It was none other than Heracles.
The demigod, a son of Zeus and one of Greece’s strongest warriors, stood before Nathan like a fortress. His gaze was steady, his demeanor calm yet commanding.
“I will have to stop you with all my strength this time, Black Commander,” Heracles said, his voice deep and resolute.
Nathan’s grip tightened around his lance, his icy gaze meeting the demigod’s stare.
Nathan stood silently as the imposing figure of Heracles loomed before him, his muscles taut and his presence commanding. The flicker of distant torches danced on Heracles’ bronzed skin, casting shifting shadows that only enhanced his legendary aura. But Nathan’s expression remained unchanged—a frigid, unyielding stare that seemed capable of freezing the very air between them.
“You… You’re the one who attacked and saved Briseis that day, aren’t you?” Heracles’ deep voice rumbled, each word laced with certainty. His lips curled into a half-smirk. “You must also be the one who took Apollo’s priestess. That’s your handiwork, isn’t it?”
Nathan offered no response. His silence was colder than any words could have been, his icy demeanor sharp enough to cut through Heracles’ feigned nonchalance.
Heracles chuckled softly, the sound reverberating like a roll of distant thunder. “I recognized the dragon you stole to whisk Medea away and claim the Golden Fleece. Rescuing women with dragons… seems to have become a habit of yours, hasn’t it?”
But Nathan’s icy stare did not waver. His body remained tense, his every muscle coiled like a viper ready to strike. He was in no mood for games or idle banter. His silence was an answer in itself—one of disdain and absolute resolve.
Heracles tilted his head, studying him. “I’ll be honest with you,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “I don’t want to fight you.”
Nathan’s voice was like a winter wind, biting and unforgiving. “Move, then.”
Heracles’ expression hardened. “I can’t do that. Odysseus is one of my dearest friends. I can’t let you kill him.”
Nathan’s eyes narrowed, his words cutting like shards of ice. “He’s courting death himself. It’s not him I want; it’s Agamemnon’s head I seek.”
Heracles shook his head slowly, a trace of regret in his gaze. “You know that won’t happen. Hera and Athena will never let you kill either of them—Odysseus or Agamemnon.”
Nathan’s lips curled into a faint, chilling smile. “We’ll see about that.” And with that, he vanished.
BADAM!
The ground trembled as Nathan reappeared in a blur of motion, his lance descending in a deadly arc toward Heracles. But Heracles, ever the warrior, raised his bare arm to block the blow. The force of the strike sent shockwaves rippling through the ground, scattering dust and debris into the air.
Heracles’ eyes widened in shock, the faintest flicker of disbelief breaking through his stoic façade. “You’ve grown even stronger since back then,” he murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and respect. This wasn’t growth—it was something far beyond that, something unnatural.
Nathan’s snort was derisive, his lips curling in disdain. “Like you,” he spat, before delivering a swift kick to Heracles’ midsection. The force of the blow sent the legendary hero skidding backward, his feet gouging deep furrows into the earth.
Nathan’s gaze sharpened as he assessed his opponent. Heracles was unlike anyone he had faced before. His sheer strength was reminiscent of Ajax, but there was something more—an indomitable presence that marked him as a true legend. Nathan knew he couldn’t afford to underestimate him.
He twirled his lance with practiced ease, the weapon’s blade glinting ominously in the firelight. With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a torrent of frost, the ice exploding outward in a dazzling display of power. The ground beneath him froze instantly, a glacial path forming in his wake as he charged toward Heracles.
But Heracles was ready. His hands came together in a deliberate motion, his fingers forming the shape of a lion’s maw. A golden aura began to radiate from his body, the air around him crackling with divine energy.
“Celestial Magic,” Heracles intoned.
Nathan’s eyes narrowed, his expression growing even colder. He could feel the oppressive force of the magic, its power seeping into the air like an unseen predator. Instinctively, he summoned a barrier of ice around him, the crystalline shield shimmering with an ethereal light.
