"Why did you let him go?!" Damaris shouted at Richard, who just looked at her with a sleepy expression — the feast had ended late last night and he hadn't slept well.
"What do you mean by why did I let him go? What exactly did you expect me to do?" Richard whined like a child, rubbing his eyes. Damaris just rolled hers.
"You were supposed to finish him off for good! Now he might do something to take revenge." Damaris sighed, frustrated. She still couldn't believe Richard had let Nikandros live.
"Why did I even choose you as my husband…" she muttered under her breath.
"Well, I didn't ask you to, did I?!" Richard snapped back. "I don't even know why I'm here. I had to make up that stupid 'messenger of Olympus' story, and I don't even know if I can return home or not. I miss my anime already…" he complained, throwing his hands up.
Damaris rolled her eyes, but her voice grew sharper. "Like you know a thing about me. You talk about your pains and suffering, but what about mine, huh? My mother died when I was little. Many nobles looked down on me because she wasn't of pure royal blood. My father kept trying to marry me off to disgusting men, and I rejected them all. I broke traditions, people hate me for it… I heard their whispers every day. I don't even fear ghosts anymore — I fear humans. And in the end… maybe it's my fault for dragging you into this."
Her voice cracked. She quickly wiped her tears and stormed out of the room.
Richard sat there stunned. He had never realized how much Damaris had gone through. He was torn — should he run after her, or give her some space? Before he could decide, the door opened.
"Well, you two are already acting like a married couple," Leo said flatly, stepping in.
Richard just rolled his eyes. "Not helping."
"Relax, I didn't come here to roast you," Leo said, his tone shifting. "I've got something important."
"What is it?" Richard asked, curious.
"Nikandros has been missing since last night." Leo let out a sigh.
Richard blinked. "Missing? What do you mean missing? After Damaris stabbed him, I took him to my room. When he woke up, I personally escorted him home with a few soldiers."
"I see…" Leo muttered, running a hand through his messy raven hair. "That makes it even stranger."
"What do you mean by that?" Richard pressed.
Leo leaned against the wall, deep in thought. "Think about it. The world we came from—our era—is run by tech, modern logic. But here? This place feels like playing chess every time you talk to someone. Everyone's scheming, every move counts. And Nikandros suddenly vanishing? That doesn't sit right with me."
"Yeah… I get that. You think he's plotting something?" Richard asked, his voice lowering.
"Maybe. If he stays missing too long, people will start asking questions. The king's already arranging a search party," Leo said with a weary sigh. He sounded more like an overworked advisor than a supposed 'servant of Olympus.'
Richard frowned. "I'm sorry, man. You're going through a lot because of me…"
"No, don't start that," Leo shook his head. "It's not your fault. If you hadn't stepped in that first day, the king probably would've executed us. You saved us."
"So you're saying you're repaying a debt?" Richard asked cautiously.
"No," Leo replied calmly. "Friends don't owe each other debts, right?"
Richard went quiet, staring at the floor. "Friends, huh… That's a foreign term to me. But… I guess I'm glad I've got someone watching my back."
Leo smirked. "Sure. Besides, you should probably go make up with Damaris. She looked pissed."
"Yeah… I seriously need lessons on women," Richard groaned, dragging himself up and heading for the door.
Richard searched through the castle to look for Damaris, but there was no sign of her. Deciding not to waste more time, he walked into the city of Athens. The people gave him strange looks—after all, he was wearing royal clothes, was known as the husband of Damaris, and, above all, everyone had heard the tale of the "Messenger of Olympus." Richard just sighed. He hated the spotlight anyway. Back at Oxford, he had often avoided answering questions even when he knew the answer.
As he wandered, he noticed a commotion. A crowd had gathered, murmuring and staring at something. Curious, Richard approached.
"Excuse me," Richard muttered, trying to make his way through. But as soon as people saw him, they parted, leaving a path for him. Richard frowned, realizing it was because of his own fabricated story—the messenger of Olympus. With another sigh, he pushed forward to see what was happening.
