Thea met the old priestess's smile with one of her own, her tone polite and teasing. "All right then—shall I begin?"
"Yes, yes! Do your best, child. Use every ounce of strength and hurl it as far as you can!" The old woman even mimed the motion, her expression a mask of encouragement and motherly warmth.
The two of them stood there smiling at each other, all sweetness and good manners—so much so that Diana, watching from the side, had no idea what was really going on.
Thea started to test the movement. With her martial arts foundation and sharp memory, this kind of motion was child's play. Still, throwing with her left hand felt awkward. She flexed and mimed the motion a few times—no rhythm, no flow.
Forget it. The form wasn't perfect, but the raw power would make up for it. No run-up, no fancy technique—just pure force. She bent her arm back, activated her mechanical limb, and let it rip with a sharp whoosh.
The metal javelin screamed through the air with a tearing hiss. In less than a tenth of a second, it vanished from everyone's sight—just a black speck streaking across the sky.
...The plaza fell completely silent.
What just happened? No one—except Thea and the half-believing Diana—could process it.
The old priestess gawked, face twitching with outrage. "You… you… trickery!" she finally stammered, but even she couldn't find words to accuse Thea of cheating.
She wanted to claim it didn't count—but a thousand pairs of eyes had just watched it happen. Even she didn't have the gall to call it fake.
Queen Hippolyta's eyes gleamed as she smiled at the trio of priestesses. "Well then, what do you make of that result?" Her tone was pure silk. If they dared dismiss it, she'd bury them in the court of public opinion.
"Let's… confer for a moment," muttered the eldest priestess, dragging her two furious companions aside.
While they whispered, the plaza erupted.
"Did you see that? It went out of sight!"
"That's insane! How can someone that small have that kind of strength?"
"Could it be Heracles' power? I wonder who's stronger—her or Diana?"
The crowd buzzed in disbelief. Thea, unbothered, turned off her mechanical limb and strolled toward Diana.
That small, casual gesture set off a new round of gossip. "She's walking right up to Diana. Look how close they are. They must be the same kind—divine-born."
The priestesses finally returned, faces tight. The eldest raised her voice, pointing at a neutral warrior. "Go. Find where it landed. Measure the distance."
The chosen Amazon hesitated only long enough to glance at her queen. Hippolyta nodded, and the warrior mounted her horse and galloped off in the javelin's direction.
Fifteen minutes later, she returned, breathless, dismounting with a thud. Kneeling, she declared loudly, "By the gods, what I say is truth! The javelin landed more than two miles away—and its tip is buried a foot deep into solid rock!"
The shout carried across the plaza. Gasps followed like a wave. Two miles—and embedded in stone?
Every Amazon on the island could throw a javelin. They all knew what that meant. To pierce rock meant she still had power to spare. Without that obstacle, it might have flown hundreds of meters farther.
Now a thousand warriors stared at Thea like she was some divine aberration. This isn't a woman, their eyes said. This is a monster.
Maybe the outside world wasn't weak at all—maybe the gods had locked them on this island not to protect humanity, but to protect them from humanity.
Queen Hippolyta broke the stunned silence. "So, priestesses—can we announce the result of the first contest?"
The queen's smile was serene, but her thoughts weren't pious. She had never truly worshiped the gods—not even Zeus, her lover and father of her daughter. Distance made faith easy; intimacy destroyed it.
Her open interpretation of Thea's earlier "oracle" had been the root of this entire conflict. The priestesses had wanted to use this trial to undermine her authority—defeat Thea, prove the queen's interpretation wrong, and reclaim their influence.
But now, Thea's casual throw had obliterated their plan.
With bitter reluctance, the eldest priestess stepped forward. "The first trial's victor is… our honored guest, Miss Thea Queen." She forced a smile and took Thea's hand in mock friendship.
Oh, now you're all warmth and diplomacy? Thea thought, suppressing a snort.
They kept calling her "outsider" and "foreigner," words meant to remind everyone she wasn't one of them. And it worked—every repetition dug the wedge deeper. You let an outsider win? Where's your Amazon pride?
By the time the thought spread, even those who'd been friendly hesitated to approach her. Better to stay loyal than be branded a traitor.
The defeated Amazon—Artemis—finally understood the magnitude of her mistake. Her face darkened, the muscles in her jaw twitching. For a moment, Thea thought she'd spit blood. But the warrior swallowed it back, trembling with effort, then turned away without a word and walked off alone, shame burning in her every step.
Thea stretched, ready to leave herself. The priests would be scrambling to regroup anyway, and she had no intention of sticking around for the politics. She'd won the first round; that was enough.
Before she could go, Diana caught her arm, eyes bright. "Do you want to come watch me train with Antiope?"
That spark of excitement was impossible to refuse. Clearly, this was the one part of Diana's life that made her truly happy. Thea smiled. "Sure—lead the way."
Together they headed toward a secluded training field at the edge of the island, the crowd still buzzing behind them.