“LION’S ROAR!” Heracles bellowed. A massive, spectral lion materialized behind him, its golden mane blazing like the sun. The beast let out a deafening roar that shook the very earth, before leaping toward Nathan with predatory ferocity.
BADOOOOOM!!!
The impact was catastrophic. The spectral lion collided with Nathan’s icy barrier, the resulting explosion of energy sending shockwaves rippling outward. The ground splintered and cracked, the force of the blast tearing through the frozen terrain and scattering shards of ice.
Nathan’s icy barrier held for a moment, shimmering defiantly against the celestial onslaught. But as expected from the overwhelming power of celestial magic, his ice couldn’t withstand for long. The spectral lion tore through the barrier with a deafening roar, and Nathan was sent hurtling hundreds of meters through the air. He crashed into the frozen ground, the impact carving a deep trench into the icy terrain.
Blood erupted from Nathan’s mouth as he coughed violently, his body wracked with pain. Yet, even as the world spun around him, his left eye snapped open, its iris glowing with a demonic golden light. Gritting his teeth, he drove his lance into the ground to steady himself, forcing his battered body upright. His armor was cracked and broken, shards of metal falling away with every movement, but his gaze remained as cold and unyielding as ever.
Heracles, standing amidst the settling dust, watched with a mixture of awe and amusement. His chest heaved as he caught his breath. “What a monster,” he muttered with a laugh, shaking his head at the resilience of his opponent.
Without warning, Heracles launched another surge of celestial magic, a blinding wave of energy that rushed toward Nathan. Bracing himself, Nathan summoned a fresh surge of ice, reinforcing his defenses. The ground beneath him froze solid as the two powers clashed, the impact sending shards of frost and divine light scattering in all directions. Nathan gritted his teeth, his icy shield barely holding against the onslaught. It was Khione’s ice he had called upon, though none would ever suspect the truth. Even the goddesses, with all their wisdom, would find it difficult to discern the origin of such divine frost. For now, the secret remained his alone.
Heracles tensed, sensing a divine presence drawing near. Hera’s aura washed over the battlefield like an oppressive tide, her power unmistakable. She approached with an air of regal determination, her gaze fixed on Nathan. To her, this was the perfect opportunity to rid herself of the pest Heiron, who had been a thorn in her side for far too long.
Nathan’s expression darkened further as his eyes locked onto the goddess. Cold disdain radiated from him, but Hera remained unfazed. Her focus shifted to Heracles, ready to bestow her blessing upon her champion.
But Heracles raised a hand, shaking his head. “Adopted mother, please,” he said, his voice steady despite the exhaustion in his body. “I want to fight him without any blessings. He’s fighting without divine aid, and I want to face him fairly.”
Hera’s brows knit in frustration, her tone sharp. “Your sense of fairness and righteousness will be the death of you, Heracles,” she said, her words heavy with disapproval. She knew that with her blessing, victory against Nathan would be assured. Without it, she couldn’t be certain.
Heracles, however, stood firm. “Perhaps, but his resolve… his words… they’ve touched me. I want to fight him for the man he is. Please, let me do this.”
Hera’s frown deepened, her lips pressed into a thin line. “As you wish,” she said finally, abandoning any further attempts to sway him. She turned away with a wave of her hand, her disappointment evident.
Though Heracles was not her true son, merely another of Zeus’s illegitimate offspring, he was among the few she held in higher regard than her own biological child, Ares. Despite her misgivings, she respected his decision, even if she believed it to be foolish.
Nathan stood still, unsure of what to make of Heracles’s decision. The hero had refused a blessing that would have guaranteed his victory. In Nathan’s current state, he wasn’t confident he could defeat Heracles, even without Hera’s divine aid. It seemed Heracles was among the rare Greeks who might deserve respect, alongside Patroclus, Achilles, and perhaps even Odysseus.
Heracles’s voice broke through Nathan’s thoughts. “Are you ready?” he asked, fists raised and poised for battle.
Nathan gripped his lance tightly and nodded. This time, there would be no holding back. Both warriors prepared to unleash their full strength.