December Double Drop!
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Outside the city-state of Sparta, Suren removed the toga, a garment reserved for gods, priests, and nobility, slipping into a pair of handcrafted straw sandals and a rough linen tunic. Though the sandals were beautifully made, clearly the work of a skilled hand, his outfit signaled him unmistakably as a commoner.
He gifted the goddess Athena a handwoven olive wreath, and Athena, naturally, was to reciprocate.
It was the perfect chance to present Suren with a complete set of silk garments that she had woven long ago.
Suren did not know how long Athena had prepared for this, but he could feel an undeniable comfort as the clothes seemed to mold perfectly to his body.
Soon enough, he might have to send a few people to the Underworld, so wearing such exquisite clothes would be inappropriate.
Though Athena's blessing kept the clothes from damage, Suren cherished the goddess's craftsmanship too dearly.
In Greece, slaves had no right to enter the cities; they worked endlessly in the fields. Suren traveled from the bustling, progressive city-state of Athens—where the seeds of commerce had even begun to sprout—into the countryside, rife with oppression and exploitation.
Sparta distributed land among citizens, but they did not need to work it; they had ample time to cultivate their military skills within the city and to worship the gods.
It was only natural—without liberating the productive force and solving the basic issue of sustenance, how could one spare time for skills that did little for survival?
Slaves toiled with vacant expressions. In this divine era, Greece's resources were abundant; food could be gathered from nature without much effort. Yet their labor wasn't to meet survival needs but rather to fulfill humankind's pursuit of a "good life."
For the sake of fine cuisine, people needed others to process food.
To entertain themselves, they needed people to indulge their baser desires.
For the thrill of domination, they needed a multitude of slaves to satisfy their lust for life-and-death control over others.
Once humankind's most basic desires were fulfilled, countless secondary cravings would arise, filling their increasingly hollow souls.
By the early 20th century, humankind had effectively solved the issue of food production, yet even in the 21st century, people still starved to death.
This is human evil.
Perhaps Nero's great judgment was correct…?
Suren abruptly thought of an old friend, then shook his head with a faint smile, musing that he must be losing his mind to empathize with such a beast.
"Is humanity a collective whole?"
Suren sighed, then quickly answered himself, "Humanity has never been a collective whole, fractured by race, region, nationality, lineage, skin color, and even gender and profession…"
"Yahweh, is this the Tower of Babel?"
Yahweh had sensed humanity's shared aspiration to build the Tower of Babel, equal in height to the gods, and felt fear and anger, destroying it, dispersing humanity across the world, and making their languages incomprehensible to each other.
This was the Tower of Babel.
It was a biblical story. Even if it might have been real, it would have come after this era, for this was the ancient divine Greece, predating even the divine era of the Bible.
Suren was no weakling. Though he found it disheartening that in this bountiful divine era, humanity, even after being freed from the threat of survival, continued to exploit each other without restraint, he had expected this outcome long ago.
They were, after all, a group of barbarians who had not yet birthed law or culture. Sheltered by the gods, what could they possibly understand?
How well-protected the Greeks were by their gods!
Even a simple murder case needed a god to serve as judge, and the Greek gods had ample time for presiding over human trials.
"So let me try, in this ancient Greece of the divine era, to build a Tower of Babel in unity with the gods."
The Tower of Babel symbolized humanity's united miracle, recorded only in the Bible's mythology. Now, Suren wanted to challenge this miracle that rivaled the divine.
An old man, taking a moment to wipe his sweat, looked up and saw Suren standing at the edge of the field, eyes filled with compassion.
He was stunning, a beauty beyond the human realm, a visage that seemed to belong only to the gods.
But what caught the old woman's attention was not Suren's appearance, but the depth of feeling in his eyes.
Suren's eyes were large and bright, which imparted a sense of firm, decisive beauty to anyone he looked upon. At first glance, one could see that he was an unyielding hero.
But now, those steadfast eyes were filled with sorrow and pity, as though he lamented for the slaves, or perhaps even gazed upon the entire world.
"Noble one… what are you doing here?" the old woman asked, breaking Suren's thoughts.
"Have you heard of… Suren?"
Coming back to himself, Suren calmly asked the farmhands, "Would you like to live as citizens in the city?"
In this era, speaking of freedom was like playing music to a cow—no one would understand. Otherwise, there would already be a god of freedom. Greece's worship of gods was fervent, and every concept had a corresponding deity.
