Suren was preoccupied with one thought: the best way to take the beast down in a single shot.
His first arrow had been a trial, a way to test this Calydonian Boar's defenses. After all, this was his first encounter with a creature forged by divine hands, and caution never hurt.
The results were promising. He had already gauged his limits and found he could easily pierce the boar's defenses, even inflicting serious damage if he chose.
Suren's gaze now pierced beyond the creature's seemingly natural hide, exposing the core hidden beneath. While it resembled an ordinary boar—albeit an immense one—its flesh concealed something far more sinister. Beneath that tough hide lay a frame of metal and sinew and an internal blessing that enabled it to grow stronger by consuming anything in its path.
Figures that the gods possess technologies far beyond mortal understanding.
The boar's body was a fortress of muscle and bone. In modern times, not even a nuclear blast would guarantee its destruction. This was a creature on par with the likes of Godzilla.
In divine Greece, however, such a challenge wasn't impossible for a true hero. Though it would require a monumental effort.
The boar, its vision now impaired, shifted its stance, focusing on Suren with a pair of blazing red eyes. They glowed like coals, as if the beast were preparing to unleash a devastating blast.
Suren waited, thinking he might find an opportunity to counter as it attacked.
But the red in the boar's eyes suddenly flickered out.
In that instant, Suren noticed its power source stalling, and for a heartbeat, the creature stood paralyzed. Its head then jerked to the side, redirecting its rage toward the other Greek heroes.
The boar's eyes reignited, scorching beams flashing out, consuming several warriors in flames as they cried out in horror.
Suren frowned, wondering why it had ceased attacking him. It had seemed poised to unleash its wrath against him alone…
But that didn't matter now. The beast's power core was exposed as it attacked. He had only seconds before it sealed again, hiding under layers of sinew and steel.
"Now's my chance."
With that, Suren drew back his golden bowstring, loosing an arrow formed of condensed light. It streaked forward, piercing the beast's heart in the space of a single breath.
A single arrow, faster than light—a shooting star slicing through the sky.
Among the gathered warriors, only Atalanta—ever observant and a skilled archer herself—tracked the arrow's trajectory as it struck.
The boar collapsed, and Suren lowered his bow, turning to leave without a word.
"Hey, Suren!" Atalanta called after him, her voice tinged with confusion. "Aren't you staying for the honor of the kill?"
Honor.
What was it about slaying this Calydonian Boar that drew nearly every hero across Greece to Calydon? Why did so many, normally proud and unruly, travel all this way to answer Meleager's call?
It was the honor.
Where gods were involved, no matter the reason, there were no minor feats. A monster dispatched as punishment by the gods represented divine will and thus held prestige unmatched by ordinary creatures.
The heroes believed that subduing such a beast was an adventure and a rite of passage worth risking their lives.
Suren simply shook his head. "My task here is finished. Athena's guidance brought me here, and I've completed what she asked of me."
"As for the honor you're all so desperate to claim? I'm not interested. I'm here only to please my goddess." He added with a gentle smile, "Athena watches over me."
The only reason he had come to Calydon was because Athena herself had guided him here, boarding his golden vessel and instructing him to seek out this trial.
With the beast slain, the honors and spoils could go to those who desired them. He had no need of such things.
Atalanta looked taken aback, unable to understand his response. As she puzzled over this strange man, Meleager seized his moment. To his credit, the prince possessed a reckless courage, bolstered by his pseudo-immortality and blessed fate.
While the other Greek warriors scattered from the boar's fiery attack, Meleager charged forward. His mother had told him that, until his fated moment, no weapon could take his life.
Meleager stepped confidently onto the fallen boar's head, stabbing his sword into its neck, where the foul blood spilled forth.
The boar was dead.
Still in a daze, Meleager knelt atop its head, looking down at the slain beast. He was certain he hadn't dealt the killing blow, yet there he stood as the hero before all eyes.
The dust settled, and his friend Jason was the first to shout in excitement. "Meleager! It was Meleager who slew the Calydonian Boar!"
The other Greek heroes joined in, raising a cheer. Though they hadn't slain the boar themselves, they had survived the hunt, a feat worthy of secondary honors and a share of the spoils.
Meleager's uncles smiled triumphantly. As his most loyal allies, they believed he would grant them the finest portion of the spoils—the boar's hide.
As the heroes thronged around him, chanting his name, Meleager hesitated. He knew he hadn't slain the boar. But as he looked upon the heroes' admiring faces, he paused.
"...Yes, it was I, Meleager, who brought down the Calydonian Boar!"
