Chapter 37: A Hero is…

[David's Pov]

"Such a disappointment," The Manticore growled.

I fumbled in my pocket and brought out my sword. The blade gleamed slightly against the moonlight, but Dr. Thorn only barked out in laughter.

His lion-like body had several tones of fur on various parts; red, orange, and silver. Through the hazy memories, I remembered his body adapting to the materials of the weapon that wounded him.

Um…which color repelled which, I cannot remember.

"Do you think you can stand up to me alone? When the goddess of the hunt failed to kill me?"

"We'll see about that." I tried to steady my arms from shaking.

I knew he had a point. Back at Westover Hall, at least 4 very competent fighters ganged up on him with two different types of materials, and we barely managed to keep him maimed.

Now, I was alone. With a singular weapon that also contained my literal lifeline.

The Manticore chuckled, prowling in his spot. I had a funny feeling that he was sensing my fear, and was thoroughly enjoying it.

"Long ago, the gods banished me to Persia," The Manticore said. "I was banished, denied of any chance to fight any of the great heroes. I was not feared and admired in the old stories! Left to forgotten!

And even now, the Fates won't grant me a valiant hero as my opponent. You will perish by my hands, you novice!"

Enough. I mentally shook myself.

What did I have to fear against him? I was trained by the war god himself. He was an overgrown lion who wasted his life being a teacher in a military school.

We both charged at each other at the same moment.

My brain promptly switched to 'battle mode', and I started comparing him to the Nemean Lion—the closest shaped enemy I've fought. I rolled under his pounce, barely avoided getting scratched by the spikes on his tail, and shot back up.

The Manticore had just landed by then. He spun on the spot with a snarl, lashing out his tail like a chained flail.

Time slowed down. The bulky sphere edge of the tail was coming down with full intent of smashing my head into a meat pie, but my eyes were drawn to the waving tail. It was strained, tense, like a compressed spring.

I jumped back, and Dr. Thorn let a bark of glee.

"Predictable!" He gloated.

Right before the tail smashed the sand, it shot upwards like a jabbing boxer. Several spikes tore through my shirt, as I leaned back as far as I could manage. I jumped back to see huge gashes across my chest.

The Manticore pounced again. This time, I had a plan.

Instead of ducking under, I slashed across the wet sand, flinging fistfuls of them upwards. Manticore laughed out and closed his eyes briefly.

"Do you think that age-old trick—Oof!"

I tackled him in mid-air with all my strength, knocking the wind out of him. We fell backward into a shallow shore, me on top and the monster growling fiercely.

The next tens of seconds were a blur, an entanglement of cursing, shouting, and flailing as each of us tried to take out the other.

A stray tail came swooping in from behind. With a whiplash, my sword was knocked out of my hand and dropped into the ocean. I heard Dr. Thorn's triumphant "Ha!", which was enough sound clue for me to locate his neck.

I fastened my arms around it and squeezed it as if my life depended on it.

Manticore made a sharp hissing noise as his air pipe was suddenly fastened shut.

He reared on his back legs like a horse pulling a rodeo. He trashed around, flexing all the muscles he had to get rid of my grasp. I hung on, tightening my grip around the thick throat. The arms of my shirt ripped off from the effort, and I think I heard my voice screaming over the Manticore's roars and howls.

"You fool!" Manticore gasped. "Do you think, you can choke me? ME?"

With a specifically tremendous roar, he managed to throw me off so hard, that for a split moment, I was airborne.

And at that moment, I saw Zoë clambering up the shore through the debris of the wrecked pier. She was drenched from head to toe, and she had no weapon in hand.

"Wait!" She shouted, but Manticore shot a volley of missile spikes at her, covering the area she stood with explosions.

"No—"

I slammed back onto the ground. It should've broken a bone or two, but I felt no pain as I stood up, nothing but two fists bawled as a weapon.

I must've looked furious because, the Manticore blew a whistle amongst his gasps of air.

"Come on, then!" Manticore mocked.

I charged forward. My heart beat somewhere around my ears.

I had nothing but my hands. Wrestling it didn't work. I only had one other option.

The Manticore swung his tail, spraying a bucket amount of salt water to disrupt my view. I kept my head low to duck under it, recalling what Sherman said in the one boxing training we had.

"It's simple. Load and Fire. That's it. Your instincts know all the stuff you need to know. You just need to pull it off. Try and imagine yourself as a cannon. Load and Fire."

I had never managed to showcase satisfactory results in practice.

So, this would about be the perfect timing for my first correct execution.

"Load."