So Suren did not speak of freedom. He only asked these slaves if they wanted to be citizens.
As for mentioning his own name?
Though it might sound boastful, Suren felt his name already resonated across Greece. Even in the most remote farming villages, his legend must surely echo.
"Barrier-breaker Suren? The greatest hero of Greece sung by bards, beloved by the gods…?"
It wasn't just the old woman. All the laboring slaves were drawn to Suren's name. They pondered his words carefully before responding hesitantly, "So, what are you trying to say? Are you one of those scholars who sympathize with slaves?"
They could hardly believe that this godlike man before them was Suren. In the minds of these slaves, no matter how great a hero was, they were the descendants of nobility, kings, or gods.
Heroes were a race apart from commoners, separated even from slaves by birth.
As heroes, naturally, they would not pity slaves, for they did not even see slaves as existing.
"I want to say… Suren wants to liberate the slaves."
Suren paused, then repeated seriously, "All the slaves in Greece, in Athens, in Sparta… across Greece. So that everyone is a citizen, and no one is born into slavery, nor condemned to pass this fate to their descendants forever."
"…You're joking, right?" The old woman did not believe Suren's wild claim. She sighed, saying flatly, "I'm living well. I have food and drink each day, plenty of sleep, and my master does not mistreat me…"
"Alright, I need to get back to work. Take your essay elsewhere to write!" The slave chuckled bitterly, "Athenian scholar, if you don't finish your essays, perhaps only your teacher will scold you. But if we don't finish our work, we'll die."
Slaves were their masters' property. Apart from an abstract state like Sparta, most city-states would not recklessly slaughter slaves, as they still needed their labor.
"Why don't you wish to?" Suren showed no anger but asked calmly, "Wouldn't it be better for someone to help you shed your slave status?"
"If you help me work, then I'll talk with you." The old woman patted her sore back. "I'm more than happy to chat with an Athenian if it doesn't disrupt my work."
"Very well. If you're willing to talk to me, then I'll help you all finish the work." Suren nodded. For a hero like him, brimming with boundless energy and immense power, what a commoner would need a full day to complete, he could finish in less than ten minutes.
"You wish to abolish the slave system. Does this mean you've already conceived of a system more advanced than slavery, such as the autocratic monarchy of the Persian Empire or even a democratic republic?"
The old woman sat down calmly, and her first question stunned Suren. He never expected such insight from a slave.
Perhaps the Greeks weren't uncultivated barbarians incapable of understanding advanced concepts, nor ancient fools beyond education.
Who knows? Three thousand years ago, Zhou Gong proposed the ideal of a utopian world, and even in the 21st century, this idea seems progressive.
"Don't look at me like that. I was once from Thebes… Never mind, let me continue!"
The slave continued, "But that's impossible. Slaves are just ordinary people, while nobility carry the blood of gods and ancient heroes in their veins, making them inherently far stronger."
"Nobles drive citizens to oppress slaves; they're both the beneficiaries and natural defenders of this system."
"Do you want to liberate Sparta? Perhaps that's possible, but liberate all of Greece?" The slave chuckled, "You mean to oppose all Greek nobility? Do you believe you can defeat the heroes of all the Greek city-states?"
"Firstly, you've misunderstood something." Suren raised a finger, saying, "Predatory rulers are mere paper tigers. Their class has an inherent weakness; when life is truly threatened, they capitulate even faster than you slaves."
"After all, slaves have nothing, while the rulers stand to lose too much."
"Secondly…" Suren raised another finger, "I think I can."
"What?"
The old woman was momentarily bewildered.
"I mean, I believe I can defeat all the so-called heroes of every Greek city-state." Suren laughed. "Let any who dare challenge me come forward. No matter how many, I am unfazed."
"Whoever dares stand in my way and wishes to oppose me, let them face the consequences!"
The primal rule: violence can resolve everything.
Laws, morals, economics… all structures underpinning society are, in essence, founded on violence.
All rules operate upon this primal rule. If the primal rule collapses, any rule dependent on it will vanish into thin air.
Suren's iron fist was enough to make him immune to all obstacles on this earth. When it came time for compromise, the nobles would understand perfectly well what to prioritize: life or power.
No excessive killing, no indiscriminate killing.
Abolishing the slave system was only the first step. Suren decided to summon all Greek scholars to compile a codex, a truly just codex for judging killings and sentencing.
