"So that's it? Is that all you're capable of, unable to dodge even this basic shot?"
Arms folded, Atalanta sneered. "I was standing right in front of him; he saw me draw my bow, and he still couldn't handle this ordinary shot."
In the Age of Gods, modesty was far from a virtue. Heroes of this time flaunted their strength, displaying courage and might openly.
Only the weak failed to make their prowess known.
To most here, Suren's tendency to blend in and let things slide signified incompetence.
Such a simple, brute logic—yet it ruled this era absolutely.
For a moment, the ship fell silent. Even the heroes who'd previously questioned Atalanta's place among them found themselves falling quiet, humbled.
Most doubted they could have avoided her arrow, or that they would have survived its impact.
Only a few could look on it calmly, but even those few regarded Atalanta with newfound respect.
This was the sole truth this era understood—the power of arrow and bow.
But Atalanta wasn't done. Instead of letting things settle, she raised her chin, her gaze resting proudly on Suren. "Did you really think that arrow was my limit? I even made it clear I intended to harm him, and he still didn't bother to dodge?"
"The first time we met, I fired an arrow at him while he wasn't paying attention. Suren didn't even look—he caught it with his bare hand."
"Suren's skill with the bow is beyond mine. Outside of the gods themselves, he is Greece's greatest archer!"
With Atalanta boasting so boldly about him, Suren could hardly stay silent. He met the gaze of everyone aboard, speaking calmly. "I'm sure some of you are jealous of me. What are you jealous of? Well, let's just say there's plenty, but we don't need to list it all."
"In any case, if you're dissatisfied, you're welcome to challenge me at any time. Just know the consequences."
With a wave of his hand, his golden bow—the Golden Zenith, hidden until now in his light—appeared in his grasp.
The bow, forged of gold and radiant brilliance, immediately left everyone awestruck.
Orpheus, son of Apollo and the greatest musician in Greece, murmured in wonder. "This… it must be a divine weapon, crafted only by Hephaestus himself."
As a son of Apollo, Orpheus' knowledge was vast. In an instant, he understood the nature and origin of Suren's weapon.
Suren nodded. "I trained for three years under Athena, the goddess of wisdom, warfare, and victory. This was her graduation gift to me."
At that, everyone instantly grasped his origins—
This was a hero personally trained by Athena!
To the Greeks, Athena was revered as the mother of heroes. To know that Suren had not only been guided but taught directly by her meant that he now stood on a higher level in their eyes.
All around, they looked on him with respect. Athena had guided many heroes, including some of Greece's greatest, yet no one had ever trained directly under her as Suren had.
Even Heracles looked at Suren with new appreciation. At first, his gaze lingered on Suren's striking beauty, but his attention quickly shifted to the true point of interest:
The blessings of the gods.
And not just from one god—but from many.
Jason's eyes sparkled as he started forward, hand extended to shake Suren's, only for Atalanta to block him. She spoke bluntly, "Jason, as our so-called captain, how long are you going to hold things up here? Or do you expect us to perform for you to prove our worth?"
She narrowed her eyes. "I won't let this happen a second time. Next time someone questions us, I'll take care of them all."
Jason laughed awkwardly. He was willing to be tolerant with strong heroes, so he smiled and said, "Of course, of course… Atalanta, you're Greece's greatest female archer, and Suren is the best male archer. Both of you are unrivaled!"
Jason's flattery was honest, but the ease with which he laid it on irked Heracles. Even Atalanta had her doubts; she couldn't believe someone like Jason was actually endorsed by the gods.
The gods really must have low standards when it came to humans.
Still, despite this slight disappointment, she liked what Jason said. She nodded in satisfaction. "Jason, your eye for talent is better than I thought."
With roles settled, they moved on to select the crew's duties. Jason, blessed by Hera and supported by Athena, would lead the journey to obtain the Golden Fleece from Colchis. Everyone aboard was ultimately there to help him fulfill this mission.
Captaincy settled, the other roles fell into place.
Jason would command the ship, Tiphys, with his experience, would steer the vessel, while Lynceus, with his keen eyesight, would serve as lookout. The half-god hero Heracles would oversee the bow, with Peleus and Telamon manning the stern.
As for the rowers...
