Thwock! A solid, meaty sound.
Melanippe's first arrow flew, furious and fast.Aeneas barely had time to react. He raised the yew branch—just a digging stick, really—but it caught the shot.
The arrow sank deep into the wood. Its fletching trembled from the impact, humming softly. Like a hummingbird nailed to bark, still struggling to break free.
Aeneas felt his heart leap into his throat. A cold sweat instantly drenched his back. Stuck his tunic to his skin.
"Shit! Where'd this Robin Hood wannabe come from?! Her aim is fucking lethal!"
He panted, glancing at the quivering arrow embedded in the thick wood.
"If this branch wasn't so hard, my second life here would be over already…"
He could even smell the faint scent of splintered wood from the impact.
The danger was far from over.
Melanippe moved like an angered panther. Her agile form darted between the trees.
As she closed the distance, her right hand already drew a second, then a third arrow from her quiver! She barely seemed to aim. Pure hunter's instinct and honed muscle memory.
The bowstring thrummed. Thwip! Thwip! Lethal shafts flew like machine-gun fire. They hemmed in Aeneas's every possible escape route.
Aeneas scrambled, completely disheveled. He rolled, leapt, and threw himself flat on the damp lakeside grass, wedging between rocks. His once-clean bronze armor was instantly caked in mud and grass.
He ducked behind any tree he could reach. Arrows hissed past his ears, trailing cold wind.
One pinned the ground where he'd just stood. Another pierced the trunk ahead, kicking up flecks of dirt.
Two more embed the bark behind him. Hard. Deep.
Thunk. Thunk. The sound was unnerving.
He dodged, all while screaming internally.
"My luck is the worst! Come to this godsforsaken era, haven't even flirted with one beauty, and a beautiful assassin shows up first! Who wrote this crap?!"
"Using all my evasive skills! Look at me roll, jump, spin, handstand! Ha... ha... ugh... But not even movie protagonists have it this bad!"
He mentally wailed. Threw himself behind another tree in a move that was almost comical, yet effective. He wheezed like a broken bellows.
He had considered hiding behind the Amazon bodies. But he killed the thought instantly.
Amid the chaos, a shred of reason remained. He knew it would only deepen the misunderstanding beyond repair. And violate his modern sensibilities.
"Get a grip, Aeneas. You can't use the dead as shields."
He gritted his teeth. Had to tough it out.
"Stop!" he yelled, running. His voice was nearly drowned by the arrows. "It's a mistake! I didn't kill them! I'm burying them! Can't you see?!"
His words were broken, gasping. But the urgency and sincerity were real.
Melanippe's eyes burned with vengeful fire. Her beautiful eyes were now just cold killing intent. She ignored Aeneas's shouts. Saw only a slippery "Trojan cockroach" that was annoyingly hard to squash.
She reached for another arrow. Her fingers grasped nothing but air.
The quiver was empty—spent in her fury.
She let out an angry snarl. Hurled the longbow that had been her companion for years aside. Drew the bronze shortsword from her hip with a sharp shing! Its edge glinted with a heart-stopping coldness in the dappled sunlight.
She took several deep, heaving breaths. Her chest rose and fell sharply.
She kept coming. A cold sneer twisted her lips. Her voice dripped with venomous hate.
"Shut your mouth! Damned Trojan! Is cowardly denial the usual trick for vile men like you?"
She slashed her sharp shortsword through the air.
"Don't worry! I won't let you die so easily! I heard there were twenty of you, right?"
"I won't let you see Hades until I find where they're hiding!"
"Don't even dream of going a single breath sooner than I allow!"
"This insect is too slippery! Can't let him get away! Grab him... make him talk! Make him reveal his pack!"
She advanced step by deliberate step. Her gaze locked on him—a hawk staring down a wounded rabbit.
Aeneas was backed against the lake. His heels met the water's edge. Icy dampness seeped into his soles.
Behind him lay only the deep, green water. No more trees for cover.
He looked at the Amazon warrior. Mythically beautiful. Radiating pure killing intent. He felt utterly resigned.
"Alright. Looks like there's no choice."
He looked at this stunningly beautiful, murderous Amazon. Full of grievance and helplessness, he steeled himself. Drew his own shortsword with a shing.
The bronze blade reflected his pale but determined face. And Melanippe's burning, vengeful eyes.
Melanippe pushed off the ground. Her core twisted, generating explosive power. She shot forward like a hunting leopard. Her deep brown hair streamed behind her in a sharp arc. Closed the distance to Aeneas instantly.
Using her momentum, her core unleashed shocking force.
A pure, brutal slash came down toward Aeneas's right shoulder—fast, deliberate, and deadly.
The blade cut the air. Almost tearing it.
