"Father… and my brother…"
Drawn by the scene on the sea, Medea had unknowingly walked to the stern. Staring at the vast fleet of hundreds of Dragonfang warships, as well as the two figures on deck mounting dragon-drawn chariots and preparing to take off, she murmured in stunned disbelief.
"We're still not far from Colchis. If you want to go back, there's still time."
Samael cracked his knuckles and stood there quietly. After a brief reminder, he paused, then casually lifted Circe, who was trembling like a quail.
"Oh, right. If your father asks, just say she kidnapped you."
"What are you talking about? She's the one who wanted to run away and kept begging me—"
"Hm?"
"Sorry, my mistake! I kidnapped her, it was me!"
Circe bristled and protested on instinct, but the moment she looked up and met those cold, blood-red eyes scrutinizing her, the great witch shuddered. Her voice turned small and aggrieved as she obediently lowered her head before brute force.
This perfectly showcased the results of Samael's long-term "education."
"Even if I'm dragged back, I might end up being burned alive…
But if… if this is Lord Theseus's decision, I'll listen. You saved me, after all. I can't let my willfulness put you in danger…"
Recalling the cruel scenes of her father and brother torturing prisoners, Medea clutched her golden staff tightly. Her little face turned pale as she gathered her courage, lips pursed as she whimpered softly.
The girl then closed her purple eyes in sorrow. Her small, trembling body looked like a docile white rabbit lying on a chopping block, waiting to be slaughtered.
Smack!
A crisp knock landed squarely on the little witch's smooth forehead, making Medea clutch her head and cry out in pain.
"If you don't want to go back, then don't. No one gets to force that decision on you!"
Samael cut off the little witch's tragic performance, pointing toward the Dragonfang fleet closing in from across the sea and snorting impatiently.
Then the ancient serpent reached out, grabbed Circe by the back of the neck, and dragged back a certain dead bird who was trying to sneak away along the railing. He looked down at her with heavy, oppressive pressure, his voice cold.
"Where do you think you're going? Since you were the one who dragged this little girl out of Colchis, her safety on the way is your responsibility.
If anything happens to her, I'll pluck every last feather off you, 'aunt.'"
It was clearly this brat who clung to me and insisted on running away. What does that have to do with me?
And besides, I'm young and cute too. Can you stop calling me 'aunt'? It makes me sound old!
Circe felt utterly wronged. She tried several times to argue back, but every time her eyes met the chilling gleam deep within those vertical pupils, all her courage shrank into silent complaints. She could only hang her head and accept her fate.
A moment later, Samael kept a stern face and turned to knock Medea lightly on the head again as a reminder.
"The Argo and the Colchis fleet are about to clash. Hide properly. If something happens, I won't have time to look after you."
"Lord Theseus… you, you're worried about me?"
"Once you're on my ship, you're my crew. Until you leave, I have a duty to ensure your safety."
Samael replied solemnly, his tone firm.
Even though he had no desire to get too deeply involved with a ticking time bomb like Medea, since things had already come to this, he wasn't heartless enough to sell the girl off without a thought.
Medea, who had been feeling uneasy, grew happier and happier the more she listened. Her purple eyes widened, and a faint blush crept onto her delicate face.
Did Lord Theseus just say that once I'm on his ship, I'm his person?
Is that a confession?
If I agree right away, would that be too forward?
But refusing… no, that would be too cruel.
Then maybe I should just stay quiet.
But if I don't say anything, does that mean I'm agreeing by default?
Her powerful imagination ran wild. Her pretty face shifted between delight and bashful embarrassment, constantly changing.
If they exchanged just a few more lines, this sensitive, imaginative underage witch would probably already be thinking about how many children they'd have and what their names would be.
Fortunately, before the girl could say anything, Circe, who had effectively been reduced to a part-time nanny, grabbed her niece and dragged her into the cabin to hide. Better to avoid running into her brother and nephew and adding unnecessary awkwardness.
"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"
Just as the two witches withdrew from the front lines, Orion on the lookout caught sight of a pitch-black mass of incoming arrows and immediately shouted a warning into the resonating magecraft array.
Hum!
The surging Ether tide spiraled and reverberated. Across the hull of the Argo, magic arrays large and small, clockwise and counterclockwise, layered and interlocked, rose and activated one after another, stacking together like layers of thick hide shields.
A sharp whistling followed. Amid a series of dull clanks, the bone-white arrows fired by the Dragonfang Soldiers were all bounced away by the ship's dense curtain of light.
But in the next instant, a shrill screech cut through the air. Several weapons over two meters long, spear-sized, forged entirely from bronze and lined with sharp barbs along their sides, punched through the Argo's outer defenses and came screaming in.
Magical artillery!
Inside the captain's cabin, Jason stared at the massive ballistae revealed along the flanks of the Colchis fleet and sucked in a sharp breath.
Fortunately, top-tier heroes like Telamon, Peleus, and Heracles had already spread out across the deck, prepared for the worst.
As the spear-like bolts slammed down, some drew their swords to cleave them apart, others raised shields to block, and a few even caught them barehanded. With sheer, terrifying strength, they quickly neutralized the threat.
Watching the Dragonfang Soldiers aboard the Colchis fleet crank their winches to reload, while priests and Magi on both sides recharged the magic crystals, and seeing the King of Colchis himself leading the charge in a dragon-drawn chariot as hundreds of trained wyverns rose into the sky, Jason's face turned pale.
Had they gone insane? This was practically Colchis throwing its entire national strength into a full-scale war against the Argo.
This was deadly.
"The Golden Fleece is secured. Don't get bogged down. Full speed ahead, shake them off!"
Jason's heart raced as he sensed something deeply wrong. He drew his sword and decisively ordered the retreat, urging his companions to pull back.
The throne was practically within reach. He had no intention of going mad alongside that old bastard.
At the same time, clouds spreading from the Colchis fleet rapidly engulfed the surrounding sea. Blood-red bands of light fell like razor-sharp blades.
Stirred by the crimson radiance, the sea boiled and surged, strings of bubbles rising one after another.
Splash… splash…
Amid the overlapping sounds of water, grotesque sea beasts surfaced. Eight-limbed demonic octopuses, giant squids, Leviathan whales, saw-toothed sharks, each with a feral expression.
Under the influence of the blood-soaked aura, they roared in frenzy, whipping up towering waves and tearing into one another in savage slaughter, determined to devour every living thing nearby.
At the very center of this bloody battlefield, the Argo charged left and right through the monsters, repeatedly caught in the chaos as the hull rocked violently.
Worse still, as the blood-soaked sacrifices accumulated, both the wyvern units in the air and the Dragonfang Soldiers on deck were shrouded in an ever-thickening crimson aura. A heavy layer of blood-red armor formed over their bodies.
Their reactions, speed, strength, and thirst for battle all visibly multiplied.
This was… Blood Dominion, the authority of the War God!
Samael sensed the frenzied rhythm permeating the crimson sea fog. His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression turning cold.
Hmph. No wonder the scale was so excessive.
Ares, that sore loser, actually showed up in person.
...
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