Chapter 103: Hydra, Directly Defeated
The pose was, of course, completely unacceptable.
From any angle, it looked as if Atalanta had taken advantage of the situation to pounce on Rowe.
"Although I know you are starved for fatherly love, there is no need to rush."
Rowe's gaze slid sideways, voice lazy and full of mischief.
When the ship lurched a moment earlier, the beast eared girl had been thrown straight into him.
Her legs had landed astride his, the tension in her thighs deforming the black silk in a taut arc. Her slight but still soft chest pressed into his torso, the triangular line of her lower body brushing and settling against him, movements freezing along with her suddenly quickened breath.
Her teeth were sharp enough to tear flesh, yet when she bit his neck, all he felt was a faint tickle and the smooth brush of her lips and fangs against his skin.
Atalanta went completely stiff.
She had no idea how to react.
What do I do…
The wildcat girl finally, truly panicked.
The next second, she felt a different warmth.
It rose from her waist, where Rowe's hand had slid around her and begun to move upward along her back through the fabric of her clothes.
It is over.
He is not actually going to…
She did not fully understand what she was afraid of, but Atalanta was not foolish. Her instincts screamed at her to struggle, yet her body had gone soft, her strength leaking away.
A nervous flutter.
A flicker of fear.
And something else that made her even more confused.
Why is there… anticipation?
…Enkidu, Artemis… I am sorry.
"Eh!?"
Atalanta's eyes flew open.
Because instead of anything she imagined, her collar was caught, and she was abruptly lifted up.
Rowe looked at her with open amusement.
"Are you that attached to me?"
Damn it.
Damn it, damn it…
Atalanta bared her teeth, but she did not dare thrash around.
She could only let Rowe hold her up, then set her gently to one side of the bed.
Her breathing gradually steadied.
The shame and anger did not.
Having grown up in the forest, she had no proper vocabulary for what she was feeling.
She only knew she really wanted to bite Rowe to death.
Or go back in time and kill her past self.
"Let's go take a look outside."
Rowe glanced at her, then turned toward the window.
The night sea beyond was pitch dark.
A moment ago, a bright moon had been hanging over the water, leading the Argo's way. Now it had vanished entirely.
The wind howled.
The sea surged and slammed like a storm burst from the depths.
The air itself carried the heavy scent of disaster.
The sudden roll of the ship earlier had been the first symptom.
To be honest, in that first instant, even he had felt a reaction he would rather not put into words.
But as a primordial child who had long since achieved perfect control over his own body, Rowe naturally would not let himself be swept away by desire.
"Hmph."
Atalanta's cheeks were still faintly red, but she pulled on her cloak, hood shadowing her face, and followed him out.
Once a wildcat found a warm place, it was hard to leave.
She was no exception.
…
On deck, Heracles stood at the helm, expression grave as he stared at the colossal silhouette that had risen from the sea to block their way.
That thing was…
"Hydra. An abyssal monster. How did it reach the surface?"
The towering Son of Zeus stood solidly on the swaying deck, his black short hair whipping wildly in the gale.
Heracles's gaze fixed on the shape spanning the sea.
A mountain sized, nine headed serpent writhed there, churning up waves and storm winds at will. Its raised tail crashed into the water in a relentless rhythm, flinging up walls of seawater that crashed back down like rain.
The demon of the abyss. Hydra.
Unlike the other monsters Heracles had faced, Hydra might more accurately be called a Demon God.
It was the embodiment of sea disasters, the final congealed malice of the Titan gods, the offspring of Typhon, locked in the lowest depths of the abyss by the Olympians.
Its power surpassed that of ordinary gods.
On the sea, even most chief deities could do nothing against it.
Heracles did not believe he could simply break through its blockade.
At that moment, the cabin door creaked open behind him.
Rowe and Atalanta stepped out, both cloaked, sea wind snapping at their hems.
What is that…
Under the hood, Atalanta's catlike eyes narrowed.
That monstrous thing…
Was that what had made her lose so much face?
Where is my bow?
Her ears twitched under the hood, her fair cheeks still faintly flushed beneath the lingering humiliation.
"That is Hydra," Rowe explained. "A Titan class monster."
"I know. I do not need you to explain." Atalanta bared her teeth.
Heracles came over from the helm.
He took in Atalanta, then the very clear bite mark on Rowe's neck, and decisively chose to ignore that entire chain of implications.
"Mr. Rowe. Our path is blocked."
He kept it short.
Should we detour, or…?
"No confidence?" Rowe raised an eyebrow.
Heracles was honest.
"None."
A hero was not the same as a hotheaded fool.
Accurately gauging the gap between friend and foe was also an essential quality for those who ventured into unknown lands.
Heracles had grown.
In mind as well as in strength, he was far beyond the boy who had first walked out of Chiron's cave on Mount Pelion.
Even so, he knew he could not match Hydra, the abyssal monster.
In his estimation, even Rowe, who had fought Ares to a standstill, might not necessarily defeat it directly on the open sea.
Rowe found that line of thinking perfectly reasonable.
If he remembered correctly, Hydra was supposed to be one of Heracles's Twelve Labors.
The legend of Heracles slaying Hydra belonged to a future that had yet to happen.
"In that case… we go straight through."
Rowe smiled.
"You?" Atalanta's eyes widened. She had assumed they would change course.
"Mr. Rowe… I understand."
Heracles immediately realized the decision would not change.
Hydra upon the sea was the terrifying incarnation of calamity, capable of crushing ordinary chief gods outright.
Rowe wanted to know whether such a calamity could crush his original body.
He wanted, very much, to taste the poison of Hydra's fangs for himself.
In the original myths, even Chiron, the son of the second generation King of Gods, had died from Hydra's venom.
So could it kill him?
Rowe's eyes shone with a mixture of anticipation and delight.
Hydra was extremely strong.
But not so strong that he could not handle it.
"So. Keep going. Straight ahead."
The Argo cut forward, riding the heaving sea toward the waiting serpent.
The closer it drew, the more violent the pounding of the waves became.
If the three aboard had been ordinary humans, they would no longer even be able to stand.
A shrill roar split the storm.
One of the nine towering serpent heads finally noticed the approaching sailboat.
It opened its massive maw, venomous fangs gleaming, and lunged.
The ship bucked harder.
Heracles clamped down on the helm, forcing the vessel to hold its course, while Atalanta braced herself against the railing, keeping herself from being flung into the sea.
Only Rowe stepped out to meet the incoming serpent head.
In the lightless world, there were no sun, moon, or stars. The radiance of the gods was swallowed by the bulk of the great serpent. It roared through the boiling sea as if it meant to overturn the entire world.
Heracles strained to keep the ship on course. Atalanta gripped her bow, struggling to pull the string taut against the storm.
Hydra's roar came closer. Its venom soaked fangs loomed, baring the horror of the abyss itself.
And upon the ship that had lost its so called heroes…
The hero once called a sage opened the treasury that contained all phenomena.
Ripples of dazzling light bloomed around Rowe and swept across the sea.
Every dull and shadowed thing along the horizon saw the dawn.
In that instant, day broke.
Amid the rain of seawater, Rowe spread his arms.
The Gate of Babylon unfolded around the Argo.
Countless golden portals bloomed into existence, swords and spears and blades bristling within them like a forest of steel.
He took one step forward.
Steel rained down on Hydra.
The sea convulsed.
For a moment, it was as if a god that ruled over all phenomena had descended upon the surface world, and even another deity would have had no choice but to marvel.
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