The battle ended, and Typhon's offspring roared in triumph.
From deep within the forest, Chiron—who had been silently observing the entire hunt with sharp eyes—nodded to himself in approval.
It had to be said, this fight was won beautifully. The flow of tactics was seamless: careful preparation, adapting to the unfavorable terrain, Athena's cautious probing, Medusa taking command at the right moment to suppress, the frontal assault, flanking maneuvers, aerial harassment—everything connected smoothly like flowing water.
And in the end, Athena severed one of the Poison Dragon's heads while Medusa took another, bringing the battle to a perfect close.
In the process, nearly every member had played to their strengths, the entire team displaying an extraordinary sense of cohesion.
What's more, the cost had been almost nothing. Aside from some minor injuries to the thick-skinned, poison-resistant Hydra and Colchian Dragon, they had brought down a Greater God-level Poison Dragon at its peak. A clean profit by any measure.
Once they hauled the carcass back to the Arima Caves and consumed the divine essence and Spirit Core still within it, Typhon's offspring would see their strength rise even further.
But one troubling question remained: the whole Cilician Marsh was now the shared domain of the goddess of justice, Themis, and the Mother of Serpents, Echidna, both of whose divine might faintly lingered here. So why had a mature Greater Poison Dragon suddenly appeared, crossing the boundary into their territory?
Could it mean trouble was brewing beyond?
Chiron frowned, unease flickering across his expression.
...
Meanwhile, the victorious hunting party erupted into wild celebration. Medusa descended, leading the Hydra and the Colchian Dragon—both thick-skinned brutes well-suited for hauling—to the pool, preparing to drag the Poison Dragon's corpse ashore.
"Ssshhhhh!"
But the moment the violet-haired goddess came within three paces of the water, the lake surface erupted. Dozens of spiraling water columns shot skyward, sucking the moisture from the air and dispersing into heavy clouds.
In an instant, dense, oppressive black fog spread out, and with the driving breath of the storm, it engulfed the land for dozens of miles.
From the cracked, parched bed of the pool, several jet-black serpents suddenly shot out, coiling toward Medusa with terrifying speed.
"Move!"
At the last instant, a bronze spear crackling with thunder shot in from the side. It burst midair, arcs of violet-white lightning slamming into the serpents' skulls and stunning them briefly.
"Buzz!"
In that precious heartbeat of reprieve, Medusa instinctively summoned her great black scythe. She swept it in a wide arc, unleashing dozens of crescent-shaped blades of light, striking at the serpents and the unseen depths of the pool from every angle.
At the same time, Ladon, the Sphinx, Stheno, and Euryale—who had taken on the roles of spell support and field control—felt the overwhelming, violent aura surging from the pool's depths. Their faces hardened, and they immediately unleashed a storm of bombardments on the heart of the black smoke.
Beams of Mana and elemental torrents ripped through the air, warping it violently into dazzling, perilous colors. Earth and smoke erupted, scattering in every direction.
Alerted, the Hydra and the Colchian Dragon expanded to several times their size, revealing their true Titan forms. Their auras flared, savage and unrestrained, as they roared and planted themselves firmly before Medusa and Athena, like immovable tanks.
Rejoined, Medusa and Athena stood shoulder to shoulder. For some reason, a sense of security welled up between them, their auras intertwining—repelling and attracting all at once.
The violet-haired goddess cast a sidelong glance at her "sister" and murmured softly.
"I thought you wouldn't intervene..."
The moment she had drawn the heavy scythe, she could faintly sense hostility radiating from this side.
"Now that's hurtful. Honestly, I'd be thrilled if you died here—then no one would be around to compete with me."
Athena sighed helplessly, casting a sorrowful glance at her "sister." She pressed a hand to her chest, looking as if she were genuinely saddened.
"But if you just got slaughtered like this, I'd lose even my only rival. How lonely would that be? I still care about you, you know. I even planned to avenge you one day."
Medusa's serpentine eyes gleamed coldly, her lips curling into a faint sneer.
"Please. Selling me out like that—you're just scared Samael will beat you to death when we get back."
The sorrow on Athena's face vanished at once, replaced with annoyance. She rolled her eyes and gave a sharp snort.
"Tsk. You're supposed to see through it but keep quiet, got it? Saying it out loud ruins the fun. Now you've taken away all my sense of accomplishment."
The Goddess of Wisdom then leaned closer, tiptoeing slightly to pat her "sister" on the shoulder with easy familiarity, her smile bright.
"Anyway, I saved you, didn't I? You should be grateful."
"Tell you what—so you don't keep brooding over paying me back with servitude or whatever, I'll take the loss. Just hand over what you're holding instead."
Noticing the intense gaze fixed on the Scythe of Time, Medusa tightened her grip, her eyes sharpening in wariness.
"Don't even think about it!"
"At worst, I'll bail you out another time. And even if you hadn't stepped in, I can still guarantee my own safety!"
Stingy!
Athena muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes in boredom.
Yet behind their outward bickering, both goddesses carried a grave intensity in their eyes. Their bodies remained wound tight as bowstrings throughout the exchange.
The silent glances passed between them pressed down on the Typhon offspring, who had grown restless under the suffocating aura. Their agitation and bestial instincts were forced back, and they began slowly retreating from the pool, slipping away through the thickets.
"You've come all this way—leaving already?"
But just as the rearguard began to move, a chilling murmur rose from the dust-filled depths of the pool. It echoed like oxen bellowing, lions roaring, dogs barking, thunder crashing, and storms howling—countless voices speaking as one.
Medusa's pupils contracted sharply. She seized Athena by the shoulder and hurled her backward with all her strength. Then she whipped her head toward her siblings waiting in the brush and shouted with all her might.
"Run!"
The Typhon offspring felt their hearts quake as they turned and bolted. In the air, the Harpy instinctively caught Athena and carried her along with the fleeing host.
But at the same moment, the violet-haired goddess summoned her black scythe and charged in the opposite direction—straight toward the churning black mist at the bottom of the pool.
The fog that had been smothered moments before now boiled like water, the surrounding air growing oppressively hot.
From within it rose a giant, three to four meters tall. His skin was dark, his body etched with savage purple-black divine markings. He lifted his right hand and caught the heavy scythe barehanded.
At the same time, the man opened deep, serpentine eyes, fixing his gaze on Medusa as his face sank into shadow.
In an instant, his features twisted into something monstrous. As the divine patterns flared, several black dragon heads—half-real, half-illusory—lashed out, tongues flicking as they coiled and bit toward Medusa suspended in midair.
But at that moment, a dense volley of Mana beams streaked in from behind. Athena's spear and Euryale's arrows were among them, blasting apart the dragon heads clawing their way from the black mist.
The man only grew more frenzied, laughing bitterly through his rage. His eyes turned razor-sharp and cold as he forced a guttural snarl through clenched teeth.
"You dare raise your hands against me? How unfilial... my dear daughters and sons!"
...
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