Cyprus.
A slender silver-haired youth clutched a bag in his arms and staggered quickly through the dense forest.
Serious scrapes covered his arms and thighs, blood seeped from his forehead, and a bronze arrow pierced straight through his left shoulder blade.
Every mark showed that he was fleeing for his life in a hunt.
"Escape? Do you think you can escape?"
A gloomy, cold snort sounded as a middle-aged man with messy red hair and a red beard, wearing a green Thracian-style robe and skirt, carried a wooden spear and followed unhurriedly behind the silver-haired youth.
He had no intention of ending the chase quickly and seemed to be purely enjoying the process of hunting and tormenting his prey.
Seeing the pursuer closing in once again, the fleeing silver-haired youth, or rather the future God of Medicine, Asclepius, gritted his teeth, reached into his bag, pulled out two clay bottles, and hurled them hard behind him.
The red-haired middle-aged man raised his hand to touch his cheek.
Black, stinking blood seeped from under the cloth covering his eyes as he grinned ferociously and swung his wooden spear.
"You little bastard, you already used this trick!"
Crimson light patterns shot forward and shattered the two incoming clay bottles in mid-air.
At the same time, scarlet divine power spread out and instantly burned like fierce flames, completely incinerating the fragments of the bottles and the medicinal powder flying within them.
Seeing his last means of self-defense easily neutralized, Asclepius, who had already lost too much blood, turned even paler, and a thread of despair rose in his heart.
Originally, he had only accepted the invitation of the Cypriot prince Adonis to come here and treat his hidden illness.
But who could have thought that after curing Adonis and being sent out of the city, he would run head-on into a madman?
The moment this guy learned he was the doctor who had cured Adonis, he picked up his spear without a word and chased him all the way.
Although Asclepius had taken advantage of the surprise and used a hastily prepared deadly poison potion to heavily injure the man's eyes, this not only failed to make him back off, it instead aroused even greater ferocity and brutality in his heart.
He continued the chase game with a cat-and-mouse mentality, forcing the injured Asclepius to keep fleeing.
And whenever the prey showed any resistance, the pervert behind him became even more excited, and his attacks became even more cruel.
The dozens of large and small wounds on Asclepius's body were all left by the pervert behind him.
If he himself had not been an excellent doctor capable of self-healing, he probably would not have lasted long.
The divine blood in his body would have drained dry, and he would have been worn down to death in a cruel way.
But even so, Asclepius had almost reached his limit.
Not only had his magic potions and the divine power in his body been completely exhausted, even his physical strength and mental will were on the verge of collapse.
Realizing that it would not be long before he would humiliatingly die on this doomed short escape route, Asclepius gritted his teeth, suddenly stopped, and turned around.
At this moment, he would fight to the death!
However, seeing the weak prey dare to turn back and bare its claws and teeth at him, the red-haired man immediately showed displeasure and knocked his wooden spear against the ground.
"Run! You little bastard, run for me!"
Scarlet divine power shot forward with the red-haired man's cold snort, grazed Asclepius's cheek, arms, and hair, and left terrifying deep pits all around.
But even so, the Asclepius ahead remained unmoved.
Instead, he drew the only half of the staff left at his waist and assumed a resolute stance.
Seeing this, the red-haired man suddenly lost interest.
Under the cloth, his still-bleeding eyes stared at the prey ahead, and a trace of cruelty flashed.
"Want to die? Then this king will grant your wish!"
With a gloomy, cold shout, the red-haired man swung his arm and threw the palm-wood spear forward.
It was like a crimson meteor tearing through space and crashing toward Asclepius's position.
Sensing the violent and surging divine power rushing toward him, the almost suffocating Asclepius immediately understood how laughable his imagined desperate fight was.
The gap between the two sides was like the difference between clouds and mud.
Once that person lost the mood to toy with him, he could not even block a single strike.
As the blazing crimson color quickly filled his vision, Asclepius powerlessly closed his eyes.
However, after waiting several breaths, the expected pain and death did not arrive.
Instead, a warm arm patted his shoulder.
"Kid, how long are you going to stand there stunned? Why aren't you leaving?"
An old voice echoed in his ear as Asclepius subconsciously opened his eyes and looked toward the sound.
Suddenly, he saw a two-meter-tall blind old man with silver-gray long hair raising his right hand and firmly gripping the incoming crimson spear.
His whole body's muscles bulged, and golden divine power surging from within was constantly wearing down the divinity on the crimson spear.
— Homer?
Looking at the blind old man's exaggerated muscles that looked like they were cast from steel and the majestic divinity bursting from him, Asclepius could not help but stare in shock.
— This is… a poet?
"Haha, just when I was bored, another one came to die!"
At this moment, seeing someone successfully block his spear, the red-haired man was not angry but laughed instead.
The blood aura on his body became even thicker and more violent and he immediately turned into a crimson blood shadow with a burst of air explosions, charging forward.
Seeing this, the blind old man's heart tightened.