He wasn't entirely sure why he said it, only that the words seemed to escape of their own accord. Though he'd considered telling the truth, the words seemed to have a will of their own.
Atalanta opened her mouth, ready to correct him, to say that Suren was the true slayer. But her voice was drowned in the cheers. So she held her tongue.
Observing her from across the crowd, Meleager misinterpreted her silence. He thought her reluctance to approach was merely because she was a woman and thus found it difficult to stand among the male warriors.
She's the one who pierced the boar's eye, he thought proudly. Surely she sees my worth as the man who organized this hunt and struck down the beast. She'll warm up to me yet.
He could think of no woman who wouldn't. Clearing a path, Meleager approached Atalanta with a grandiose flourish, declaring, "Beautiful Atalanta, your contribution was immense. You struck the beast's eye. I would offer you the boar's pelt…"
His uncles, hoping for the hide themselves, glared daggers at her.
Yet Atalanta showed not the slightest gratitude. Her face grew cold as she replied, "Meleager, you have no right to distribute the spoils. The boar's slayer was not you!"
"Watch your tongue!" one of Meleager's uncles shouted. "Everyone saw it—Meleager struck down the boar, his sword still wet with its blood!"
"At least, he struck after it was already dead."
Atalanta's piercing green eyes, glinting with the blessings of Artemis, locked onto Meleager. "Meleager, do you swear before the goddess of the hunt, the mistress of the wilds, that you killed this boar yourself?"
At her words, his confidence wavered. He knew full well the truth, and he knew the cost of breaking an oath. But he could hardly back down now.
If he didn't swear, he'd expose his own deceit. And yet, to lie would be to make a mockery of the gods.
It was his father's failure to honor the gods that had summoned this monster to Calydon, wreaking havoc on the land.
Atalanta's challenge, initially dismissed by the crowd, grew heavy in the silence that followed Meleager's hesitation. Even his friend Jason turned away, unable to shield him.
I'm trapped, Meleager realized. He was too far up the mountain to climb down.
Yet, blinded by pride, he reasoned, The Fates have decreed that I shall live… So even Artemis cannot harm me unless my hour has come.
Facing the gaze of the Greek heroes, he gritted his teeth, ignoring the prickling doubt that plagued him, and declared, "I, Meleager, swear by the goddess Artemis, the huntress and keeper of the moon, that it was I who killed the Calydonian Boar!"
A silence fell, darkening the forest around them. The trees, the winds, even the animals seemed to freeze in reverence, as though a presence had filled the air.
This was the presence of a god. And as one who had met the goddess, Atalanta knew it belonged to Artemis herself.
Though Artemis did not manifest fully, it was clear that she had heard Meleager's oath.
Atalanta shook her head. "You're bolder than your father ever was," she said with a mocking smile.
"Fine. Believe what you wish. You may keep the pelt for yourself."
Turning away, she began walking in the direction Suren had taken. "Cherish this honor while you can. Soon, you'll have all the spoils you desire."
Meleager's uncle, seething, blocked her path. "You think you can simply walk away after insulting Calydon's prince and future king?"
"You've slandered Meleager's honor, and the only fitting payment… is your life."
He wasn't entirely wrong. Given Meleager's vow before the goddess, Atalanta's own life was now forfeit in the eyes of the warriors.
"It's not slander if it's the truth, and Meleager knows it as well as the goddess does," Atalanta said, her bow in hand, her cold gaze fixed on the two uncles. She might have looked delicate, but her skills in combat were on par with any hero's, and her archery was nothing short of legendary.
If it came to fighting, none could best her—not here in the wilds where her prowess was unparalleled.
"Silence!" The two uncles drew their spears, preparing to strike.
Atalanta's bow was ready, but before she could fire, an arrow shot through the air, disarming them.
Meleager called out, "You treacherous cowards! How dare you attack Atalanta?"
Seizing the blade that had fallen from his uncle's grip, Meleager swung it down with deadly intent.
Had the mysterious arrow not struck, they would surely have perished by his hand.
"..."
Atalanta was at a loss for words, utterly stunned by Meleager's deranged actions, her mind a blank as she tried to comprehend what she was witnessing. With her limited vocabulary, she couldn't find an adequate term for this level of madness.
Jason could only stare in horror. "Meleager! Are you insane? That's your own uncle!"
"Who?" Meleager's bloodshot eyes glazed over, unheeding of Jason's words. He seemed lost in a trance of violent rage—a consequence of the sin he'd committed by mocking the goddess. Arrogant oaths to the gods were never so easily dismissed.
