Whinny, whinny~~
Across the wilderness, warhorses neighed as dust clouds billowed in every direction. Led by the prince, the heroes arrived at the area already sealed off by Calydon soldiers.
Armed with spears and shields, the warriors stationed at each checkpoint confirmed their identities before solemnly thumping their chests in salute. They then pulled back the sharpened palisades, watching the expeditionary force ride off into the distance.
Upon reaching the edge of the northwestern forest, Meleager gave a few brief instructions before waving his hand. The heroes split into groups of five, nodding in unison as they dispersed. The clatter of hooves echoed around the forest's perimeter as they galloped toward different sectors, ready to encircle their target.
Moments later, the five remaining figures stepped into the forest.
Passing through a thin layer of mist, the landscape suddenly opened up. Towering trees pierced the clouds, their dense foliage casting deep layers of green shade. By noon, the fog had only slightly dissipated. Even then, the sunlight that slipped through the gaps in the canopy, breaking through the gloom to reach the forest floor, appeared only as faint, scattered patches of gold.
A gentle breeze brushed against his face. Samael took a deep breath. The fresh scent of thriving vegetation mixed with the faint odor of decaying leaves and branches, making his nose itch and tempting him to sneeze.
Goddess of the Forest and Hunt, you've really given Calydon quite the problem...
The Ancient Serpent surveyed the area, noting the unusually large, clearly mutated outer plants and the lingering gloom that seemed to cling to the forest. He shook his head slightly.
"Smack!"
Just as Samael was lost in thought, a sharp slap landed on the back of his head, followed by a cool, reprimanding voice.
"Get back here! Don't break formation! Stick to the plan!"
Atalanta waved sharply from behind. Understanding the cue, Samael raised his bronze shield and spear, moving to her left flank. Together with the other four, they formed an inverted V formation, following the trail as they advanced.
Of course, the weapons in Samael's hands were nothing but ordinary pieces chosen from Calydon's armory.
His explanation to Atalanta was that the forest wasn't home to just Magical Beasts. If he revealed the valuable ones too soon, someone was bound to covet them—and he doubted he could keep them safe.
After all, the Greeks scavenging the battlefield spared not even the standard bronze armor worn by ordinary commanders, let alone rare Divine Constructs. Killing the enemy and stripping their armor was as much a display of power as it was a claim to honor.
Atalanta agreed to Samael's reasoning without much resistance.
For one, even she found his gear tempting enough that she'd half a mind to rob him herself—let alone the other heroes, many of whom weren't as well off.
More importantly, the mere presence of women among the men's revelry already bred discontent. If a conflict broke out, it could easily escalate, and Atalanta wasn't certain she could withstand the combined hostility of the Greek heroes.
After all, their leaders—Heracles, Peleus, Telamon, the Prince of Calydon, and the Spartan twins Castor and Pollux—were no simple figures.
Thanks to Samael's reminder, she realized she had to guard not only against the Magical Beasts lurking in the woods but also against the so-called allies at her side.
Since entering the forest, Atalanta had kept her ears pricked, muscles tense, and her right hand always resting on her bowstring, fully immersed in hunting mode.
In truth, Samael was simply too lazy to bring out his divine equipment, choosing instead to avoid unnecessary trouble and keep enjoying the protection of his "big sister" by playing the part of the weakling.
But sometimes, when a lie is told often enough, the act becomes real—and the falsehood starts to live on its own.
Samael glanced at Atalanta's focused profile beside him and sighed inwardly, forcing himself to play the obedient bodyguard while pushing away any errant thoughts of affection.
The five of them kept their voices low and their breathing steady as they tracked both new and old traces of destruction, closing in on the rocky cavern that housed the Demon Boar's lair.
Atalanta, an expert tracker seasoned by countless hunts, led the way. Samael and Caenis followed at a measured distance on either flank, each carrying a spear and shield while keeping longbows strapped to their backs for when the need arose.
At the rear, the great witch Circe held her tin staff close, weaving layers of Magecraft protection around the group. She remained ever ready to unleash high-speed divine incantations that could bolster their stamina, speed, and strength should danger strike.
"You—stop hiding behind me! Who's protecting who here?"
After some distance, Circe turned with a dark expression, glaring at the figure who had somehow slipped behind her back again.
"Ahem, I'm just covering the rear! Just covering the rear."
Jason, sword and shield in hand, poked his head out nervously, his grin dry and awkward.
We haven't even started fighting yet, and you're already acting like rear guard? Give me a break.
Samael pressed a hand to his forehead, speechless. Fine. Another idiot added to the roster. He was already starting to regret letting this guy tag along.
"Did you bring this guy just to entertain us?"
During a short rest, Caenis couldn't resist tossing in a jab, snorting in disdain.
"Well, he's got good awareness, and he can boost morale in his own way," Samael explained, glancing at Jason.
"Morale boosting? What, you mean he's going to strum his lyre and sing in Divine Tongue to us? Are you trying to get us all killed faster?"
"Good awareness, huh? You mean he'll be the first to bolt when the Demon Boar shows up?"
This time, not only Caenis but even Circe, who had moved closer, joined in the complaint.
"So, what—are you suggesting we leave him here?"
The Ancient Serpent leaned lazily against a tree, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he raised an eyebrow at the two.
"I—I didn't mean that! I was just complaining, that's all."
Circe, remembering too vividly what it was like to be at the mercy of this serpent, shrank her neck slightly and hurriedly clarified her position.
"Tch, whatever. Just don't get in my way when the Demon Boar charges out!"
Caenis tilted her chin upward proudly, throwing in another self-congratulatory remark.
Not bad. These teammates weren't exactly noble souls, but they were workable. Still, you, social butterfly of the men's drinking circle—you never did get along well with female heroes.
The glow in Samael's eyes dimmed as he moved toward Jason, who stood watch nearby.
"Hey, buddy, check this out. Good stuff."
The blond youth grinned slyly as he pulled two small potion bottles from his pack, tossing one to Samael. When he popped the cork, a faint blend of fruit and wine fragrance drifted into the air.
"You seriously drinking during the hunt? Aren't you afraid Atalanta'll shoot you in the ass?"
"No way! I'm not done living yet. It's just an energy potion—has a bit of medicinal wine and honey mixed in, that's all."
As Samael gave him a skeptical look, Jason nervously glanced toward the hunting captain perched on a tree branch in the distance, scanning the surroundings. His face paled slightly as he rushed to defend himself.
...
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