Fate: I Just Want to Die and Sit on the Throne of Heroes-Chapter 102: Atalanta Likes Warm Places

Chapter 102: Atalanta Likes Warm Places
Whatever storms were brewing in the hearts of the so called heroes, Heracles’s smile was genuine.
He had gone through a great deal in this period.
Before boarding the Argo, he had roamed all across Greece, cutting down local monsters and scourges for the sake of ordinary people.
Most of the time, what he received in return was not gratitude, but fear.
The people he saved feared him.
They feared the “hero.”
That was not what Heracles wanted. It was not that he craved thanks. He simply believed that those who were helped should not have to tremble before the hand that saved them.
Because of that confusion, he had climbed the Caucasus Mountains, met Prometheus, and sought out the clay tablet that Rowe had left with him.
Yet even that had not given him the answer he needed.
It was only after he boarded the Argo and watched this group of so called “heroes” that Heracles finally understood.
“Heroes should not be like them.”
Heracles’s gaze swept across Jason and the others, then settled on Rowe in front of him.
“Taking a reward for one’s efforts is fine.”
“But if everyone behaves like they do, grabbing by trickery and force, what difference is there between a hero and a monster?”
Jason and the others shivered.
Rowe smiled.
“So, have you made up your mind?”
“I have.” Heracles’s answering smile was firm.
“To hell with Greek heroes. I will walk the path I believe in.”
“Believe me, you will become a true Greek hero, different from them.” Rowe’s tone was unusually sincere.
“Then, if there is nothing else, we will be going first so as not to disturb your reunion.” Jason still tried to worm his way out. “We have urgent business…”
“Shut your mouth.”
This time it was not Rowe who snapped at him.
The furious voice came from Heracles, Son of Zeus.
“This is the Sage of Uruk. He is the founder of the cave on Mount Pelion. Even Teacher Chiron does not dare be rude to him.”
Jason and the others were stunned.
Like Heracles, they had all trained in the cave on Mount Pelion and were disciples of Chiron.
Chiron had taught them skills in arms and war.
Character, however, was something this era barely regarded as a concept at all.
Rowe did.
“Founder…” Jason looked utterly pathetic as he tried to form an excuse.
Before he could get a word out, he and the rest of the “heroes” vanished.
Rowe had merely waved his hand.
“Where did you send them?” Heracles asked, a little curious.
“To a place where they can start over.”
Rowe’s smile held a faint, dangerous amusement.
Killing them outright would have been too easy. In the Age of Gods, death was rarely an ending. With their “background,” resurrection was hardly impossible.
So, using the blessing of the three fundamental powers he had gradually mastered through Hermes, Rowe confined them in the intangible void of dreams.
“If they refuse to put in the effort, they will die and revive there again and again, under strict commandments, until they finally become real heroes. Only then will they be allowed to leave.”
Just imagining the behavior those men had flaunted on their journey, Heracles felt that such a fate might be worse than death for them.
But his expression was satisfied.
“That is good.”
He judged deeds, not blood.
He could acknowledge their courage in crossing the sea, while still being thoroughly disgusted by what they had done along the way.
If Rowe was willing to discipline them, then that was for the best.
This was the admonition of a “founder.”
As for the Golden Fleece, it naturally would not be Jason’s.
How could Rowe hand over what he had already claimed to such a man?
“Next, we should talk about your problem.”
Rowe turned his attention back to Heracles.
The tide continued its rhythmic rise and fall along the shore of Colchis, the damp sand gleaming with scattered light.
Heracles nodded.
“I want to ask you about the contents of the clay tablet I received from Prometheus.”
As he spoke, he pulled a whole clay tablet out from a pouch tied at his waist.
Rowe froze the moment he saw it.
Just as he had feared. It was another piece of absolute black history.
“Ahem. That sort of thing is still too early for you.”
He coughed lightly. Heracles’s eyes widened as he watched the clay tablet crumble away into dust.
“Forget about it.”
“There is no point in forcing the issue.”
Heracles seemed surprisingly unbothered.
