Greek Demon Myth

143 – The Mausoleum of Oddity

Asclepius’ treatment center was overflowing with sick people and was already flooded with phosphoric acid.

However, while it was crowded with sick people as always, unlike usual, the inside of the treatment center was extremely quiet.

“Grunt…”

“Ugh…”

“Ahhh!!”

Those with broken bones, those with serious abrasions, those with blood on their heads.

While everyone was moaning on their beds and on the floor, no one in the room opened their mouths to discuss today’s defeat.

A very, very overwhelming difference in power.

It is because a deep despair settled over the heads of the heroes who realized that they were different from their birth and that their talents were different.

“Khehehe…”

Someone burst into laughter.

Heavy, gray laughter dotted with remorse, fear, and despair.

A gloomy smile, like the sky before rain, spread throughout the treatment center in an instant.

“Chuckling!”

“Pufu! Fuhahahahaha!”

“Khehehe!”

A physical pain can be overcome with a healer whom Chiron has already acknowledged has surpassed himself, and with the magic and medicine of the gods used by the healer.

Hercules?

Although they might be intimidated by their overwhelming power and majesty, they were able to reassure themselves that if all of them were together, one day they would be able to overcome that monstrous power as well.

However, the overwhelming despair they faced today was something that could not be overcome with the heroic spirit alone.

To lightly roll one’s foot and bring Gaia’s wrath upon him?

It can be.

The appearance of receiving Atalanta’s dance that made even them shudder?

I can admit it.

The martial art that made everything they trained so hard for the past month useless?

Even that could be admitted.

To fall down ugly, caught up in the overwhelming magic that I had never even heard of.

I was able to accept and understand that even that was the price of defeat.

However, there was one thing I couldn’t admit.

They themselves.

They couldn’t possibly admit that their hearts, which should have been defeated and collapsed, were broken.

A hero is one who overcomes, one who suffers, and one who also triumphs.

Their teacher, Chiron, and Athena, the guardian of the battlefield, say that defeat is not the end, but another opportunity.

I taught that no matter how many times you lose, if you use this as an opportunity to reflect and train, you will eventually be recorded in history as a hero.

Yes, no matter how many times I lose, if I finally stand up, this is not the end, but an opportunity.

However, the only people who filled this treatment center were idiots who missed that opportunity.

“Jason, Jason is such a great guy…”

“Yeah, even after getting hit by it myself, I woke up…”

When everyone was wandering between the illusions of Hypnos and the pain of the body.

Like the roar of Ares, there was a desperate cry that struck the ears of those who had fallen.

Jason’s unsightly, sloppy, and even foolish outburst awakened all the warriors present.

However, only Jason and fifty warriors who are not here are the only ones who rose up in response.

The remaining 550 warriors pretended not to know, closed their eyes and bowed their heads.

Because I was afraid.

A gigantic earthen sand that made even the shields that the Cyclops displayed their skills on useless, and made them feel like stones on the side of the road.

The dance of the black shadows that seemed to pierce the illusion, dancing leisurely and accepting the spears stabbed from all sides.

And when the grotesque intangible tsunami that made the first tosa look like aegyo hit the whole body.

Everyone present at the scene felt the end of their lives and prepared for a reunion at the Styx River.

However, when Jason rose again.

There were also quite a few people who tried to stand up again while watching their back.

Jason, who is the throne of the golden generation, but is not as exceptional as Heracles and Theseus, nor even of the lineage of a god, has risen. Ini.

Those who flinched at such unreasonable pride, Dianes coldly and cynically oppressed them once more.

Gaia’s wrath, Poseidon’s tidal wave.

Another violent act overshadowed those who personally experienced the calamity of the mythical gods that they had only heard about.

What should I call this terrible thing that has never been heard of in any other mythology?

“Tartaros.”

“Yes, Tartarus.”

“The scream of hell, or what else would you call it?”

Tartarus, the abyss of all sorts of sinners and evil spirits that no god or hero has ever heard of.

The scream of Tartarus shattered their minds.

By the way, to face such an overwhelming and fearful monster again?

Whether the gods looked down or the kings watched, it already had no meaning.

Will that black monster staring at them finely those who make them go through three troubles?

This place is already a battlefield, and three consecutive incidents have firmly planted the realization of death in the minds of the heroes who were intoxicated by the command of the commander.

The battlefield judge Chiron and the healer Asclepius are too far away.

At the middle of the battlefield, a black demon looking down at them, as if drinking their blood, would take their supply and demand at any moment.

It couldn’t even be called a battlefield.