The entire crew consisted of divine offspring—sons and grandsons of Zeus, Poseidon, and Apollo.
Although there were fifty pairs of oars, not every hero needed to row. Suren and Atalanta, as the top archers, were naturally exempt from the strenuous work.
However, Heracles, despite being equally skilled with a bow, had to pitch in frequently—after all, he held the title of overseer of the bow. And with great responsibility came… rowing.
Such was the nature of being first mate; after all, one couldn't turn down the heroes asking for a hand when you held command.
As the ship gradually set sail, Suren enjoyed his freedom. "Jason mentioned he'd call on us if we encounter trouble… but all I'm hearing is that we're free to relax."
Atalanta's usually sharp eyes softened, her proud face revealing a gentler side as she gazed at him. She wanted nothing more than to show her best to the man she had chosen.
Suren trailed off, then sighed. "Ta-nyan, there's no need. You don't have to change yourself for anyone else. I'm… not your person."
"Never change yourself for someone else. It'll only lead to regret."
"Suren," Atalanta replied, shaking her head. "Now that we have the chance, let's sit and talk properly."
"True." Suren rubbed his pale face, faintly grimacing. "But I'll warn you, I'm already feeling a little seasick. This is the biggest ship I've ever been on." Big boats and small boats were worlds apart, especially when Poseidon's attentiveness varied so much. The whole experience felt different.
"Besides, if we keep talking, I might actually throw up."
Fortunately, thanks to Hestia's blessing, he never had to worry about hunger. As long as he didn't eat, seasickness wouldn't get the better of him.
Ignoring his attempts at humor, Atalanta frowned, locking eyes with him. "Where do I begin, Suren…"
"Have you noticed how different you are from everyone else?"
Suren shrugged. "Of course. There's only one Suren in the world. Everyone's unique!"
"...You know that's not what I mean."
Her gaze softened but held steady. "You look down on most heroes, yet you don't seem to mind being called one."
"It's a contradiction, Suren… what do you really think?"
"I disdain the actions, not the title."
Suren replied calmly. "Most of Greece's 'heroes'—I'd say over ninety-nine percent—are just a bunch of thugs. But even if only one out of a hundred is a good person, a hero in the truest sense, then the title itself shouldn't be tainted."
"It's people who disgrace the name, not the word itself…"
"I want to be a hero too, but not like them."
"Ta-nyan, as we travel with these people, you'll soon understand what I mean."
---
On board the Argo, the crew consisted entirely of extraordinary individuals known as "heroes." Yet, apart from Suren, who bore Hestia's blessing to be untouched by hunger, every other member still needed food to sustain themselves.
Fortunately, the Greek seas were dotted with countless islands. Beyond the famed Crete, there were approximately 2,500 islands.
Among these, some were uninhabited, while others bore city-states or kingdoms. A few still operated under tribal systems, with no centralized governance.
In his previous journey south across the Aegean in search of Europa, Suren had encountered barren lands under the watchful protection of Artemis. But this expedition toward Colchis took him east, broadening his understanding of the world. Compared to the southern islands, the eastern Aegean lands were noticeably more developed.
Islands along the southern Aegean were largely wild and empty, governed by Artemis, while those to the east bore signs of human life, with a rich variety of magical beasts and monsters roaming freely.
Traveling from Greece to Colchis required crossing the Aegean Sea, the Sea of Marmara, and the Black Sea. Without divine blessings, this journey would be one of unparalleled hardship.
Spotting a small island ahead, the lookout, Lynceus, notified Jason, who ordered them ashore. The island was modest in size yet fortunately inhabited, offering a prime opportunity for the "heroes" to gather supplies.
However, for the heroes, "gathering supplies" often meant something more violent.
After all, they were heroes—blessed by the gods, sailing under the Argo's sanctified banner.
For them, pillaging wasn't considered pillaging; instead, it was the villagers' "voluntary contribution." The people of these villages—governed only by loose tribal structures and lacking any true understanding of "nations"—offered up their gold, silver, and food, and, unwillingly, even their wives and daughters, to these so-called "heroes" from Greece's sophisticated city-states.
"Enough," Suren's voice rang out, cold and steady, as his arrow flashed through the air, pinning one of the lecherous heroes where he stood.
