. Hollow. Empty.


    "Say that again." He raised his blood-soaked hands. "Say it while you look at these. Say it when you know this isn''t the first time."


    Ificles felt his throat tighten. He couldn''t argue. The massacre spoke for itself.


    His brother wasn¡¯t lying.


    "Alcides, please. Don''t do this."


    The demigod did not answer. His gaze returned to the abyss.


    Ificles edged closer.


    "You''re a demigod. You might survive the fall... it''ll only hurt more."


    Alcides exhaled a small, bitter chuckle.


    "I¡¯m counting on it."


    Then, a laugh echoed in the air.


    Soft. Mocking. Condescending.


    "Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re giving up already."


    Alcides stiffened. Ificles looked around, confused.


    Alcides recognized it instantly.


    The laugh slithered into his memories.


    Serpents in his crib.


    Apollo¡¯s voice, cold and distant: "The queen wants you dead."


    Alcides clenched his eyes shut. It had been her all along.


    The laughter faded like smoke.


    From Olympus, Zeus watched in silence, seated upon his throne of clouds and lightning. His expression darkened.


    Beside him, his wife smiled, sipping from a cup of wine.


    "What¡¯s wrong, husband?" Hera murmured, amusement lacing her voice. "Worried about your little bastard?"

 Hunter or Prey?

    The road stretched endlessly beneath the scorching summer sun, cracked and lifeless. Once-green hills lay barren, reduced to dry earth. Twisted trees cast thin, skeletal shadows, as if afraid of what lurked ahead.


    Hoofbeats shattered the silence.


    "Uncle¡­" Iolaus'' voice was cautious.


    The man beside him gave no answer.


    Hercules kept his gaze locked on the horizon, his knuckles white from gripping the reins. His jaw was clenched. His face¡ªshadowed by an unkempt beard¡ªlooked as if it had been carved from stone.


    "Alcides¡­" Iolaus tried again.


    Hercules'' horse came to an abrupt stop, nearly making the young man crash into him.


    "Don''t call me that."


    His voice was low but sharp. Like iron worn by war.


    Iolaus swallowed hard.


    "But that''s your name¡­"


    "That man died with his family. Now¡­ I am only Hercules."


    He turned his head, eyes devoid of warmth or anger. Only exhaustion remained.


    Iolaus hesitated. He wanted to tell him there were still reasons to keep going, that this wasn''t just his burden to bear. But looking at him, he knew now wasn''t the time. He lowered his gaze.


    "I''m sorry¡­"


    Hercules spurred his horse forward.


    The sound of hooves faded as they entered the village.


    It was small¡ªjust a handful of mud and wood houses clustered around a narrow path. In the center stood a weathered stone fountain, cracked by time. The water barely trickled.


    And the village¡­ was silent.


    Too silent.


    "Something''s wrong¡­" Iolaus muttered.


    Hercules didn''t reply. He felt the hidden eyes watching them through curtains and cracks in doors. The tension in the air was thick, like the moment before a storm.


    A door creaked.


    A woman peeked out, fingers trembling against the wooden frame. Her gaze moved from Iolaus to Hercules.


    Her face paled.


    "It''s him¡­"


    "The murderer."


    "The son of Zeus."


    "The one who killed his own family."


    The words were needles against his skin, but Hercules remained still.


    A child, free from the fear the adults carried, stared at him from the dusty street.


    "Is that really him?" the boy asked, wide-eyed.


    His mother scooped him up and disappeared inside.


    Then came the sound of sandals scraping against dry earth.


    An old man emerged from the house nearest the fountain. His tunic was plain, his feet bare and calloused. He walked slowly, stopping before them.


    His sunken eyes locked onto Hercules.


    The hero held his gaze.


    "You''ve come to slay the lion," the old man said.


    It wasn''t a question.


    "Yes." Hercules'' voice was rough.


    The old man sighed.


    "Then I fear you are already doomed."


    Iolaus frowned.


    "Why?"


    The old man didn''t look away from Hercules.


    "Because not even the son of a god can kill it¡­ Hercules."


    The air seemed to grow colder.


    "If it has a beating heart, it can stop beating," the hero said flatly.


    The old man shook his head.


    "Not this one. It is no ordinary lion. No mere beast. It carries the blood of Typhon and Echidna."


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    Iolaus felt his stomach turn.


    A shiver ran down Hercules'' spine.


    "Since it appeared, the gods have abandoned us," the elder continued. "We once survived on little, but now¡­ the livestock from neighboring villages has been devoured. And those who tried to hunt it¡­ left only bones."


    "The gods do not interfere in mortal affairs," Hercules replied, voice hard.


    The old man tilted his head.


    "Only when they stand to gain from it. Otherwise, they watch. Just as they did when¡­"


    He let the words hang in the air.


    Hercules'' teeth clenched.


    "You said I can''t kill it. Why?"


    The elder took a slow breath.


    "Its hide is impenetrable. Swords, spears, arrows¡­ they shatter against it. Even those blessed by the gods."


    Iolaus shifted uneasily.


    Hercules only tightened his grip on the reins.


    "All things die. Sooner or later."


    "Even the gods?"


    "Ask Cronus."


    The old man gave a tired smile.


    "Then discover the answer yourself."


    Hercules didn''t wait. He urged his horse forward, not looking back.


    The horses neighed in distress as they were tied near an ancient olive tree. Their ears flicked nervously, as if the wind whispered warnings.


    "They won''t go any further," Iolaus said, running a hand along his mount''s flank.


    "I don''t blame them," Hercules muttered.


    The path faded into a valley. The ground became softer beneath their feet. The trees swayed, their brittle leaves drifting down like dying embers.


    Hercules walked forward, his massive frame cutting through the rugged landscape of Nemea.


    He stood over two meters tall¡ªa body carved by battle and relentless training. But he was no longer the untamed warrior who had once inspired bards and soldiers alike.


    His powerful form was lined with scars, his skin hardened by war, his muscles tight with fatigue. His unkempt red hair fell over his shoulders, framing a face etched with sorrow.


    He was no longer the hero of old.


    He was a man walking beneath the weight of his own legend.


    The world grew¡­ quieter.


    No insects. No birds.


    Just the wind.


