Run Atalanta Run

That day,

The petite Goddess of Fate, Clotho, wearing her white robe, stood before Atalanta.

She delivered the prophecy that had been written for Atalanta's future.

"Run, Atalanta. You seek freedom and purity, desiring to remain forever by the side of the Goddess Artemis.

But that is not eternal because you will eventually stop, bound by the thing called 'marriage.'"

That was the prophecy given to Atalanta by Clotho, the goddess of fate.

And so now, in the natural paradise of Arcadia,

This kingdom, nestled in the forest, looked like the legendary homeland of elves. Many houses were built high among the ancient trees.

On the vast grassland not far from the outskirts of the kingdom, the water in the lake was crystal clear, and there were many onlookers gathered around it.

Among them was Atalanta's father, King Iasus of Arcadia.

It was afternoon, and by a wooden post, stood Atalanta, dressed in her green hunting outfit.

Her emerald eyes looked in confusion and bewilderment at the red-haired, handsome young man in her, who was her to challenge her—Meleager, the prince of Calydon.

He was the same hero who had long harbored feelings for Atalanta.

"Meleager, why are you here?" Atalanta looked at the man walking towards her and asked in a cold voice. "Shouldn't you be with Goddess Artemis' messenger, preparing for the adventure in that kingdom?"

However, as she spoke sharp senses picked up on something in the distance.

She turned her head, and glanced toward the forest spotting a giant humanoid stag watching from the trees—it was Actaeon, who transformed into a golden deer by Artemis.

"If you've come to talk me out of this, there's no need to persuade.

After all, in three days, all of this will be over, and I will catch up with all of you then."

"Because I promised him... I promised the Goddess Artemis that I would see this adventure through to the end."

Meleager remained silent in response to her words, simply gazing at the beautiful huntress in front him with a complicated expression.

In his eyes, Atalanta was as enchanting as a woodland fairy, as radiant and beautiful as the moon and the goddess Artemis herself.

From the moment he first laid eyes on her, Meleager felt as though he'd been struck by one of Cupid's arrows.

He had fallen for her deeply, believing that whoever married Atalanta would be the luckiest man in the world.

But despite his admiration, Atalanta had always treated him with cold indifference.

Well...it's not just him.

She was basically like this towards any men and despised them in general, so, even though Meleager could barely be considered a friend, she showed him no warmth.

During the nearly one month since her return and the competition, she had maintained the same distant, icy demeanor toward all challengers.

This led to rumors that Atalanta was little more than a wild woman (savage) incapable of smiling.

Yet Meleager knew better.

He had seen her smile, especially when she was in the company of one particular person.

And he could say for sure that it was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

"I'm here to challenge you, Atalanta," Meleager said, taking a deep breath as he finally spoke.

Hearing this, Atalanta blinked in surprise, her expression confused as she looked at him.

She wanted to say something, but noticing the determined and serious look on his face, she fell silent.

She was smart enough to piece things together, but even so, her eyes betrayed no emotion.

"You'll die," she said flatly.

To deter the constantly increasing number of challengers and to demonstrate her resolve, Atalanta had vowed to shoot and kill any who lost to her in the race.

This was in line with the myth after all...

"But up to this point, Miss Atalanta you haven't killed a single person," Meleager responded with a knowing smile.

Though the rumors spread far and wide, and though Atalanta always made that threat everytime challenger appeared, in reality, she had only ever injured her challengers with a single arrow.

They were wounded enough to lay down for a while, needing recovery, but none had died.

"Let me guess why," at Atalanta who was still silent, Meleager continued to smile and said.

"It's because of Promise, isn't it? Because, you are afraid that he would disapprove of such actions. After all, he is... far too kind."

At that, Atalanta's expression remained stoic, but her silence spoke volumes.

"Let's begin," In the end, she said without wasting any more words.

Then turned around and walked towards the starting post, a simple three-foot wooden stake.

The rules of the race were straightforward.

The far end of the field stood an ancient tree.

That was the starting point of the race.

The goal was to run to the tree, pluck a leaf from it, and then return to the post to place the leaf on the wooden stake.

The only condition was that the challenger had to be faster than Atalanta.

"All glory from this race will be offered to the honorable Goddess Artemis!" she declared, her voice steady and clear as she removed the celestial bow from her back and aimed it at the sun in the sky.

Magic gathered into an arrow, and the moment the arrow shot toward the sky, both Meleager and Atalanta sprinted forward at the same time.

As the race began, the crowd erupted in cheers.

Many of them were rooting for Meleager, although, like many of the other challengers, they bore the scars from their own failed attempts to defeat Atalanta.

It was precisely because of the challenge that they understood most deeply how fast Atalanta was, so they believed from the bottom of their hearts that no one in the world could outrun Atalanta.

There were such spectators like this, as this race had been going on for almost a month.

And there were only three days left until the end of the month.

So, among all the onlookers, the person most anxious was none other than Atalanta's supposed biological father, King Iasus,

Yes, the same person who had once heartlessly abandoned her in the freezing wilderness as a baby, who now, because of her growing fame, he finally asked the gods to find her back.

