Type-Moon: The Human Love Simulator [120] [30 PS]
Jason's eyes regained a bit of clarity at the mention of the Fleece, but it lasted only a few seconds before he waved Heracles off and sank back into his seat.
"Oh, come on, Heracles. Don't give me that. The guys aren't done having their fun yet, right?" Jason grinned, glancing around. "This island has thousands of young women, and that stunning beauty Hypsipyle herself—do you really think one night is enough?"
Though Jason's primary goal was indeed to seize the Golden Fleece and return to Thessaly to reclaim his throne from his uncle, Pelias, he knew the men were clearly reluctant to leave. This place, where they were surrounded by women eager to welcome them, was an experience they'd find nowhere else in Greece.
After considering it, Jason tried to convince Heracles. "You're known for bedding fifty maidens in one night, after all. You should be able to keep up, right?"
"…It was forty-nine!" Heracles muttered, rolling his eyes. "The youngest ran away, too embarrassed to go through with it." He frowned, wondering if this had somehow become his legacy—or rather, his black mark.
For most other men and heroes, though, this feat was considered a badge of unparalleled honor. All forty-nine maidens had fallen pregnant, with some even bearing twins, giving Heracles a reputation for god-like virility—a trait, in primitive Greece, that garnered deep respect. After all, the king of the Olympian gods himself, Zeus, was known for his boundless vigor.
"Exactly!" Jason patted Heracles on the shoulder and leaned in, whispering, "Brother, it's not that I don't want to leave. But look around—everyone's fully committed to staying. And it's not like being captain here counts for much; they're not listening to me."
"Unless it's Suren…"
Jason gave him a knowing look. "Someone with both strength and influence needs to step up and play the bad guy."
"So… let's wait for Suren to come to us. He won't stand for us wasting time like this."
Jason nearly laid his cards on the table with Heracles, explaining that whoever pushed the crew to leave would end up making enemies. Without Suren, Heracles would likely have been the one to force the issue, given he was the only other hero with the authority and strength to quell any objections.
But Jason, who had a certain knack for avoiding difficult tasks, didn't want Heracles to bear that burden. So he'd much rather leave that role to "nosy" Suren himself.
Yet Jason had misunderstood Suren. Suren's intention was only to curb acts of chaos and injustice, to prevent large-scale disorder. He wanted to improve the ethical standards of divine Greece, elevating its moral landscape overall.
But as for consensual pleasures? Suren couldn't care less.
Whereas Heracles might have endured only three or four days before dragging the others back aboard, Suren was content to let them indulge as long as they wished. Even if the Argonauts hosted an endless revelry and drained themselves dry on Lemnos Island, Suren would leave them to it.
Log Entries:
Year xx, Month xx, Day 1Weather: Clear.
Today, the Argo arrived at the fabled women's paradise, Lemnos Island. Every man on the ship was lured off by the women there. I had planned to stay aboard, but since Suren is staying to guard the ship, it should be fine, right?
Alright, just one day, and we'll sail tomorrow!
Year xx, Month xx, Day 2
Weather: Clear.
Departure failed. Another round of revelry.
Year xx, Month xx, Day 3
Weather: Light Rain.
It's raining. We can't set sail. More revelry.
Year xx, Month xx, Day 4
Weather: Overcast.
Oh, Heracles, what has become of you? We joined this Argonaut journey not for women, but for a noble quest! Have some shame!
Year xx, Month xx, Day 5
Weather: Clear.
More revelry.
---
Another five days of revelry had passed when Heracles finally couldn't take it any longer. Standing up and hastily pulling on his trousers, he announced, "Jason, we can't keep this up. If Suren won't intervene, then I, Heracles, will!"
But as Heracles rose, his body—usually brimming with strength and resilience—suddenly wavered, and he collapsed back onto the floor.
Hypsipyle entered the hall, wrinkling her nose at the stale, murky air. "As expected of Zeus' son, Heracles," she sighed. "This potion from Lord Apollo brought down most heroes in a day, yet it's taken five days to weaken you."