    And something else.


    A murmur.


    Not a sound, but a vibration in the bones. A primal echo, resonating in the valley''s shadows.


    Hercules stopped.


    Iolaus felt it too.


    "Do you hear that¡­ or am I imagining it?"


    Hercules didn''t answer. His eyes scanned the dark caves in the distance, black mouths gaping in the stone.


    The wind shifted.


    Iolaus swallowed.


    "Alcides¡­"


    Hercules turned, his gaze ice-cold.


    "Don''t call me that."


    Iolaus hesitated.


    "It''s still your name."


    "Not anymore."


    There was no anger in his voice. Only certainty.


    The younger man sighed.


    "Since we left Mycenae, you barely speak. You don''t sleep. You hardly eat."


    Hercules kept walking.


    "There''s nothing left to say."


    "There is." Iolaus caught up with him. "I''m not a child. I know what happened in Thebes."


    Hercules stopped.


    "And what do you think?"


    Iolaus hesitated.


    "I don''t know."


    Hercules exhaled.


    "Neither do I."


    Iolaus frowned.


    "But you keep moving forward. How?"


    Hercules tilted his head.


    "I don''t."


    The younger man''s face tightened.


    "Then¡­ why are you here?"


    Before Hercules could answer, the murmur in the air thickened into something tangible.


    The wind died.


    And then¡ª the roar.


    A thunderclap, trapped between the mountains, ripping through the silence.


    From the shadows, the beast emerged.


    First, its eyes¡ªburning yellow, like molten gold, alive with unnatural fire. Then, its shape¡ªmassive, towering, something that did not belong in the world of mere mortals.


    This was no ordinary animal.


    This was the Nemean Lion.


    Its mane was thick and dark, like gold scorched into ash. But its skin... its skin gleamed beneath the sunlight, shining like metal forged by the gods. Its claws, sharp as daggers. And when it opened its maw, its fangs glistened¡ªwhite, flawless, like the marble of sacred temples.


    Iolaus took a step back."By Zeus¡­"


    Hercules clenched his jaw."Stay out of this."


    His voice was steel¡ªunyielding. Iolaus wanted to argue, but the sharpness in his uncle''s tone left no room for discussion.


    The lion growled, and the stench of rotting flesh spilled from its fangs.


    Hercules reached for his bow. Drew an arrow.


    The lion was done waiting.


    It charged, an avalanche of muscle and fury.


    Hercules rolled aside just as a massive paw slashed through the air where he had stood a second before. The creature landed with a heavy thud¡ªbut rose instantly, moving with unnatural fluidity.


    The demigod knelt and loosed his arrow.


    The shot flew straight¡ªaimed between the beast''s glowing eyes.


    A metallic clang rang through the valley.


    The arrow deflected. Sparks burst at the impact.


    Hercules frowned and fired again.


    Another shot. Another useless impact.


    The lion turned its head slowly. The fallen arrow lay harmlessly at its feet.


    A deep, guttural growl rumbled in its throat.


    "This¡­ this isn''t possible," Iolaus whispered.


    Hercules gritted his teeth and slung his bow back in place.


    The old man had been right.


    The lion lunged again.


    This time, Hercules did not move.


    He waited.


    As the beast struck, the demigod swung his fist, aiming straight for its skull.


    The impact thundered through the valley.


    The lion''s body was hurled backward, tumbling across the dry earth.


    Slowly, it rose.


    For a brief moment, its glowing eyes locked onto Hercules¡ªnot with rage, but something else.Calculation.


    Hercules'' breath was heavy, his knuckles still clenched.


    What had just happened?


    No time to think.


    The lion charged low.


    Claws found flesh.


    Pain tore through his bicep¡ªhot blood spilling down his arm. His body slammed into the ground with force enough to shatter stone.


    He pushed himself up immediately, ignoring the sting.


    The lion watched him, its tail flicking in slow, deliberate movements. Measuring its prey.


    Then, with a final, echoing roar¡ªit turned and ran.


    "You won''t escape!" Hercules growled, taking off after it.


    His breath was ragged, his footfalls pounding against the dry earth.


    The lion moved with impossible speed, gliding between the rocks like a shadow given form.


    But Hercules would not let it escape.


    Behind him, Iolaus struggled to keep up, leaping over roots, dodging uneven ground."Uncle, wait!"


    Hercules ignored him.


    His focus was locked on the beast.


    His lungs burned. His heart thundered¡ªbeating with something he had not felt in months.


    The lion roared and veered toward a hill, leaping effortlessly over a jagged ridge.


    Hercules cursed and pushed harder.


    His muscles screamed as he climbed.


    And when he reached the top¡ªhe saw it.


    The entrance to a cave.


    Dark. Silent. Waiting.


    The lion stood at the threshold and turned.


    Its golden eyes gleamed with something more than animal instinct.


    Challenge.


    Hercules halted, chest rising and falling, and then¡ªhe smiled.


    Accepting.


    Iolaus staggered up beside him, gasping for breath."Is¡­ is that its den?"


    Hercules didn''t look away."Yes."


    The lion let out a low growl and vanished into the black.


    Hercules stepped forward.


    "Uncle, wait!"


    Iolaus grabbed his arm, fingers trembling.


    "Stay here, Iolaus. This is my fight."


    The boy swallowed hard, then let go.


    Without another word, Hercules drew his sword.


    The blade caught the light of the setting sun, still stained with the remnants of his last battle.


    And then¡ªwithout hesitation¡ªhe stepped into the cave.


    Darkness swallowed him whole.


    And the lion''s roar welcomed him.

 The Nemean Lion

    The roar crashed through the cave like thunder rising from the bowels of the earth. A deep, primal vibration slithered along the stone walls and sank into Hercules'' bones, calling to him. It wasn''t a warning. It was a challenge. A call to death.


    Hercules stepped forward without hesitation. The darkness did not unnerve him, nor did the thick air, heavy with the stench of rotting flesh and dried blood. He had seen horror up close¡ªfelt it in his own hands when the life of his family slipped away before him. He did not fear death, but he wasn''t seeking it. Not yet. Not until his debt was paid.