No matter how many times he witnessed it, fury blazed in Suren's heart each time. It was this era—this savage way of living—that called for someone like him to set things right.
Hera, Athena, Hestia…
All of you, who have blessed me so generously… is this not what you wish as well?
"Stealing food, I can tolerate. I'll assume you're too lazy or incompetent to feed yourselves properly. Taking gold and silver, I can chalk up to human greed…"
He paused, eyes fierce and unyielding. "But this ends here. What makes humanity worthy of its name is its dignity and its self-restraint. You call yourselves heroes—do you not have even a shred of self-discipline?"
Suren continued icily, "Now, put the gold and silver down, leave half the food for the villagers, and offer proper payment for the rest—or…"
"Or you'll be facing me, Suren."
His usual easygoing smile gone, his expression darkened as his bow—the Golden Zenith—shimmered with divine brilliance, and his shield, Aegis, began to revolve slowly around him.
It was clear Suren was not joking; any who crossed the line would face his wrath.
"This is a holy mission, blessed by Lady Hera herself!" one hero spat defiantly. "Do you intend to defy the great Queen of Heaven?"
"If you continue acting like animals, I'll send you to Hades myself. Then, I'll explain it all to Hera," Suren replied coolly. "Now, I'll say it once more: do as I say, or suffer the consequences."
Atalanta silently took her place at his side, her stance unwavering. Jason shot a glance toward Heracles, their strongest ally, but Heracles simply gazed out at the shore, taking no interest.
Although a classic Greek hero, Heracles disliked behaving like a thief. He only resorted to violence against villagers when a job he'd been asked to complete wasn't properly compensated; otherwise, he hunted for himself and kept to his own business.
To be fair, Heracles was a bit of a hired thug—but by Greek standards, he was the paragon of honor among heroes.
Unlike the others, Heracles at least did something in return for his demands. Meanwhile, most so-called heroes would plunder in the gods' name from the outset.
Suren might have avoided food entirely, thanks to Hestia's blessing, but Atalanta still required sustenance. Initially, he assumed that "resupplying" meant either buying food from the islanders or hunting, given the abundant resources of the Age of Gods.
But after he and Atalanta returned from hunting, they found only Heracles waiting by the shore. Suren's suspicions grew, sensing that this wasn't as straightforward as he'd hoped.
Jason, clearly uncomfortable, tried to defuse the situation. "Suren, we're all Greeks here, bringing civilization to this wild land. We're on the same side—"
"Consider yourselves warned," Suren interrupted, ignoring Jason's attempts to smooth things over.
"Three—"
He had already decided he wouldn't hesitate to kill them. In this era, death was just another stage of life; sending these shameless souls to Hades might even do them some good.
Jason met Suren's gaze, then, teeth clenched, he relented. "Do as Suren says! Now!"
With Jason yielding and Heracles choosing neutrality, none of the other demigods and sons of gods dared to challenge Suren.
Reluctantly, they returned their stolen goods to the villagers, though a few hid small amounts of grain and treasure within their clothes and armor.
It was the best compromise Suren could hope for. Knowing they'd already pillaged, they were unlikely to relinquish everything willingly; anything more would have required slaughtering them all.
As they returned to the ship, an uneasy silence settled over the crew. Only a handful seemed unaffected, while the others began to find unity in their mutual resentment.
They resented Suren's actions because they cast their own behavior in an even uglier light.
They hated his principles, for they'd lost wealth and glory by adhering to them.
In this era, pillaging so-called "barbarians" and slaughtering villagers was considered an honorable achievement.
Heroes hailed from different city-states across Greece. As long as one didn't kill citizens from their own city-state, even massacring defenseless civilians counted as a "heroic feat."
Suren loved this Greek paradise of the Age of Gods—a bountiful, utopian land where people could live in peace and abundance.
This was Suren's dream: for all people to live harmoniously in an era like this, where true happiness was within reach.
But he despised this chaotic, savage world, where even the gods guiding humanity still fumbled with the nuances of morality. Here, "heroes" fell far short of their title.
"…I understand now, Suren."
Atalanta, too, seemed to finally grasp his frustration. Gazing at the others with narrowed eyes, she murmured, "Being surrounded by these vermin truly cheapens the title of 'hero.'"