If not for the god Apollo's magic draught, Hypsipyle would never have captured a hero as powerful as Heracles.
Looking around, Heracles finally noticed that, of all the Argonauts, only he and Jason remained conscious in the hall. The rest of the heroes had quietly been spirited away while the festivities continued unabated.
Realizing he'd been duped, Heracles kept a steady face, though his expression grew dark. "Hypsipyle, queen of Lemnos," he said coldly, "you've made a truly foolish decision."
"Not all of the Argonauts have fallen prey to these indulgences," he added with a steely calm. "There's one among us who resisted your temptations—the strongest hero of all, Suren. He alone could wipe this island's inhabitants off the map."
This was no idle threat; Heracles himself was capable of similar destruction, and if Suren had bested him in combat, then he could undoubtedly eliminate an entire kingdom.
Hypsipyle's gaze wavered between respect and fear. She knew well enough that Suren was powerful; a god's own command had singled him out. Such a man could never be ordinary. But she had no choice; disobeying Apollo's oracle wasn't something a mere mortal could afford to do.
Avoiding Heracles' sharp stare, she began binding him with ropes soaked in the magic potion, restraining his boundless strength.
Though weakened, Heracles still had enough fight left in him to best Hypsipyle. Sensing his intention, she raised a small bottle of the potion to his face, waving it close enough for him to catch its sharp scent.
A wave of dizziness washed over him, and Heracles staggered, realizing in shock as he called out, "Hera?!"
Once more, he felt Hera's presence haunting his steps. But wait—Jason, didn't you tell me that Hera was sponsoring this journey?
How did Hypsipyle get her hands on Hera's potion?
Apollo's brew had downed most of the Argonauts, but Heracles' formidable resistance to magic had allowed him to keep fighting. Only a handful of great goddesses, including Hera and Hecate, could produce a potion powerful enough to bypass his defenses.
Unbeknownst to him, Apollo had gone so far as to procure a potion concocted by Hecate herself, closely mimicking the effects of Hera's magic. Heracles had failed to recognize it for what it truly was, assuming Hera's hand in his downfall once again.
As Heracles finally succumbed, Hypsipyle let out a deep breath, her composure faltering. "An extraordinary hero, but at last subdued." She glanced at the unconscious hero with concern. "Even a mighty warrior like him considered that strikingly beautiful Suren his superior…"
What strength must Suren possess to inspire such admiration?
Her true worry, though, lay elsewhere. If Suren, contrary to Apollo's test, decided to level this entire island, how could any of Lemnos' women possibly withstand such wrath?
Apollo had given no further instructions, and Hypsipyle dared not ask.
Perhaps, in Apollo's mind, Suren's reaction was itself part of the trial. If Suren reacted to this betrayal with unrestrained violence, it would show he was no different from the other bloodthirsty heroes of Greece—his lofty moral claims exposed as mere hypocrisy.
Apollo's cruelty lay in his duality; for the sake of dispelling Artemis' illusions about Suren, he was prepared to gamble the lives of an entire kingdom.
"It's been six days—something feels wrong."
Atalanta nudged Suren, who was leisurely roasting beast meat on the deck. "They should have been back long ago."
"I know." Suren replied, unhurried, as he turned the meat over the flame. "If it were just Jason and the others, I wouldn't think much of it, even if they were gone for weeks."
"But Heracles is with them," he added, his tone growing more serious. "He's not the sort to lose himself in mindless pleasures. For him, duty always comes first."
He took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "But six days? Not even a word from Heracles? That's definitely a sign of trouble."
Suren shook his head, his tone somewhere between exasperation and amusement. "Forty-six seasoned heroes, Heracles among them—a force that could topple entire kingdoms—yet they've been bested by a handful of women. Ah, the allure of beauty really does cut to the bone."
It was Heracles' predicament that struck Suren as particularly absurd.
He took another bite, murmuring, "Very well then. First, let's finish this meal."
"Afterwards, I'll go see if they're dead. If they're alive, I'll haul them back." His lips quirked up. "And if they've somehow died, a little trip to the Underworld can fix that."
