Theseus, clad in his gleaming golden Mycenaean armor, watched the battle unfolding in the plaza with great attention. The hero stood atop a hill together with several other heroes wearing golden and silver armor. However, none of them had their helmets on.
“Escaping Hades just to keep fighting. I gotta admit, Orniskem has some enormous balls,” the hero said.
Theseus was tall, with bronzed skin, curly black hair, and olive-colored eyes. His golden armor bore the sculpted face of the Minotaur on its breastplate. He carried a white curved sword, while his shield displayed an image of himself slaying the Minotaur. A red cape hung from his shoulders and covered his back.
“How stupid! That is all they will be able to do… now that Lord Hephaestus’s power device has been activated,” said another man approaching Theseus.
This man had light-brown skin and moderately long white hair. His eyes were black, and he wore a sarcastic smile. He was short compared to Theseus.
This individual’s armor was white with golden highlights. The face of a Gorgon adorned his breastplate. His helmet had curious wings, as did his sandals. The man carried an emerald-colored sickle, as well as a black shield bearing the living face of a Gorgon, whose eyes remained closed.
“Indeed, Perseus. All that is necessary is to throw them back into Tartarus,” said another man as he approached.
This man was tall, with dark hair bearing faint purple hues, as well as a thick beard. His golden armor was different from that of Theseus and Perseus. While the armor worn by Perseus and Theseus consisted of plate armor with elaborate helmets originating from the Bronze Age, this man’s armor resembled the lighter protection used by pirates of that period. His helmet was made from boar tusks. Across his back, he carried an enormous bow and a white quiver.
“Are you sure about this, Odysseus?” Theseus asked in surprise.
Odysseus crossed his arms and nodded with an arrogant expression.
“Indeed, my dear Commander Theseus,” the Achaean hero replied. “One of them—Loki, to be precise—used the power of the Muses to escape his fate. But that miracle will not happen again, for the Muses have completed their wish and returned to stone once more.”
Perseus then fell to the ground, laughing uncontrollably at the situation. He gave the impression of a child throwing a tantrum.
“They’re so stupid!” the wing-helmeted hero shouted cheerfully. “Just when I thought they couldn’t get any more pathetic!”
However, another man approached, walking calmly.
His presence was so imposing that everyone immediately fell silent before him.
This man had long black hair and slightly tanned skin. He wore a boar-tusk helmet similar to Odysseus’s, but with two golden horns, as well as a golden cuirass and a white-and-red tunic beneath it. A red cape covered his back. In his grip was an enormous golden spear and a dark red shield.
“It is not right to mock one’s opponents, Perseus,” the newly arrived man said. “Their struggle, although different from ours, remains honorable according to their own sense of justice.”
Theseus made a dismissive gesture at those words.
“Listen, Hector. Athena and her group are nothing more than vile traitors seeking to bring violence and turmoil into the peace we have achieved thanks to Lord El’s plan,” the hero Theseus replied.
“Peace for us, yes,” Hector acknowledged. “But the human world remains as violent as it was when we lived within it.”
Hector looked down at the battle taking place below them. Several malakim of Orniskem flew above the horrific beasts. In truth, however, they had not managed to advance very far, as they were still cornered before the enormous hole leading into Tartarus.
“I doubt a group with such little chance of victory could believe themselves to be wrong while fighting with such passion,” Hector said, looking upon his enemies with pity.
“You are always too soft,” Perseus said with a mocking look. “An enemy is an enemy, regardless of their intentions.”
“I am not so certain,” Odysseus interrupted, pointing toward Freyr, Tyr, and Thrúd, who were quickly destroying the monsters and advancing through the ranks of heroes.
“Those three possess exceptional power,” the Achaean hero said. “If we do not intervene, they will easily overwhelm our men.”
“Are you afraid of a few dying wretches merely because they can defeat some mindless beasts?” a voice was heard behind the heroes.
Theseus turned and saw two tall men.
Both wore bronze helmets that protected their heads down to their noses, although one helmet was conical while the other was shaped like a lion’s head. Their cuirasses were golden and made from bronze plates. These plates protected both the front and back of their torsos and ended in skirt-like segments.
The man wearing the conical helmet had bronzed skin and red hair. He was missing his right eye. The man with the lion helmet had lighter skin and blond hair. Both possessed thick beards.
“Ajax, Diomedes, are you suggesting that the two of you can defeat those three Norse gods?” Perseus asked with a smile.
Ajax, the man wearing the conical helmet, smiled and shrugged indifferently.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“We could make a wager that the two of us will slaughter those three useless fools,” Diomedes said. He was the one wearing the lion helmet.
Theseus then shook his head.
“No killing them. Orders from the great Father Zeus,” Theseus said.
Ajax spat on the ground.
“You really think I’m going to obey whatever Zeus says?” the Achaean hero asked sarcastically. “He has grown so weak and soft that I can hardly recognize him as our leader anymore.”
At that moment, Diomedes pointed toward the battlefield.
On the opposite side of the great hole leading into Tartarus, atop a group of buildings, Heracles stood with an eager expression and a devilish smile.
“Say whatever you want, Theseus,” Diomedes said. “But not even Zeus can control his son anymore. Every day that passes, he becomes more bloodthirsty.”
Heracles, who watched the battle with delight, raised his fist to unleash a shock wave upon every warrior and monster in the plaza at the entrance to Tartarus.
“Is that idiot really about to… kill everyone?!” Theseus shouted in alarm.
But at that exact moment, Odysseus stood and calmly drew his enormous bow.
It was a beautiful golden weapon adorned with jewels and gleaming mirrors. The bow was so large that it was even taller than the hero himself.
Odysseus made an arrow of white energy appear and, using his gigantic bow—which he planted against the ground in order to handle it—fired the projectile toward Heracles.