Though the goddess Artemis couldn't simply end Meleager's life due to his so-called "prophesied fate," she had countless ways to ensure he would pay.
Suren sighed, lowering his bow. "Have you completely lost your mind? You're ready to kill your own uncles over a stranger?"
"They dared to offend Atalanta! They deserve death!" Meleager snarled, voice laced with venom.
His uncles looked at him in disbelief. "Meleager… are you willing to kill your own blood for a woman?"
"What does it matter?" he spat. "Neither of you are worthy to even stand beside my Atalanta!"
"Enough of this insanity!"
Atalanta's expression twisted in disgust. Being the object of a madman's affection felt nauseating, like having a toad crawl up her leg.
No, worse than a toad.
She turned to Suren, asking, "Didn't you already leave?"
"I was going to," he replied, "but when Artemis showed up, it seemed wise to stay a little longer."
"After all," he added, "I was raised by one of her own."
And since Athena hadn't given him any new guidance after Calydon, Suren was free to follow his own path for now.
Atalanta's eyes lit up. "Then come with me. I know a place where we can offer a proper tribute to the goddess."
Meleager caught sight of Suren standing beside her, and his face contorted with anger. "Who are you?! I'm Meleager, prince of Calydon! Do you mean to challenge me for her?"
He sneered, voice rising, "Aren't you afraid I'll command these warriors to tear you apart?"
The gathered Greek heroes exchanged uneasy glances, growing more uncomfortable by the moment. Meleager's descent into madness, his willingness to murder his own family for the sake of an outsider, was revolting to them. Not even his closest ally, Jason, could stomach the sight.
Jason's intuition told him that Meleager had indeed lied about slaying the boar. His erratic behavior, the fevered look in his eyes—it was as though the goddess had cursed him herself.
But Suren didn't so much as glance at Meleager, continuing his conversation with Atalanta instead.
"So you really want to join me? I'm just not sure that anyone else would be able to set foot on Aurum Altissimum without falling through," he teased.
True contempt needs no insults or attacks. It manifests in a cold disregard, as though the person simply doesn't exist.
"Leaving here sounds pretty good to me," Atalanta replied with a resigned sigh, her drooping cat ears and tail adding a strange charm to her frustration.
Suren gave a casual glance around and conceded her point—leaving indeed seemed preferable to staying.
By now, Meleager's uncles had reached their limit. They might not be able to stand against their nephew, but they could certainly run back to the palace and inform their sister of his behavior.
"So, where to next?" Suren asked Atalanta. "Do you want me to take you back to Arcadia?"
"No…" She shook her head. "Arcadia isn't home to me."
She gestured to the dense woods. "My life is here in this forest. I never would have left it if the boar hadn't been such a rare and worthy prey."
Standing on the gleaming platform of the Aurum Altissimum, Atalanta couldn't hide her amazement. Her little feet tapped experimentally on the radiant surface, a seemingly intangible light yet capable of supporting their combined weight.
Once her curiosity subsided, Atalanta studied Suren's profile. "Suren, why didn't you tell them you were the one who killed the boar?"
"Because I don't care about what it represented," he said simply. "To me, it was just a beast wreaking havoc on the people and the land."
Suren continued, "I came because Athena guided me here, yes. But beyond that, it was my own desire to help that brought me to Calydon, not the promise of fame or praise."
"Besides, the honor of this hunt matters to the others—they risked their lives for it. Why deny them that?"
"They may have come seeking glory, but their desire to rid the world of the boar was genuine. That alone makes them worthy of being called heroes."
He saw the value in their pursuit. Suren had no intention of stripping them of this reward for his own benefit; if he'd publicized his role, it might have discouraged others from seeking out such noble pursuits in the future.
Yet Atalanta, in her honesty, had immediately exposed Meleager's lie. Artemis's wrath followed, and that's why Suren had returned to offer his respect to the goddess.
But Artemis had ultimately restrained herself, administering only a modest punishment.
Had Suren not intervened, Meleager, his uncles, and even his mother could have perished under her divine displeasure.
That was the fury of a goddess—however light her chastisement, it was enough to devastate an entire mortal family.
"Besides…"
Suren laughed. "If I'd claimed credit, how many of Calydon's citizens would have accepted it? They'd likely come after me. No point in wasting my time on them."
Irritation flickered across Atalanta's face. She had left the woods and joined the hunt with the hope of claiming the title of Greece's greatest hunter.