It’s just a banquet hall for monsters that share the same arc as Hydra, Sphinx, and Chimera.

In the middle of such a hell, they tried to masturbate, saying that no one would curse at them for closing their eyes and ignoring the sky.

Even if you try to overcome and live like that, even the earth turns its head and ignores it, and the sky closes its eyes to be considerate of their ugliness, there is a fact that will never change.

On the contrary to those who turned away and ran away ugly, there were those who stood up and drew swords while facing that hellish aura.

“How the hell did you get over that?”

“Jason even yelled at it.”

“Didn’t even that timid Actaeon stand up with his sword drawn?”

“I can’t even call you a timid man anymore. If he is timid, are we fools?”

Even in the midst of self-help and self-torture, the defeated soldiers continued to praise those who were not present with longing and astonishment that could not be hidden.

The appearance of not succumbing to that overwhelming violence, even though it was ugly, and rushing into that black disaster, ignoring even his own life.

As expected, these were the heroes they only heard about.

I envy others if they are slightly better than me, I hate them if they are very different from me, and I am in awe if they are overwhelmingly different.

The sight of him abandoning all his armaments and charging forward with a single sword was quite sublime.

He didn’t even have the heart to belittle or insult him for this, and the sense of shame that came from the reaction made the therapist almost as depressed as the river Styx.

“hehehehe… I’m not good enough. Even crows would avoid my corpse.”

“I hope that the gods of heaven did not see our ugliness because they were distracted by Dianes, Jason, and the beautiful Atalanta.”

Even if they tried to transfer responsibility and return their sins, no god would accept it, and in the end, the mire surrounding them only deepened as self-torture and self-destruction returned like the disk of Hyacinthos.

With all doors closed for fear of the bright sun and blue sky, the treatment center was like a cemetery prepared for them.

A narrow mausoleum for those who were defeated uglyly and were useless.

“Am I going to die?”

“Isn’t that bad?”

“I was frightened by this and even pretended to be dead, but Hades would feel sorry for me if I died.”

However, self-destruction was the end of self-destruction.

In the minds of those driven to the extreme, death naturally came to mind.

The Heroic Wars drew the attention of all Greece.

Death seemed so sweet and so close, as a way to avenge the ignorance of war and restore peace, watched over by rich and noble kings and princes, and by great and honorable celestial gods.

– Bang!

“Eolsssi-gu, I sat down with the damn b*tches.”

There was a voice that stood on the day that crossed the tombs of such dark heroes.

A white healer who broke down a tightly closed door and brought in the bright sunlight as a soldier.

The sun-soaked white hair and spotless white treatment clothes even looked divine.

However, those eyes overflowing with blue anger were as fierce as if they would wipe out these plagues at any moment.

It was too much stimulation for those who were already buried in self-cutting.

“Oh, Asclepius?”

“Yeah, I haven’t died yet, judging from the flirtation with my name.”

As if a white viper was poisoned and nodded his head, a white councilman flew between the heroes strewn like corpses.

“And what? I told you not to close the windows unless it’s winter. Are you children of darkness?”

– Tung! Empty! Empty!

Asclepius frowned as if he didn’t seem like it.

Every time he swung at the window, the wooden lids that covered the windows shattered.

And the sunlight shining brightly through the broken window drove away the dark atmosphere of the treatment center.

“Hey! Wild boar! What are you doing!”

“Okay! Go go!”

Hercules, the king boar who came in after the white viper, also clicked his tongue as he looked at his dead comrades.

“Tsk tsk, no, it’s because they pretended to be dead once and they’re so dead…”

“Hey, I don’t need words. Just throw it all away.”

“Okay~”

When Asclepius waved his hand, as if nagging no longer bothered him, the king boar Hercules began throwing the heroes out without hesitation.

“Aagh!”

“What is this!?”

“It’s all good! If you don’t go quickly, you’ll miss the first performance!”

Asclepius shook his head at the treatment center, which became noisy in an instant.

I wonder when those brute beasts will grow up.

“Ehh…”

However, bigger things awaited him than the small commotion behind him.

A corner of the treatment center, Asclepius’s single room, and a bed in the intensive care unit where critically injured patients were cared for were empty.

“…Theseus.”

Empty beds, rattling windows.

And the medicine cabinet on the desk that looked white in haste.

Among them, he took out the poison bottle he was most careful about and looked at.

“In the end, it is your choice.”

Seeing this, Asclepius bit his lip and eventually closed the poison bottle and began organizing his treatment source.

He is only a healer, and the biography of heroes and villains is not his domain.