Aeneas's pupils contracted. His body instinctively leaned back. His wrist twisted—Clang!
His shortsword barely parried the lethal strike. The impact sent a numb tremor up his arm.
"These reflexes... this explosive power... She'd win gold at the Olympics! Are all Amazon women this fierce?"
"No wonder the Greek heroes bragged about 'defeating' you lot..."
He mentally whined like a beaten dog. Kept his whole body tense. Watched her next move.
The first strike missed. Melanippe didn't pause. Her core twisted, driving another move. Her long, powerful leg snapped out like a whip—a spinning kick aimed straight for his gut.
Her war-skirt flared with the motion. If it landed, it could make him cough blood.
Thump!
Aeneas hastily raised his knee to block. The force jarred him back two stumbling steps. Loose stones skittered from under his feet into the lake with soft plops.
Before he regained his balance, Melanippe closed in again like an enraged lioness. Her shortsword traced deadly arcs of cold light. Each strike aimed for a vital point—throat, heart, wrist. Her swordplay was relentless, fluid. Forcing him into constant, narrow escapes.
Aeneas's internal complaints were endless. "This crazy girl really wants me dead! At this rate, I'm a goner!"
He panted like an ox. Sweat dripped from his brow. Fell onto the damp, muddy ground by the lake.
"Gotta shut her down first. No way to talk sense into her like this."
He gritted his teeth. Feigned exhaustion. Let his breathing grow ragged. Took a shaky, misstepping sidestep.
A light of triumph flashed in Melanippe's furious, beautiful eyes—'Got him!'. She instantly checked her charge. Pivoted with agile precision to pursue. A hawk locking onto its prey.
Just as she pivoted—that precise moment between spent momentum and new—Aeneas moved!
He was no longer dodging. He was attacking. His body snapped forward like a released bowstring. His shortsword became a flash of cold light. Thrust straight for Melanippe's chest!
The strike was fast. Fierce. Utterly different from his earlier disheveled state.
The sudden counter-attack startled Melanippe. She hastily brought her sword up to block. Her arm trembled from the rushed effort.
But the instant their blades met, she felt the power from his arm surge dramatically!
It wasn't just arm strength. It felt like his entire body's force concentrated into a single point.
"Damn—" The half-curse left her lips. Before she could react further, Aeneas used the force of the parry to slam into her. They were suddenly chest-to-chest. So close their noses almost touched. He could feel her breath.
His left arm swept around her taut, muscular back. His right hand dropped the sword without hesitation.
He lunged—arms locking tight in a clean, decisive hold.
His full strength erupted. He locked his arms around her, pinning her tight!
Melanippe's eyes widened. Every muscle in her body tensed—
To her shock, her proud strength was useless in this close-quarters struggle. She couldn't break free.
"You—!" Melanippe's cry was cut short as an immense, irresistible force pushed her backward.
Her world spun. A loud Splash! They hit the icy lake water together, still tangled.
Icy water exploded. White spray shot upward. The lake's surface shattered.
The world underwater was instantly, terrifyingly silent.
The moment she hit the water, Melanippe's land-bound ferocity vanished.
She was a true landlubber. An Amazon from the inland steppes, utterly unused to deep water.
The lake swallowed her. Biting cold enveloped her. Panic made her limbs flail. She grabbed at nothing but slick water.
Her shortsword slipped from her grasp. Glinted faintly as it sank into the dark depths.
Icy lake water surged into her nose and mouth, merciless and cold.
It stabbed at her sinuses, choked her throat, flooded her lungs.
She kicked, twisted—then slowed. Her strength was slipping away.
After several choking gulps, her consciousness began to fade. Regret and bitterness filled her.
"No... shouldn't have been so reckless... Should have listened to Priestess Hipp..."
"Our sisters… the revenge… still unfinished…
And I die like this… like a rat… in the water…"
Her thoughts fragmented. Darkness wrapped around her like velvet.
As her vision darkened, her body went limp, a pair of strong arms locked around her torso from behind. They were firm. Resolute. They lifted her, fighting the gravity pulling her toward the abyss.
Aeneas was struggling terribly himself. The heavy bronze armor dragged him down like a stone. Icy water tried to force itself into his mouth and nose.
He kicked desperately. Relied on his transmigrated body's raw strength and faint memories of modern swimming. Fought the drowning instinct and the armor's weight. Every second felt like a century.
His lungs felt ready to burst. His consciousness began to blur. Only the roar of water and the shadow of death remained. He looked up. Saw the fractured, hazy sunlight filtering through the churning water above. Shards of hope, dancing.
He held the now-unconscious Melanippe tight. Summoned the last dregs of his body's strength. Fueled by a will that refused to give up. He struggled upward, toward that light.