Kaelar's code was biased and self-serving. Though he refrained from killing, slaughter and oppression still ran rampant in unseen places. It did not truly resolve the problem.
This time, Suren decided to gather the collective wisdom of Greece to advance humanity's progress.
Perhaps it could go even further, adopting the wisdom of the gods and perfecting a golden age of coexistence.
"I understand now—you're Suren."
The old woman instantly moved to kneel at his feet, but Suren stopped her. "Stand up. No kneeling!"
"I don't care if you kneel to gods or men, but I cannot bear to see anyone kneel before me… Stand up!"
Suren said calmly, "I did not fight to free slaves just for them to kneel before me."
"Is that so?" the old woman murmured, then stood up, calling out loudly, "Look! The Barrier-breaker Suren is here, the hero who will free the slaves—Suren is here!"
Her cry drew the attention of all the exploited slaves in the field. They shouted Suren's name, perhaps without understanding what the old woman had said. But just a name was enough to captivate them.
Before Suren could speak, all the slaves knelt at his feet. Suren's face was impassive. This time, he did not tell them not to kneel. He only sighed softly, "It's easy to vanquish a mountain's villains, but defeating the villain within the heart is far harder."
"Yes, great hero, abolishing the slave system is not just a matter of revoking slave status."
The old woman rose to her feet, nodding, "You must also free their minds… even so, are you willing to do this?"
"It's not such a difficult task." Suren smiled. "And someone has to be the first, don't they?"
"Someone has to do it?" The old woman's eyes shone, and a pen and paper appeared in her hands as she began to write.
"Another god, after all?"
Suren sighed. I knew it; humans don't possess such wisdom.
Greek gods had mastered the art of self-effacement. Before revealing their true identities, they acted exactly like mortals, even mimicking slaves to perfection. But when displeased, they'd curse you in a heartbeat.
Suren asked, "And you, which god might you be?"
"Oh? You recognized me?" The goddess seemed surprised, but she raised her head with a smile, "I am Melpomene… though, you can call me—[Tragedy]."
"Suren, the hero beloved by the gods, [Fate] has told me that if I observe you, I'll witness Greece's greatest tragedy."
The slave… no, Melpomene dropped her meek facade and looked at Suren with a smile. "Hero, even knowing [Fate], will you still walk this path?"
"Perhaps Calliope [Epic] might come to favor you as well?"
"Tragedy or epic, it makes no difference…"
Suren rose and set off toward Athens. "After all, I am the 'protagonist,' am I not?"
It is I who crafts the narrative.
Whether a tragedy or an epic, Suren would bear the weight of his choices, for the story of "Suren" was a life he had chosen. Whatever his life became, he would accept it.
As for these Greek gods who amused themselves with his life, Suren did not res ent their observation.
Every life is its own play.
To be an audience member, the lead, or even a side character, made no difference.
Each person is the lead in their own tale.
---
Suren sat atop the throne of Athens, gazing down at the Athenian king, Aegeus, once a companion on the Argo's legendary voyage.
The Argonaut expedition had long since concluded, though its hero, Jason—who had won the Golden Fleece—didn't end up faring much better. His life ended in despair, losing his wife and son and dying alone beneath the once-glorious Argo.
Now, however, with Suren's intervention, Jason's fate would see a kinder turn.
The expedition of the Argo was one of Greece's most influential adventures, and those who participated were some of the most esteemed heroes in the land. Aegeus, while not one of the more prominent Argonauts, was still the king of Athens.
Aegeus's prolonged absence from Athens had left a noticeable impact. His son, Theseus, who had dared to journey to the Underworld in an attempt to abduct Persephone, remained imprisoned by Hades, with no hope of rescue. In his absence, Athens had devolved into disorder and mistrust. Aegeus was preparing to restore order when Suren appeared.
"Aegeus," Suren addressed him calmly, "I've decided to unify all of Greece and establish its first empire. What are your thoughts?"
With a serene expression, Suren relaxed in his seat, a radiant aura of gold shimmering around him. He appeared as tranquil as a guest recounting tales to an old friend—if not for the fact that he had just bested every guard in the palace.
He had spent some time surveying the rural regions of various Greek city-states, speaking to the enslaved farmers. Though most were reduced to serfdom, the spirit of resistance burned faintly within them.
That alone was enough.
After traveling across Greece, Suren found himself back in Athens, choosing to begin here rather than in Sparta.