The calm confidence in his voice made it clear that he regarded both the Lemnos palace and even Hades himself as mere trifles.
Atalanta nodded, visibly relieved, and Castor and Pollux, the Dioscuri twins, shared a look of quiet approval.
Pollux smiled. "With you leading us, we have nothing to worry about."
"Bring that fool of a captain and the others back here," she added with a smirk. "We've wasted enough time as it is."
With Suren taking charge, none of them doubted the success of the mission. If even he couldn't rescue their crew, the journey for the Golden Fleece would be over before it had even begun.
Atalanta, meanwhile, stayed behind to guard the Argo. With Lemnos' queen confirmed to be hostile, she was ready to defend the ship should any unwelcome visitors approach.
---
Suren slung the Aurum Altissimum on his back and took up Athena's gifted Aegis, striding towards the heart of Lemnos, where its only town lay.
As he stepped into his fully focused state, the sheer weight of his presence transformed into an immense force—a pressure that swept across the island, shaking all its inhabitants to their cores.
This wasn't merely to announce his arrival. It was a warning to those on the island not to go too far. If anyone dared to kill, there would be consequences.
Those who take life would pay with their own.
Even from a distance, Hypsipyle felt the aura of Suren, his bearing almost god-like, the pressure of his presence pressing down as if she were in the very presence of a deity.
"What incredible strength… just what kind of power does he have?"
Fear gripped Hypsipyle. If Suren didn't listen to her explanation and instead chose to act, he could end her life before she had a chance to speak.
Recalling the silver-bowed Apollo, Hypsipyle gritted her teeth. By now, she'd crossed a point of no return. If she stopped now, she would have Apollo's wrath to fear as well. To turn back would please no one; she might as well follow the oracle's command to the end.
Suren met no resistance along the way. Exiting the forest, he reached the outskirts of the city and took in the strange scene in its center, frowning in confusion.
"What kind of… ritual is this supposed to be?"
His bewilderment was understandable. The sight before him was surreal.
At the heart of the town, a large pit had been dug, its floor lined with scorching embers and sharpened stakes protruding ominously from the flames.
Suspended over this pit was a massive balance scale, with Jason on one side and the remaining forty-five heroes piled onto the other.
One by one, the heroes were beginning to awaken, but due to the lingering effects of the potion, each was weak and defenseless.
Hypsipyle stood by the rope supporting the balance, her hand clutching a dagger, ready to sever the cord and tilt the scale.
Though Suren didn't quite understand what bizarre ritual this was, he couldn't allow forty-some men to drop into a pit and be slaughtered. Raising his bow, he loosed a golden arrow, which melted the dagger in Hypsipyle's hand upon contact.
The sheer precision of his shot, combined with the radiant gold of the arrow, alerted the heroes to his presence, and they let out small, hopeful cheers. Yet, both Jason and Heracles felt this would not be so easily resolved.
Suren called out in a firm voice, "Queen Hypsipyle of Lemnos, are you aware of what you're doing?"
"I can tell you're not without reason. Will you explain why you've done this?"
Hypsipyle let out a bitter laugh. Why else?
This was the command of a god.
Executing it likely meant death. But refusing it would mean certain death.
"What more is there to say, Suren?" Hypsipyle gritted out. "This is part of the Argonauts' trials!"
That was all she could risk revealing. Inwardly, Hypsipyle fervently hoped Suren would pick up on the hidden message.
"If you want to save them," she pressed on, "then make your choice, Suren. Right now, you alone can save their lives—and for only the smallest sacrifice."
"Come, then. Let me see what you choose."
---
"Artemis, watch closely—his true test is about to begin."
Hovering high above Lemnos, Apollo and Artemis looked down at the vast scales in the town center and the silent, handsome hero who stood before them.
"Look closely," Apollo continued coolly. "You must judge for yourself if he truly is a hero of genuine virtue. The real allure of a hero should lie not in his beauty but in the radiance of his spirit."
Artemis bit her lip. "Apollo, I believe in Suren! He is the one I've watched over, the child I've seen grow."