Two soldiers suddenly blocked his path. Beyond them, Richard could see a noble prince harassing a mother and her little girl.
"Come now, let me teach her a lesson! How dare she bump into me and not apologize?" said the prince, a black-haired youth dressed in a rich blue garment.
The mother clutched her daughter tightly, tears streaming down her face. "She is only a little girl! She was just playing with her friends. Why don't you understand?"
"Do not test my patience. Hand her over!" the prince snapped.
"No! I won't!" the woman cried firmly, shielding her daughter as the little girl buried her face in fear.
"Soldiers—separate them!" the prince ordered. His men stepped forward, while Richard's path remained barred by the two guards in front of him.
"Damn you…" Richard muttered under his breath. He quickly checked his phone—thankfully, there was still some battery left, since he hadn't used it much since coming here. He also had a power bank in his college bag when he was isekai'd. Along with that, he carried a compass for self-defense against muggers.
An idea sparked. Richard turned on his phone's camera flashlight, shining it straight into the soldiers' eyes. Their vision blurred, and in that brief opening, Richard lunged, stabbing at their necks with his compass. He only meant to immobilize them, but the blade went deeper than he expected. There was no time to regret it—he rushed toward the center of the commotion.
"Don't you dare touch them!" Richard barked, drawing everyone's attention.
The prince turned, raising a brow. "I did not know Athens had gained a new hero. And who might you be?" His eyes lingered on the strange objects in Richard's hand—the compass and glowing phone.
"I am Richard… the Messenger of Olympus," Richard declared, forcing his voice steady.
The prince smirked. "Messenger of Olympus? Do you truly expect me to believe that? Yes, the name has spread across the states, but why would one so important walk the streets alone without an army? Wearing royal clothes is no proof—you may have stolen them."
At that moment, the little girl peeked from behind her mother and clung to Richard's leg. "Please save me, big brother… I'll be good. My name is Callista."
Richard knelt slightly, patting her head gently. "Don't worry, Callista. Nobody will hurt you while I'm here."
"How heroic for a thief," the prince mocked. "Soldiers—capture him!"
Richard tightened his grip on the compass, falling into a makeshift battle stance. He knew it wasn't enough, but he couldn't let the girl be harmed. He had run away from problems too many times before—but not this time. Not when someone was looking at him with eyes full of hope.
The soldiers prepared to strike—when suddenly arrows flew into their ranks. The first row collapsed instantly, some dead, others injured, caught completely off guard in the middle of Athens.
The prince's eyes widened.
"Who gave you permission to touch my husband?" a sharp voice rang out.
Damaris broke through the crowd, her presence fierce and commanding. Her garments were dirtied, her hair tousled—clear signs that she had fought her way here.
"Princess Damaris…" the prince faltered, staring at her. "You call him your husband—then that means… it is true?"
"You will explain yourself, Prince Aeschylus, before my father, the King of Athens himself," Damaris said, her voice firm and unyielding.
Suddenly, more soldiers arrived—led by Leo.
"Richard! I heard a commotion in the city, and then you went missing, so I came with the army. What's going on?" Leo asked, scanning the scene.
"Nothing…" Richard sighed, lowering his compass. "Just a drama that's about to reach its peak."
Meanwhile in Sparta
Albert woke up to the sound of commotion outside. It was just morning, and at first he thought it was only the usual Spartan training. But something felt different—more heated, more intense. Curious, he decided to check it out.
When he stepped out of his camp, he froze. Every Spartan child in training, along with several warriors, had gathered in the open grounds. But what shocked him most was the sight of the two Spartan kings—Archidamos and Agesilaos—clashing in the middle of the crowd. And right between them, caught in the storm, was Bruno.
Albert blinked in confusion. Before he could make sense of it, his foot landed on someone.
"Oh—I'm sorry," Albert muttered, not even looking back, too distracted by the scene.
"Don't bother yourself. Your foot is as soft as a newborn's," came a familiar voice.
Albert turned. "W-what… I didn't expect you here." It was Kyra, smirking casually as if nothing unusual was happening.
"Well, why wouldn't I be? It's not every day you see two Spartan kings clashing their swords."
