Type-Moon: The Human Love Simulator [117]

On the field, Heracles prepared to unleash his strongest attack. His bow was no ordinary weapon; this was the same legendary bow he had used to slay the Hydra. With it, he could release a deadly, rapid-fire barrage capable of overwhelming any foe.

Even the monstrous Hydra, a creature that grew two new heads for each one severed, had ultimately fallen to Heracles's arrows. This was his ultimate move—a nearly unavoidable, lethal technique: The Hundred-Headed Barrage.

Heracles's arrows, coated in the venom of the Hydra, carried a poison so deadly that even the gods themselves would find it unbearable. He had put his full power into this attack.

In one of Heracles's later legends, he even managed to wound Hades, the god of the underworld, with an arrow to the shoulder, causing such pain that Hades could only go to Zeus in protest rather than punish him outright.

This was to be a fight to the death, so Heracles hadn't revealed the true nature of his arrows to Suren; in this moment, he held genuine intent to kill. He believed the highest respect he could offer Suren was to hold nothing back.

Suren, however, knew he couldn't risk taking one of Heracles's arrows directly. Hydra venom might not kill him due to his own acquired immortality, but he wasn't keen to test the theory by letting it pierce him.

But still—

Despite the deadly force of Heracles's attack, Suren showed no fear. He hadn't reclaimed his Aegis shield, nor had he asked for his golden bow back from Atalanta. Instead, he calmly took the bow that Atalanta handed him, and when he pulled back the string with just a light touch, the entire bow shattered.

With a shrug, Suren remarked, "The bowstring still holds Artemis's blessing, so it'll do. But the rest of it… a bit flimsy."

He glanced at Atalanta with a faint smile. "I'll make it up to you with something better next time."

This incident just emphasized why Suren's weapons had to be divine, forged by gods themselves. Ordinary materials simply couldn't withstand his strength.

Suren then wrapped the bowstring around his left thumb and forefinger, fashioning a makeshift slingshot from his own hand.

With a half-smile, he addressed his opponent. "Son of Zeus, mighty hero Heracles—give me your best shot, if you think you can kill me!"

"If you want me, the 'naïve dreamer,' out of your way… all you have to do is send me off to Hades to respawn."

"If you can manage that, then this era—this world—I'll leave to all of you."

"Arrogant fool!" Heracles's eyes blazed with fury as his dark hair whipped wildly behind him, stirred by an invisible force. He respected Suren's vision, even his ambition to reshape the world. But Suren himself? Unbearably arrogant.

People would want nothing more than to kill a man this haughty unless he had the strength to surpass even Zeus himself. Only then would they even consider listening to his ideals.

But Suren didn't believe his attitude was at fault. Even if he were humble to the point of groveling, these so-called heroes would rage at his ideas just the same.

Ideological clashes weren't settled with words; they were battles to the bitter end.

"Hundred-Headed Barrage!"

Heracles roared, drawing his bow with all his might. The sheer power he unleashed in his fury pushed his attack far beyond anything he'd managed before. In that moment, he felt unstoppable.

Suren narrowed his eyes. "Impressive… looks almost like fireworks."

Slowly, he extended his right hand. His movements appeared almost leisurely, yet his skin began to emit an orange flame.

It was the result of friction—his hand moving so fast that it was igniting from the air resistance.

With precision, he reached into the storm of arrows, catching one mid-flight. The rest of the arrow barrage disappeared as if they'd never existed.

There he stood, his hand smoking from the intense heat, casually gripping an arrow that shimmered with a poisonous purple hue, its lethal tip aimed right at his own brow—but halted in its tracks.

"Impressive showmanship, Heracles…" Suren's eyes glinted with amusement as he raised the arrow and pulled it back with the makeshift bowstring between his thumb and forefinger. "…but do you know what archery really is?"

"It's one thing."

"Speed."

Before he'd even finished the word, the arrow had vanished, shot with such blinding speed that Heracles had no idea where it had gone. All he could sense was his instincts screaming in alarm. But he was too late to react.

The next instant, his Nemean Lion helmet—crafted from the indestructible hide of a monster sired by Typhon and Echidna—was torn from his head and pinned to a stone behind him, the arrow shaft buried deep, leaving only the tail feather vibrating.