I put my left shoulder back. I saw Manticore's eye flutter in a small bit of surprise.

Being left-handed is a gift, my father had said.

That small hesitation of surprise was life and death at this moment.

Realizing his mistake, Manticore quickly swiped his claw to rip out the mid-section of my body.

Too late.

"and Fire."

Right before the longest nail made contact, my left fist met the unguarded side of his side.

And guess what? My hand wasn't Celestial Bronze, nor was it silver.

"ARGH!"

With a pained howl, the Manticore stumbled backward, a small splutter of blood spilling out his mouth as he clutched his side, where a fist-shaped bruise was present.

I was about to feel pretty good about myself, but then my feet stumbled.

My eyesight wavered like a rocking boat. My stomach felt like I'd just drank a glass of molten lava as I swayed on the spot.

Then I looked down at my chest wound. It was bleeding out yucky green-black ooze.

"Poison."

I forgot he had them. This dude was in serious need of a balance check.

The Manticore straighten up, cackling. Now, his bruise looked a lot smaller than it initially felt. I tried to keep focused on the monster, but my consciousness was slipping into the dark void.

"Do not worry. My poison isn't for the final blow. It gets too easy. I want a challenge."

"What's…challenging about, a poisoned oppo—"

My word was cut short by a hefty cough. I didn't need to see the red stain on the sand to notice that blood was dripping from my half-closed mouth.

All of my senses were sending various signs of the slowly incoming death. But at the same time, everything was starting to feel far off.

The world turned sideways. It took me a few seconds to acknowledge that I had fallen onto my face, panting for the air that was suddenly not that appetizing.

The Manticore shoved his face into my view. His human face—Dr. Thorn's face grinned down with yellow fangs.

"Ah, but you see, Mr. Lee. This is a challenge. Don't heroes love challenges?"

A small flick from one of his toes flipped me around on my back. My stomach did another nasty lurch. I wanted to throw up, but that'll probably end up suffocating me to death.

"Challenge…?" I croaked. My voice was weak. The sand felt soft, digging into my clothes.

I swear, from the corner of my eyes, I could see a lean, muscular dude with a set of dark wings furiously arguing with someone over his iPad.

"What do you mean his string is missing?"

"Go on," Manticore said. "Go on, little hero. Show me what you've got. Or I get a tasty meal."

His voice was dreamy, or at least felt like it.

The words came out in strings, like a line of musical notes, swirling around my head, manifesting into something I could see, but for my life, I can't describe—mostly because I'm dying.

Zoë was laying on the sand in the middle of what looked like a blown-up minefield. It's a miracle that she was in one piece after the volley of explosions, but I doubted she'd be conscious—or in any fit for battle.

My hands scraped the sand.

I had to get up.

If I don't get up right now, she would get eaten alive after I do.

But my arms were too weak. My hands did nothing better than flopping against the ground. My heart beat was slowing down to a critical rate.

Was it always this cold? Maybe because I was doused in water. Or maybe…

I wondered where my sword was. Did me losing it signified my death in a weird, prophetic way?

Random images started popping into my view.

Rose, sitting in the thorn bush chair, talking about our past.

My father, smiling proudly at me after the one sparing session we had.

Oreius slumped on the floor, staring blankly forward as he called out for his mother.

My ma, dressed up as Hecate, juggling a pair of torches on Halloween.

And Zoë.

Zoë, when she lost the Capture the Flag.

When she turned her head against the bear twins.
When she skipped over the piles of snow.
When she sat across the table with a cup of coffee.
When she looked up at the stars at night.

Gods, she smiled beautifully, didn't she?

How did I not realize that I've been traveling with a semi-Titaness/nymph?

"No awakening?" A voice whispered. I couldn't even make out who it sounded like anymore. A snail's heart would be faster than mine at this point.

"No vigilance? No rising?"

The voice smacked its lips.

"Such a shame. Then again. I haven't had hero's meat in decades."

The last thing I heard before everything went black, was the fierce battle cry of some unheard warrior.

It sounded vaguely feminine.

[Line Break]

[3rd Person's Pov]

Against most people's interpretation, Reyna was a very emotional person.

Her heart flared up in face of injustice or cruelty, and she also had a stack of romantic melancholy movies that made her cry hidden under her praetor bed.

She led the idea that she was stoic and earnest by not letting her emotion lead to any irrational decisions. She had herself in control, so to say.

Yes, control.

She valued having it over herself more than anything else.