"Ta-nyan," Suren replied with a small smile. "Perhaps joining this journey on the Argo was the right choice for everyone here."
Laughing bitterly, he added, "If I hadn't been here today, something vile would surely have happened."
"Heracles wouldn't have stopped it. He accepts this as the Greek way. Though he won't stoop to such behavior, he won't interfere with it either."
"Heracles—a flawless Greek hero. Principled, self-centered, self-serving. In his world, he alone exists…"
"I trust he wouldn't have engaged in such behavior. But as long as it doesn't touch him, he stands by, letting the vermin carry on. What a perfect hero!"
Suren's voice hardened. "But I'm different. I'm just an ordinary person, and if I see injustice, I'll stop it."
Suren's eyes shone fiercely. "The goddesses—Athena, Hera, Hestia—bless me endlessly. Do you think they granted me this power to sit back and watch this world's injustices unfold?"
"For so long, I've said this only to the gods. But now, I'll tell it to humans."
A dangerous gleam appeared in Suren's eyes. "Now I understand why the gods can't fathom me!"
The Age of Gods was already beautiful—he didn't need to save it.
This paradise, this perfect Utopia, could provide any person a rich and fulfilling life. Even the humblest farmer could maintain herds of thousands, needing little more than their natural growth to flourish.
In such a world, no one lacked for anything essential, be it food, livestock, or wealth.
Suren dreamed of a land like this, where all people could live happily without divine intervention.
This age was one of beauty, but the world remained wild and untamed—
Once, Suren had believed it was the gods who made it so. In his rage, he had turned his fury on Zeus himself.
Now he understood that people—humans themselves—were to blame.
If humanity could flourish simply by reigning in its barbarism and chaos, then perhaps he could impose a new order on this world, creating a foundation of civility.
"So, gods of Olympus, bear witness to my resolve!"
He raised his eyes to the heavens. "I will forge a new covenant with you, gods, binding us all to a new order. This is the first truth."
The gods existed for the sake of mankind—this was divine love.
But if the gods could be restrained, if they could be governed by principles rather than whim, this age could become much more beautiful.
If the gods were unwilling, then Suren would do it himself.
"So long as the gods uphold this order, and are willing to protect it, morality will follow naturally among mankind. This is the second truth."
God and man were bound in a reciprocal relationship; mankind called out to gods, and the gods provided guidance. This symbiotic foundation was the keystone of the Age of Gods.
In this Greece, mankind's morals were appallingly low, while the gods' guidance remained reckless, perpetuating an endless cycle that upheld a thief's version of heroism.
Suren would pry open this symbiosis and plant new seeds of order within it.
"To unify thought, establish standards, set rules, uphold justice, and rebuild this world—this is the third truth. I call these the Three Immortal Truths."
His eyes burned. "The beating of a butterfly's wings in this Age of Gods will echo through time, shaping the lives of all who follow, for all eternity."
No matter how many times he attempted it, Suren's goal remained singular.
To change the world, to rewrite human history—even if it left this age, and every age after, unrecognizable.
"…Suren, what are you saying?" Atalanta's voice was tight with fear. "Bold claims like this could anger the gods!"
Even as Greece's mightiest heroine, Atalanta's hair stood on end, chilled by Suren's fearless declarations.
As a mortal, Suren actually sought to bind the gods to his will.
In this most sacred of Greek eras, the gods ruled as the absolute law.
The gods did not follow rules; they were the rules!
"Why would they be angry?" Suren replied with a faint smile. "I've finally discovered what I truly want to do. The gods should be happy for me."
They would have struck him down long ago if they truly disapproved. What need would they have to wait until now?
Slowly, Suren even began to understand why Zeus had held back his lightning.
And besides, once Suren made a decision, nothing could change his mind—Athena had long praised this about him.
A hero mustn't be indecisive.
Those who brimmed with ideas but lacked the courage to choose, or those who constantly changed their minds, were nothing but lowly characters.
The values Suren had clung to had finally blossomed into a plan. Even if the journey ahead was difficult, he now had a path to follow.
Speaking openly, Suren didn't hide his intentions from anyone. Why should he? He feared no god—why would he fear the petty men onboard?
And so, the ideals he carried, the vision he pursued, soon spread through the Argo, reaching all its passengers.
