The amphitheater trembled with excitement as Tritius took center stage. The sun hung high in the sky, casting golden light over the stone arena and illuminating the eager faces of thousands. Merchants hawked wares in the stands, entertainers performed daring tricks, and the sound of drums reverberated through the air.
Tritius raised his arms, commanding silence. "People of Argos!" His voice boomed, silencing the chaos. "The moment you've been waiting for—the third and final match of today's Agōn Gamikos!"
A deafening roar erupted from the crowd, the atmosphere electric.
"In this corner," Tritius continued, "our own champion! Friend of Perseus! Hero of Argos! Slayer of monsters! Champion of Princess Andromeda—Diomedes!"
Diomedes stepped into the arena, spear in hand. His lean, athletic build radiated an aura of quiet confidence. He moved with the grace of a predator, his expression calm yet focused. The crowd erupted, shouting his name. "Diomedes! Diomedes!"
"And his opponent," Tritius said, his tone darkening, "the champion of Crete! Representing Prince Minoras, the man of superhuman strength, known across the seas as the Cretan Bull—Therion!"
Therion emerged, a mountain of muscle, his bronze armor gleaming. He was enormous, his biceps thick as tree trunks and his chest broad as a shield wall. His face was scarred, a testament to countless battles. He carried a massive mace that seemed to strain even his formidable strength.
The Cretan champion sneered as he eyed Diomedes. "This is your champion, Argos? A child pretending to be a warrior?"
Prince Minoras joined in, laughing from the royal box. "Princess Andromeda," he mocked, "it seems you've chosen a dancer instead of a fighter. Perhaps he'll entertain us before he dies."
Diomedes gave no reply. He simply twirled his spear once, testing its balance, and took his stance.
The signal was given, and Therion wasted no time. With a roar, he charged forward, his mace held high. The ground trembled beneath his feet, and the crowd gasped at his sheer ferocity.
Diomedes waited, his spear steady, his eyes locked on Therion. At the last possible moment, he sidestepped, the mace smashing into the ground where he'd stood.
The impact sent a shockwave through the arena, dust rising into the air. Diomedes moved like water, flowing around Therion's attacks. His spear danced in his hands, striking quick, precise blows to the Cretan's exposed joints.
Therion swung wildly, his strength undeniable but his movements clumsy. Diomedes danced around him, his speed and agility leaving the crowd in awe.
"Fight me properly, coward!" Therion bellowed, his frustration mounting. He swung his mace in a wide arc, forcing Diomedes to leap back.
Diomedes didn't respond. He continued his graceful movements, his spear an extension of his will. Each strike landed true—a jab to the ribs, a sweep at the legs, a crack against the wrist. None were fatal, but each left Therion slower, angrier, and more desperate.
Therion roared, summoning all his strength. He charged again, his mace swinging with terrifying speed. This time, Diomedes let him close the distance. Their weapons clashed, the sound of steel ringing out.
For a moment, it seemed like Therion might overpower him. The Cretan's strength was immense, and his blows carried enough force to shatter shields. But Diomedes was unyielding. He matched the bull's ferocity with precision, his spear deflecting each strike with almost casual ease.
The crowd watched in stunned silence. Even the doubters could see the truth: Diomedes wasn't just fighting—he was toying with Therion.
Prince Minoras shouted from the royal box. "Stop playing games, Therion! Crush him!"
Therion redoubled his efforts, his attacks growing more reckless. Diomedes dodged and countered, his movements like a dance. He struck the Cretan's knee, causing him to stumble, then jabbed his ribs, forcing a grunt of pain.
Finally, Diomedes glanced toward Andromeda. She met his gaze, her expression calm but resolute. She nodded.
Taking her silent command, Diomedes ended the fight. In a blur of motion, he disarmed Therion, his spear spinning through the air and knocking the mace from his opponent's hands. With a final, decisive strike, he brought the spear's point to Therion's throat.
Therion froze, his chest heaving, sweat pouring down his face. The realization of defeat dawned on him. "I… yield," he muttered, dropping to his knees.
The amphitheater erupted. The citizens of Argos leapt to their feet, shouting Diomedes' name. "Diomedes! Diomedes! Diomedes!"
