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Months had passed since the four began helping the Spartans. The weeks blurred into a cycle of brutal efficiency, stealthy infiltration, and rapid extermination. In that time, the three—Kassandra, Alexios, and Lukas—along with Atlas, had experienced the true, ugly heart of war.
Their first task, the raid on the Athenian station in the Fort of Geraneia, had been a whirlwind of violence. They moved through the fort like a plague, killing every Athenian soldier who dared to stand against them, burning the neatly stacked supplies, and eventually looting the war chest.
Seeing the mountain of gold, silver, and ornate jewelry spilling from the chest, Kassandra, Alexios, and Lukas were instantly joyous, their greed temporarily overriding their judgment. They laughed, grabbing handfuls of coins and jewels.
Atlas watched them with a detached sorrow. He knew these treasures were not spoils of fair war; they were blood treasures. They had been taken from ordinary people—looted from farms and homes, gained by killing citizens, selling them into slavery, and seizing their land and crops. The gold held the despair of the Megarian populace. Atlas did not interrupt their celebration, however. He knew that the three would eventually learn and see the true suffering caused by the war; they needed to connect the plunder to the pain themselves.
The next week, they set off to find the Spartan traitor. After days of methodical searching and interrogation, the four eventually tracked him down to a hidden cave deep in the forest near the border. After a brief but desperate resistance, the traitor was expertly slain by Alexios, whose rage made his movements lethal. They retrieved the stolen tablet and delivered it to the Spartan Polemarch.
By the time they completed these tasks, their reputation had skyrocketed within Megaris, especially in the Spartan camps. The soldiers, witnesses to their impossible feats, began assigning them legendary status and their own distinct titles.
They were now known as:
Atlas the Wise: Derived from his unnerving ability to predict enemy movements and his flawless, ruthless battle strategies. The Spartans believed he was touched by Athena herself, guiding them to victory through perfect knowledge.
Kassandra the Eagle Bearer: Named for the ever-present Ikaros, who served as her eyes in the sky and was believed to be an aspect of her own power. Her bond with the magnificent bird was legendary among the scouts.
Alexios the Demigod: Based on his heroic, almost reckless fighting style. His overwhelming strength and ability to defeat multiple foes single-handedly convinced the soldiers that he must be a literal son of one of the Olympian gods.
Lukas the Titan: Based on his sheer, unmovable size and the devastating power of the Hammer of Jason, which crushed enemy formations and fortifications alike. They whispered that he was an ancient giant, woken to join the conflict.
When the four heard these grandiose titles, they began laughing and teasing each other mercilessly, the shared humor lightening the grim mood of the camp.
In the following week, the four began their third set of tasks, assisting various Spartan Captains. Most requests were routine—eliminate enemies, burn supplies—but one day, a Spartan Captain asked them to investigate a supply ambush site.
They examined the scene: shattered wooden carts, spilled sacks of grain, and traces of a struggle.
The Spartan captain asked, frustrated, "So, is it the Athenians? They must have sent a raiding party!"
Kassandra answered, pointing to a patch of disturbed earth. "We found some fragments of green crystal here, Captain. It looks like cheap, decorative jewelry that the Athenian soldiers wouldn't bother with."
The Spartan Captain slapped his thigh. "Then it was the bandits! The mountains here are riddled with caves, and the war has made them brazen. They are preying on us all."
Atlas then answered, his gaze scanning the tracks leading into the nearby woods. "If it was the Athenians, they would have taken the carts as well as the supplies to reuse them. And if it were typical bandits, they wouldn't have stood a chance against trained Spartans delivering the supplies."
The Spartan Captain was confused. "What are you saying, mercenary?"
Atlas replied, "I'm just saying we are not sure who did it, but we can easily track them. It seems that they headed into the forest. We will inform you if we manage to find them."
The four followed the tracks, which soon led them deep into the forest and into a massive, hidden cave complex. Inside the cave, they stopped, their hands resting on their weapons, stunned by what they saw.
It wasn't a bandit camp.
It was a refuge.
Hundreds of people were huddled inside—women, small children, elderly, and men too weak or old to fight. They were shivering, dirty, and clearly starving. In the center of the cavern, neatly organized but still recognizable, were the stolen supplies.
Alexios, momentarily dropping his guard, asked them, his voice uncertain, "Is this a private gathering, or can anyone join?"
