Atreus paused in his steps, bowed slightly, and saluted the queen: "I have no interest in this war itself. But I am an ally of the Amazons, so Your Majesty's enemy is my enemy."
The first part of his statement sounded rather harsh to Penthesilea, but the second half was much more pleasant.
The queen was quite pleased. "You belong to Hippolyta, so I won't treat you unfairly. I'm about to march against Achilles, and I want you to come with me. I'm willing to share the glory of killing Achilles with you!"
Atreus's expression was quite telling—he knew that according to "history," Penthesilea was a textbook example of someone who failed to kill and ended up being killed instead!
He felt fairly confident about handling Achilles. Honestly, even if it wasn't top-tier heroes like Heracles, any random Greek hero would be enough to give Atreus a tough fight. But among all the Greek heroes, it just so happened that the one whose fatal flaw—Achilles, with the infamous "heel" nickname—was the most obvious.
The problem was that while collecting a trophy like this might be thrilling, if Diana found out about this "get-rich-quick scheme at the cost of a teammate's head," things could get very messy.
If he hadn't arrived with the **Starlight Diadem**, he might've been able to cover it up. But who knows if that thing would go back and tattle to Diana, saying he stood by and let her aunt die?
After hearing Penthesilea's words, Atreus took a deep breath. "Achilles is very strong."
The Amazon queen firmly replied, "I know. He killed Hector! He killed many of Troy's great heroes. But when I was in despair, it was the Trojans who took me in. Avenging Hector is my duty."
Fine! She couldn't be persuaded!
Atreus remained silent for a moment, then in a rough, Kratos-like voice said, "I know that fighting Achilles is Your Majesty's honor. Let me use a bow and arrow to stabilize the battlefield for you."
"Good! Whatever you need, just ask."
Atreus quickly recalled history and decisively said, "I need a bow! The strongest bow!"
The queen glanced at her attendant. "Give it to him."
With that, the queen dramatically flipped her fur cloak and strode off. "We go to war at dawn."
Too many eyes were on Atreus.
Even with his impressive 56 points in perception, Atreus couldn't detect a pair of ordinary yet special eyes watching him from the palace.
Special because of who they belonged to; ordinary because the person was just an ordinary woman.
"Is there any news about that man?" she asked.
A maid at her side bowed and answered, "Yes. He claims to be named Kratos, an ally of the Amazon queen Hippolyta. It's rumored he might be Hippolyta's man. Queen Penthesilea has vouched for his identity and asked King Priam to open the royal armory for him to select his gear."
"I see," the woman responded with a light wave, dismissing the maid.
She looked around. The palace was filled with worried servants and soldiers hurrying back and forth. The stench of burning corpses hung in the air.
More and more people were casting looks of disgust and even hatred at her.
Once, people only sang her praises. But now, with the brutal siege underway and Prince Hector dead, both the servants and high-ranking officials had grown colder toward her.
Yes!
She was the infamous cause of this entire Trojan War—Helen, Queen of Sparta.
She had demonstrated to the entire Greek pantheon the true meaning of a femme fatale.
Perhaps once she had stood high above others, but now, if it weren't for Prince Paris still protecting her, she might've already been handed over to the enraged Trojans.
However, not many knew that Helen had seen something else.
Her dreams and reality seemed to blur together.
Strange, blood-red mist swirled on the grand hall's walls, making the vast palace, spanning nearly a thousand square meters and towering five stories high, feel incredibly eerie.
Though the windows were intact, Helen, in her daze, felt as though through those shattered, five-meter-tall glass panes, she glimpsed only chaos beyond—a formless sky dimly shining through thick fog, revealing nothing.
In reality, the hall was brightly lit. But in her vision, the hall was completely dark, with only the faintest light seeping through from outside, creating a suffocating atmosphere.
In reality, the hall was filled with exquisite gold and bronze artifacts. But in Helen's vision, it was a scene of utter ruin—upturned furniture, broken chairs with only a backrest left, and fragments of floor lamps, all scattered chaotically.
Helen was certain she had seen the destruction of Troy.
Because of this, she couldn't imagine what her fate would be after the defeat, or how her former husband, King Menelaus of Sparta, would punish her.
Perhaps, out of consideration for her beauty, Menelaus might spare her life, but she knew the rest of her days would be miserable.
She knew well enough how weak Paris was. When she heard that Kratos requested a bow, she immediately ordered, "Relay my command: allow him to choose any bow in the armory. Any bow!"
The sharpness in her final words startled the servant.
Accompanied by an Amazon warrior, Atreus arrived at Troy's royal armory.
He knew everything was "fated."
Almost as if by instinct, all the skills related to **archery** were highlighted in the system notifications.
Since the target was Achilles, it was impossible not to mention the famous "Achilles' heel."
After Achilles was born, his mother Thetis learned from the Fates that he was destined to die in battle. She burned away his mortal parts with divine fire and healed him with divine balm. But just before she finished, his father, Peleus, interrupted (another version says Thetis held Achilles by the heel and dipped him into the River Styx). As a result, Achilles was invulnerable everywhere except his heel, his one fatal weakness.
After joining the Trojan War, Achilles quickly turned the tide for the Greeks, killing Hector, Troy's great hero. But due to his enmity with the god Apollo, Achilles was struck down by a fateful arrow to his heel, launched by Apollo.
Another version of the story says that Achilles died from Paris's poisoned arrow.
There was no doubt that if Atreus wanted to steal this kill, he would have to become an **archer**.
*Sigh!*
Wasn't it just camping? Lying in wait, being the stealthy **sixth player**? He was all too familiar with that role.
Now the real question was, how to kill Achilles before he could cut down Penthesilea.
(End of chapter)