To Hercules, his memory was forever frozen in the spring. In the unknown wilderness somewhere on the Greek peninsula, the hero who completed the 12 labors washed away the blood stains on his body. He looked up at the Mount Olympus high above and pondered about his future. His suffering was not yet over though. He last stood on the land of his hometown in his human body. But the next time he returned, the fragments of Olympus could from the sky and burn the entire earth.
So his remembrance was fixed here. At this moment, he had lost many things, but he also possessed a lot. His hometown in heaven and on earth was still there, his father was still on the throne, and he had not yet involved himself into the struggles of the world of the gods, because he was still a human.
At least he thought he was a human.