"…"
Aegeus opened his mouth, yet no words came out. He was the only one still standing in the hall, the sole person not overwhelmed into unconsciousness.
He was also the only one who had not drawn a weapon against Suren.
His sword remained sheathed on his back, his hands at his sides, clearly lacking the courage to challenge Suren.
"I thank you for your mercy, Suren," Aegeus sighed, pulling up a chair and seating himself. "But what is it you truly intend to do?"
"I intend to unify all of Greece, abolish the city-state system, and replace it with an imperial autocracy," Suren repeated, his voice calm. "Each city-state will have appointed tax officials, and city leaders will report directly to the emperor. Nobility will no longer inherit their status, but instead, be granted titles based on merit."
"Of course, this is only transitional. Once the time is ripe, a representative democracy might even be established."
"Additionally, I will abolish the institution of slavery, enshrining equality as an imperial law. And finally, I shall implement the Twelve Golden Accords, a supreme code to govern both gods and men."
The Twelve Golden Accords were a series of pacts that Suren had drafted to define the relationship between gods and humanity.
1. Gods and mortals are two essential parts, forming the cornerstone of Greece.
2. Mortals offer faith to the gods, who, in turn, guide humanity righteously.
3. Gods and mortals shall be equal.
4. Gods shall not act recklessly.
5. Mortals shall not worship foreign gods.
6. Gods shall judge all matters impartially, and mortals shall not break their pact with the divine.
7. Mortals shall honor their ancestors first, and gods shall not surpass this reverence.
8. Gods shall foster harmony among mortals and shall not sow discord.
9. Mortals shall honor the gods, or face divine punishment.
10. Those who keep the gods' covenant shall be blessed by the gods.
11. Praise Zeus.
12. Praise Suren.
"…You're mad," Aegeus blurted out instinctively, then caught himself, sighing in relief as he remembered that it was Suren he was addressing. "Of course. It's you."
He'd heard rumors of Suren's ambitions back on the Argo; now, seeing him act on them only seemed fitting.
"The nobility will never agree to this," Aegeus shook his head. "This would pit you against all of Greece…"
"That's because they don't know me, Aegeus." Suren's voice was calm. "Absolute violence brings absolute power—this is the simplest rule."
"Otherwise, why would mortals believe in gods?"
Aegeus's view of Suren was limited by a mortal's perspective—humans, after all, are social beings, reliant on alliances and strategy to meet their needs.
But gods have no such needs. All mortals must do is keep the gods appeased and placated.
Suren stood. "From now on, when they see me, they will see a god."
"Aegeus, proclaim my decrees throughout Greece—"
First: Greece and the lands surrounding the Mediterranean, even as far as the Caucasus, along with all nations and peoples under the Olympian faith, shall fall under the dominion of the First Greek Empire. All city-state titles are hereby abolished."
Second: All titles and privileges of city-state kings and nobility are revoked, as is the institution of slavery. City-state officials shall be selected by the gods, appointed directly by me."
Third: Summon every scholar from across Greece to Athens to establish a code that governs gods and men, to be approved by the goddess Athena and me, then presented to Zeus and added to the supreme codex."
Finally: O former kings of the city-states, if you will not bring me the water and earth, the sky and soil, and everything else I demand, then gather every soldier you can muster and bring them before me."
"Do not say I did not warn you. Defy me, and I shall strike."
Suren turned to Aegeus. "Aegeus, my vassal, do you have any counsel?"
"…My king, all is as you say." Aegeus had no objection. He had seen firsthand Suren's power, equal to that of the gods, and knew better than to resist.
Truthfully, Aegeus had prayed to Suren countless times in moments of hardship, only to have his problems miraculously resolved, so much so that Aegeus had come to believe that Suren was a god walking among men.
"No, I am your emperor."
Suren's voice, cool and unyielding as iron, carried with it an unshakeable authority as he sat upon the throne, his very being more like a sculpted monolith than a mortal. "If there is no ideal state in this world, then I shall create it."
Though Suren wielded power comparable to that of a primordial deity, he was not truly a god, and most Greeks still saw him as the mightiest of heroes.
But "the mightiest" did not mean "invincible." While some smaller city-states cowered at Aegeus's proclamation of Suren's imperial decree, the more powerful states prepared to gather their armies and resist.
Yet—
In this divine era, all Greek city-states sought oracles and divine omens before making any significant decision, and wars were no exception.
