Perched atop the palace roof, the two sat high above, enjoying the gentle breeze.
"So you want me to throw the race tomorrow, to deliberately lose to you?"
After hearing Samael's plan, Atalanta frowned slightly. It didn't quite align with the ideals she pursued.
"There's no helping it. I've seen your speed, Big Sister. In all of Greece, probably only Heracles could keep up with you."
Samael praised her without the slightest shame, continuing to uphold his "weak and harmless" persona. Of course, he meant mortal heroes—he, as a Divine Spirit, didn't count.
He was only helping Atalanta escape anyway, not actually planning to marry her. No need to make such a big scene.
Atalanta hesitated, glancing at the finished track with some uncertainty.
"What about the others?"
Samael raised a brow, confidence spreading across his face.
"Big Sis, don't underestimate me. Aside from you, no one on that track can beat me. I'm Athena's Chosen—how could I lose to those scheming oddballs?"
The unexpected steadiness in his tone eased much of Atalanta's worries, and she eventually nodded.
"Alright. See you tomorrow. Get some sleep."
With her agreement secured, Samael waved, shifted into a bipedal pterosaur, and leapt off the high wall, gliding into the night-covered city.
Atalanta tapped her forehead, suddenly remembering.
She'd almost forgotten—this brat was a follower of the Orpheus Cult. On the racetrack, he really did have few opponents.
The truth was, tomorrow's race required divine power to be sealed, making it a contest based solely on talent and technique. For both heroes and ordinary people, it was relatively fair.
If Zeus and Heracles ran on the same track, stripped of their divine power and authority, the God King wouldn't necessarily outrun the great hero.
But Samael had the physique of a Magical Beast. His innate power left over eighty percent of the competitors in the dust, and with his bloodline on top of that, he was practically a four-legged beast in human shape.
Strange… This brat clearly has talent. Why did I never notice?
Chasing my back and shadow? Was it me who covered up the light he should have had?
Watching Samael's retreating silhouette, Atalanta rested her chin in her hand, frowning in thought as a faint melancholy crept into her mood.
Forget it. I'll ask him when I get the chance.
Setting her thoughts aside, the huntress used the trees outside and the edges of the building to leap lightly back into her bedroom.
Just as she was about to close the window and get some proper sleep, a slender, pale hand settled onto the windowsill.
At the same time, a shadow fell from the night sky, folding its wings as it dived into a secluded courtyard.
Heracles, drinking by the stone table, glanced up, relaxed his muscles again, and continued drinking alone.
The pterosaur landed and shifted back into human form. Samael stepped out of the shadows humming, heading toward the bedroom to rest and be in top shape for tomorrow.
But as he passed Heracles, the strangely silent courtyard made him uneasy, as if something was missing.
Only as he was about to step into the inner room did Samael suddenly realize what it was. He turned his head toward his demigod bodyguard.
"What about Hippolyta?"
"She said it was stuffy in here and wanted to go out for a walk…"
"When did that happen?"
"Not long after you left. Do you want me to look for her?"
"Leave it. We passed the registration point earlier today. There are few in Arcadia who could harm the Amazon Queen. As long as she's not out causing trouble, she can do whatever she likes."
The Ancient Serpent yawned, waving casually. With the satisfaction of persuading Atalanta and successfully petting the cat, he slipped inside to sleep.
…
The next day, priestesses cast incense into the burning sacred flame, offering devout prayers. Members of the Arcadia royal family arrived one after another and took their seats on the viewing platform.
Since Princess Atalanta's mother, a sea goddess, had never lived long with the Arcadian king, the one presiding over the marriage contest was naturally the middle-aged man known as "Father."
On the field, a three-foot wooden stake was driven into the starting line with a single strike. Contestants stepped onto the open ground, warming up.
King Iasus looked over the gathered youths, letting his gaze linger on the divine-blooded candidates before nodding in satisfaction.
Since the heavens had denied him a son, he would use his daughter to draw in a hero worthy enough to inherit the throne and continue the royal bloodline.
Fortunately, the daughter he had brought back was a demigod, blessed with beauty and strength, and had shone brilliantly in the Calydonian Boar Hunt.
If she could one day join with the hero strong enough to surpass her, and bear a child, the Arcadian royal bloodline would only grow nobler.
Thinking this, the king nodded again and forced a gentle, affectionate smile as he gestured toward his daughter.
Atalanta turned to the man called "father," murmuring quietly.
"You know I swore to serve the goddess Artemis. I have no desire to marry."
The king's face remained full of smiles, as if he were a loving, devoted father.
"Child, what silly things you say. Go on. Pursue your happiness. Choose a worthy heir for Arcadia. I will be proud of you."
"But that's what you want. Not what I want."
"Atalanta, my daughter, continuing the royal bloodline is your duty. What woman doesn't marry and bear children?"
Seeing her unusual response, the king frowned, his tone growing heavier.
"Heh. You lost your son, so you want me to give you a grandson who can replace me… a tool chained to the throne. Is that it?"
"Atalanta! I'm doing this for your sake! Will you really defy your father before all these people? Humiliate me?"
Her cold, mocking smile made the muscles in his face twitch. He straightened, masking anger with forced firmness.
"Don't worry, Your Majesty. What I promised you, I will accomplish."
Expressionless, Atalanta rose and walked down the steps. As she passed the king, she paused for a moment, her voice faint and calm.
"But this is the last time I help you. Don't use blood ties to command me again.
I owe you nothing…"
King Iasus's expression flickered. He looked up—and only then noticed that the Arcadian princess he had brought back from Calydon, the one he had coaxed with emotional pleas, had at some point discarded her luxurious gold and silver ornaments, torn off her comfortable silk robes, and changed into humble hunter's attire. With confidence and a smile at her lips, she lifted her head proudly and walked into the arena.