The divine spear stood upon the earth, waiting for a true hero to draw it out.
The scene was too sacred.
Like a scroll of epic unfolding before the eyes.
Apollo, who was well versed in art, even felt an impulse to paint it.
Athena felt the same, wanting to carve this moment into stone.
To preserve the figure of a brave and powerful warrior for the world to behold.
As Night slowly stretched out his gauntleted hand and closed his five fingers with a crack of knuckles, and calmly gripped the shaft of the divine spear.
King Agamemnon and Odysseus, having witnessed what just happened, no longer had any more intention of speaking up.
"Perhaps he really can lift it!"
Such a thought could not help but rise in the hearts of the heroes.
And Odysseus, Diomedes, Athena, and others also recalled that day, the single thrust that tore through the sky like a shooting star, and that blood-soaked figure in a state of wild fury.
The monster who snatched away Diomedes's weapon with one hand!
Odysseus: ...!!
I was scaring myself for nothing.
With that person's terrifying muscle strength, he could definitely draw out the divine spear even without any martial technique.
Crack!!
With great ease, Night applied slight force and split open the earth, drawing the divine spear out.
The bright sun at that moment broke through the clouds, and several beams of light fell upon him as though a spotlight had been placed on him, instantly making him look like a sacred golden saint.
As he raised the spear high with one hand and stood still upon the earth, lifting his head to gaze up at the gods in the heavens.
That sight was too divine!
In that instant the mortals were all struck speechless.
The gods were also dazzled by the scene.
On the city wall the goddess of beauty had already melted into a puddle of bliss, completely reaching her limit, and with a soft thud her legs gave out and she suddenly sat down on the ground.
And beside her, Helen looked at that sight with overwhelming shock.
And suddenly understood something.
Even without looking at that bewitching face, this was equally a man of complete and total magnetism.
The moment he put on the armor, that outstanding presence was like a god or king disguised as a beggar, unable to conceal the nobility of his true nature.
A born warrior!
Odysseus suddenly murmured.
"It seems there is no need for us to worry. The descendant of the dragon-slayer. The offspring of the warrior born bathed in dragon blood. Ah...
That is where his body of steel, like Achilles's, impervious to blades and spears, comes from.
Add to that a full set of divine armor and the technique similar to Achilles's that he revealed that day.
Hiss...
The him right now is Achilles!"
When Odysseus finished speaking, Palamedes, who dragged his heavily wounded body to Agamemnon's chariot and watched the figure on the field, was also too stunned to say anything.
He swallowed a mouthful of saliva, and in the silence of his heart, a faint and inexplicable pang of bitterness suddenly surfaced.
Some people were born extraordinary.
No matter how hard you tried, you could never reach them.
Like Achilles.
Like Griffith before him now.
They were born heroes.
That unparalleled strength left one with nothing but deep despair and helplessness.
Palamedes suddenly became somewhat dejected.
Even though at the start when he first put on that armor he did not show much outward concern, he was a man.
He was a hero.
How could there have been not even a trace of joy in his heart, along with those thoughts that perhaps he was the one destined by fate to save Greece?
The hero who would save Greece.
That only he could inherit Achilles's power, bring hope and a turning point to the battlefield?
And yet...
Compared to the radiant figure before his eyes right now, the way he looked wearing that armor was like a clown.
Even a king wearing armor cannot conceal his nobility.
Agamemnon also watched with burning eyes and envy, and a sudden impulse arose in him, the impulse of a king, that right now he should do something for this hero. "Odysseus!! Should we not offer our cheers to celebrate the birth of our hero!
Think of words of blessing and think fast!!"
At this moment Agamemnon burned with eagerness.
As the sunlight fell under ten thousand watching eyes upon that radiant armor shining like the stars, he looked at that divine warrior bathed in brilliance.
In that moment, all the scheming, the domineering, and the brutal side vanished completely.
In the heart of this king who ruled over all, a trace of longing passed through, like the longing of childhood days long past.
The longing he felt when he was still a carefree prince before great change came to his life.
At the most critical moment for all of Greece, one person stood up alone to carry all hope, bathed in sunlight, starlight, and moonlight in the most radiant form, like the figure of a savior.
Though the scene before him was far from anything like a savior.
But in that moment, it was as though he saw the scene from a dream come to life before his eyes.
Like the great hero Arash before Ramesses the Second.
Or like Gian while singing...uh, never mind.
There will always be something radiant and glowing that makes even kings feel boundless joy and admiration at the sight of it.
Whether the urge to collect it, or the longing it inspires, or simply the desire to cheer on that figure they have always dreamed of seeing, any of those will do.
Like becoming a devoted fan in an instant, experiencing that unprecedented charisma for the first time, Agamemnon was seized by a powerful impulse.
And quickly,
Odysseus improvised a celebratory declaration on the spot, also somewhat moved by the moment, and additionally pushed and pressured by Agamemnon.
He rode his horse forward suddenly and called out with a confidence that even surprised himself, carrying a slightly exhilarating edge to it: "Rejoice!
The strongest hero has been born!
He who inherited the name of the greatest, who stands armored in the armor of the swift-footed hero Achilles, and who is the second man in all the world to pull that divine spear!
The hero Patroclus could not.
The hero Palamedes could not.
Only Griffith Lista could pull the divine spear. At this moment, history has turned a new page!
The radiant spear that opens the meteor path brings Greece a new turning point!!"
When Odysseus finished the final line at full volume, an explosion of frenzied cheering erupted from the Greek soldiers below.
Under that earth-shaking sound, in a daze, countless heroes seemed to see Achilles return to the battlefield, no, looking purely at the force and presence with every buff stacking on top of each other,
Griffith was absolutely more terrifying.
He had done nothing but put on an armor set and pull a spear, yet the aura of invincibility had been created through sheer force of presence.
At this point Palamedes and Patroclus, who had both been stepped on by the speech as it built him up, went green.
But there was nothing either of them could say about it.
Because it was true.
They genuinely could not pull it.
It was precisely because these heroes could not do it that Night could, and that was what kept Odysseus's improvised declaration from sounding forced.
It let the people trust what they felt in their hearts, trust the beautiful and sacred display of strength in front of them, and let all of that built-up emotion burst out with nowhere to hold it back.
Like a mountain collapsing and an ocean tide releasing at once!
Like Arthur drawing the sword from the stone.
The hearts of thousands aligned as one.
The moment the holy sword, or divine spear, was thrust toward the sky, that iconic image left a deep mark on people even on first sight, something that would remain vivid and unforgettable even long after.
.
.
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(End of the Chapter)