Albert frowned. "So… are they sparring?"
"No, idiot," Kyra replied flatly. "They're kind of fighting. Or maybe something in between sparring and fighting. Don't ask me."
Her words only made him more confused. "Then why is Bruno in the middle of it?"
Kyra sighed, folding her arms. "Because he's the reason for the fight, idiot."
Albert's worry deepened. "What's going on here?"
Suddenly, a firm voice broke through the noise. The crowd parted slightly as a figure approached—Head Councilor Dente, the same man who had given Albert and Bruno a year to prepare for their trial by combat.
"Head Councilor Dente," Archidamos greeted him with respect. Agesilaos, however, just rolled his eyes.
"What is going on here? Why are you two fighting like children?" Dente asked, his voice carrying across the training ground.
"Agesilaos tried to go against the judgement of the council, so I stepped in to stop him," Archidamos replied calmly.
Agesilaos huffed.
"Is this true, Agesilaos?" Dente pressed.
"I saw this boy," Agesilaos spat, pointing his blade at Bruno, "wandering into our sacred grounds without an escort. I told you all before—we should never have given these outsiders time. They should have been executed."
The councilor's eyes narrowed. He turned toward Bruno. "Is this true? You know the council only granted you access to the training arena. Anywhere else, and you must be escorted by a Spartan."
Bruno looked shaken, his face pale. "I… I didn't do it of my own will."
The crowd fell into silence.
"What do you mean?" Dente asked sharply.
"I heard a voice," Bruno said, his voice trembling. "It was… controlling me. My steps felt like someone else was moving them. I could feel it, but I had no control over my body."
Albert's eyes widened. He had never seen Bruno like this. Back at Oxford, Bruno had been a bully, arrogant and brash. Even here, he had thrown himself into Spartan training with determination. But now—he looked like he had seen a ghost.
"You broke the rules, and now you make up stories?" Agesilaos snarled. He lunged, his sword slashing down with brutal force.
But Archidamos intercepted him, blocking with his own blade in a controlled, gentle grip. Agesilaos grinned, holding firm against the pressure.
"Now we are talking," Agesilaos said, teeth bared.
"Enough!" Dente's voice boomed, halting them. "Both of you, get a grip. We have an important matter at hand." He turned to Bruno. "So you claim you heard a voice controlling your body?"
Bruno nodded weakly.
"What proof do we have? Why should we believe him?" Agesilaos snapped.
Archidamos cut in smoothly. "And what proof do we have that he is lying?"
"Are you defending this outsider now?" Agesilaos growled, tightening his grip on his sword.
"I am defending justice," Archidamos replied calmly.
Dente raised a hand. "It is true the boy trespassed. And it is also true King Agesilaos witnessed it. However…" his tone shifted, "we cannot deny the possibility that something divine interfered."
The crowd stirred. Archidamos allowed a faint smile. Agesilaos scowled.
"To ensure this boy learns resistance and responsibility, I sentence him to train under King Agesilaos himself."
The training grounds erupted in murmurs. Even Agesilaos looked taken aback.
"Why give me such a burden?" Agesilaos huffed.
"Because a king must carry the burdens of his people and comrades," Dente said firmly.
"But he is an outsider. Why should I train him?" Agesilaos spat.
"Because he is under our land," Archidamos interjected. "And the council already granted him and his friend time to prepare for their trial by combat. We must honor that judgement."
Agesilaos trembled with fury. "I-it… it was your plan all along, wasn't it? You knew we'd reach this point. Maybe you were even behind that voice!"
Archidamos placed a hand on his shoulder, whispering, "Your soldiers are watching. Do not make a fool of yourself."
Finally, Agesilaos calmed down.
"It is decided," Dente declared.
The crowd slowly dispersed, murmuring among themselves. Kyra leaned close to Albert and whispered, "Looks like your friend's up for a ride through hell."
Albert frowned. "You mean… his training will be more intense?"
Kyra smirked. "Let's just say even skilled Spartan soldiers hesitate to train with King Agesilaos."