Such traditions ran deep, as shown by the later Battle of Thermopylae. The Persian invasion had coincided with Sparta's most sacred holiday, the Carnea, in celebration of Apollo's blessings and harvest. Because of this, King Leonidas could only march into battle with 300 royal guards, as war was forbidden during the festival.
As a beloved of the gods, Suren's standing was unique among Greek heroes. Not a single deity opposed him, for most of them actively supported him.
Suren honored all gods, maintaining a deep respect for them, yet he also dared to propose changes that even the gods had abandoned. His ambition and boundless energy endeared him to the deities.
So, every city-state received the oracles they sought, though the messages may have been less than favorable:
"By the gods' blessing, the heavens, earth, mountains, seas, and Underworld—all that exists under the Olympian faith—is to be governed by Suren's earthly kingdom."
"To oppose the emperor of Greece is to invite divine punishment."
Ultimately, the oracle was only a formality. With or without divine sanction, Greece had no one capable of withstanding Suren.
Suren could indeed singlehandedly conquer the world.
Force was the primal rule. Without the gods' decree, Suren could still have purged Greece of every nobleman with sheer strength.
The gods' intervention spared him from having to do it himself, saving him time and sparing his spirit from a potential bloodbath.
Not that he considered the task beneath him; a class struggle was a battle to the death, and he was fully prepared to send every slave master to the Underworld.
But among the Greek kings, one stood apart.
That was Eurystheus, king of Argos.
Though he was not widely known, his enslaved half-brother, Heracles, was celebrated across Greece.
Argos worshipped Hera as its chief deity, and it was she who had once held back the night to prevent Heracles's birth, ensuring that Eurystheus was born first, making him the elder brother.
In a vow before all the gods, Zeus had decreed that a descendant of Perseus would rule over his brothers. He had intended this honor for Heracles, but Hera's interference had diverted it to Eurystheus.
When the other city-states sought oracles, Eurystheus naturally appealed to Hera, who delivered a succinct response:
"Let Heracles complete his final trial."
For the murder of his wife and children in a fit of madness, Heracles had banished himself to servitude under Eurystheus, tasked with completing ten labors to atone for his sins. Eurystheus, however, had added two more, stretching Heracles's penance.
Eurystheus believed he understood Hera's oracle and summoned Heracles, his brother and servant, who rivaled even the gods in strength.
"Heracles, complete one final labor, and you shall have your freedom."
Eurystheus's gaze was steely. "Kill that arrogant self-proclaimed Emperor of Greece, the Athenian—Suren."
"I'm afraid I cannot. This task is beyond my strength."
Heracles shook his head. He had clashed with Suren before, only to be defeated despite his best efforts. Though he had grown stronger over the years, Heracles doubted he could even match the Suren of back then.
The stronger he grew, the more clearly he saw the gulf between them.
And he was certain Suren's power had only grown since then.
"You're not… evading me, are you?" Eurystheus, unused to Heracles's refusal, felt a surge of shame and anger. "You, Heracles, the hero who captured the Ceryneian Hind, the cattle of Geryon, and the Erymanthian Boar…"
"You, the mighty Heracles, with the strength to uphold the heavens—are you telling me you can't handle that arrogant wretch Suren?"
"I do not lie." Heracles raised his gaze, meeting Eurystheus's eyes. "And since Suren has decreed the end of slavery, does that not mean I am no longer your servant?"
Heracles wore the Nemean lion's pelt as a helmet, the hide of the invincible beast that had devoured countless lives before Heracles had strangled it to death.
At one time, his lion-headed helmet had so frightened bystanders that even the young Theseus had mistaken it for a real lion, raising his axe in a futile attempt to fight it.
Now, the lion's head inspired no fear in Eurystheus. What chilled him was the steady, lifeless calm in Heracles's eyes.
"Fine, fine. No need to kill Suren, then. Just stand outside Athens and block anyone from entering or leaving the city for… ten days. Will you do that?"
Perhaps fearing Heracles's wrath, Eurystheus added hastily, "My brother Heracles, complete this final task, and you'll be free. No matter the sins that once weighed on you, with these twelve labors, all will be forgiven."
"…"
Heracles fell silent, then spoke, "This will be the last time, Eurystheus. The next time we meet, I will bind you and bring you to Athens, to Suren himself, where you shall bear witness to Suren's law."
Athens had now become the capital of the First Greek Empire.
