Myth: The Ruler of Spirituality

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The loud voice echoed throughout the endless camps, and in front of Achilles stood the elite forces of the Mycenaeans numbering in the tens of thousands.

Yet, despite the increasing number of soldiers arriving at the sound, the spear-wielding hero did not regard them at all.

If in Silver Moon City, Achilles had maintained a degree of humility,

he respected his mentor's martial skills, the Hunting Goddess's archery, and the knowledgeable wizards, yet upon leaving Silver Moon City, this slight humility was replaced by arrogance.

I, Achilles, am invincible in the world, who dares to challenge me?!

"Who goes there, to utter such arrogant words?!"

Just as Achilles's voice fell, a loud shout came from afar.

In the Mycenaean army, it was not only their king present, but the first to react was a formidable general.

Both rider and horse donned in iron armor, the valiant knight began to charge forward.

Vaguely, Achilles seemed to see some markings on that armor.

These were the emblems symbolizing the identity of the approaching one, also noting their noble ancestral bloodline, yet watching the galloping horse, Achilles had no intention of discerning it.

What sort of thing are you, that you deserve me to discern your lineage?

Perhaps if your ancestor's deity were here, they would be worthy of trading blows with me on this mortal battlefield, but you, this unknown descendant...

First take a strike of my undying, then I'll grant you a chance at survival!

"Come—"

With a burst of laughter, Achilles swung his long spear, drawing an arc in the air. Then he slightly bent his legs, and suddenly leaped.

This action happened in an instant, the thought scarcely a fleeting moment.

Before him, the knight was charging towards him, the blood throughout their body seemed fused with the strange steed beneath them.

This was the descendant of Poseidon, the divine horse Arión, though its blood had thinned through countless generations, yet like its master, it bore the bloodline of the deity.

The knight and steed working in tandem could unleash a force far greater than the sum of their parts. But at this moment, the offensive and defensive momentum was entirely reversed.

Clang...

—Bam!

The long spear and the lance clashed, merely pausing imperceptibly before continuing to press down.

The horse, speeding along, as if struck heavily, let out a 'crack', the foreleg of the descendant of the divine horse shattered, leaving a long groove on the ground.

As for the horseback, the Mycenaean general had not the time to react.

In a mere daze, his arms shattered under immense force, and he himself was struck off the horse.

Yet, the wielded spear did not halt, instead it crashed with even greater force onto the general's armor.

Like tofu against a knife, offering no resistance, with the sound of shattering armor, the consciousness of the Mycenaean general instantly blurred.

Dimly, he seemed to hear disdainful mockery. Continue your adventure at My Virtual Library Empire

"Huh, I expected as much."

"Among ordinary people, you have some skills, but it amounts to only this."

"I hope your king doesn't bring me too much disappointment."

...

Boom—

At the center of the alliance's camp, donning the armor delivered by the priest not long ago, Agamemnon felt the distant earth's tremor.

The sounds of uproar and discussion followed, emotions of shock spread among the soldiers as if infectious.

At this moment, even though the brand-new armor reportedly came from the hands of the God of Craftsmanship, the heart of the King of Mycenae was icy cold.

In such a scenario, could it be the Athenians' great army has arrived, but why did the sentries he arranged not report in advance?

Armies of a scale exceeding ten thousand could not possibly approach without a sound, that defied logic. But if indeed that's the case, then even if the War God were present, defeat would be inevitable.

"Come, how many Athenians have arrived, where was the alert, why was there no advance report, where have the patrolling cavalry outside the tents gone?"

With an unpleasant expression, Agamemnon harshly rebuked.

Yet under his rebuke, aside from equally bewildered guards, the messenger soldier wore a strange expression.

"Your Majesty..."

After a moment's hesitation, the soldier reluctantly spoke,

"No army, there is only one person."

"One person?"

"Yes, there is only one person."

The soldier confirmed, but knowing what the king wanted to ask, he continued, "The general on patrol went to handle it, but it seems... the situation appears dire."

"Other generals have already rushed there... but the visitor is likely a mighty hero, only you can confront him—"

Boom—!

Boom—!

Boom—!

Before he could finish speaking, there came three more thunderous roars, as if a giant were striking the earth, but no further sounds of skirmish arose.

As the soldier described, indeed, it was not the noise brought by an army, but rather that of a powerful hero striking the camp with extraordinary force.

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