Albert's face grew thoughtful, but then he clenched his fists. "Then maybe I should train harder as well." He gripped the training sword given to him.
Kyra burst out laughing. "The one who gave you this sword was clearly an idiot."
"H-huh? What do you mean?" Albert asked, embarrassed.
"Come with me. That sword doesn't suit your body type. You can barely lift it." Kyra shook her head, chuckling.
Albert followed, cheeks red with embarrassment. But then he froze for a moment—he remembered something. He had seen Archidamos and Agesilaos clash before, like in a vision. He had ignored it then, passing it off as déjà vu. But now… he wasn't so sure.
"Hey, don't take it too hard, okay? You're so soft," Kyra teased, glancing back at him. She mistook his distant look as being wounded by her words.
Albert snapped back to reality. "H-huh? Oh, no problem. But where are we going?"
Kyra smirked. "We'll see."
Meanwhile in Olympus
Athena was resting in her chamber when she heard a commotion outside. Her brows furrowed as she rose to investigate. Stepping out, she found Ares, fists flying, pummeling her soldiers left and right. The air shook with every blow he struck. Athena's blood boiled. Without hesitation, she leapt forward, appearing in front of him in a flash of divine light.
"I knew you were a fool, Ares," Athena said, her voice calm yet sharp as a blade, "but I did not think you so brainless as to lay a hand on my soldiers."
"Well, well, well," Ares sneered, flexing his bloodied knuckles. "If it isn't the wise Athena — who interferes in the sacred game by trying to eliminate my champion." His words dripped with accusation.
Athena's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying? Why would I interfere in the game? I have already given my champion my divine blessing. I have no need to strike yours down in order to claim victory."
"Oh, acting confused, are we?" Ares stepped closer, his presence oppressive. "Afraid Olympus might learn that the great Athena isn't so great after all?" His tone was bitter, mocking.
"My greatness is proven by my deeds, not your slander," Athena replied, her voice steady. "Tricks and whispers may strip away titles, but as long as I hold my honor, my greatness will rise again and again."
"Still using words to slip away from guilt." Ares snarled, then roared, "Enough talk!" He launched himself high into the air, his body blazing like a falling star, fist aimed directly at Athena's face.
Athena stood unmoving, her expression calm. Just as his strike was about to land, a blinding bolt of lightning crashed down between them, forming a radiant wall of pure energy that halted Ares mid-blow.
"Who dares—" Ares growled, pulling back to strike again. But before he could swing, a firm hand seized his wrist. Zeus stood behind him, eyes glowing with thunder.
"Zeus," Ares spat, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Of course you'd rush to protect your beloved daughter."
"All Olympus lies under Zeus's command," another voice cut in. Hera appeared beside them, regal and cold. "And all gods are equal before him, Ares."
"Oh really?" Ares sneered, struggling against Zeus's grip. "Then explain the voice my champion heard — a voice that seized his body, controlling his steps. Who else but Athena would stoop so low?" His eyes burned with rage.
Zeus's voice was calm thunder. "And what makes you so certain it was Athena?"
"Because she is jealous of me!" Ares barked, his nostrils flaring.
"You must calm yourself, Ares," Hera said smoothly, though her words only seemed to fuel his anger. "Violence among us will solve nothing."
"You're all hypocrites!" Ares bellowed, breaking free, stepping toward Zeus with murder in his eyes.
Athena raised her hand. "Enough, Ares. Calm yourself." But he ignored her. Zeus remained impassive, as though the god of war's fury meant little.
Suddenly, the air shimmered with silver leaves. They spiraled down like blades, slicing against Ares's skin. Thin cuts opened across his arms and chest, and even Hera winced as several leaves grazed her flesh, drawing blood.
"Oh, not her," Hera muttered bitterly. "Could this day grow stranger still?"
Zeus sighed heavily. "What are you doing here, daughter?"
From the shadows stepped Artemis, her expression calm yet cold as the moonlight. "I demand answers, Father."
"Answers for what? About why you exist at all?" Hera taunted sharply, trying to provoke her.