Yet Apollo and Artemis weren't alone in their vigilance; nearly all of Olympus's gods were casting their gaze upon Suren's choice, intentionally or otherwise.
Ever since Suren had first spoken of tempering the gods, of realizing a golden age of harmony between gods and mortals, the gods had been aware of his ambition. Now, for the first time since the White Titan Sephalu had descended upon Earth, tearing through the Age of Gods, Olympus found itself divided over the vision of this mortal child.
Back then, the gods of Olympus had not been helpless against Sephalu. Zeus, with his position as the master of the flagship Kronos, had proposed fusing the powers of the Twelve Olympian Gods into a single entity to combat the titan.
But, constrained by the logic circuits forbidding any action beyond their protocol, ten of the gods—Hera excepted—had opposed the plan. In the end, Zeus had refrained from merging the divine powers, and the gods had sacrificed their mechanical bodies, returning as spirits of flesh and blood.
Their division then had been driven by machine logic, but this time it was due to a new, profound sentiment. Empowered by the faith of mortals and embodying their true forms, the gods now felt a genuine love for humanity.
The All-Father Zeus, overlooking the world below, allowed a trace of a smile to cross his face. "Child beyond prophecy, let me witness the measure of your spirit. Will you be the one to break through fate itself?"
"Prove it to me—prove that your dream, that impossible vision, is worthy of a god's blessing."
Without the anchor of his flagship, Ares still operated according to his original programming, yet the changes wrought in Olympus had influenced even him. A hint of personality had seeped into the once purely mechanical mind of the war god. Ares now observed humanity's wars not merely as detached data but with a preference to see them unfold, although who triumphed in battle meant little to him.
Despite these slight shifts, Ares was still deeply marked by his mechanized nature. The other gods exhibited only occasional hints of stiffness, while Ares showed but brief flashes of humanity.
Fixing his mechanical gaze upon Suren, Ares found himself strangely intrigued by this mortal. Observing him, he sensed, might bring him closer to understanding the complex emotions that defined a true god.
"An impossible dream… a golden era for both gods and humans."
"Calculating…"
"Chance of success: less than 1%."
"If a majority of the gods lend their support, success rate increases by 10%. With Zeus's support, success rate increases by 50%. With the support of all twelve Olympians, success rate exceeds 99%."
"…Chance of gaining the full support of the Twelve Olympians: less than 1%."
Encountering a logical paradox, Ares terminated the calculations.
"Insufficient data. Calculation ceased."
"Further observation required."
"End of report."
---
"What choice do you expect me to make?"
Suren asked flatly, "Frankly, I don't think you're in a position to demand any choices of me. I could kill you with a blink, so quickly you wouldn't even feel it."
In a flash, Suren shot another arrow. It grazed her neck, slicing a lock of golden hair but leaving her otherwise untouched.
Hypseyle touched her neck, pale-faced, as if checking for her head or some fatal wound. Even so, she still stood her ground. "If you can do it, Suren, then kill me."
Suren rubbed his temples, his patience fraying. He'd only meant to intimidate her—this delicate-looking woman with courage that clashed with her obvious fear. She clearly feared death, and yet here she was, clinging to her resolve.
Surely, she wasn't so unaware of the stakes?
Even so, he wouldn't kill her. And in that moment, an idea began to form in his mind.
This was just another trial along their journey.
This time, however, he chose to go along with it rather than taking matters solely into his own hands. He gave a nod. "Very well. Let's hear it, Hypseyle."
Relief washed over her as she smiled, gesturing toward the enormous balance scale before them. "Then make a choice, Suren."
"If you do nothing, the heavier end of the scale will drop," she said, pointing at the side that held the forty-six heroes. "They'll be sent into a pit of burning fire and jagged blades."
"However," she went on, pointing to a lever in front of Suren, "if you pull that lever, the weight distribution will reverse. The lighter end will fall, and Jason will be the one cast into the flames."
"Suren, this is your decision. Will you allow the forty-six to die, or will you pull that lever, sacrificing one to save the many?"
Jason, now fully awake, took in the scene and shouted, "Suren! Pull the lever and save them! It's not murder—I am asking this of you!"