The Nemean Lion, impervious to all weapons, had terrorized the people of Argolis and devoured any hero who dared face it—until Heracles defeated it in hand-to-hand combat, stripping its hide for his armor. But Suren's arrow had shot right through it, creating a hole in the supposedly impenetrable hide.

Heracles reached up, patting the bare patch of his scalp where his helmet had been, feeling the slight burn. Any deeper, and he'd have been headed straight to the underworld himself.

Suren finally finished his sentence, his second word slicing through the silence like the shot itself.

"Archery should be archery; martial arts should be martial arts. Combining the two into a flashy mess… well, what's the point?"

Suren calmly unwound the bowstring from his fingers and handed it back to Atalanta.

"For me, archery's about speed and accuracy," he said. "Master those, and you'll be Greece's strongest archer."

Lowering his arm, he glanced back at Heracles, a challenge in his gaze. "So—do you still want to fight?"

Heracles lowered his head, fully admitting his defeat. "You've won, Suren. Thank you for showing mercy. I will follow and uphold every command of yours."

"Until the day I can repay you for sparing my life."

If Suren could pierce the eye-slit of the lion's helmet, he could have killed Heracles just as easily. His restraint had made his power all the clearer.

"You're every bit the hero Athena recognizes… and you have the strength to set rules for the Argo."

After a pause, Heracles chuckled and added, "Next time we duel, though—how about a wrestling match? That's one arena where I'm not letting you win!"

Unlike hand-to-hand combat, wrestling was all about brute strength, leaving less room for technique. That's why Atalanta, already spoken for, had turned down all such requests.

Though Heracles had lost, he harbored no bitterness. After all, Suren's mentor was Athena herself, setting him a rank above every other hero on the ship.

Heracles raised his voice to the gathered crew. "I, Heracles, on behalf of the heroes of the Argo, hereby accept Suren's Three Commandments!"

Back on the ship, Suren addressed the heroes, most of whom wore pale, shaken expressions. "I'm not asking you to give up pleasure," he told them. "But—"

"Why not do it legally?"

"Are you not men of wealth?"

"Are you not powerful?"

Suren's voice was calm. "If you want something, either pay for it or earn it by helping those in need. Do you think your strength exists only to plunder more easily?"

What bothered Suren wasn't their desire for enjoyment—it was that they used their power and wealth for crude looting instead of seeking out lawful means.

Even when "serving" commoners as protectors or warriors, heroes' actions inevitably devolved into pillaging. It was as if refraining from such acts would somehow stain their honor as "heroes."

"You're right, Suren. We'll change," Jason finally spoke, accepting the situation. If Heracles couldn't defeat Suren, then they would all abide by his rule.

Jason, quick-witted as ever, immediately looked for loopholes. "But Suren… if we're attacked, does the Three Commandments still apply?"

"Self-defense is always permitted," Suren replied with a smile. "But I'll be the one to judge if you're truly acting in defense."

Jason's face grew sheepish as his trick was laid bare. With that, the heroes began to regard Suren with newfound respect—a kind that bordered on fearful awe.

They might invite Atalanta to their banquets, but Suren would never receive the same honor.

Not that he minded. His thoughts were elsewhere, wondering about the gods. Hera, Athena, Hestia—why did they continue to support him?

Could it be that they weren't just tolerating his wild ambition but genuinely encouraged it?

From what he'd seen of the heroes on the Argo, the more powerful someone was, the less they liked being constrained. And historically, those who sought to lay down rules were rarely thanked.

Suren had spoken countless times of restraining even the gods, and yet the Queen of the Gods, Hera, had only grown more supportive.

Maybe, he thought, I just don't see enough yet. They sent me on this journey for a reason.

For all the beauty he'd glimpsed in Greece's golden age, Suren suspected there was much about the gods he still didn't understand.

Heracles, meanwhile, had seen that other, fearsome side of the gods. He was proof of how dangerous divine whims could be.

If the gods truly lived by order and respect, Heracles's life would have been very different. If Suren could actually enforce such rules, Heracles would stand with him.

In fact, Heracles perhaps wanted Suren to succeed even more than Suren himself did.