Although she had never said as much, her early abandonment in the forest, cast out solely for being born a girl, had left its mark. She cared deeply about proving herself.
But now, in this moment, it all felt meaningless. She no longer cared to compete for honors that another dismissed so easily.
Suren and Atalanta eventually returned to the forest she called home. It was much like the one where Suren had spent the first fifteen years of his life, filled with abundant wildlife and untamed beauty. Heroes like them often claimed a piece of wilderness as their own territory, marking it as they would their homeland.
Before a statue of Artemis, Atalanta prepared an offering, chanting reverently, "To the goddess of the moon and the hunt, Artemis, mistress of the wild, sovereign of all beasts…"
"Your servant Atalanta presents you with her most precious offerings. May you accept my gifts."
Suren listened to her lengthy prayer, scratching his head. "Isn't that a bit… formal?"
"Also, you sacrificed all your favorite foods for this," he added, baffled. "Didn't anyone ever tell you you can keep half?"
Cynthia, his caretaker, had once told him that Artemis was more than content with only half the bounty, allowing Suren to keep the rest. Initially, he had been nervous about such an offering, but the goddess had accepted it without issue, and from then on, he'd always split his favorite things accordingly.
"What are you talking about, Suren?" Atalanta looked at him, puzzled. "Leaving part of an offering behind is disrespectful! I could be turned into a lion for that!"
"Is it really that serious?"
If that's true, thought Suren, then I would have transformed a dozen times over by now.
With a shrug, he walked out of the cave, quickly hunted down a gazelle, and returned with two legs sizzling over a fire. After setting one leg before Artemis's statue, he called out, "Artemis, I offer you this roasted leg. If you'd like more, bring me another deer, and I'll gladly prepare it."
Taking a bite, he smiled, savoring the flavor.
Moments later, a series of bleats echoed from outside the cave. Glancing out, Suren found three more gazelles waiting, and when he looked back, the first roasted leg had disappeared from the altar.
Typical of Artemis, he thought fondly. Same swift response, same hearty appetite.
Content, he gathered the gazelles, roasted a few more legs, and offered each one to the goddess. Predictably, they disappeared in moments, while Atalanta's elaborate offerings remained untouched.
Suren then made a small clay oven, where he placed the rest of the gazelles to roast slowly. He turned to Atalanta, who was staring, speechless.
"See that? This is how you offer to the goddess. What you love may not be what she loves, so I always check with her first."
Atalanta was too overwhelmed to respond. She had plenty to say but wasn't sure where to begin.
What did she say to a man who'd just casually shown her that he could converse with Artemis as if she were family?
When Suren finished cooking, they ate. Each with their own meal, the two relaxed in companionable silence.
"Tell me, Atalanta," he said, breaking the quiet. "Did you join the boar hunt just to claim the title of Greece's greatest hunter?"
"Yes…" She sighed. "For a long time, I cared deeply about that title. The King of Arcadia, Iasus, abandoned me simply because I was born a girl."
Her voice grew softer, tinged with an old hurt. "I wanted to prove that a woman can be just as skilled… maybe even better than any man."
Atalanta shook her head, as if shedding those old dreams. "But now… now it feels meaningless. I've realized I don't need to compete for anyone's approval. I'm perfectly content living freely in the forest."
Those words lifted a weight that had weighed on her for so long. A strange, unfamiliar peace settled over her heart—a tranquility she hadn't felt since she'd discovered her origins.
For so long, resentment had fueled her journey to prove herself, leading her to become a hunter who could rival any male hero. But in this moment, beside Suren, the familiar bitterness and frustration faded, replaced by a quiet satisfaction.
Seeing her introspective expression, Suren remained silent. He found Atalanta's company oddly refreshing; her reserved, straightforward nature was a welcome contrast to the self-absorbed "heroes" they'd left behind.
The heroes of Greece, after all… how to put it?
Aside from a handful of truly remarkable souls, they hardly impressed Suren.
As they finished the meal and prepared to part ways, Suren stood up, giving her a parting smile. "Thanks for the invitation, Tower Cat. If you ever come by my neck of the woods, I'll treat you to some grilled fish."
He felt a twinge of nostalgia for his own forest, where he'd spent fifteen peaceful years under Cynthia's care.
With his adventures only just beginning, it would still be some time before he returned to see her again. But Cynthia was immortal—she'd still be her lively self when he eventually returned to visit.
Suren turned to leave, prepared to continue his journey, but something in Atalanta's gaze held him for a moment. She watched him in silence, feeling an unshakeable certainty that this would not be their last meeting.