Even Atalanta, who knew him best, was startled by the enormity of his resolve. The others were simply dumbfounded.
Shocked by his courage, and fearful of his recklessness, they felt Poseidon might at any moment send them all to the sea's depths in retribution for Suren's insolence.
Yet the fact remained that the gods did not punish him. It left them baffled, lending Suren a new air of mystery.
This man, who spoke so brashly against the gods, yet remained unscathed—he must be greatly cherished by them!
With this thought, their fear of Suren grew. And so too did their memory of the rules he had laid down.
...
...
The Argo was a chaotic mix of the strong and the weak, all brought together for this journey.
One of the most notable on board was Peleus, father of Achilles. Having already crossed paths with Suren, Peleus was even more in awe—and fear—of this favored child of the gods.
At this point, Peleus had yet to marry Thetis, the sea nymph fated to bear a son greater than his father. For now, he was just an unremarkable grandson of Zeus.
Then there was Heracles, son of Alcmene, who was the granddaughter of Perseus, a son of Zeus...
Others had bloodlines that were just as tangled. When it came down to it, trying to untangle their family trees was hopeless. Fortunately, Greeks didn't concern themselves much with seniority; otherwise, they'd hardly know who to call "father" or "grandfather."
Peleus, like nearly all the heroes aboard, admired Atalanta. A beautiful and powerful woman like her was bound to have admirers. And, predictably, they resented Suren. It didn't help that Atalanta—unwavering and undemanding—was devoted to Suren, who showed no romantic interest in her whatsoever.
Peleus, however, wasn't foolish enough to vie openly with Suren. Whenever he saw Suren, he automatically kept a hundred paces away.
But the fact that Suren kept rebuffing Atalanta kindled a faint hope in him.
Sure, I'm afraid of him, but… I'm more afraid of missing out on a beautiful woman.
The other heroes knew about Atalanta's feelings for Suren, yet it did nothing to deter their own advances. After all, few Greek heroes could keep their urges in check. Many had once pursued Caeneus, too, only to discover that she had been turned into an invincible man—a transformation given by Poseidon, no less.
Caeneus had once been a woman of remarkable beauty. Poseidon, captivated, had claimed her, and in his satisfaction afterward, promised, "I will grant you any wish."
Caeneus, scarred by her experiences, had replied, "Then make me a man, so this will never happen again."
And thus, Caeneus was reborn as an indomitable male warrior.
Heroes like Peleus, Meleager, and Theseus continued to pursue Atalanta, either openly or discreetly, forgetting the flawless shot she had fired to warn them before boarding.
"You're pursuing me?"
Atalanta was on her way to find Suren when Peleus intercepted her once again.
She sighed, clearly annoyed. "You remember my rule, don't you? When we land, we'll race. If you lose, I'll kill you."
"W-wait, that's only if I'm trying to marry you, right?" Peleus protested with feigned innocence. "All I want to do is pursue you—no marriage yet, so no race, right?"
A race was out of the question. Everyone knew that Atalanta's speed was unmatched; raised in the forest, she was a born runner.
Any man who dared challenge her would end up dead.
"Hmph!" Atalanta snapped. "But Suren beat me in a race. Just because you all can't do it doesn't mean nobody else can."
"Well, racing isn't exactly my strength!" Peleus shouted back. "And Suren isn't even trying to marry you! Each person's skills are different, and being good at running doesn't mean everything!"
Peleus had realized that Atalanta responded to challenges and couldn't tolerate anyone who subtly or openly questioned Suren's worth, so he decided to play into that.
"Then tell me," she replied icily, stopping to stare at him, "what exactly are you good at?"
With a smile, Peleus answered, "How about wrestling?"
Maybe she was fast and skilled with a bow, but she was still a woman. Surely she couldn't be better than him in a strength-based sport like wrestling.
If he could showcase his prowess in battle, perhaps he could finally win her over.
"I'm not wrestling you," Atalanta replied without hesitation. She paused and then added, "But if you insist on this, then I'll fight you bare-handed and leave you black and blue."
Atalanta was an adept fighter, although few realized it. If Peleus went forward with his plan, he might be in for a painful surprise.
---
As evening fell, Peleus showed up at Jason's banquet, his face bruised and swollen.