Tritius raised his arms, his voice struggling to be heard over the crowd. "The victor—Diomedes of Argos!"
Diomedes lowered his spear, stepping back as Therion was escorted from the arena. He turned toward the royal box. Prince Minoras glared at him, his face red with anger.
The Cretan prince's laughter was gone, replaced by simmering fury. Diomedes held his gaze for a moment before looking to Andromeda. She smiled faintly, a glimmer of pride in her eyes.
As the chants of his name echoed around him, Diomedes felt the weight of his role as Argos' champion. For now, he was victorious. But the Agōn Gamikos was far from over.
As the crowd roared with excitement, King Ceneus raised his hand to quiet them. "Citizens of Argos!" he announced, his voice ringing through the amphitheater. "The games will continue tomorrow, but for now, let us return to our homes and celebrate today's victories!"
The spectators cheered as the king, Princess Andromeda, and the other princes departed the arena, their entourages in tow. Diomedes, taking the opportunity, slipped away from the throng. Though he appreciated the adoration, the constant attention wore on him.
As he made his way through the outer corridors of the amphitheater, Diomedes heard a familiar voice call out. Turning, he saw Andromeda approaching, her royal robes flowing behind her.
"Diomedes," she said warmly, her smile radiant. "You fought brilliantly today. I am grateful for your courage."
Her words were genuine, her eyes filled with appreciation. Diomedes bowed his head slightly. "It was my duty, Princess. I'm glad I could defend your honor."
Their exchange was brief, but it did not go unnoticed. From the shadow of a column, Prince Rhesus stood watching, his expression a mask of thinly veiled contempt. The other princes, trailing behind the king, also observed the interaction. While most concealed their reactions, hiding jealousy or irritation, Rhesus made no such effort. His hatred for Diomedes was written plainly across his face.
Diomedes, his heightened senses attuned to his surroundings, caught Rhesus's glare. He glanced at the Thracian prince, their eyes locking for a brief, tense moment. Rhesus's disdain was palpable, but Diomedes, unimpressed, broke the gaze with a faint smirk before excusing himself.
"I must rest, Princess," he said to Andromeda. "Tomorrow brings new challenges."
Andromeda nodded, her smile undeterred. "Rest well, Diomedes."
Diomedes joined a group of hunter friends from the city who were eager to toast his victory. They led him to Archillaus's inn, a bustling establishment known for its lively atmosphere. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of roasted meats and the sound of laughter.
Archillaus, the inn's shrewd owner, greeted Diomedes with a wide grin. "Ah, the hero of Argos himself! Your victory has filled my pockets, my friend. Here—your share."
The innkeeper handed over a pouch heavy with coins, the result of a gamble Archillaus had made on Diomedes's fight. Diomedes accepted it with a nod, his pockets now comfortably full.
"Drinks for everyone!" Diomedes called out, his voice carrying through the room. The patrons erupted into cheers as Archillaus's staff hurried to fill mugs with ale.
As the revelry continued, Diomedes treated himself to a bottle of Archillaus's finest rum. The rough distillation process, something Diomedes had taught the innkeeper in an effort to replicate the quality of spirits from his previous life, had improved, though the flavor still had a ways to go. He sipped it thoughtfully, savoring the burn of the alcohol.
Despite the celebration, Diomedes kept his head clear, knowing the trials of the Agōn Gamikos were far from over. After a few drinks and heartfelt conversations with his friends, he bid them goodnight and made his way back to the palace barracks.
The streets of Argos were quieter now, the festive energy of the day fading into the calm of the evening. Diomedes walked with purpose, his mind replaying the events of the day and the challenges that lay ahead.
Reaching his quarters, he lay down, allowing himself a moment of reflection. The hatred from Prince Rhesus, the cunning gaze of the Athenian prince, the weight of Andromeda's trust—all of it swirled in his mind.
But Diomedes was no stranger to pressure. His resolve only strengthened as he drifted into a light.
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A/N:I am the Author of this novel, this is my very first novel, I have written some fanfic though.
Please, after reading these few chapters, add this novel to your collection, so that I will be able to know the direction to take on this novel.
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