In this world, only power gave substance to dreams. Suren's ideals might be vast, but without power to support them, they were mere fantasies.

---

The Argo continued its journey along its charted course. Throughout the voyage, only Atalanta, Heracles, and Suren held easy conversations, while Jason occasionally exchanged a few words with Suren, probing for his true intentions.

Jason quickly realized that Suren was far more approachable than he'd expected. Contrary to their initial assumptions, Suren was not as abrasive or disagreeable as they had imagined. In fact, so long as no one crossed his bottom line, Suren was remarkably affable. Even someone as shrewd as Jason found him a pleasure to deal with.

A hero who combines wisdom and strength!

Through subtle questioning, Jason pieced together Suren's clash with Heracles from the perspectives of both Heracles himself and Atalanta, who had witnessed it. He was astonished by the battle's scale, and with newfound respect, he thought, Such an illustrious hero, indeed.

Surely, he must have been sent by Hera herself to help me secure the Golden Fleece.

Inwardly, Jason offered thanks to the goddess, vowing that once he reclaimed his throne, he would establish Hera as the patron deity of his city.

Jason had yet to realize just how boundless Suren's blessings and divine favor truly were. Suren's destiny was one that even attracted Hera's personal intervention—a fact that made him, in Jason's eyes, even more legendary.

With this revelation, Jason's demeanor softened toward Suren, and he quickly became more familiar with him—at least, so he thought.

Suren, however, saw Jason as no more than a superficial ally. He understood Jason's type well: one who would endure hardship together but would abandon loyalty at the first glimmer of personal gain. This sudden friendliness was nothing more than Jason seeing Suren as useful for securing the Golden Fleece.

Under Suren's watchful eye, the journey became more orderly. The heroes adhered to his rules, and whenever they docked, they gathered provisions peacefully rather than resorting to the usual pillaging that they'd previously glorified as an act of honor.

True to his word, after his defeat, Heracles took Suren's Three Commandments to heart, refraining from violence unless confronted by bandits, marauders, or beasts. Only then did the heroes unleash their power.

For instance, Greece was rife with centaurs, ruthless and cunning creatures who relished in human flesh, as well as with myriad other beasts, sirens, nymphs, and mythical beings that coexisted with humanity in this age of gods.

These creatures lacked complete intellect yet posed significant threats to human settlements.

After providing genuine aid to various islands along their journey, the heroes were treated to sincere hospitality by the villagers, who welcomed them with open arms and offered them food, drink, and even the companionship of admirers drawn to their strength.

In Greece, relations between men and women were remarkably open. Other than Hera, no one particularly cared about purity or loyalty. If two people felt drawn to each other, regardless of gender, they were free to indulge in a shared connection.

The heroes soon realized they could earn such pleasures without force, experiencing not only physical satisfaction but also a new sense of inner fulfillment.

Humanity, after all, is a social species, and self-actualization brings the deepest satisfaction.

Heracles murmured thoughtfully to himself, "Suren… you were right. This is a strength that goes beyond sheer force."

---

"Hera, I'm here to negotiate!"

Within Olympus, Athena entered Hera's temple.

Mount Olympus, the sacred mountain of Greece, was also the gods' highest heaven. Though Greece was home to many deities, nymphs, spirits, and indigenous gods, only twelve possessed the right to build their temples here.

These twelve exalted beings were known as the Olympian Twelve.

At the mountain's peak stood the temple of Zeus, symbolizing his supreme authority, while the temple of Hera, his equal in power and his queen, occupied the second-highest place.

Hera appeared vastly different here than she had when she met Suren in the mortal realm. Now, her divine power radiated throughout the temple, her majestic aura filling the sacred hall with an overwhelming presence.

Crowned and bearing her scepter, Hera's mature, graceful beauty emanated a serene authority. This was a figure too grand to gaze upon directly, leaving most mortals who encountered her lowering their eyes to her hands or her feet.

The titles White-Armed Hera and Golden-Shoed Hera were given to her by those who dared not look upon her face.

"Athena, I knew you'd come," Hera remarked calmly, showing no surprise. She was not the only goddess with her gaze fixed upon Suren.

Athena returned her stare, her voice low but firm. "Great Queen Hera, I must know—how do you feel about Suren's reckless ambitions?"

---

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