Artemis ignored her. She strode toward Zeus, but Athena blocked her path.
"We are already in the midst of turmoil, Artemis," Athena said firmly. "If this is not urgent, return later." She cast a quick glance at Ares, who was still fuming, blood dripping from the cuts on his skin.
"I require no one's permission to speak to my father," Artemis replied icily, her eyes locking with Athena's.
"This is a grave matter, Artemis," Athena countered, unyielding. "Your concerns can wait."
"My champion was attacked by shadow-born creatures," Artemis declared, her voice ringing like steel. "I demand an explanation." She shot a sharp glance at Hera.
Hera's temper flared. "First you come here wounding us with your cursed leaves, and now you accuse me of harming your champion?"
Artemis's gaze hardened. "My leaves wound only those whose hearts are clouded with darkness. And I never named you, Hera. Yet you leap to defend yourself. Why assume accusation, unless the guilt lies with you?"
Hera's eyes flashed with fury. She conjured glowing shuriken-like blades and hurled them at Artemis. At the same time, Ares unsheathed his great sword with a roar and charged.
Athena's eyes widened, moving to intercept, but before the clash could happen, a golden rain of arrows fell, weaving themselves into a radiant cage around Hera and Ares. The divine prison hummed with Apollo's power.
"Now, now," Apollo said, descending gracefully from the skies, bow in hand, his tone playful though his eyes glinted with warning. "I love a good game, but I will not suffer anyone to lay a hand on my sister."
You!" Ares snarled, slamming his blade against the arrow-barriers. "Come down here and say that to my face!"
"Why not come up here?" Apollo smirked.
Ares leapt, but the moment his foot struck the arrow-bars, the divine light seared into his flesh. He howled as blood ran from his ankle, the arrows forcing him back down.
"You two siblings are a plague upon Olympus," Hera snapped at Apollo, her pride wounded. "You never should have been allowed among us."
"Enough!" Zeus's voice shook the heavens. Thunder rolled across Olympus. Hera froze, Ares lowered his blade, and even Apollo stopped smiling.
"We do not yet know who attacked these champions," Zeus declared, his gaze sweeping over them. "But we cannot fight among ourselves. We must stand united. Poseidon has already been sent to investigate. Until his return, there will be no more fighting."
Ares spat on the ground. "You talk and talk… fine. Then hear me, all of you — I grant my champion the divine blessing of Rage. When fury fills his heart, his strength will grow unbounded!" He grinned wickedly, and the gods gasped at his audacity.
Apollo laughed sharply. "Ha! Clever. But Zeus, should you not punish him? He drew his blade — and Hera her weapons — when no war is declared. Was it not you who decreed that no god may summon their true weapon unless in defense or dire emergency? If you truly see all gods as equal, then should you not punish your wife and Ares alike?" Apollo smirked, and both Ares and Hera blanched.
Zeus's sigh was heavy, ancient. "Very well. Both of you shall be punished." His gaze burned into Ares first. "Your blessing shall be cursed: whenever your champion unleashes Rage, his mind shall falter. If he does not return to himself quickly, he shall descend into a mindless beast."
Ares's face twisted with outrage.
"And you, Hera," Zeus continued, "when the time comes for you to choose a champion and grant your blessing, I will pronounce your punishment then."
"Now leave us," Zeus commanded, his voice echoing with finality. The gathering of gods dispersed.
Artemis and Apollo lingered, walking together in silence before she spoke.
"Your plan worked, brother… but was it truly necessary?" Artemis asked softly, her voice still cool.
Apollo chuckled, his golden hair glinting in the divine light. "Of course. Ares is too dangerous — had we done nothing, he would have dominated the game in one stroke. This was the perfect chance to bind him. Besides," he smirked, "Hera despises us already. Why should we let her win?"
Artemis's eyes darkened. "And yet my champion was attacked by shadows. That mystery remains." She said it mostly to herself, though Apollo glanced at her.
"We will uncover it in time," Apollo replied cheerfully. "For now, enjoy the victory of today." He laughed, but Artemis remained silent, her thoughts still heavy as the night sky.