A brave woman, flanked by two lean, nervous men holding makeshift wooden clubs, stepped forward. "Wha… What are y… Please, please just leave."
Kassandra began observing the people and the atmosphere inside the cave. "You don't look like murderers. Was that the Spartans' mistake?"
The brave woman began to panic, tears welling in her eyes. "What—wait! No, please, you don't understand! We were starving! Our fields were burned, our homes taken. We just needed to feed the children!" she pleaded desperately.
Atlas, who was carefully observing the scene, saw the pure despair in their eyes. He saw the empty rib cages of the children and the pathetic condition of the supplies—the grain had been roughly portioned out, not hidden for resale. He concluded that they were indeed Megarian citizens, victims of the war, and not the ones who had killed the Spartan escorts; those deaths must have been an unfortunate complication of the ambush.
Atlas lifted his hands in a gesture of peace and lowered his voice, which instantly commanded attention. "Relax. We didn't come here to kill you. But we came here to take back the supplies to the Spartans."
The brave woman's face hardened with firm resolve. "Then you will do it over our dead bodies, mercenary."
Atlas sighed, helplessly shaking his head. "Don't be stupid. No one is going to die." He reached into his belt and pulled out a small, heavy sack of gold drachmae—part of the "blood treasure" from the Athenian fort.
"Take this," Atlas said, handing the sack to the woman. "With this, it will be enough for all of you to get by until the war ends. We will also claim that we killed the looters so that the Spartans will stop bothering you."
The brave woman was completely taken aback by Atlas's generosity. She clutched the gold, silent for a long moment before asking softly, "W-what is your name?"
"My name is Atlas," he replied simply.
The woman muttered the name, then smiled—a genuine, grateful smile that lit up her gaunt face. "Atlas, what a strange mercenary. We will be eternally grateful for your mercy."
The four began packing half of the stolen supplies back into sacks, leaving the other half for the starving people.
They began walking back to the Spartan camp, while walking back the three along with Atlas leading them were completely silent. The sheer normalcy of the starving citizens, their desperation, and their willingness to die for a handful of grain had shocked them far more than any battlefield carnage.
Lukas was the first to try and lighten the atmosphere. "Thanks the gods they didn't try to fight. I wouldn't feel good killing a bunch of starving civilians."
Kassandra and Alexios remained silent, probably thinking about what they had just seen and comparing it to the blood gold they had looted.
Atlas then said quietly, "Like I said, you will learn something about war. And no good ever comes out of it."
The four delivered the half-sacks of stolen supplies to the Spartan Captain, claiming they had ambushed and killed the small band of bandits, retrieving only a portion of the goods.
In the following weeks, the three companions—Kassandra, Alexios, and Lukas—began to visibly mature. Although they were still playful with each other, they were less impulsive. The raids became less about the excitement of the fight and more about the grim necessity of ending the suffering. Their eyes began to see clearly what war had done to the people of Megaris. Every day, they saw the direct consequences of it.
The war had ripped apart the fabric of life in Megaris
They watched Spartans drive long lines of prisoners in chains, their feet raw and bleeding, destined for the slave market.
On the road, they witnessed the agonizing separation of families—young, able bodied men being brutally forced to join the military against their will while their wives and children were left weeping, their pleas ignored by callous soldiers.
They saw vast tracts of land where farms had been utterly burned, crops seized, and homes ransacked, leaving the former owners with nothing but ashes.
Every day, they passed starving children sitting hopeless on the roadsides, bellies distended, begging for scraps.
Motivated by the scenes of human misery, the four dedicated themselves to quickly finishing their tasks, weakening the Athenians rapidly to hasten the end of the war and the suffering of the citizens. They used the remaining blood gold to help the people of Megaris, providing food and small amounts of drachmae and helping rebuild destroyed sections of Pagai Village.
Then the day arrived: the final, all-out battle against the Athenian forces in Megaris.
Inside the Spartan camp, the four began to ready their weapons. Kassandra, Alexios, and Lukas all had a new, grim maturity in their eyes, replacing the recklessness of the past.
Seeing this, Atlas was satisfied. They had learned a lot from this war. They were ready for what came next.
(PS: Please support me on patreon there 135+ chapters there and there also my new GoT: The True Dragon Fanfiction of Game of Thrones
https://patreon.com/BX_XDS)