The arrow traveled along a curved trajectory, striking several Orniskem malakim in its path and sending them wounded into Tartarus.
The projectile reached Heracles and, despite the hero being protected by the dimensional shield Hephaestus had raised, it punched a hole through the protection and embedded itself in the mighty hero’s chest.
Heracles was hurled backward by the impact, screaming in pain from Odysseus’s attack.
“Ever since he returned to life, his weakness has become sacred power,” Odysseus said.
Everyone stared in amazement at how easily Odysseus had brought down Zeus’s most powerful son.
But Odysseus simply put away his weapon and made a dismissive gesture.
“It does not matter how powerful or strong a man may be. If you know how to strike him with the correct elements, at the proper speed, and at the right points, you can defeat him without difficulty,” the wise hero said.
“Theseus,” Odysseus continued. “That arrow will hold Heracles back for a moment, but he will surely rise again. And since he does not know where the attack came from, he will want to tear every Orniskem warrior apart.”
Then Odysseus pointed toward the great pit of Tartarus.
“Our duty is to throw those men back into the realms of great Persephone without causing a single casualty. Understood?”
Theseus nodded and then turned toward Ajax and Diomedes.
“All right, all right. We will not kill anyone, as great Zeus commands,” Ajax replied in a bad mood.
“Yes. We certainly do not want to be compared to that brute Heracles,” Diomedes added.
Theseus then turned toward his army of heroes.
Standing before the men were seven warriors who carried themselves like generals.
The first wore armor similar to that of the Romans, with a purple cape across his back. A rose was held between his teeth. His hair could be seen to be long and pink.
The second was dressed similarly to Odysseus, but his hair was blond and his skin pale.
Two of them wore classical white hoplite armor, but possessed two enormous wings.
Another two wore dark armor and had identical faces.
Finally, the last wore a golden ram’s fleece over his armor.
“Tell me, Hector. Where is your brother Paris?” Theseus asked upon seeing his men.
Hector shook his head.
“He was sent to Constantinople yesterday to protect Irene,” Hector said calmly.
Theseus nodded.
“I suppose the two of you feel more comfortable in those lands, after all,” Theseus said with a smile.
“Indeed,” Hector replied. “But unlike my brother, my duty is not governed by nostalgia or affection. My responsibility lies with Olympus at this moment.”
“Very well, my brothers!” Theseus shouted with a titanic voice that echoed throughout the area. “Our duty is to cast Orniskem back into Tartarus without causing a single casualty!”
“But if they escaped Tartarus once, how can you guarantee they will not do so again?” asked the blond man wearing armor similar to Odysseus’s.
“It is simple, Achilles,” Theseus replied. “They used the miracle of the Muses to escape, precisely as Odysseus explained.”
“Is Lady Persephone unharmed?” asked the man wearing the ram’s fleece.
“We do not know, but we must allow Olympus to handle those details,” Theseus replied, becoming somewhat flushed at the mention of that name.
Then Odysseus turned his back to them and pointed toward the northern and western sides of the sinister pit.
“Theseus’s group will attack from the west, while Achilles’s group and ours will attack from the north,” the Achaean strategist said.
“What about the east and south?” Perseus asked.
“Let the Amazons handle those,” Theseus said, pointing toward Hippolyta, who was fighting Ishtar on the battlefield.
“There can be no doubt that the blood of Ares runs through that woman’s veins,” Diomedes said disappointedly. “She is incapable of entering a conflict without first rushing in before making a strategy.”
“I believe you are the last person who should say something like that, Diomedes,” Perseus replied with a laugh.
Several members of the group began laughing as well.
After the joke, Hector raised his spear toward the sky and shouted:
“My brothers! Let us defend these sacred lands against the ambition of Athena and her followers, whose sense of justice has become distorted! Let us demonstrate why we, who believe in peace and love throughout the world, shall make our truth prevail!”
Everyone then flew toward the plaza where the pit leading into Tartarus was located.
The only one who remained standing was Theseus.
“Heracles, my cousin,” the hero thought, his face filled with pain and sadness. “What happened to you? Why do you behave like a beast instead of a hero?”
Theseus then remembered when he had been trapped in Hades.
He had traveled into the underworld in an attempt to abduct Persephone, an act that greatly angered Hades, the former lord of the underworld and husband of Persephone. As punishment, the hero had been forced to sit upon an upside-down throne while an enormous boulder tied around his neck slowly strangled him.
When Heracles entered the underworld in search of Hades’s guardian dog, Cerberus, he passed by the place where Theseus was being tortured and, with a huge smile, freed him from his torment.
“Theseus, is this why I haven’t heard anything from you in years?” Heracles asked his cousin as he seized the enormous boulder and shattered it with his club.
Theseus fell to the ground coughing blood, for the massive stone had torn his trachea. The hero could barely speak, but when he looked at Heracles at that moment, he would never forget what he saw.
Heracles wore his lion pelt and held his club in his right hand, resting it against his shoulder. He also carried his famous poisoned arrows and a bow tied across his back. Although he walked completely naked, an enormous smile shone upon his face like a sun within the underworld.
“Heracles… cough, cough… thank you… cough, cough…” Theseus replied in an almost extinguished voice. “But… cough, cough… Hades… cough… will be furious… cough, cough…”
Heracles laughed.
“Do not worry about such an insignificant detail,” Heracles replied. “I would never abandon anyone in my family, especially my cousin.”
Theseus remembered that moment vividly, but now all that remained of Heracles seemed like an empty shell.
He saw him more as a wild animal.
Certainly, Heracles had always suffered from fits of rage, but it was as though his condition had become frozen in place the moment he returned to life and became a god.
“I know that someday I will find a cure for your illness, my cousin,” Theseus said.
Then he flew toward the battlefield.