From Now On, I Am Hector! Remember That!

With the divine spear Hector in hand, Night's efficiency in slaughtering ordinary soldiers was not inferior to Hector's.

Especially under the ancient, sacred aura emanating from the golden spear, his blood-soaked presence on the battlefield felt like an ancient heroic epic coming to life.

Bang~!!

Channeling the power within the divine spear, Night thrust it through two Greek soldiers, then forcefully flung their bodies off the spear.

The heavy bodies of the Greek soldiers hit the ground with a thud, revealing his sharp, cold eyes through the helmet, eyes so piercing they were difficult to meet.

In no time, Night and his companions had wiped out the Greek soldiers in this area.

The Theban soldiers didn't even have time to react or assist.

At that moment—

"Are these… the only ones left?" Night, covered in blood, walked up to the remaining soldiers and asked instinctively.

He had no idea how terrifying and fierce he looked at that moment.

But perhaps it mirrored the feeling those soldiers had when they were praying.

In this battlefield, madness was already a form of blessing.

Especially when faced with this scene of bloody brutality, which exuded immense power and safety.

The Theban soldiers, far from being fearful, looked at Night as if they were seeing their war god.

"Sir… we are the soldiers who were defending the western district and couldn't retreat in time. The demigod Achilles has already led the main Greek forces into the city.

The rest of our people should be fighting there now!

Are you… are you the legendary Hector?"

The rescued soldier spoke with excitement.

Could it be that they had reinforcements?

The golden divine spear shining in this blood-red hell—it couldn't be mistaken!

Anyone who had seen it once would never forget it.

It was the symbol of Troy's faith, the weapon of the man they believed to be Greece's greatest hero.

If the man before them wasn't Hector, then who could he be?

Though his face was smeared with blood, obscuring his features, his overwhelming strength was proof of his identity.

However—When the soldiers turned their reverent and hopeful gazes towards Night, seeing him as their savior, the hero they prayed to had not responded, but their beloved hero had arrived.

Until—

Hector rode up: "So, did you get any useful information, Night?"

"Hec… Hector, sir!?" Even though he was also covered in blood, Hector, whose skill kept him from looking too disheveled, caused a soldier to exclaim upon seeing his familiar face.

Had they just mistaken someone else for Hector?

The soldiers, feeling embarrassed and at a loss for words, fell silent.

Not only the soldier who had spoken, but all of them had made the same mistake and hadn't corrected it.

After Night briefly explained the situation, Hector took charge of leading the remaining soldiers while he and Night split up.

They would gather the remaining forces and fight their way to the city center.

With their current numbers, it was impossible to defeat Achilles and the Greek army.

Hector: "This really is a worst-case scenario."

Even the strongest hero of Troy felt a heavy sense of foreboding.

He hadn't anticipated facing Achilles himself.

While he was confident in his strength, without a way to counter Achilles' invulnerability, he didn't want to face him.

Prolonged combat would likely lead to his defeat.

But there was no time to ponder such issues now.

Having come this far, retreat was not an option.

Before leaving Troy, Hector had confided in his wife about the mission to save her father and siblings.

He had promised his worried, tearful wife that he would bring them back safely.

As a man of his word and a hero with honor and courage, he would not retreat without a fight.

Night, feeling the weight of the situation, said, "Understood… but don't die, Hector."

A heavy sense of foreboding settled over him.

Even at this moment, he hoped Hector wouldn't encounter Achilles first.

Hector might be destined to fall to Achilles, but it shouldn't happen because Night altered history and caused his premature death.

Night needed to find Achilles and lead him away, buying time for Hector to retreat.

If it were his former self, Night wouldn't have had the confidence.

But now, with the divine spear in hand, perhaps he had a chance… or maybe not.

Even with the divine spear in hand, the spear wielded by Achilles was no ordinary weapon either.

It was crafted by Hephaestus, the god of fire and blacksmithing.

This included his armor and shield.

Weapons like Zeus's thunderbolt and Poseidon's trident were also made by the same craftsman, so it was safe to assume that Achilles' equipment was at least on par with Hector's, if not superior.

Facing Achilles head-on, there was no doubt that he still stood no chance.

Of course, his goal wasn't to confront Achilles directly.

The incident where the soldiers of Thebes mistook him for Hector gave Night an idea.

With the divine spear, Hector's weapon, and his understanding of Hector's spear techniques, he might be able to impersonate Hector convincingly enough for those who didn't know Hector well.

Thus, a bold and crazy idea formed in his mind.

From observing Hector, it was clear that in this era, from heroes to ordinary people, almost everyone chased after glory.

They fought for their honor and dignity, fearing a meaningless death more than death itself.

Even a demigod like Achilles wouldn't be immune to the lure of a challenge to his honor.

If Night could frame it as a duel, even Achilles, for all his might, would likely take the bait.

As one of the strongest heroes of the era vying for the title of Greece's greatest hero, Achilles wouldn't pass up such a challenge.

One must die between the two.

The victor would take it all, stepping over the corpse and honor of the defeated to reach the pinnacle.

The loser would lose everything, be forgotten by the world, and even the gods who once praised their bravery would no longer remember their past glory.

Given the pride—or rather, arrogance—of Greek heroes, they would never allow themselves to retreat in a one-on-one duel.

The plan was feasible.

It was a crazy tactic, but in this mad battlefield, it was perfectly fitting.

Thus, as Night led the remaining soldiers forward, he suddenly turned his horse and declared, "From now on, I am Hector...!

Do you understand?"

In the inferno of the battlefield, amidst the hellish flames, the man wielding the divine spear rode his horse and proclaimed with cold, overpowering dominance.

This was not a discussion; it was an order.

It was a declaration, one that allowed no refusal.