    His footsteps echoed against the damp stone as he pressed deeper into the monster''s lair. He ran his hand along the rough cavern wall, feeling the cold seeping into his skin, the moisture clinging to him. How many warriors had come before him, thinking themselves brave, only to be reduced to forgotten bones?


    Another growl, closer this time.


    Hercules clenched his fists. His mind raced through every possible way to kill the beast. Could he strangle it? Snap its neck with a single strike? Drive his sword into its chest and pierce its heart? It didn''t matter. The strength in his body was a divine gift, a legacy of Zeus himself. No creature could match him. None.


    He exhaled slowly and moved forward.


    The lion was waiting.


    The stench was unbearable.


    Hercules stepped into the heart of the cave¡ªa vast, uneven chamber lined with jagged rocks. The floor was littered with bones, some still wrapped in strips of decayed flesh. Skulls of men and beasts were stacked in the corners like trophies.


    A beam of sunlight filtered through a gaping hole in the ceiling, casting light upon the grotesque display. Three tunnels opened in different directions, snaking into the shadows.


    And from the shadows, the beast struck.


    The roar was an explosion that tore through the air. A golden blur shot forward, a mass of muscle and fury, moving with monstrous speed.


    The impact hit him from behind.


    A brutal, crushing force¡ªlike being struck by a catapult stone. Hercules was sent flying, crashing to his knees amid shattered bones. A burning pain flared across his back. He reached for his side and found blood.


    "Alright, you bastard¡­" he growled, rising to his feet. "Let''s begin."


    He turned, sword in hand, and swung a powerful strike at the lion''s head.


    Steel met flesh¡ª


    But instead of cutting through, sparks exploded in the dark.


    The impact felt like striking a wall of bronze.


    "¡­Shit."


    No time to think.


    The lion lunged again, claws slicing through the air. It was fast¡ªtoo fast. Hercules barely ducked in time, feeling the rush of wind as death passed inches from his skull.


    Then he heard it.


    A sound that chilled his blood.


    When the beast''s claw struck the cave wall, the solid rock didn''t resist. It crumbled like wet clay, breaking apart in a cloud of dust and shattered stone. A massive gouge was left in its wake.


    Hercules swallowed hard.


    For the first time, he considered what would happen if he took a direct hit.


    "Damn it!" he cursed, swinging his sword harder.


    The lion lunged again, and this time, though Hercules barely dodged, the beast''s claw raked across his chest. Searing pain tore through his skin as blood trickled down his torso.


    It had been a long time since anything had wounded him like this.


    But he wasn''t backing down.


    With a roar of fury, he charged.


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    Hercules tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. He took a deep breath and put everything into a single strike. The blade came down in a powerful arc, aimed at the lion''s skull¡ªa blow strong enough to shake the cave itself.


    Metal met the beast''s flesh once more. The impact echoed like a hammer against an anvil.


    But it wasn''t the lion that broke.


    A sharp, splintering sound filled the chamber.


    Hercules'' eyes widened as his sword shattered in his hands. The blade was reduced to fragments, falling uselessly to the floor.


    For a brief moment, he stood still.


    "¡­What?"


    Then¡ªhe saw it. A small detail, almost imperceptible.


    The lion''s snarl had changed.


    Not in rage¡ªbut in pain.


    Its skin remained unscathed, yet for the first time¡­ it had reacted.


    There was no time to think.


    With a deafening roar, the lion lunged at its prey. Hercules barely managed to lift his arm in defense as the beast''s claws raked across his forearm, sending him crashing against a jagged rock. The impact cracked the stone beneath him.


    The monster gave him no respite. It pounced again, fangs ready to tear into flesh. Hercules spat blood and, without hesitation, discarded the shattered remains of his sword.


    "Alright, you bastard," he growled, cracking his knuckles. "We''ll do this my way."


    The lion circled him, golden eyes gleaming with primal hunger. It struck, but Hercules dodged at the last moment and delivered a devastating blow to its ribs, seizing the beast in a crushing grip. With a roar of his own, he lifted the lion off the ground and slammed it against the cave wall with such force that chunks of rock rained from above.


    The beast let out a choked snarl, but with unnatural agility, it twisted midair and kicked Hercules away, sending him tumbling across the stone floor.


    The demigod barely had time to recover before the lion was upon him again, a blur of golden muscle and fury. At the last possible second, Hercules planted his feet and threw a vicious uppercut with all his strength.


    The impact was like thunder.


    A sharp crack echoed through the cavern.


    A fang flew through the air.


    The lion roared¡ªnot with rage, but with pain. Blood dripped from its maw for the first time.


    Hercules wiped the blood from his own mouth and grinned. "Even divine creatures can bleed¡­"


    But his victory was short-lived.


    The lion lunged again, its massive jaws clamping down on his forearm.


    Agony exploded through him as the beast''s fangs sank deep into his flesh. Hercules gritted his teeth, refusing to scream. He couldn''t afford to show weakness. Not now.


    He struck back, fists hammering against the lion''s side. Each punch sent a jolt of pain through his hands, as if he were striking solid bronze. But he didn''t stop. With a furious roar, he rained down blow after blow, the echoes of his strikes reverberating through the cave.


    At last, the beast released him with a pained snarl.


    Hercules staggered back, blood dripping from his arm onto the stone floor. Across from him, the lion panted heavily, golden eyes locked onto his. Both were wounded. Neither would surrender.


    If its hide was truly invulnerable, then he needed a different strategy.


    Exhaling sharply, he muttered to himself, "Fine. Let''s get creative."


    He charged, throwing a feinting punch. As expected, the lion dodged and lunged for his arm¡ªjust as it had before.


    A feral grin spread across Hercules'' face.


    "Still just an animal, after all."


    As the beast''s jaws snapped shut, he twisted his arm, seizing its powerful maw with both hands. He ignored the searing pain of its teeth pressing against his skin and began pulling, straining to pry the monster''s jaws open.


    Every muscle in his body tightened. Veins bulged. He dug his feet into the ground, forcing the lion back with sheer brute strength.


    The beast thrashed, claws slashing wildly, trying to tear into his legs. But Hercules shifted, weaving just out of reach.


    The lion snarled, its teeth gleaming under the dim cave light. Its body trembled against his grip. But even with all his might, he couldn''t break its skull¡ªthe indestructible hide protected even that.


