Fate: I Just Want to Die and Sit on the Throne of Heroes-Chapter 98: Medea, Have You Considered Becoming King?

Chapter 98: Medea, Have You Considered Becoming King?
Between the warriors born from the dragon’s teeth and the dragon itself… which one was truly stronger?
As the earthborn warriors marched in formation toward the forest where the Golden Fleece lay, that question rose in everyone’s mind, unbidden.
The answer came before sunset.
When the sun was about to slip beneath the horizon, the warriors returned.
They came back carrying the dragon.
The beast was covered in wounds, scales broken and torn, its massive body still twitching as it hung in their grip.
At that sight, the onlookers could only exchange looks with one another.
Reality had spoken.
Against these warriors, each formed from the dragon’s own strongest parts, the dragon had never stood a chance.
In the end, it had only one set of teeth.
But those fangs had been scattered into the earth, and from each tooth a warrior had been born, every one of them carrying that same lethal edge.
And on top of that, they bore the blessing of Ares, God of War.
No wonder the dragon had lost.
Medea’s eyes shone faintly at the scene.
Aeetes, on the other hand, was drenched in cold sweat.
“King Aeetes,” Rowe said quietly, “as you can see, I have completed the three conditions you set, have I not?”
“Cough.”
Aeetes cleared his throat, forcing steadiness back into his voice.
“Rowe is indeed the most ingenious hero I have ever seen.” He let out a measured sigh. “However, the Golden Fleece is an extremely precious treasure. I have hidden it in a very secret place. How about this: you stay in Colchis for a few days, and then I shall present it to you.”
It was obvious to anyone with eyes.
Aeetes was stalling, looking for a way to break his promise.
“Father…”
Medea instinctively took a step forward. Having gradually guessed at Rowe’s true identity, she wanted to speak up on his behalf, to urge her father not to be reckless.
But Aeetes never gave her the chance.
“Enough. Everyone may retire for today.” His tone became brisk. “Rowe, I will have the finest accommodations prepared for you. I am weary.”
“That is all.”
With that, Aeetes turned and left with a contingent of guards, his regal robes sweeping behind him.
Medea lingered as the last to go. She looked at Rowe with an apologetic expression.
“Please do not worry. I will persuade Father to keep his word.”
Rowe simply waved a hand, indicating that he did not mind.
After they all departed, the fields fell quiet under the reddening sky.
Atalanta dropped soundlessly down behind him.
“Hmph, that guy actually dares to go back on his word.”
Her beast ears twitched, her young face full of indignation as she lifted her bow, instinctively wanting to aim at the king’s distant figure.
Rowe stopped her with a glance.
“No need. I will make sure he keeps his promise.”
He smiled.
“Since Aeetes swore in the name of this country, we can simply… let this country acquire a new ruler. Would that not be better?”
“What are you planning?” Atalanta asked before she could stop herself. Then, as if catching her own slip, she quickly added, “Don’t get the wrong idea. I am not worried about you. I just cannot stand people who break their promises.”
“Do you really not know?”
Rowe turned and looked straight at her.
“Wh… what?”
Atalanta blinked, caught off guard. Being stared at so seriously made her cheeks color ever so slightly.
“Tsunderes always lose,” Rowe said solemnly.
He patted her on the shoulder and walked away.
Leaving behind only a baffled huntress.
Tsundere? Lose?
Was he… calling her a dog?
Atalanta’s ears trembled violently, and her fists clenched.
“You hateful man, you still haven’t told me what you plan to do!”
“You will know tonight. Hey, stop biting me again. Do you have any idea how hard it is to wipe that drool off?”
Rowe’s distressed complaint faded with the last of the daylight.
…
Night.
Within the palace of Colchis, in the princess’s bedchamber, Medea sat alone at her desk.
She wore a thin nightgown, her light purple hair tied up, and faced a polished mirror by candlelight, eyes closed in deep concentration.
She was divining.
Reaching into herself and consulting the “magic mirror” to retrieve the truths hidden in the depths of her mind.
As the most beloved princess of Colchis, Medea had studied under countless magi from childhood, and her talent for sorcery had always been exceptional.
She had received the favor of Hecate, Goddess of Magic, and had mastered many forms of spells and witchcraft with ease.
Yet in truth, Medea rarely used mirror magic.
She had been sharp since she was young. For most questions, she did not need a ritual to arrive at an answer.
Only today, she was not certain.
That young man…
“Is he really the Sage of Uruk himself?”
Only if she confirmed it could she properly attempt to persuade her father.
Although she knew that with Aeetes’s temperament, even knowing the truth would not necessarily convince him in his heart.
“It is obvious, is it not?”
A voice sounded behind her.
Medea’s eyes snapped open, and through the mirror, she saw Rowe’s reflection.
At some point, he had appeared in her chamber, seated in a chair behind her as if he belonged there, his grey white robe draped loosely over him, long black hair swaying gently in the candlelight.
Medea froze for a moment, but she did not panic.
