“They’re breaking through,” a soft voice echoed.
Atop the city of Lyrnessus, hovering just above the chaos below, stood three figures, gazing down upon the unfolding battle. The once-vibrant city, now drenched in blood and dust, teetered on the edge of collapse.
The one who spoke was none other than Aphrodite, the Goddess of beauty and love herself. Her usual radiant charm was dimmed, replaced with an expression of unease as her gaze flickered over the battlefield. Her glossy, auburn curls cascaded over her slender shoulders, and her perfect lips twisted into a frown.
It was not often that such mortal affairs disturbed the goddess, but the fall of Lyrnessus gnawed at her.
They had already breached the city’s walls. And the one responsible for this breach? Jason Spencer, the Hero of Light, who had wielded his formidable SSS-Skill, the power that had now torn through the defenses of Lyrnessus like paper.
“Khione’s Heroes, are they?” Apollo’s voice broke the silence, drawing Aphrodite’s attention. He stood nearby, his golden hair gleaming under the divine light that seemed to perpetually surround him. The sun god bore the same effortless grace as ever, but behind his smile, a flicker of frustration danced in his eyes.
Though he remained composed, there was no mistaking the sting of watching a city that worshipped him fall under siege. Yet he wasn’t as distressed as his sister of love. His smile, though calm, was bitter. “It’s my first time seeing Khione’s chosen, but I suppose she made a good pick this time. Too bad she’s not here to watch it unfold.”
“What of Khione?”
It was Artemis who spoke. The Goddess of the Hunt stood apart from her brother, her silver hair flowing like moonlight over her shoulders. Her shimmering green eyes glinted with an intensity that matched her reputation as a warrior. Unlike the others, there was no facade of beauty masking her strength.
She was a figure of deadly grace, standing with a confident posture that betrayed no sign of uncertainty. Her attire, a white, flowing Greek tunic, barely reached her knees, leaving her long, milky thighs and strong, athletic legs exposed. She was smaller in stature than most, yet every inch of her exuded a power that could rival even the strongest of the gods—perhaps even Athena herself.
Artemis was not one to shy away from war, and today was no exception. She had chosen to side with Troy, not just because of her brother Apollo’s connection to the city, but because the conflict had drawn Hera into its folds. Any chance to thwart Hera, to see the queen of the gods defeated and humiliated, was an opportunity Artemis relished.
Apollo turned to his twin sister with a knowing smile, his eyes softening for a brief moment. “I just thought,” he began, his tone thoughtful, “if Khione were here, she wouldn’t have allowed her Heroes to be drawn into this senseless war. It has nothing to do with them, yet here they are. Hera took advantage of their involvement, as always.”
Aphrodite, her earlier frustration fading, let out a small, melodic giggle. “Hera’s always had it out for Khione, hasn’t she? The old witch never misses a chance to torment her.”
Artemis let out a bitter laugh in response, her voice laced with disdain. “Is there any woman in this world Hera doesn’t hate?”
Her words hung heavy in the air, charged with a personal grudge. Artemis’ hatred for Hera ran deep. The goddess of marriage, in her infinite bitterness, had spent centuries blaming other women for the faults of her husband, Zeus. To Artemis, it was the ultimate hypocrisy. Hera’s inability to control her unfaithful husband, her constant blaming of the innocent, grated against Artemis’ very core.
If Hera can’t keep her own husband in check, then she has no one to blame but herself. Not the women he seeks. Not her mother.
The fault was hers, and hers alone.
“Prince Mynes!!”
The cry echoed through the battlefield, sharp and desperate. Immediately, the eyes of the three gods above snapped toward the source, where the prince of Lyrnessus, Mynes, stood locked in a vicious struggle, facing off against Aiden. The prince’s defenses were faltering, his once proud stature now hunched and bloodied.
“This is bad,” Aphrodite murmured, her voice laced with urgency. Her pink eyes were wide with concern as she observed the scene unfolding below. “If Mynes falls now, the city will be overrun long before Troy’s reinforcements can arrive.” Her voice trembled slightly as she realized the dire consequences. The city would fall, and with it, another blow to the Trojan war effort.
Zeus had forbidden them from interfering in the war directly, a decree that none of the gods dared to disobey openly. But, of course, divine beings rarely played by the rules. There were always ways to bend them, to influence events in more subtle, indirect ways. Aphrodite, Apollo, and Artemis knew this well.
“Hector is on his way,” Artemis said coolly, her arms folded across her chest as she gazed down with a cold gleam in her eyes. From her vantage point, she watched Aiden and Jason tearing through the Lyrnessus forces with ease, as if the warriors were mere children playing at war. “Once he arrives, he’ll drive them back. There’s no need to worry.”
But Aphrodite shook her head. “He won’t be here in time,” she said, a note of frustration creeping into her voice. “We can’t afford to let Mynes die now. The city’s defenses will crumble if he falls.”
Apollo, standing beside her, glanced down at the battlefield, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Then perhaps a little divine intervention is in order,” he said, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as he made a move to descend toward the battlefield.
Before he could, however, Aphrodite placed a gentle hand on his arm, halting him. “No,” she said softly but firmly. “I’ll handle this. You save your blessings for later.”