"Listen, Suren," Jason cried, "you must save the heroes of the Argo. This voyage must continue. Go on to Colchis! Claim the Golden Fleece and bring us honor!"
To Jason, this journey was no longer just about a throne. Colchis, the Argo, the Golden Fleece—all of it meant something far greater than his life.
If all the heroes perished here, the quest would be doomed. And the thought of such failure was far more painful than death itself.
If it came down to it, he'd rather die here and let his companions continue their journey, keeping their hope alive.
The rope holding the scale began to fray and sag. Seeing this, Jason's voice became urgent. "Suren, what are you waiting for? Make the choice!"
Jason's sudden resolve took the others by surprise. Even Heracles found himself reappraising this usually cunning, flattering man.
No one doubted his willingness to sacrifice himself. He truly wanted the voyage to continue, even if it meant his own end.
But Suren only laughed, a soft yet unwavering smile on his lips. "Shut up, Jason."
For Suren, rage was the wailing of the weak.
"Do you think I'm dithering? Wasting time, counting stars?"
He let out a sharp laugh. "I have no interest in indulging in a tragic little drama. This farce has gone on long enough."
Drawing his bow, Suren laughed up at the sky. "A moral quandary? Why would I play by your rules when I can simply take aim at the one pulling the strings?"
"Jason, Heracles, all of you—remember this moment. This is why I say the gods must be held accountable."
In the next instant, Suren's arrow streaked toward the heavens, blazing with golden light. It was an arrow carrying every ounce of his will and power.
This arrow would pierce the sky itself.
Apollo, the most skilled archer among the gods, instinctively calculated the arrow's path the moment Suren drew his bow. Though separated by miles and hidden behind the Aegis, Apollo knew the target—knew this arrow, if left unchecked, might even reach his heart.
Apollo couldn't help but admire it. "A splendid shot," he murmured. "Even without sight, even from a world away, he's hit his mark."
The precision, the innate understanding—this was the mark of a master archer.
Skill with the bow relied not just on vision but on a sense beyond words, a feel that guided each shot.
Slowly, Apollo reached out a hand. As if timed by fate itself, the arrow fell neatly into his palm. Had he been a moment slower, it might have struck his chest; a moment earlier, and it would have grazed his fingers.
He pressed his fingers gently together, crushing the arrow until it broke apart in fragments of gold, scattering into nothing.
But Apollo's expression remained calm, even pleased. The answer mattered less than the resolve Suren had shown.
He had stood against the gods themselves, refusing to play by their rules.
That alone was enough.
Whether he saved the heroes or sought vengeance against Apollo made little difference.
"A perfect answer," Apollo chuckled. "But truly, to shoot an arrow at me, the Silver Bow, the King of Archers… what a brazen mortal!"
"Very well, then." Apollo's eyes glinted with a rare appreciation. "If you refuse to yield, Suren, I shall grant you a curse to drive you through the dark. Seek the light beyond, if you dare! If you succeed, the sun shall be yours."
"A—pollo!"
Artemis had barely grasped what Apollo had done before she erupted in fury, her fingers around his neck, nearly incinerating him on the spot.
"What did you do to him?" Her voice trembled with rage.
"Wait, wait—Artemis!" Apollo stammered. "It's—it's an honor! If he makes it through this trial, he'll earn my blessing! And I swear, if he can lift the vow that binds you, I won't interfere any longer, all right?"
"Liar!" Artemis spat. "You've stolen his light. You think I wouldn't notice?"
Apollo held back a sigh, resisting the urge to draw his bow and take his own shot. "He's not blind, Artemis. He simply won't see the day, only the night… now please, will you let go?"
For a moment, Apollo looked down at Suren, his fingers brushing over his bowstring—but he left it at that, not releasing an arrow in return.
Instead, he watched the mortal below with growing admiration. "Such a perfect hero…"
Yes, Apollo thought, even in all his time among mortals, no hero had ever rivaled Suren's brilliance.
Mortals, cowed before the gods, took divine torment as trials or honors, believing that anything the gods did was justified.