Suren had dismantled the city-state system, uniting Greece under his will, naturally necessitating a capital to affirm his imperial status.
"A philosopher-king, wise beyond his era, utterly just, utterly perfect, and utterly wise… I have finally reached this point."
Suren sat upon the throne, deep in thought, contemplating his every action as he harnessed all his knowledge, striving to manifest the ideal age of gold.
While he had effortlessly established the First Greek Empire by force, crowning himself emperor, many Athenians were reluctant to acknowledge him as the ruler of Greece.
But there was little they could do, for in nearly every Greek city-state, the nobility were priests by tradition. Such was the era.
The gods' oracle endorsed Suren's rule over Greece. As mere mortals, how could they defy divine will?
The gods in this age were omnipresent, with influence extending to every corner of Greece. To disrespect them was unthinkable, and bards were tired of singing the grim fates that awaited the irreverent.
The nobility voiced their compliance with the oracle, but for some reason, they refrained from proclaiming it to the citizens. In silent consensus, they began to stall.
They weren't resisting the oracle nor defying the gods; they simply "lacked the time to make the announcement."
Initially, Athens's citizens had considered fleeing as a protest against Suren's "tyranny," but Suren countered by elevating the rural serfs to citizen status, instantly securing majority support.
Now, the upper nobility dared not defy Suren, blessed as he was by divine favor, and the liberated serfs wholeheartedly embraced his rule.
Only the citizen class, neither high nor low in social status, remained in opposition. Lacking the oracular knowledge of the upper class and watching their privileges erode under Suren's sweeping reforms, they became the most reactionary group.
Yet neither Suren nor the nobility cared much about them.
The noble priests viewed citizens as pawns, while Suren regarded these resistant citizens as nothing more than a passing frost. Were there not countless Greeks who would gladly claim citizen status?
If they would not serve, others would.
"Golden King, there's someone blocking Athens's gate. They're preventing both citizens who wish to leave and scholars who wish to enter," Aegeus reported with respectful deference.
In fact, Aegeus knew this man quite well.
Suren did not ask why Aegeus had not dealt with the intruder himself. He simply nodded. "Understood."
Heracles, bearing the Nemean lion's head, stood before the gates of Athens, an immovable mountain, allowing none to pass.
Those within were trapped; those without could not enter.
Until Suren arrived.
Though they had privately railed against him, all who saw Suren's approach parted, creating a wide path for him to reach Heracles.
"It's been a while, Heracles. Haven't you finished your Twelve Labors yet?" Suren greeted him casually, even flashing a smile.
"Suren… Golden King, Emperor of Greece." Heracles looked at him ruefully and sighed. "Perhaps they are complete, after all?"
"To be fair, Lady Hera does have a rather… particular temperament."
Watching the dejected Heracles, Suren smiled easily. "But I owe Lady Hera a great debt. Though you're my friend, Heracles, I must fight you with all my strength."
"Be careful… try not to die…"
How many city-states did Greece have? How many demigods, heroes, and divine descendants were in these states?
No one knew, but it was certainly not a small number—there had to be hundreds.
And yet, from the moment Suren declared himself emperor to this very day, only Heracles stood before him.
The gods knew well that no gathering of heroes could match Suren, so they issued divine decrees urging them not to throw their lives away.
Only Heracles was different, for he had incurred the wrath of Hera.
And it was well known that Hera, with her jealous heart, held no sympathy for him. She had long despised Heracles and had secretly plagued him throughout his life.
Had he not been Zeus's son, with a life resilient enough to survive her schemes, Hera would have found a way to end him ages ago.
But finally, Hera saw her chance. Heracles's twelve labors lacked one last feat. Though Eurystheus had planned to send him to capture Cerberus, Hera knew this was her opportunity.
Cerberus posed no threat to Heracles, and its capture would only bolster his glory.
But Suren was another matter—a hero who, in strength, matched the heavens and earth, impervious even to Zeus's world-shattering thunderbolts.
To Hera, Heracles was no real threat to Suren. She expected him to barely survive the encounter.
And so Hera spurred Heracles to challenge Suren.
Suren understood this fully, but he chose to honor Hera's wishes.
Though he and Heracles shared a mutual respect, one that could even be called friendship, it was no match for his bond with Hera.
After all, even with her jealous heart, Hera had been his staunchest supporter, a goddess who, from the beginning, had stood by him without question.