    For the first time, doubt flickered in his mind.


    "You''ve got to be¡ª"


    His back slammed into cold stone. He had unknowingly been forced against the cavern wall. The lion knew it too. Seizing the moment, it raked its claws across his side, cutting deep. Hercules let out a guttural grunt of pain.


    Then, using his own body as leverage, the beast kicked off the wall and sprang backward, putting distance between them.


    A dull thud echoed as Hercules dropped to one knee, his hand pressed against the fresh wound on his side. His breaths came ragged, his body screaming in protest.


    When he looked up, he saw it.


    The lion''s eyes gleamed with satisfaction.


    The gaze of a predator moments away from devouring its prey.


    His vision blurred. His muscles refused to move. Warm blood trickled down his skin. He braced himself against the cavern wall, for the first time in years, feeling the weight of defeat.


    Then, a voice shattered the silence.


    "HERCULES!"


    A desperate, trembling cry echoed through the cave.


    His eyes snapped wide open.


    No.


    He couldn''t die here. He couldn''t let his nephew walk into the jaws of death.


    The lion''s ears perked at the sound. It turned, golden eyes narrowing. It crouched low, preparing to leap.


    "You won''t," Hercules growled.


    The beast launched itself forward¡ª


    But Hercules grabbed its tail.


    With a defiant roar, he ripped the lion off the ground and spun, using the monster''s own momentum against it. Every fiber of his godlike strength surged through his body as he heaved the beast overhead¡ª


    And slammed it into a pile of jagged stones.


    The impact was catastrophic. The cave trembled as shards of rock exploded in all directions. The lion tumbled into the rubble, momentarily stunned.


    Hercules didn''t wait to see if it would rise again.


    A shocked Iolaus barely had time to react before his uncle grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the cave.


    They stumbled into the cold night air, gasping. Hercules swayed, but he didn''t fall.


    He turned to look at the dark maw of the cave.


    The lion didn''t follow.


    Even so¡­


    This battle was far from over.


    His fists clenched, his rage burning hotter than his wounds.


    He had fled. He had escaped.


    And never in his life had Hercules felt such fury.

 The Birth of Hercules

    The crackling fire shattered the silence of the night. The wind rustled the treetops, casting restless shadows across the earth. In the heart of the clearing, a makeshift bonfire bathed two weary travelers in flickering light.


    Hercules leaned against the trunk of a tree, his massive frame covered in cuts and bruises. Blood still trickled from his wounds, staining his tattered exomis. The garment, designed for freedom of movement, had been shredded along one side where the lion''s claws had torn through it. His single leather shoulder guard¡ªonce a warrior''s badge of resilience¡ªnow hung uselessly, a mere remnant of the brutal battle he had endured. His bracers were scuffed, his sandals coated in soot and ash from the scorched earth.


    Across the fire, Iolaus watched him with open concern.


    "You shouldn''t be so reckless," he finally said. "You could get an infection. I have linen bandages¡ª"


    Hercules didn''t look away from the flames.


    "I''ve had worse. By morning, they''ll heal."


    "That so?"


    His nephew''s tone was dry, unconvinced. Hercules turned his head with an irritated scowl.


    "Why in Hades did you interfere?"


    Iolaus hesitated before answering.


    "Because I couldn''t just stand there. I kept hearing the ground shake and blows landing from outside¡ªI had no idea what was happening."


    "I was about to win."


    Iolaus let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. He gestured toward the open wounds on his uncle''s body.


    "Right. That was obvious. You had the lion right where you wanted him."


    Hercules growled, looking away.


    "It''s not the first lion I''ve fought."


    "Oh?"


    "I killed the Lion of Cithaeron when I was younger. It was the same."


    Iolaus narrowed his eyes.


    "You really think this was the same?"


    He didn''t argue further. There was no point. His uncle saw every battle as a test of willpower, something to be crushed beneath his strength. But this time was different.


    Iolaus inhaled deeply, searching for the right words. If he wanted to help, he had to tread carefully.


    "Uncle¡ª" he started.


    "Sleep, Iolaus."


    The finality in his voice ended the conversation.


    Iolaus pressed his lips together in frustration. He glanced at the fire, then at Hercules. His uncle had already shut his eyes. His chest rose and fell with heavy, deliberate breaths¡ªbut not the breaths of someone at peace.


    Muttering a curse under his breath, Iolaus lay back against the earth and forced his eyes shut.


    Hercules, however, did not sleep.


    The firelight flickered against his closed eyelids, and his mind began to drag him into the past.


    To the Temple of Delphi. To the Pythia. To the judgment of the gods.


    The wind stirred the dust along the rocky path, clinging to the travelers'' clothes. Alcides walked with heavy steps, his shoulders slumped, his gaze hollow. Beside him, his brother Iphicles struggled to keep pace, watching him with concern.


    Before them, the Temple of Delphi rose from a fissure in the earth, built on a surface where no structure should have stood. Marble columns, perfectly aligned, upheld a ceiling of divine craftsmanship. At the entrance, a statue of Apollo gleamed as if cast from the very light of the sun. A low murmur filled the air¡ªpilgrims and kings from distant lands, all gathered in hopes of receiving the Oracle''s prophecy.


    "The priestess must have the answer," Iphicles murmured.


    Alcides did not respond. He had no words. No thoughts.


    Megara was dead. His children were dead. Their blood still stained his hands.


    The temple had yet to open its doors, but a crowd already swelled before the entrance. Nobles in flowing robes and golden diadems quarreled over who would be granted an audience first.


    No one paid Alcides any mind. Just another pilgrim, head bowed, lost in his own sins.


    But he did not stop. Ignoring the line, he walked forward.


    "Hey! Wait your turn!" A broad-shouldered man in a purple cloak stepped forward, his voice thick with authority. A minor king¡ªa Thessalian noble. He moved to block Alcides, but the moment their eyes met, his expression faltered.


    The fire in Alcides'' gaze hollowed the man from within. The color drained from his face.


    "It''s¡­ the son of Zeus. The great hero, Alcides¡­"


    Murmurs spread like wildfire. Alcides ignored them and kept walking.