After all…
“If the Sage of Uruk, who returned from the void after a thousand years, truly wanted to do something to me, I would not be able to resist anyway, would I?”
She curved her lips into a small smile, though she did not turn around. She continued to watch him only through the mirror.
Rowe likewise did not look directly at her.
He gazed instead toward the dark window.
“You seem to have many complaints about your father.”
“Not complaints. Worries.” Medea shook her head. “My father’s methods are wrong. I do not approve of what he does.”
“That is already dissatisfaction.”
Rowe clapped his hands softly.
“Aeetes is autocratic and tyrannical. He is cruel and unjust, rules through fear within his borders and breaks his promises to those outside.”
“And you, Medea, are Hecate’s favored child. You despise that kind of rule.”
Medea did not deny it.
Even though he was criticizing her father, every word was accurate.
“So what?” She dropped her gaze. “I am only his daughter, and not even one with the right to inherit. He indulges me because the magic I learn can help him maintain his indulgence and cruelty.”
“I am just a tool.”
“You are a tool,” Rowe agreed, finishing it for her. “Do you not want to change that?”
“Change…?”
Medea finally turned to face him, stunned.
“Yes. Change.”
Rowe smiled faintly.
“I can help you become the ruler of this country.”
“If you are king, you can control your own destiny. You will not have to be someone else’s tool ever again.”
“But in exchange, you must promise me a few things.”
“Keep your word and give me the Golden Fleece. Rule kindly over the people of this land. Treat the common folk and those under your authority with the mercy they have been denied until now.”
He spoke at length, almost as if he did not require Medea’s response at all.
But in truth, this was the same plan he had already mentioned to Atalanta earlier that day: change the master of Colchis.
It was also why he had come here quietly in the night.
Outside the window, a pair of feline eyes watched him closely through the darkness.
“But I cannot, and I will not allow it,” Medea answered. After her initial surprise, her composure returned. “I cannot murder my own family to steal a throne that is not mine.”
A witch who had never been struck by Cupid’s arrow was not as deranged as the legends would later paint her.
Her purple eyes, fixed on the man in front of her, held the clarity of a true magus, as well as a deep and helpless sorrow.
Rowe, of course, knew this was the core problem that could not be ignored.
“There is no need to kill anyone. You do not even need to hurt them.”
As he said this, Rowe’s smile widened. He slowly rose to his feet.
“If your father, the king, and your brothers were all captured, and you were the only one left who could manage the affairs of this land…”
“Then, over time, you would have no choice but to reluctantly ascend the throne, would you?”
Impossible.
Medea wanted to say it outright.
Aeetes commanded a powerful army, and he himself was a formidable demigod.
Unless Rowe personally intervened…
But that would change everything.
Rowe wanted to stand as a hero, not as a bandit who pillaged a nation.
Even though in this age, the line between hero and bandit was hardly clear, he still had his own line to draw.
Medea understood that as well. She knew he would not simply carve his way to the throne through open violence.
However, in the next instant, she felt the floor tremble faintly beneath her feet.
She turned toward the window.
Outside, she saw flames rising and silhouettes rushing through the night.
The warriors from the dragon’s teeth, and the dragon that had guarded the forest.
The power Rowe now held in his hands.
“The warriors are Aeetes’s prized soldiers, and the dragon is the magical beast that guarded the forests of Colchis. None of that has anything to do with you or me.”
Rowe’s voice was calm.
During the day, he had already demonstrated his ability to control them, but Aeetes’s vanity would never allow such a thing to become public knowledge.
He had long since ordered the matter buried in silence.
Rowe stepped closer and extended his hand toward Medea.
“So, Princess Medea, only you can take charge of this chaos.”
“I will help you stabilize the country and sit upon its throne. In return, I will receive the title of ‘hero who saved the kingdom’.”
“A clean win for both of us.”
This was the plan Rowe had finished drafting long before nightfall.
Medea stared at him, dazed.
She parted her lips slightly, unable to speak for a moment.
She had not expected Rowe’s preparation to be so meticulous, every angle already considered and arranged.
After a stretch of silence, she finally murmured,
“Lord Rowe… you are as frightening as a demon.”
Rowe did not deny it.
“I am a demon,” he said, “but only a demon who targets the wanton.”
He wanted the Golden Fleece.
That was one reason.
But beyond that, he simply could not stomach Aeetes’s tyranny.
He felt displeasure when he looked upon the oppressed.
He felt disgust when he looked upon the oppressors reveling in their own cruelty.
So he chose to act.
He himself was someone who lived freely, and so he could become the demon that devoured those who abused that same freedom.
Good and evil split by a single thought.
Why bother to name which side it fell on?
“But you are also a hero,” Medea said.
Her lips curved into a smile brighter than any she had ever worn. She raised her hand and placed her fingers lightly within his palm, tracing the lines.
He was a hero.
A hero for mortals.
And the hero who had opened the cage around her life.
At this moment, he was her hero.
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