To remind Heracles was a kindness that Suren felt fulfilled his duty to their friendship.
"What?"
Heracles instinctively adopted a battle stance, his longbow drawn in a fraction of a second, his arrow nocked. A veteran of countless battles, Heracles's body moved even faster than his thoughts.
Each Greek hero, without exception, was highly skilled in archery, and Suren was among the best.
But as he took aim, Heracles found himself staring into Suren's eyes—eyes aflame with both fire and the river of the Underworld.
It could be said that with just this move, even an army of millions would be as good as dead before Suren, as even the blind could not evade the gaze of his judgment.
The gulf between a powerful hero and an ordinary mortal was as vast as that between man and god. Now Heracles understood why Suren dared to unify Greece.
A being such as him—a towering force—was willing to reason with them, willing to rule as emperor instead of slaughtering them all on a whim. Greeks should feel grateful that Suren regarded them as people at all.
A philosopher-king must possess supreme wisdom and the strength to match it.
"ROAR!!"
What manner of eyes were these? Heracles seemed to see all the sacred fires of Olympus within them, as well as the river of souls in the Underworld, his own soul igniting with pain so intense that even he, a hero tempered by countless battles, could not suppress an animalistic roar.
Next came Suren's mighty bow. The golden aura flared to its maximum, the attack strong enough to shatter the Caucasus Mountains and split the Aegean Sea.
Indeed, Suren was holding nothing back, each strike aimed to kill.
Though Heracles's soul seared in agony from the judgmental blaze of Suren's eyes, he maintained his composure. Unfazed by the threat of the golden aura looming above, he launched himself directly at Suren.
This was the best approach. Fleeing would only expose his back to the golden aura's fury, sealing his death.
Even if he could somehow reach the foot of Mount Olympus in a single breath, the golden arrow would pierce him the next.
In a close-quarters fight, Suren's mighty bow could not unleash its full strength, lest Athens itself be obliterated.
As Heracles expected, the golden aura held back, allowing him to engage Suren in hand-to-hand combat.
Only to be thoroughly outmatched by Suren's skill, akin to the Pankration techniques of Athena herself.
"Heracles, your hand-to-hand skills were no match for mine years ago. What makes you think you can take me on now?"
Suren effortlessly swatted Heracles's arms aside, leaving him exposed, and his knee smashed into Heracles's face, shattering the bones beneath.
"And do you really think you know me?" Suren snapped his fingers, and the golden aura unleashed its arrow. As Heracles braced himself, it struck with devastating force.
Heracles lifted the Nemean lion's pelt as a shield, the strength of the heavens in his arms as he faced down the golden arrow.
Had even a fraction of its power leaked out, Athens would have been wiped from the map, yet all of it remained contained, directed solely at Heracles.
"If I couldn't control my strength, what right would I have to wield the golden aura?"
Suren remarked idly, making no move to exploit the moment, fully assuming the manner of a formidable, unbothered boss.
Meanwhile, the golden aura began to gather energy again, preparing for another shot.
A thunderous roar and a cloud of dust erupted. Suren raised an eyebrow. "Smoke, but no injury, huh? That Nemean lion's pelt is something else, managing to block even that?"
In truth, it had not blocked the blow.
As the dust cleared, the lion head that had once crowned Heracles was gone. The famed indestructible pelt, impervious to blade and arrow alike, was indeed vulnerable—given enough force.
Suren, calm as ever, asked, "Look at you. I took out your helmet with one strike. What else could you possibly rely on to stand in my way?"
"I'll rely on… my life!" Heracles had endured the fire and brimstone of Suren's judgmental gaze and returned to his senses, his indomitable will surpassing even that of the gods.
Guided by instinct and battered by Suren's blows, he had emerged from the haze of judgment. Heracles was indeed formidable in every way—a hero strong enough to descend into the Underworld and contend with Hades himself.
Somehow, Heracles now held an arrow, poisoned with the venom of the Hydra, the nine-headed serpent he had killed with the precision of a hundred shots, each one dealing a fatal blow.
Even a god could not withstand this venom, as the centaur Chiron, with divine blood and endless life, had succumbed to it after a single wound, choosing death over unendurable agony.
This was a death match, neither holding back, both Suren and Heracles giving their all. Two of Greece's mightiest and greatest heroes engaged in an all-out battle.
But Suren only shook his head. "Is this the end of your tricks? Heracles, is this truly all you've got?"