Someone jeered, "Peleus, what happened to your face?"
Peleus, unfazed, replied blandly, "Nothing. Just tripped in the dark."
"Drink up! More wine!"
Naturally, Jason hadn't invited either Atalanta or Suren to the gathering. By now, he suspected that Suren wasn't on the same path as the rest of them.
All the other heroes, however, were in attendance.
After a few rounds, one of the heroes started complaining, "Doesn't that Suren just get in the way?"
"Not much we can do. He's got a divine weapon crafted by Hephaestus himself, and he's Athena's pupil. We wouldn't stand a chance."
Feeling the effects of the wine, Peleus loosened up and, slurring, added, "Not to mention Atalanta—she sure packs a punch…"
"I'm Zeus's grandson, a demigod with the blood of the king of the gods, and yet she thrashed me like it was nothing…"
"And Suren's carrying blessings from more than one goddess. Those two are just too strong. I'd advise against trying to fight them directly."
"In that case, why not drive them away?" suggested another hero. "If we can't beat them, let's just kick them off the ship. This is Jason's vessel, isn't it? Shouldn't the captain have the final say?"
"Great idea!"
Voices quickly joined in agreement. "Kick them off, and we can do as we please. Captain Jason, we'll make sure you get that fabled Golden Fleece!"
Jason, a little drunk himself, declared, "That's right! I'm the captain of the Argo, and I've got Hera's blessing…"
"Letting them board was an honor in itself… If they don't appreciate it, then throw them off!"
"Exactly!" cheered another hero. "There'll be no shortage of sailors and crew for the honorable voyage of the Argo!"
At this, Heracles set down his cup and said, "I'm going to get some air."
He walked out, his towering figure swaying slightly as he moved, yet his steps were steady as he made his way toward where he knew Suren would be.
Suren was on deck, gazing out at the sea. By now, he'd conquered his seasickness, and could even enjoy the view.
"Some of them suggested to Jason that you two should be thrown off," Heracles said as he came up behind him. "So… what do you think, Suren?"
"Nice to meet you, Heracles."
Without turning, Suren replied, "If I want to leave, no one can stop me. And if I want to stay, no one can make me leave."
He added, voice calm, "They want me gone so they can resume their reckless, indulgent lives without consequence… return to the path of beasts who obey nothing but their own urges?"
"If I can't keep this bunch of insects in line," Suren continued, "how could I ever hope to create order for the gods?"
I'd sooner give Jason a good beating. Captain?
What kind of captain even is he?
"You're something else, Suren." Heracles regarded him thoughtfully. "You really mean it, don't you… But Suren, don't you realize that the true rulers of this world are the gods you speak of?"
He nodded to the sea. "For example, we're sailing the Aegean right now. If Poseidon were to grow angry, he could summon tsunamis and earthquakes to sink us all on a whim."
"And that's exactly why this is all so ridiculous, isn't it?"
Suren's voice was as steady as iron. "The gods' whims can change the course of countless human lives, just as heroes, following the gods' example, can twist the fates of ordinary people…"
"But what if the gods' actions could be regulated? Wouldn't that stop these things from happening?"
"Tsunamis and earthquakes could become natural laws instead of expressions of Poseidon's anger or discontent."
"Heroes would no longer exploit the gods' names to justify their basest desires."
Suren was unconcerned by Heracles's warnings of divine wrath because he believed, above all, that the gods loved humanity.
It was faith and reverence for the divine that had given the gods their forms, granted them substance, and made them real. In Suren's eyes, the gods' very existence was rooted in humanity.
So, he thought, the gods must surely love humans—it was just that divine love might differ from human love in ways that were sometimes hard to grasp.
"But that's how the world has always been," Heracles said, his voice slightly slurred. "The gods are always right; anything they do is right…"
"Gods are the law. Humans live within the gods' laws and must never risk displeasing them… That's always been the way of Greece!"
Suren finally broke into laughter—a deep, genuine laugh that echoed through the silent night.
"Heracles, someone once asked me a question. Let me ask it of you now—"
"Just because it's always been, does that make it right?"
---
Thanks for reading! Let me know if you spot any mistakes or inconsistencies!
Posture and water check!
If you wish to support me or read ahead here's a link! [patreon.com/WiseTL]