    The temple guards did not attempt to stop him. They could not. The half-brother of Apollo could not be denied entry to his sacred house. But when Iphicles tried to follow, a sentinel barred his way with a spear.


    "He may enter. You may not."


    Iphicles swallowed hard, then nodded in resignation.


    Alcides did not look back.


    The temple''s interior was bathed in dim light, torches flickering against ancient stone. He moved forward without hesitation, toward the chambers of the Oracle.


    When he pushed the door open, a wave of incense met him.


    Before him, a woman emerged from a sacred bath, droplets of water trailing down her sun-kissed skin. Her long black hair clung to her back, heavy and damp.


    She gasped softly and reached for a delicate cloth, draping it across herself. Her dark eyes never left his, unreadable yet knowing.


    "If a man enters this chamber unbidden, he is usually put to death to protect the Oracle''s sanctity," she said calmly. "But somehow, I doubt that applies to you, son of Zeus."


    He said nothing.


    She sighed, wrapping herself in a flowing white toga before gesturing for him to follow.


    "Tell me¡ªwhat do you seek here?"


    For the first time in days, Alcides raised his head. And he spoke.


    "I killed my family."


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    The Oracle''s expression did not waver, but for the briefest moment, her breath caught.


    "Very well," she said. "Come with me."


    She led him into the adyton, the temple''s holiest chamber. A stone altar stood at its heart, encircled by pillars engraved with hymns to Apollo. A priest led a goat to the altar and, with a swift, practiced motion, slit its throat. Blood poured over the sacred rock as a servant doused the lifeless body in cold water.


    A heavy silence fell over the chamber.


    The Oracle watched the animal''s final moments. If the creature convulsed before death, the gods had accepted the offering.


    The goat shuddered. Its glassy eyes dimmed.


    "Apollo has granted you an audience," the Oracle whispered.


    Servants offered Alcides a cup of sacred wine and a plate of fruit. He drank without thought.


    The Oracle closed her eyes. Her body trembled, then collapsed to her knees. Her pupils dilated until her irises turned a luminous, unnatural white.


    The world around them disappeared.


    Darkness.


    Nothing but Alcides and the Oracle, suspended in the void.


    She arched as if her body was too fragile to contain the weight of divinity. A tremor passed through her lips before she spoke¡ªnot in a single voice, but in many. A chorus of past, present, and future.


    "The sun does not cleanse the shadow of those who stain their flesh with the blood of their kin. There is no redemption without burden. No rest without debt."


    Alcides did not breathe.


    "Your lineage is of kings, yet your throne is built of bones. You are no prince. No ruler. You are an executioner. Your steps echo in the path of fallen titans, and wherever you walk, the earth shall quake."


    The Oracle''s white eyes turned upward, as if gazing beyond time itself.


    "Ten are the labors. Twelve are the years of servitude you will bear upon your shoulders. To the throne that was stolen, and only when the tally is paid shall guilt dissolve like mist at dawn."


    Silence descended like a hammer.


    Alcides did not fully understand, but the weight of the prophecy settled deep within him. Ten trials. Twelve years. Servitude and¡­ Eurystheus.


    The priests of Apollo approached to decipher the message, their voices solemn.


    "To atone for your sins, Alcides, you must serve as a slave to your cousin, Eurystheus. He will dictate the trials that will cleanse your soul."


    It was his only path forward.


    He rose to his feet and turned to the Oracle.


    Still dazed, she gave him the faintest smile.


    "Now, if you''ll excuse me," she murmured, brushing a strand of damp hair from her cheek. "I must dress. I cannot receive those arrogant nobles in this state."


    Alcides inclined his head and left.


    Iphicles waited outside.


    "Well?" he asked.


    Alcides gazed at the horizon. Mycenae awaited.


    "We go to Eurystheus."


    Mycenae loomed before them, an impenetrable fortress of stone and shadows. Towering walls, crowned with battlements, cast long silhouettes over the dirt road. Alcides walked with a steady stride, though his mind was far from the city''s grandeur.


    Beside him, Iphicles kept pace, his eyes scanning their surroundings. They had barely crossed the gates when the murmurs began.


    "It''s him¡­""The monster of Thebes¡­""They say he murdered his own children with his bare hands¡­"


    The whispers slithered through the crowd like venomous serpents, low but piercing. Alcides ignored them, his gaze fixed ahead, unwavering.


    At the top of the hill, Eurystheus'' palace awaited.


    They stepped into the throne room, where the king sat with an expression of feigned warmth. He spread his arms in an exaggerated gesture.


    "My dear cousin!" he exclaimed, his tone dripping with false enthusiasm. "You''ve traveled far to see me."


    "Apparently, we have unfinished business¡­" Alcides began, but Eurystheus raised a hand, cutting him off.


    "No need to explain," the king said, a sly smile playing on his lips. "I already know everything."


    Alcides frowned.


    "How¡­?"


    A shiver ran down his spine.


    From behind the throne, stepping out of the shadows like a predator, came Hera.


    She wore a flowing Greek chiton that clung to her form, the golden filigree tracing elegant patterns along the deep neckline. Bracelets and earrings shimmered under the torchlight, and atop her head rested a delicate diadem shaped like a peacock¡ªher sacred symbol.


    She didn''t need to speak. The air itself thickened in her presence.


    Alcides felt his blood boil. His muscles tensed like a wolf preparing to strike. He stepped forward, but with a mere snap of Eurystheus'' fingers, the guards raised their spears, their tips pressing against his chest.


    "From now on, Alcides," Eurystheus declared with a smirk, "you will not take a single step without my permission. Not if you truly seek redemption."


    Hera''s smile widened, her eyes gleaming with amusement.


    "Don''t worry," she purred, her voice sweetly venomous. "I personally ensured that your wife and children had¡­ proper passage through the Underworld."


    Alcides'' stomach twisted.


    What did she mean by that?


    Had his family been cast into Tartarus?


    Rage roared inside him, a storm pounding against his ribcage, demanding release. But he couldn''t act. Not here. Not now.


    Eurystheus, savoring the tension, gave a theatrical sigh.


    "Now, let''s get to the important part. You will undergo ten trials¡ªeach more impossible than the last. Feats beyond any mortal¡­ perhaps even beyond a god."