Somehow, she knew: fate would bring their paths together again, and much sooner than she could imagine.
---
Atalanta had only briefly appeared at the Calydonian hunt, but her name and fame spread like wildfire.
Everyone soon knew that the kingdom of Arcadia, King Iasus, had a beautiful and formidable daughter—a young woman with a fierce, captivating presence.
Her beauty was so striking that it drove Calydon's prince to feud with his own family, and he had even offered her the most prized trophy from the boar hunt just to win her favor. But in the end, he was left with nothing for his trouble.
One could say that Atalanta's newfound fame was entirely at Calydon's and Meleager's expense…
Though, truth be told, she probably hadn't wanted this kind of reputation in the first place.
Now, her father, King Iasus of Arcadia, learned that his abandoned daughter had not only grown into a beautiful young woman but had also become a blessed huntress, a hero with divine favor.
Iasus was overjoyed at this revelation and quickly sent men to fetch Atalanta back to Arcadia.
Even though Iasus was a poor excuse for a father, a man who had acted more like a biological donor than a parent, Atalanta could not defy him. The god of fatherly authority was none other than the great father, Zeus himself.
So, with no choice in the matter, Atalanta returned to Arcadia. There was no warmth or familial bond between father and daughter, and Iasus didn't even bother to pretend. His intentions were clear—he wanted to use Atalanta to gain an advantageous marriage with a prince from a powerful city-state or a hero of demigod status, thereby securing wealth and influence for himself.
In fact, Iasus went so far as to fan the flames of the rumors surrounding Atalanta, spreading her beauty and strength across all of Greece to attract potential suitors.
However, Atalanta—fierce as a lioness and definitely not the sort of girl to submit to her father's will—was already uneasy. Her heart wasn't entirely at peace, and she had no intention of simply marrying a stranger for the sake of her father's schemes.
So—
She made an announcement: a race!
Only a man who could beat her in a footrace would be worthy to marry her.
But if he lost the race, he would pay the ultimate price—he would be killed.
Atalanta drove a stake into the ground beneath a towering tree, marking the start of the racecourse. With that, she invited nearly every man in Greece to race against her.
Every day, a fresh wave of men entered the contest, and by the end of each day, countless bodies lay slain, having failed to best her.
Atalanta had set these harsh conditions hoping to deter every Greek man from pursuing her, giving her the freedom to find her true love on her own terms.
But to her dismay, her beauty only seemed to draw even more suitors, her deadly terms making her allure all the more intoxicating. The line of men hoping to win her hand grew longer by the day.
What began as a pursuit of her beauty soon evolved into a bizarre 'honor'—one that attracted all manner of ambitious suitors.
Once honor became involved, there was no shortage of men willing to risk their lives in pursuit of her.
Among these men was Hippomenes, a descendant of the sea god Poseidon. Initially, he had come to the race to sneer at the men who had lost their lives to this beautiful, heartless huntress. But the moment he laid eyes on Atalanta, he was stunned into silence.
For the first time, he was left speechless, utterly captivated by her beauty.
Hippomenes' intent had been to mock her or flatter her, to make some impression that she'd remember. But Atalanta didn't even spare him a glance. She walked past him, ignoring his existence entirely, as if he were nothing but air.
Atalanta knew well enough what went on in these men's minds.
She had no affection for men willing to throw their lives away for beauty's sake. These men each thought they were special—that they alone could 'win' her. None of them saw her as a person.
But she wasn't interested in what any of them thought, and one by one, they were eliminated, meeting the same fate at the end of each race.
Rebuffed, Hippomenes felt a fresh surge of determination. He turned to the goddess of love and beauty, Aphrodite, pleading sincerely for her help in securing his 'true love.'
Yes, in the eyes of a Greek man, this was 'true love'—
Love born from beauty, love that clouded the mind, love that drove the desire for flesh…
Hippomenes didn't care if Atalanta loved him back. He only wanted to possess her beauty, to make her his own.
Moved by his 'devotion,' Aphrodite granted him three golden apples, each glowing with an irresistible allure that no woman could refuse.
"Go now, Hippomenes, and seek your true love. And should you succeed, do not forget to return and offer thanks for my blessing."
Aphrodite's voice lingered in his ear, but Hippomenes heard nothing else. His heart and mind were completely fixated on the three golden apples, each one symbolizing the future happiness he imagined they'd bring.
---
T/N: I like Atalanta!
Thanks for reading! Let me know if you spot any mistakes or inconsistencies!
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