But this one—this mortal who stood against them all, declaring the gods in need of restraint, who would risk everything for the sake of even one ally, this mortal was truly one of a kind.
"Suren, I look forward to your next move."
This, after all, was Apollo's trial for him.
No, it was a trial from both Apollo and Artemis.
---
At first, no one truly understood the meaning behind Suren's arrow shot into the heavens. Then Hypseyle, shaking with fear, cried out, "You—you dared show disrespect to the gods?"
"The wrath of the gods will burn you to ash!"
Hypseyle's last ounce of caution held her back from saying Apollo's name aloud. Otherwise, she might very well be sealing her fate, earning herself a one-way pass to the underworld.
Suren's bright eyes gleamed with an uncanny light. His vision was now completely overwhelmed by blinding radiance—he couldn't see a single thing around him.
And yet, his lips curled into a grin. With a laugh, he declared, "Is that so? Somehow, I think the gods might be rather pleased."
A curse from the gods?
No, not at all.
This was a blessing. The sun forever at his back, light always by his side.
As Suren's arrow pierced the sky, the dark clouds dispersed. Soft rays of sunlight broke through, spilling across the land of Lemnos, casting a warm glow upon Suren as he stood, bow raised, like a figure straight from myth.
Or rather, this very act—this heroic feat—had already become the stuff of legend.
Although his vision was obscured, Suren walked forward as if he could see perfectly, betraying none of the hesitation of a blind man. He lowered his bow and removed his shoes, then stepped boldly onto the burning coals below…
His seemingly delicate, unmarred feet were far stronger than any mortal's. Neither the thousand-degree heat nor the sharp blades hidden beneath the coals could so much as scratch him. Wherever his foot fell, embers scattered and steel dulled.
Compared to the flames that had once scorched him to the bone, this fiery pit was laughable.
It wasn't even close to the heat of that divine fire.
As for the blades, they were mere toys—no match for Suren's skin, which was harder than dragon scales.
This breathtaking, godly visage belied the strength of a hero who had transcended human limits.
"…"
Hypseyle fell silent. She knew all too well who had orchestrated this trap. Yet the light, meant as divine punishment, now bathed Suren in a celestial glow. She did not want to contemplate what this might mean.
Helpless, she sank to the ground, watching as Suren strode across the bed of coals and blades unscathed. Even her faintest urge to fight him evaporated in the face of his impervious presence.
Resigned, Hypseyle slumped against the ground, prepared to await whatever fate would bring. Though she'd acted on orders from the gods, her offense was still grievous, and she doubted the furious heroes would spare her.
Her only hope now was that the heroes of the Argo would remember the joy they'd shared here and let the other women of Lemnos go.
Suren stepped forward, gripping the balance scale, and, with a single mighty pull, lifted it from the ground and tossed it aside, ensuring the heroes were safe. He then looked down at Hypseyle, his voice cold. "Where's the antidote?"
"The… antidote?"
Dazed, Hypseyle stared at him blankly. She wasn't playing dumb—she genuinely had no idea what Suren was referring to.
Suren's patience held as he clarified, "The potion that brought Heracles and all those other heroes to their knees. There's no way you spiked their food or drinks and managed to knock out the son of Zeus and these renowned heroes with that alone."
"No… no antidote," she stammered. "Once they're exposed to sunlight, the effects will wear off."
The potion had been brewed in absolute darkness, never seeing even a sliver of light. It was one of Hecate's concoctions, researched in the depths of Tartarus.
A potent potion, with a rather unorthodox remedy.
Such absurdities could only exist in this age, where the gods ruled over everything.
The Aegis shield had obscured the sky to ensure no sunlight reached Lemnos, keeping the heroes ensnared. But with the shield withdrawn, Apollo's light now bathed the island, dispelling the potion's effects.
Still, Suren couldn't shake a sigh. Somehow, he sensed that this was only the beginning…
The gods' trials for him, for the heroes of the Argo, were far from over.
But there was one thing he could be certain of.
No matter the challenge, Suren was confident he could overcome it.
---
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