    Hera tilted her head, feigning humility.


    "Your first trial must be worthy of my husband''s bastard," she said, her words laced with poison.


    Eurystheus nodded.


    "In the fields of Nemea, there is a beast that devours all in its path. They say its golden hide is impervious to arrows. Your task is to slay it."


    Silence hung in the air.


    Eurystheus leaned forward, his fingers intertwined, his grin widening.


    "Do you accept, cousin?"


    Alcides lifted his head. His eyes burned like embers.


    "I will."


    Eurystheus clapped his hands lightly, as if indulging a child''s game.


    "Ah, one more thing¡­"


    He leaned back into his throne, his smirk deepening.


    "Your name, Alcides, is stained with the blood of innocents¡ªyour own children. A servant of mine and the gods cannot carry such a disgraceful title."


    Alcides clenched his fists.


    "What are you saying?"


    Eurystheus relished the moment before delivering his final blow.


    "Your name will change. You are no longer worthy of being called a son of Zeus. From this day forward, you shall be known as ''Hercules.''"


    The weight of the name crashed down on him like a mountain.


    "The glory of Hera?!" He seethed, barely restraining himself. "You son of a¡ª"


    Eurystheus simply raised a hand.


    "Remember, cousin, your redemption depends on me."


    Alcides¡ªno, Hercules¡ªgritted his teeth so hard he nearly cracked them. But he turned away all the same.


    ''The glory of Hera.''


    It was an insult. A leash wrapped tightly around his neck. A reminder that the woman who had destroyed his life was now the one directing his so-called redemption.


    Hera smiled. Her figure dissolved into golden light, her laughter lingering in the air like a curse.


    Heracles clenched his fists until his knuckles cracked.


    Without another word, he strode out of the throne room.


    Iphicles followed closely behind. But before crossing the threshold, he turned to Eurystheus.


    "What are you really after?"


    Eurystheus leaned back with a satisfied smirk.


    "Nothing in particular¡­" he mused, his voice thick with amusement. "I just want to see how far a god''s bastard can fall."


    A chill ran down Iphicles'' spine as he stepped out of the hall.


    The dawn painted the sky in muted hues as Iphicles and Iolaus arrived at the lake. The water was pristine, reflecting the world with an ironic calm, as if unaware of the misfortune looming over them.


    Iphicles kept his gaze fixed on the horizon, his mind trapped in the puzzle of the lion. He had searched for weaknesses, any useful knowledge¡ªbut nothing seemed promising.


    "They say it''s invulnerable," he muttered in frustration.


    Beside him, Iolaus held the reins of two horses, his eyes never leaving the water.


    "Then how can he kill it?"


    Iphicles sighed.


    "I don''t know."


    Silence settled between them¡ªuntil the water stirred.


    From the depths of the lake, Hercules emerged.


    Naked, battle-worn, his form rose against the morning light, droplets cascading over his scarred muscles. But it wasn''t his body that commanded attention.


    It was his eyes.


    No doubt. No fear. No rage.


    Only cold, exhausted determination.


    As he reached the shore, Iphicles tried to smile.


    "You look¡­ renewed."


    Hercules didn''t answer.


    A servant of Eurystheus stood waiting at the edge of the water, holding a glowing iron brand.


    "The king has ordered you to be marked," the man said indifferently. "Would you like something to bite down on?"


    "No."


    Hercules extended his arm without hesitation.


    The red-hot iron seared into his bare shoulder.


    A sickening hiss filled the air.


    The stench of burnt flesh followed.


    But no scream came. No reaction.


    Only a whisper, barely audible.


    "The son of Zeus¡­ branded like an animal."


    The servant stepped back, closing a small parchment ledger.


    "From this moment, you are Hercules. Servant of the gods and his majesty, King Eurystheus."


    Iphicles looked away. Iolaus clenched his fists, barely holding back his fury.


    Hercules draped a toga over his shoulder, leaving half of his torso exposed, fastening it with his leather pauldron. He strapped on his bracers and armored sandals with unhurried precision.


    Then, he turned to his brother.


    "Why is he here?"


    Iphicles lowered his gaze.


    "I cannot follow you, brother. My body is too frail for such a journey. But my son¡­ he will have your back."


    Iolaus straightened, his curly hair catching the wind, his eyes burning with resolve.


    Hercules studied him for a moment, then gave a single nod.


    Without another word, he mounted his horse.


    And together, they rode toward Nemea.


    Then he woke.


    Darkness surrounded him.


    The dying embers of the campfire crackled faintly, their light flickering weakly over charred wood.


    Hercules opened his eyes slowly.


    The pain was still there, burning through his body, but his mind was clear.


    For the first time, there was no doubt.


    He sat up, his silhouette barely visible in the dim light. Iolaus slept beside him, breathing steadily, unaware of his uncle''s awakening.


    Hercules exhaled, closing his eyes for a brief moment.


    And then, the lion''s image returned.


    Its fury. Its brutality. Its impenetrable golden hide.


    But something else.


    The way the beast roared when his fist struck it.


    Not when he used his sword. Not when he fired his arrows.


    When he hit it with his bare hands.


    A faint smile ghosted across his lips.


    He knew what he had to do.


    End of chapter 3.

 A New Perspective

    The first light of dawn had already settled over the rolling hills of Nemea when Iolaus stirred awake. The crisp morning air sent a shiver down his spine as he pushed himself up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The forest around him was silent¡ªtoo silent. A hush that felt unnatural, pressing down on him like a warning.


    The fire that had kept them warm through the night was now nothing more than a dying memory¡ªa handful of embers glowing faintly, a wisp of smoke curling into the sky. But something else caught his attention.


    A dark stain in the dirt.


    Blood.


    Right next to the tree where his uncle had rested.


    Iolaus¡¯ breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded as he scrambled to his feet.


    Shit¡­ that idiot went back to the cave.


    He didn¡¯t waste a second. Snatching up his sword, a waterskin, and a small roll of bandages, he bolted through the trees. His feet barely touched the ground as he ran, the cold wind stinging his face. His mind churned between worry and frustration.


    Why? Why do something so reckless after what had happened? Had Hercules learned nothing from the first battle?