Without thinking much, he kicked backward with one foot and, with his free left hand, rapidly drew a series of Hermean script toward the direction where Asclepius was falling.
"Go to Athens, do not look back!"
Accompanied by a low, violent shout, the last Hermean script was completed.
The magic circle instantly activated.
In a flash of light, it transferred Asclepius, who had fallen into it, dozens of miles away.
Sensing that the aura did not approach the battlefield again, the blind poet Homer, or rather Lorne, who had put on a vest to come save the day, could not help but let out a sigh of relief.
Phew, he finally listened to advice for once.
At the same time, with no worries left, he threw away the spear whose divinity had been completely worn down, turned both hands into fists, and struck forward with full force, colliding heavily with the blood-colored figure that had rushed close.
"Boom!"
A thunder-like explosion detonated in the air, forming terrifying layers of sonic booms.
The surrounding ground was instantly shaved down dozens of meters by the powerful impact force, and smoke and dust filled the air.
"Moo!"
Immediately afterward, accompanied by a muffled low roar of a bull, the blood-red figure was sent flying like a cannonball.
"Bang bang bang bang!"
The red-haired man wrapped in blood aura consecutively smashed through dozens of giant trees before dissipating the remaining force and standing firm amid the flying wood chips.
"Not bad, not bad. I finally ran into a role worth making a move on!"
In excited, wild laughter, the man raised his head.
His eyes, covered by cloth strips, stared straight at the ridiculously burly old man ahead and the [Bull] phantom behind him, a rare solemnity appearing on his face.
"You are qualified to know this king's name. I am the King of Thrace — Lycurgus!"
Hearing the other party announce his name, Lorne looked at the red-haired man in front of him who called himself the King of Thrace, and the iconic war divinity on him, and secretly shook his head at this brother's straightforward lying technique.
In Greek mythology, the ancestor of the Thracians was Teux, son of the God of War Ares.
It was said that he was the first to migrate to that region.
Because of their martial nature, Ares was the most important main god of the Thracians, a unique cultural and belief symbol for them.
There was even a saying that this God of War originated from Thrace.
And successive kings of Thrace called themselves the Sun King and those blessed by the God of War Ares.
As for the Lycurgus in front of him, he was the legendary last Sun King of Thrace.
In the "Homeric Epic" he was described as the son of the North Wind God Boreas.
In Herodotus's "Histories" he was described as a descendant of Ares.
Lycurgus carried multiple chaotic legends and no one knew the truth, but in any case he truly possessed divinity.
After him, the grand dynasty of the wine god was established, sacrifices and sects changed their tune, and the glory of the ancient gods faded.
After him, rebels ascended the throne, extinguished the last embers of the God of War, and from then on Thrace was enveloped in revelry.
Yes, he and this Lycurgus were fated opponents.
It was said that when the wine god Dionysus wanted to pass through Thrace, Lycurgus refused to let him pass, and at night that guy launched a surprise attack on Dionysus and his followers.
He rushed into the Nysaean forest and slaughtered the maenads, followers of Dionysus.
Undoubtedly, this was a great victory, to the point that Dionysus turned into a bull to escape and was driven into the sea.
Heh, to force the wine god, already one of the twelve main gods, to this extent, how could he be just a mere city-building king?
Even if not the main body of some main god, he was probably a human container accommodating the consciousness of some main god.
'So lying so poorly, do you really think I don't know who you are?'
"You have the guts to use your main account to speak, Ares!"
Lorne inwardly rebuked this shameless behavior with righteous words while answering with an unchanged expression.
"Homer, a poet. I was just passing by…"
"…"
Hearing this, the King of Thrace opposite could not help but darken his face.
A poet? Just passing by?
Who are you trying to fool?
Looking at the blind old man in front of him who was obviously full of lies, Ares, who had logged into his alt account, could not be bothered to waste words.
He gave a cold snort, reached out with a virtual grab, pulled the wooden spear that had fallen aside into his palm, then ignited the blood-colored divine flames on his body and shot toward the opponent who had aroused his hunting interest.
In an instant, the surrounding temperature rose sharply.
The air was burning, the world was burning!
Everything in sight was a scene of intense heat and crimson.
Lorne felt as if he were in a world that was being destroyed.
The sacred tree of Bendis, which was also a branch of the world tree [Great Palm Wood] in Thracian mythology — after Thrace was conquered and assimilated by the Greek gods, Ares, who occupied that land, made it into a throwing spear as his own armament. The [Great Palm Wood] had already dissipated without a trace.
This throwing spear was the last remnant of a dead world tree.
Sensing that pure destructive will, Lorne's expression immediately turned solemn.
He fully manifested the [Bull] phantom and at the same time chanted divine words, pushing its authority to the extreme.
"I am the strongest and the one who holds all victory. Whether gods or evil beasts, the one who crushes the hostility of all enemies, I will defeat any enemy that stands in my way!
O bull with shining golden horns, protect my body!"
A phantom of the Cretan Labyrinth like a fortress rose from the ground in front of Lorne.