Apollo raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest. Instead, he watched with quiet curiosity as Aphrodite descended, invisible to mortal eyes, her radiant form slipping gracefully from the skies and landing silently amid the chaos of Lyrnessus.
On the battlefield below, Prince Mynes was groaning in pain, his body hunched over, barely holding himself together after Aiden’s sudden and brutal attack. His once-bright armor was dented and smeared with blood and dirt, his sword hanging limply in his hand. His men rushed to his aid, lifting him awkwardly to his feet, but the prince’s strength was fading fast.
He knew he couldn’t hold on much longer.
Then, in his moment of despair, he heard it—a voice, soft and seductive, like the whisper of the wind carrying a secret just for him.
“I bless you, Mynes,” the voice cooed, smooth and melodious. He felt the lightest brush of lips against his cheek, warm and delicate. “Kill them all.”
At once, a surge of unimaginable power tore through his body, driving out the pain, the exhaustion, and the fear. Mynes let out a guttural roar—not of agony, but of pure, unadulterated bliss. His body began to glow with a radiant pink light, a manifestation of Aphrodite’s blessing. His wounds closed, his energy returned tenfold, and every muscle in his body thrummed with newfound strength.
The very air around him seemed to hum with divine energy.
His men stepped back in awe as the transformation took place. Mynes stood taller now, his once-tattered armor gleaming as though freshly forged. His eyes burned with a fierce light, and the faintest pink glow surrounded him like an aura of pure power. The hesitation, the fear that had once clouded his mind, was gone. All that remained was the singular, driving instinct to destroy his enemies.
“Still hiding behind your men, coward?” Aiden’s mocking voice rang out across the battlefield as he leapt into the air, sword raised high above his head. His blade gleamed with a fierce, red light, the power of his own SS-Skill radiating from it. He aimed directly for Mynes, intending to end the prince’s life in one swift strike.
But before Aiden could land his blow, something incredible happened.
BADAAMM!
The sound of impact reverberated through the battlefield as Aiden’s body was sent flying backward with a violent force. His vision blurred as he felt himself crashing into the hard earth several feet away, his sword clattering uselessly from his grasp. Pain exploded in his chest, and when he looked down, he saw blood pouring from a deep, gaping wound in his stomach.
“Gaaah!” Aiden gasped, coughing up a mouthful of blood as the realization of what had just happened sank in.
“Aiden!!” One of his friends cried out in horror, their voice filled with shock as they rushed to his side. The sight of their fallen comrade drew the attention of all their classmates, who now stared in disbelief at the scene before them.
“YEAAHHH! HAIL PRINCE MYNES!!”
The battlefield erupted with jubilant cries as Mynes’ soldiers, once on the verge of despair, suddenly found themselves invigorated by an unexpected and glorious turn of events. The sight of Aiden—one of their most strongest opponents—lying wounded and bloodied, felled by the sheer strength of their prince, sent waves of exhilaration through the ranks.
The men who moments before had been struggling against the onslaught of the Greeks now shouted their loyalty, fists raised high, their voices echoing across the city of Lyrnessus.
Mynes, standing at the forefront, gazed down at his hand, which still glowed with the faint, divine light of Aphrodite’s blessing. The soft, pink glow pulsed gently, like the heartbeat of a goddess herself.
“This is real.” Mynes marvelled at the power that coursed through him. His body, once bruised and battered, now felt weightless and invincible. The pain, the exhaustion—gone, replaced by an overwhelming sensation of strength. But more than that, he had heard a voice—a sweet, seductive whisper that lingered in his mind.
Aphrodite.
There was no doubt. It had been her, the goddess of love and beauty, one of the divine patrons of the Trojans. The realization sent a surge of euphoria through him. A Goddess, not just watching from above but descending to stand by his side, granting him her power. He clenched his fists, feeling his strength swelling with each passing moment.
His once wavering spirit was now blazing, ignited by the knowledge that Aphrodite herself had chosen to intervene on their behalf.
With renewed determination, Mynes lifted his gaze, locking eyes with his next target: Jason Spencer, the Hero of Light. The man who had spearheaded the assault on Lyrnessus, using his SSS-Rank skill to shatter the city’s defenses.
“I will honor your blessing, Aphrodite,” Mynes whispered under his breath, his words lost in the roar of battle but felt deeply within his soul. His hand tightened around his sword as he raised his voice for all to hear. “Come on, men! With me!!”
“OOOHHHH!!!”
The soldiers, fueled by their prince’s unshakable confidence, let out a resounding cheer. Their spirits, which had been crumbling under the relentless Greek assault, surged with new life. They moved as one, their bodies responding to the energy that radiated from Mynes, following him without hesitation.
The collective roar of their voices reverberated through the city as they charged forward, ready to reclaim their land, ready to fight for their prince, for Troy, and now, with the divine favor of the gods themselves.
On the other side of the battlefield, behind the advancing Greek armies, two figures floated above the chaos, watching with cold eyes.
Hera, queen of the gods, her golden eyes sharp and blazing with anger, hovered with an air of menace. Her once serene and regal expression had twisted into one of pure fury.
“Aphrodite…you little bitch.”