    The cave entrance loomed ahead. He skidded to a stop, heart hammering. He couldn¡¯t see anything yet, but he could hear it.


    The roars.


    They weren¡¯t the same as last night. No blind fury this time¡ªthese were deeper, heavier. They carried pain.


    Then, the ground rumbled. A slow, deliberate tremor. Not from the cave. From something moving.


    Iolaus turned just in time to see him.


    Hercules.


    Emerging from the trees, carrying a massive boulder on his shoulders like it was nothing. Each step made the earth groan beneath his weight. His body was different¡ªthere was no hesitation, no lingering exhaustion. This wasn¡¯t the man who had sat by the fire the night before.


    His uncle¡¯s face split into a grin, teeth flashing beneath his thick bear


    d.


    ¡°You¡¯re finally awake, Iolaus.¡±


    Iolaus could only stare, breathless. Then, shaking his head, he found his voice.


    ¡°What the hell are you doing, Uncle?¡±


    Hercules walked past him and dropped the boulder with a heavy thud. Dust rose into the air.


    ¡°I explored the cave last night. It has multiple exits. I won¡¯t let the beast escape again.¡±


    Iolaus frowned.


    ¡°And what? You¡¯re going to trap yourself in there with it? That thing nearly killed you!¡±


    Hercules simply gestured to his bare chest. Yesterday, his skin had been torn, his body marred with fresh wounds. Now, only scars remained¡ªsome thin and silvery, others deep and jagged. His left arm bore a clear bite mark, but even that had closed.


    ¡°Look at me,¡± he said calmly. ¡°Do you think that monster healed as fast as I did?¡±


    Iolaus had no answer.


    Something had shifted in his uncle. The anger, the desperation¡ªit was gone. In its place, a steady, unshakable confidence. And for the first time in days, Iolaus saw him smile.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get yourself killed,¡± he muttered.


    Hercules gave him a brief glance before stepping toward the cave¡¯s entrance. His voice was firm, unwavering.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get confused.¡± He placed both hands on the boulder. ¡°I¡¯m not locking myself in with the lion.¡±


    His fingers dug into the stone. Tiny cracks spiderwebbed across its surface.


    ¡°I¡¯m locking the lion in with me.¡±


    Iolaus exhaled slowly, watching in silence.


    Just before sealing the entrance, Hercules looked back one last time.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said, his tone lighter than before. ¡°For how I treated you. I just needed¡­ something to clear my head. And, well¡ª¡± He chuckled. ¡°Punching an armored monster is pretty therapeutic.¡±


    Iolaus raised a brow. ¡°How the hell did you change this much overnight? What happened?¡±


    Hercules tightened his grip on the boulder, his fingers pressing deeper into the stone. His voice was quieter this time, almost thoughtful.


    ¡°I just want to focus on the one thing I know how to do.¡± He took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders.


    ¡°Fight.¡±


    His eyes burned with something unreadable.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t forgiven myself. I¡¯m nowhere near that.¡±


    The rock groaned under his grip.


    ¡°But for today¡­¡± A quiet exhale. A steady smile.


    ¡°I¡¯ll just be the hero.¡±


    Iolaus said nothing. He only nodded.


    Without another word, Hercules shut the entrance.


    Darkness swallowed him as he stepped deeper into the cave. The air was thick with the lion¡¯s scent. His footsteps echoed against the stone walls, and far ahead, deep within, a low, guttural growl vibrated through the mountain.


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    Hercules sighed, flexing his fingers. If he died here, at least the lion would starve.


    No.


    Not this time.


    He moved forward.


    The tunnel widened into a vast natural chamber. And there it was.


    The lion.


    Curled up in the corner, licking its wounds. Its breath was slow, labored. Even through the dim light, he could see the bruises from their last battle, the patches of torn fur. It was strong¡ªbut not invincible.


    Their eyes met.


    The beast¡¯s lips curled back. A deep, guttural snarl echoed through the cavern. Its muscles tensed.


    Then, it roared.


    The cave trembled.


    Hercules grinned.


    ¡°Alright, you son of a bitch¡­¡± He rolled his shoulders, settling into his stance.


    ¡°No more interruptions.¡±


    The lion lunged.


    Fast.


    But Hercules didn¡¯t attack first.


    He waited.


    No blind rage. No reckless charge. He watched. He learned.


    The beast¡¯s claws slashed through the air. He dodged.


    Another strike¡ªfaster.


    He leaped back, light as a whisper.


    The lion¡¯s claws met stone. A massive rock split apart like wet clay.


    Now he knew.


    It was deadly¡ªbut only if it hit him.


    The lion lunged for his throat.


    At the last second, Hercules ducked.


    And smiled.


    His fist shot forward like a cannon.


    BOOM.


    The impact was devastating.


    The lion¡¯s body struck the cave wall with a sickening thud, stone cracking beneath its weight. It convulsed violently, its ribs rising and falling in jagged, uneven breaths. A deep, guttural noise rumbled in its throat as blood trickled from its jaws, staining the floor beneath it.


    Hercules didn¡¯t move at first. He simply watched.


    Calm. Steady.


    The lion lifted its head, its golden eyes locking onto him.


    And for the first time¡­ there was something in them that had never been there before.


    Fear.


    The man who had once been its prey now stood before it, an unshakable titan.


    Hercules exhaled slowly. He had no anger left, no reckless fury. There was only certainty.


    The lion¡¯s instincts betrayed it. It ran.


    Hercules let it.


    He stood still, counting the seconds.


    One.


    Two.


    Three.


    Then, he heard it.


    The frantic scraping of claws against stone. The lion was at the entrance, desperately trying to dig through the boulder, its powerful limbs tearing at the rock in a panic.


    There was no escape.


    Silence fell over the cave.


    A low, muffled growl rumbled in the distance.


    Slowly, Hercules lifted his gaze.


    The lion had given up on the entrance. It now stood perched on a higher ledge, staring down at him, its breathing heavy, its muscles trembling from exhaustion. Its eyes still burned¡ªbut not with rage alone.


    There was despair there, too.


    Hercules¡¯ lips curled into a small, knowing smile.


    ¡°So¡­ only your skin is invulnerable.¡± His voice echoed in the cavern. He rolled his shoulders, loosening the tension in his muscles.