Together with the [Bull]'s furious roar and charge, it resisted the erosion coming from the dead world.
However, accompanied by a series of earth-shattering roars, the earth-born [Labyrinth] only held for a moment before it completely collapsed.
"Puff!"
In the next instant, the aggressive blood-colored spear pierced straight through the [Bull]'s neck, producing a tearing sound like a blade slicing into flesh.
"Moo~~"
The golden bull let out a mournful cry and shattered apart.
As the main body, Lorne suddenly felt a tyrannical and unparalleled violent force, along with a death will, that extinguished all life, rampaging and churning inside him, feeling as if struck by lightning.
A thread of golden-red blood overflowed from his mouth, and his heart filled with shock.
Damn, how could this be?!
At this moment, before Lorne could think further, the battle-experienced blood-red figure seized the chance to charge forward.
The palm wrapped in blood-colored divine power fiercely grabbed toward his throat.
"Bang!"
The thick palm passed through empty air and crushed a giant tree to pieces.
Illusion?
Ares looked at the shattered phantom in front of him and the grapevines winding around his feet and frowned slightly.
Blood-colored divinity surged out and instantly burned all the surrounding grapevines carrying intoxicating and frenzied sensations to nothing.
Accompanied by the rich wine fragrance in the air, he turned his eyes, looked through the cloth strips, glanced at the figure struggling to regulate his breathing a hundred meters away and the [Goat] behind him, and grinned excitedly.
"Found you!"
To be honest, he hated those flashy and impractical tricks the most.
As a warrior, relying only on instinct and the body, using pure speed and strength, experiencing fist-to-flesh confrontations, winning while standing and falling when defeated, this was the most exhilarating thing!
"Do you still have a goat that can increase speed? Let's see how long you can run!"
Ares curled his fingers to grab and once again pulled the wooden spear into his hand, then grinned ferociously and charged forward.
On the land of Thrace, he was not only the God of War but also held the duty of the God of the Hunt.
Similarly, hunting wild boars and killing evil wolves was also a necessary test for successive Thracian princes before inheriting the throne.
It was an ancient ritual and blessing inherited from the ancestors of the Thracian tribes, the God of War, Ares.
By killing evil wolves and wild boars, they demonstrated their bravery and at the same time gained concepts and power from them.
The so-called evil wolves and wild boars were not just ordinary beasts.
"Evil wolf" was cunning and fierce, lurking in shadows, waiting to strike, attempting to take the head of the Sun King.
"Wild boar" was foolish and frenzied, born from turbid wetness, unrestrained, always maintaining an indescribable madness.
What the Thracian princes truly hunted were the "black beasts" symbolizing these evil and frenzied things.
They might be heretic villains, possessed evil spirits, or savage magical beasts.
Defeat them, then learn from them.
Draw wisdom from cunning, train decisiveness from ferocity, comprehend determination from ignorance, nurture courage from frenzy.
At this moment, Lycurgus possessed by Ares had extremely high resistance and suppression effects against authorities and powers derived from these animal divine concepts.
In battle, he could peel off, filter, and purify these fragments that he regarded as "evil, frenzied things" bit by bit and learn corresponding combat techniques from them.
Fragments of the cunning turned into storms of wisdom, surrounding the body and blowing away illusions.
Fragments of the ferocious turned into thunder of boldness, roaring in an instant and accumulating for explosion.
Fragments of the foolish turned into flames of determination, burning unceasingly and healing wounds.
Fragments of the frenzied turned into radiance of courage, illuminating the self and dispelling darkness.
Therefore, the true Thracian king, the true God of Battle, could not be "polluted" by authorities.
The only way to defeat him was direct confrontation.
At the same time, Lorne, whose position had been seen through, looked at Ares charging straight at him unaffected by [Madness] and heart sank as he warily looked at the ordinary-looking spear in the other's hand.
That thing has a problem!
It absolutely cannot be touched!
Almost at the moment he made this decision, without hesitation, Lorne raised his right hand and rapidly drew in front of him.
Hermean script, linear divine patterns, Titan holy words, primordial letters, and all other sacred symbols that existed or appeared in the Greek divine age with transcendent power densely appeared in front of him like stars filling the sky.
At this moment, he finally remembered another field he was skilled in.
The great witch Circe was his enlightenment teacher.
The witchcraft goddess Hecate was his extracurricular tutor.
The magic goddess Athena had once been his sparring partner.
The goddess of knowledge and memory, Mnemosyne, had personally given him the baptism of inspiration.
The nine Muses were his subordinate gods and followers.
He had studied in the Memory Temple and read almost all the occult knowledge of Greece.
Lorne looked at the God of Warriors charging toward him and, without hesitation, used the authority of the [Goat] to open the distance.
At the same time, he waved his hand forward and silently chanted in his heart.
"Sorry, besides being a warrior, I am also a mage!"
In an instant, the dense variety of divine patterns shot forward like a meteor shower.
Violent explosions and dazzling firelight instantly submerged the aggressive figure.
(End of chapter)