With a snap of his fingers, the golden aura struck Heracles once more, sending him flying.
Armed with divine weapons and abilities, Suren outmatched Heracles at every turn.
Without armor, Suren had already beaten Heracles half to death—now, how could he fare better?
But soon, Heracles rose again, the Nemean lion's pelt proving its resilience, not a scratch upon it. The fierce battle seemed to awaken Zeus's blood within him, granting him ever-greater resilience and recovery.
The Greeks did not understand the concept of mechanical gods. When they first saw the mechanical forms of gods like Zeus, they thought these beings were merely "Titans."
Later, when the Olympian Twelve lost their mechanical forms and reincarnated as flesh and blood gods, the Greeks began viewing all the Olympian deities as descendants of the Titan giants, believing that all the chief gods bore the blood of the Titans.
For instance, there was no god by the name of Kronos in Greece, but there existed Chiron, a supposed child of Kronos.
Legend becomes reality. If Chiron was said to be the son of Kronos, then indeed, he was a son of the god-king, bearing the highest level of divinity.
The same was true for Heracles. Though a son of Zeus, he had Titan blood—a power even Zeus himself did not possess.
One could say that Heracles, in life, far surpassed any version of his Heroic Spirit. Not even a Grand-class Spirit Origin could contain the power of this great hero.
Earlier in the fight, Suren could make Heracles bleed with a single punch. Now it took three or five punches, and the bone-jarring recoil from Heracles's skull and cheekbones began to sting Suren's own fingers. But Suren wielded the eternal Sacred Fire within him. In a battle of endurance, Heracles was no match for him.
The death match gradually turned into a one-sided beatdown. Though Suren struck with lethal force, Heracles only seemed to grow more resilient, his regenerative power intensifying. Perhaps this was in line with [Fate's] will, for Heracles's time had yet to come.
No one knew how long the battle continued. As Heracles grew stronger, so too did Suren, honing his techniques with every unyielding blow upon this unbreakable opponent, developing new methods through the spark of wisdom ignited in each clash.
As the attacker, Suren gained far more from the battle than Heracles, who by the third day had been reduced to taking a beating, barely managing to counter.
Even Heracles's legendary endurance had its limits. Despite the Titan blood fully awakened in him, the god-king's son was reaching his breaking point, and Suren knew it. If that limit were breached, no matter how powerful his regeneration, death would come.
But just then, the sun rose early on the horizon, splitting the darkness with sudden light. Suren's fists and kicks, descending like a rain of meteors, suddenly ceased, though he was only a few blows away from finishing Heracles for good.
"Ten days have passed," Suren said, breaking his silence for the first time, marking the battle's end.
"Heracles, your task is complete." This was his second sentence.
He lowered his hands, those long, white fingers still perfect and unblemished, more like art than hands capable of striking down even a god.
"Heracles, in the name of the Emperor of Greece, I absolve you of all guilt." His third sentence.
Suren had held back. From the first day, he had known how to destroy Heracles completely, even down to his very soul.
With his heightened unity of mind and spirit, Suren could access Alaya Consciousness, a state of eighth sense that allowed him to confront humanity's collective consciousness without succumbing to it.
Had he wanted to, Suren's immense spirit could have crushed Heracles. But instead, he had chosen the simplest, most straightforward way—subduing this fierce hero with his fists alone.
"…I owe you my life, my emperor. I thank you for your mercy." Heracles, bruised beyond recognition, bones shattered beyond count, remained conscious through sheer force of will. "Suren, Golden King, I, Heracles, pledge my allegiance to you."
"Good. Then bring me Eurystheus, that false king of Argos who stubbornly clings to the decaying slave system. He shall be Greece's first criminal, and I will grant him the honor of being immortalized in human history."
"Heracles, to serve me is your highest honor. I appoint you as my inspector of Greece. Bring every fool who defies my orders to Athens."
Turning, Suren strode back toward Athens. This time, unlike before, the Athenians did not merely clear a path for him to walk—they knelt on both sides, welcoming their emperor back to his capital.
See, tearing down the old order to build a new one is simpler than it seems.
All it takes is the strength to defeat the entire world.
Such is the power a philosopher-king should wield.
Only absolute power can forge absolute authority.
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T/N: CALLIOPE? THE CALLIOPE MORI? THE REAPER IN TRAINING CALLIOPE MORI? THE RAPPER CALLIOPE MORI?
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