    ¡°Let¡¯s finish this.¡±


    He spread his arms, shifting into a fighting stance.


    The lion growled, baring its fangs. Its claws scraped against the stone beneath it as its muscles coiled like a tightened spring.


    Hercules lifted a hand, flicking his fingers in a taunt.


    ¡°Come on,¡± he said. ¡°Try again.¡±


    The beast had no choice. Its pride wouldn¡¯t allow it to cower any longer.


    It leaped.


    The cavern shook with the force of its charge, a deafening roar ripping through the air. Jaws wide, claws extended¡ªit aimed to tear Hercules apart in one final, desperate attack.


    But Hercules didn¡¯t wait for the impact.


    He lunged forward.


    The lion¡¯s claws slashed through empty air where its prey had stood just a second before. It landed gracefully, twisting mid-movement to strike again¡ª


    Too late.


    Hercules was already behind it.


    With impossible speed, his powerful arms locked around the lion¡¯s thick neck.


    The beast thrashed.


    It reared up, a storm of muscle and fury, dragging Hercules across the cave with sheer strength. His heels dug into the stone, carving deep lines into the ground.


    But he held on.


    He clenched his teeth, every fiber of his body straining, every muscle coiled in unrelenting tension.


    His biceps turned to stone, his grip an iron vice.


    The lion¡¯s roars turned ragged. It fought with everything it had, claws slicing into Hercules¡¯ arms, carving deep wounds into his flesh.


    Blood dripped to the ground.


    But his grip never wavered.


    The cave trembled as the lion, in one last act of defiance, threw itself backward against the wall¡ª


    CRACK.


    Hercules groaned, pain exploding through his ribs as they fractured under the force of the impact. A sharp, metallic taste filled his mouth.


    He spat blood.


    His lungs screamed for air. His body begged him to let go.


    But if he did¡ªhe was dead.


    So, instead of loosening his grip¡­


    He squeezed harder.


    His arms locked tighter, his fingers pressing deep into the lion¡¯s thick hide. It let out a strangled gasp, its once-powerful movements turning frantic, erratic.


    It staggered.


    Its claws stopped moving.


    The mighty muscles, once filled with fury and power, began to go limp.


    Hercules didn¡¯t hesitate.


    With a final motion, he twisted.


    CRACK.


    The lion collapsed.


    Dead.


    Hercules stayed on his knees, breathless, his body covered in sweat and blood. He stared at the lifeless beast, his pulse still hammering against his skull.


    The cave was utterly silent.


    It was over.


    Outside, Iolaus sat on the ground, his back against a rock, staring at the horizon.


    The sun was beginning to sink, its golden light painting the land in shades of crimson and amber.


    The quiet unsettled him.


    He had been waiting for minutes. Too long.


    What if something had gone wrong?


    What if his uncle was dead in that cave?


    The thought twisted his stomach into knots. He ran a hand through his hair, breathing deeply, trying to push it away.


    Then, the earth rumbled.


    His eyes snapped toward the cave.


    The massive boulder blocking the entrance shifted. Stone groaned, dust rising into the air as the enormous barrier slid aside inch by inch.


    Iolaus was on his feet in an instant, sword drawn.


    Heart pounding.


    A shadow stretched across the ground.


    A figure stepped forward.


    Bare feet, dust-covered. A broad chest, streaked with sweat and blood. A body that shouldn¡¯t have been standing after what it had endured.


    Hercules.


    Iolaus rushed forward, barely able to find his voice.


    ¡°Did you do it?¡±


    Hercules lifted his head, and a slow, confident grin spread across his face.


    With one hand, he dragged the lion¡¯s lifeless body behind him.


    ¡°Of course.¡± His voice was rough but steady. ¡°Who do you think I am?¡±


    For a moment, all the fear disappeared.


    Iolaus laughed and smacked his uncle¡¯s palm in victory.


    ¡°The first labor is done.¡± His grin widened. ¡°That fool Eurystheus is going to love seeing this.¡±


    They both chuckled, already picturing the cowardly king¡¯s reaction.


    And for the first time in months¡­


    Hercules felt something stir in his chest.


    A feeling he had nearly forgotten.


    Victory.


    The sun dipped lower as they began their journey back. Hercules carried the beast¡¯s corpse over his shoulders as if it were a sack of grain.


    The weight didn¡¯t matter.


    The three-month journey home, however¡­ that would be a problem.


    ¡°Well,¡± Hercules sighed, already feeling exhaustion creeping in. ¡°This is going to be fun.¡±


    Iolaus eyed the lion¡¯s massive body.


    ¡°So¡­ what do we do with it?¡±


    Hercules frowned. ¡°With what?¡±


    ¡°The lion, Uncle. Shouldn¡¯t we deliver it to Eurystheus?¡±


    Hercules huffed. ¡°He told me to kill it and bring proof. Never said he wanted the whole body.¡±


    Iolaus thought for a moment.


    ¡°It¡¯s indestructible, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Then¡­ why not wear it?¡±


    Hercules stopped walking.


    Iolaus smirked. ¡°Like a cloak.¡±


    Hercules glanced at the beast, then at Iolaus.


    Then, he sighed and dropped the lion¡¯s body onto the dirt with a heavy thud.


    ¡°Give me your knife.¡±


    Iolaus handed it over without hesitation.


    Hercules pressed the blade to the lion¡¯s hide and pushed down hard.


    CRACK.


    The knife snapped instantly. Its tip shot off, embedding itself into a tree.


    They both stared in silence.


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Hercules muttered. He looked at the broken knife, then at Iolaus. ¡°I guess that¡¯s a problem.¡±


    Iolaus¡¯ jaw dropped.


    ¡°That was a gift from my father!¡±


    Hercules sighed. ¡°Yeah, well¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be an ass!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll buy you another one in town.¡±


    Iolaus huffed, crossing his arms. Then, an idea struck him.


    ¡°Maybe the old man knows how to skin it.¡±


    Hercules raised an eyebrow but nodded.


    Without another word, they continued down the path, leaving the dark, silent cave behind them.


    The first labor was complete.Iolaus definitely got gold stars from his teachers¡ªespecially for his outstanding deductive skills.