So when she was 'bummed out', so-to-say (read 'devastated'), after the goddess of love confirmed that she would never find love where she wished or hoped, right when she was with her 'perhaps-he-might-be-the-one-who-knows?' guy, her primary reaction was not screaming or crying or throwing something at the wall, or try something desperate and sad to get into that brick wall of a head of the Son of Jupiter.

No. She went to the beach. A specific beach in San Francisco.

You know, when she parted ways (a.k.a abandoned, or that's at least what Reyna firmly believed) with her only blood relative at the age of 11.

All sarcasm and jokes aside, this was actually Reyna's coping place.

This was where she learned how to think aside from her emotions. How to keep them in check. Not that damned pirate ship, here. Right here, when her sister came after wrestling a Santa Claus and said: "We can't be together anymore, Reyna."

Therefore, it wouldn't surprise anyone that Reyna chose to stay even after the beach was closed. The night ocean was a delicacy to watch, and she was having a rough day.

Not only because of her confirmed failure in romance, but also many other things. Arranging from the constant naggings from a specific legacy of Apollo, the thickening Mist of Mt. Tamalpais, and a concerning letter from her sister—which, as usual, barely explained anything.

"I'm going after Orion with the cohorts of Lady Diana. I might die during the process. Be prepared."

What did she even mean to be prepared? Prepared to receive a heap of packages from the Amazons that read: "In memorial of our Queen"? Well, she'll have the hearth warm and ready.

It's not like she was in actual life-threatening danger, right?

…Right?

Her trains of thoughts, however, were rudely interrupted by distant sounds of scuffling.

Reyna sighed. She was used to seeing people fighting in public, and not just in an arena. Whatever the case was, she didn't want to get involved in it. She'd already saved a boy from getting curve-stomped like, half an hour ago. She couldn't afford to get more involved in the mortal world.

It was getting late. Jason would be getting worried—or at least, she hoped. Even though it was hopeless. That small irony warranted a little air from her nose.

Right when she was about to turn her head and return to New Rome, her ear caught something else. It was from the same scuffle, but it wasn't a yell or a scream from a human.

It was a roar. From perhaps a lion, for her best guess.

Whatever it was, it was enough to halt the praetor in her track, turn her around, and make her sprint as fast as she could to the source of the fracas.

If the boy had been a demigod or a legacy, and he was going up against a monster alone…

When she arrived at the scenery, she was in shock at the sight.

The Manticore was crouching over a boy—the same boy from half an hour ago, drooling next to him, ready to take its meal.

Reyna quickly reached into her pocket and flipped the golden coin aureus, and caught the shining golden spear in mid-air. She jumped down to the shore and rushed forward.

"Romae Gloria!" She shouted as she stabbed forward.

The Manticore was startled by the sudden war cry. He stumbled backward as the spear slashed through one of his front legs.

She took the chance to check on the boy. A slow, yet firm heartbeat was still present. She could feel shallow breaths brushing against her wrist. He was still alive. She brought out a tiny bottle of nectar and dribbled it into his lips.

Sadly, it wasn't exactly much. Reyna could only hope that would be enough to fend off the poison.

Reyna looked up and eyed the Manticore carefully. It snarled in frustration, pacing around just out of the spear's reach.

"A gold weapon." Manticore sneered. "Such a weak weapon."

"That's Imperial Gold for you, monster. They work well enough against your kind's flesh."

Reyna hefted her spear, now coated with the monster's blood. But she also noticed that the wound on the Manticore's front shoulder was now healing up with golden fur over them.

That was something she never heard about.

Reyna decided to scout out, she experimentally jabbed at the Manticore's eye, but the beast swatted it away with his paw. The Manticore spun around, swinging his tail in a wide arc.

The young praetor ducked under, ignoring the spin-chilling sensation of one of the spikes brushing through her hair braid, and lunged with her spear once more. This time aiming for the spot where she had grazed before.

But, to her shock, the spear tip bounced away without leaving a single mark. The shallow wound Reyna had managed to make had already been healed up with a chunk of golden fur over them.

The Manticore's lips crooked up into a disturbing smile.

"Not used to seeing this ability on a Manticore, eh? Well, I have another surprise for you, lass!"

With a sizzling noise, a dozen spikes flared up and propelled themselves at Reyna.

"What the—"

Bypassing the split second of surprise, Reyna thrust her spear at the oncoming missile spike.

It impaled it straight through the middle and exploded in thin air, but she still had 11 more explosives flying her way.

Right before she made the worst decision of her life, 3 streaks of arrows came flying from the right side, each of them punctuating three or four spikes, which exploded like an array of fireworks.