Having prayed to the gods to bring her back, he had set this one-month challenge for her hand in marriage.

According to the agreement between them, if anyone outran Atalanta during this month, she would marry that man.

But if no one succeeded by the end of the month, he could no longer stop her from taking part in the adventure of the Golden Fleece.

"Ah, looks like there's no chance for him. He's falling further and further behind."

"Let's give our challenger a round of applause for his courage... To be honest, I was a bit worried at first since it seemed like that beautiful lady actually knew him and even spoke with him!"

"Yeah, I heard he's a prince from another kingdom. But as expected, no one can outrun her."

The spectators exchanged comments as they watched the race.

In fact, many challengers had just come to join in the fun at the beginning, and many of them had no intention of participating in the competition.

After all, even though Atalanta hadn't killed any challengers in the end, the stakes of the race meant their lives were in her hands if they lost.

However, after coming here and upon seeing Atalanta's unmatched beauty, most men found themselves completely conquered by the beauty, unable to resist the temptation to challenge her.

....

Halfway through the race, Meleager came to a stop.

He knew he had lost.

Standing still in a place, he watched with a wistful gaze as Atalanta dashed ahead, swiftly reaching the tree at the end of the field.

She plucked a leaf and, as gracefully as ever, raced back to him.

"I've lost," Meleager admitted with a soft smile as Atalanta stopped in front of him, her green hair flowing in the breeze.

There was no bitterness in his voice, only a sense of peace and acceptance.

At that moment, he let go of everything.

Seeing this scene, from the woods, the giant stag, Actaeon couldn't help but shake his head.

He had seen this outcome coming ever since Meleager asked him to accompany him to Arcadia.

Actaeon had long known Meleager's true intentions.

Meleager hadn't entered the race expecting to win.

Instead, he had wanted one last chance to try, but when he saw Atalanta in front of him, never once slowing down or hesitating for him, he knew that he had lost—and lost completely.

Atalanta's beautiful green eyes quietly observed Meleager's bittersweet smile as she passed by him without a word.

"Hey, Lady Atalanta!" Meleager called out, turning around and raising his voice. "If it were Promise racing against you, would you stop for him?"

Hearing this, the huntress paused in her steps, remaining silent for a moment.

"No matter who comes to challenge me, I will give my all to win. Even if it's him... it would be the same," she finally replied, preparing to leave again.

When,

"That's not what I'm asking!" Meleager shouted. "Miss Atalanta, I know with your pride, you would definitely compete with Promise with everything you've got."

Still smiling, he continued, "What I want to know is this: in your heart, if you were to face him in this face, would you be willing to stop for him?"

"...He won't come," After a moment's silence, Atalanta replied.

She truly believed that Promise wouldn't come.

After all, she was the person closer to him than most.

She had personally witnessed and participated in many the stories about him, and had seen his paintings.

She understood his ambitions, his goal—to paint the gods, to chase his vision of the divine.

So, to Atalanta, this race was simply not worth Promise's attention.

"No, he will definitely come!" Meleager, however, declared confidently. "Because he's Promise, isn't he? The real question is, Atalanta—do you hope that he comes, or are you hoping he doesn't?"

"Because you also know that if he does show up, then you... will definitely lose, won't you?"

'Even if you gave your all.'

Even the the boy might still be one of the weakest, Meleager couldn't imagine a scenario where Promise would lose, and the same could be said about Atalanta.

At this moment, Atalanta could not help but recall the day when Clotho, the goddess of fate, told her the prophecy.

She remained silent once more.

Then, slowly, she turned back to face Meleager, who was laughing with a carefree expression.

Meleager was laughing very loudly when suddenly, his laughter soon faltered and faded,

Because he found that Atalanta was looking at him with colder and colder eyes and she had even raised her bow...

.

.

.

A while later,

"Well..I've been saying this for a while.

That's what you get for talking too much," Actaeon, still in his stag form, muttered as he applied medicine to Meleager's body, which was now riddled with arrows.

In her frustration and anger, Atalanta's arrows had pierced straight through Meleager.

If it had been anyone else, they would surely be dead.

But Meleager, being the hero that he was, survived.

Barely though.

Even so, Meleager was still smiling.

His expression was a mix of joy, resignation, and understanding as he said, "Ah, so that's how it is... Our dear huntress really can't tell a lie, can she?"

After all, Atalanta hadn't denied a single word he'd said from the very beginning.

From that day on, with only three days left until the end of the month, Atalanta remained by the wooden post, waiting for any further challengers.

Initially, many people had been eager to challenge her, even some who had already tried and been injured before wanted to try again.

After all, they knew that if they missed this chance, there wouldn't be another.

But that night, someone died.

The moment the blood was spilled, all those those who wanted to challenge and take Atalanta away felt as if their whole body was poured with cold water.

And so, the final three days of the competition, turned out to be the most peaceful time for Atalanta.

Because not a single person came forward to challenge her again.