"Destroy the catapults!" shouted the leading Amazon among the camouflaged unit, her mud-streaked sword raised high.
They paid no mind to the Athenians locked in brutal combat with the mounted warrior. Without hesitation, they surged forward toward the unguarded siege machines.
The Athenian defeat was fast approaching.
Amid the chaos, Achelleous fought valiantly alongside his men against the fearsome Amazon on horseback. But deep inside, despair clawed at his heart. They had been ill-prepared for this campaign, and reinforcements were far off. They hadn't even had time to establish a proper encampment on this hostile island. All signs pointed toward a doomed effort. Retreat was the only option.
He turned and broke into a sprint, leaving his soldiers to hold the line. Before the Amazons could react, he had vanished into the jungle's dense foliage. He was no fool; he knew that in the eyes of the enemy, he was expendable. But without him, Athenian morale would plummet. Only Heracles now stood between the Amazons and complete victory.
On the larger battlefield,
the Athenian lines were fractured, their numbers reduced to a desperate quarter of the original force. Even with Heracles rampaging among them, their will to fight was nearly broken. Every plan the field commanders devised collapsed in the face of overwhelming odds. Their catapults remained silent—captured or destroyed.
What had begun as a war had devolved into a massacre.
"Fall back! Retreat into the jungle! Head for the ships! I will hold them here!"
The voice of Heracles thundered across the blood-soaked plain. His form was soaked in gore, his garments shredded, skin pierced by spears—but he stood tall, unbending, and undaunted.
The Athenian commanders didn't hesitate.
"Retreat!" they cried, and immediately the men broke ranks, running breathlessly toward the jungle. The wounded stumbled behind, eyes wide with terror, but life was too precious to give up.
"You're as arrogant as ever, Heracles," spat an Amazon, sword flashing as she lunged.
Heracles caught the blade in his palm and crushed it with ease. With a grunt, he spun, his massive club sweeping through the air—three Amazons flew backward, broken and bleeding. He stomped on the skull of one that fell, cracking it like dry pottery.
"You have no chance against me," he declared, resting the bloodied club on his shoulder.
"Let them go. I know it's me you want.
Just when I thought I'd never have the chance for revenge, you go and kill a son of Poseidon." He sneered.
"Now look at me—on your island, in all my glory. Just like old times."
Behind him, the screams of his retreating allies echoed. He knew the Amazons would give no quarter. He had to buy them time—enough, perhaps, to regroup with Achelleous and rally with the reinforcements.
Heracles exhaled heavily.
His eyes narrowed. The Amazons were repositioning. No answer came to his challenge—only silence and steely resolve.
They were surrounding him.
But Heracles was no fool. He wouldn't be brought down by simple encirclement. A fatal strike from their weapons might spell doom—even for him.
BOOM.
With a roar, he slammed his club into the ground, triggering a massive shockwave. The earth cracked. Amazons were thrown like dolls. Horses reared in panic, bolting into the woods. Dirt and debris exploded into the air, and when it cleared, Heracles stood at the center of a deep crater—unscathed.
"I told you," he growled. "Years without my presence have dulled your fear. But I return now, as the wrath of Olympus made flesh."
He strode out of the crater, each step echoing with fury.
"If your queen will not face me, I shall slaughter you all and deliver your heads to her gates."
"There is no need."
A calm but commanding voice sounded behind him.
Heracles turned.
From atop a weary steed, a tall woman dismounted with regal poise. Her face was stern, her expression unreadable. Behind her rode another Amazon, Lysippe, who remained mounted. The horses snorted and trembled—exhausted.
"Ahh, Hippolyta, my dear," Heracles said, smirking.
"I knew you'd come. You are no coward. Thank you for the… entertaining welcome." He gestured casually at the Amazons regrouping from the shockwave. Many were bruised, but none faltered.
Hippolyta ignored him. Her gaze swept the battlefield—the carnage, the bodies, the severed limbs, the shrieking of wounded horses. Her expression turned grim.
"Look what you've brought to my home, Heracles. Does this gore excite your twisted appetite for violence?"
"Me?" Heracles feigned innocence. "You're the one who killed Theseus. Your actions summoned me. This—" he gestured broadly, "—is your reward."
His tone changed subtly. Before Hippolyta, he was less the monster, more the man. But behind the mockery burned fire.
He stared at her with intensity, his smirk deepening.
"Are you not going to attack me? Oh, that's right… I broke your little girdle, didn't I?"
He threw his head back and laughed, the sound rolling like thunder across the plains.
The Amazons tensed. Teeth clenched. Weapons gripped tighter.
"If it's a fight you want, a fight you'll get," Hippolyta hissed, drawing her sword with a cold flourish. "No need to provoke me further."
"This won't be like last time," she said as she stepped forward.
"Today, you will feel the fury of the Amazons—and pay for what you've done."
"Indeed," Heracles replied, steadying himself.
"No goddesses to save you this time."
And with that, the battle between giants began.