Rowe narrowed his eyes, seeing straight through him.
“Mainly because it was not yours in the first place, right?”
“That is not important.” Heracles waved dismissively.
Prometheus would probably feel it was very important.
Rowe added the complaint only in his heart.
“Then let us be off.”
His next words were not for Heracles, but for the shaded forest behind them.
Heracles followed his gaze.
A figure stepped out of the shadows beneath the trees.
Although it was clearly a young girl, her entire body was wrapped in a green cloak. Only her long, emerald hair, loose down her back, could be seen.
A demigod.
Heracles’s eyes swept over her once, then returned to Rowe.
“Let us go.” Rowe smiled.
“We are taking the Argo back.”
He had missed it on the way here. On the way back, he absolutely intended to ride this legendary ship.
“Let me steer.” Heracles volunteered immediately.
“Hmph.”
From beside them, Atalanta let out a cold snort beneath her hood but did not object.
On the way here, the ship had been packed.
On the way back, there were only three of them.
Heracles’s mood, however, was far better than before.
The sails were raised. The ship began to move.
Driven by the sea breeze, the Argo cut toward the distant horizon.
Heracles stood at the helm, firmly controlling their direction, while Rowe and Atalanta headed into the cabin.
“Finally, I can sleep.”
Rowe stretched lazily once he stepped inside, then simply lay down and drifted off.
Now that he thought about it, he had barely slept since arriving in Colchis.
Not for lack of desire, but because there had always been something that needed doing.
He had long had the habit of sleeping whenever he found the chance. That much had not changed in a thousand years.
Atalanta silently watched him.
This man really is oblivious to me.
Her hackles nearly rose on instinct. Then she paused.
Moonlight spilled through the small window, casting a silver sheen over the cramped yet cozy cabin.
The girl’s catlike eyes swept over the room before settling back on Rowe.
Her nose twitched a little.
He was actually asleep.
This feels like a good chance to mess with him.
Atalanta’s lips curved softly.
She reached out a finger and poked his cheek.
“Hmph. Even asleep, he looks annoyingly handsome.”
That thought slipped out before she could stop it.
What a strange man.
That was Atalanta’s deepest impression of Rowe after spending this time with him.
He could be respectful and courteous, yet also spit vulgar curses.
He could be disciplined and measured, yet utterly wild when dealing with those who were out of line.
It felt almost like a split personality, but none of it felt disjointed on him.
It was more like someone had thrown all sorts of mismatched things into a pile, set them on fire, and somehow the result was bright, steady warmth.
Cats always liked warm places.
Atalanta did as well.
She really did not want to admit that, but it was the truth.
Perhaps this was why Enkidu, Artemis, and Athena were drawn to him.
Or perhaps this was also why her own mind had nearly come apart when Medea confessed.
Yes. Obviously, it was all this man’s fault.
“Hmm.”
Growing more curious, Atalanta slowly lowered her head and leaned toward his chest.
So warm.
She let her whole body sink down against him, lithe legs wrapped in black silk braced on either side of the bed. Her soft hips shifted awkwardly as her beast ears twitched in her long hair.
The tail that usually only appeared when she ran at full speed to keep her balance quietly unfurled and swayed behind her.
The fluffy tip bounced lightly.
A faint blush dusted Atalanta’s cheeks.
Like a cat that had gotten into catnip, her thoughts began to drift and spin.
A sharp creak rang out.
The deck suddenly tilted.
The next moment, there was a heavy impact and a loud splash from outside. The whole hull shuddered.
Atalanta pitched forward and slammed her head straight into Rowe’s chest.
Rowe’s eyes snapped open.
The first thing he saw was a pair of wide, catlike eyes pressed up against him.
It’s over.
Atalanta’s face flushed scarlet in an instant.
“My child. Have you finally come to your senses and decided to feel the boundless love of a father?”
Rowe chuckled.
“Wah!”
Her shame instantly turned to rage.
Atalanta jerked her head back, bared her small fangs, and bit down on his neck.
Wait.
Isn’t this position even more suspicious?
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