The Manticore howled in fury and turned around. Reyna also turned, because that shot was a wicked one. She'd never seen anyone pull anything even close to it, even amongst the children of Apollo.

What she saw was only marginally less confusing than a 20ft Manticore with self-healing and missile launching tail.

It was a girl.

She wore a silver hunter's wear and a facial expression that made Reyna take a firmer grip on her spear.

"You."

The huntress hissed through gritted teeth.

Much to Reyna's relief, the huntress had her eyes locked on the Manticore.

"You are going to die, you filth," Zoë stated with utter hatred.

The Manticore roared and pounced at the huntress.

To him, the primary threat was the hunters over all else. He didn't enjoy thinking about it, but they had crossed paths over the years, and most encounters ended with him getting dusted.

"Die!" He roared.

The Manticore pounced up into the air in a crouching motion, then swung his tail down with added velocity.

Zoë didn't budge.

She stared down the spike ball of doom until the very last second—when she leaped over it with utmost grace and took aim.

A single thawing bowstring sent two arrows straight into the Manticore's face. It roared in pain as both of his eyes burst open from getting impaled in less than a second.

Zoë dodged the swiping claws of the Manticore and stepped back as it flailed around in a blind fury, wailing and cursing both her and the gods. The huntress didn't give it any more attention than it deserved and rushed over to her fallen quest-mate.

"David!"

To Reyna's surprise, the boy slowly rose to his feet.

"I'm…fine, I think," David said. He gazed at the thrashing monster ahead.

"I know what to do."

[Line Break]

[David's Pov]

Being dead, or being as close to being dead as possible was a weird experience.

After everything went black, I expect to see the famed river of death with the voyeur Charon on the boat. My concern was that I didn't have any coins to give him.

But it was nothing like that.

It seemed like I was brought to an entirely different world. The sky churned with grey smoke. The world below where I stood was infested with an even darker shade of mist that clung to the inner walls of my lung every time I drew a breath.

I took a step forward. Purple mist swirled around my ankle, but it didn't feel like I actually moved forward. On the contrary, my body didn't feel…natural. I might've been part of the thick mist around me from the beginning.

Then, to my utmost horror, a single eyeball opened out of thin air.

No head, no mouth, no other body parts, just an eyeball, staring at me intently with mild curiosity.

My hand fumbled for my weapon, but they seemed to scatter into the misty void. And even if I had managed to draw my sword, what then? I could already tell that the being in front of me was something far stronger than anything I'd ever seen—including any of the gods.

"—"

The eyeball tried to say something to me. That alone was almost enough to blast my consciousness to smithereens. I only managed to stay put because the sigil suddenly burst with energy, and held my esprit together.

The eyeball stopped before it finished. It looked down at the sigil, then slowly melted into the mist. Before I could feel relieved, the surrounding started to change. The thick mist swirled around until it morphed into a certain scene.

Thunder crackled through the air. Several world-destroying storms were tearing across the lands. Drops of sizzling acid were pouring down from the sky. If Armageddon was ever going to be a thing, this would definitely fit the image.

On top of the tallest mountain sat a giant.

A giant that I can't describe the appearance of, because I couldn't bear to look at it face to face. Instead, I looked down at his body, which wasn't any easier to describe.

First things first: This giant was huge.

I know it is implied in the word 'giant' that it would be big, but like, it was as tall, if not taller than the mountain it sat on. If it stood up, I wouldn't even be able to look at its face because that would be above the clouds.

Second, it kept changing.

The giant itself didn't move, but its body kept disorienting into something new every time I blinked.

It had two arms with toxic green scales all over them, then six with each representing different minerals of the earth, and then there were a hundred with each having a hundred snakes hissing and flailing, spitting out poison from their maw.

It had two leathery wings that were sometimes made out of flames, then other times it didn't even exist. The only consistent part—which was the only place I could focus on— was a huge blister across its chest, as if the biggest lightning bolt in the history of nature struck it recently.

Then, I noticed something from underneath the giant's leg. A human.

A singular human, wearing full Greek battle armor, was climbing his way towards the giant.

I wanted to scream. Yell at him to stop, because he'd certainly die at the hands of the giant. I didn't wish that death on my worst enemy—not even my stepdad. The giant was that terrifying.

"O, almighty Typhon! I have come to witness you in your time of glory!"

The language Typhon used was not English, but somehow I understood what it was saying.

"Who are you?" The giant asked the man.

The man shivered. His armor sizzled in the acid rain.

I fully expected the man to either run away screaming or crumple down and go insane. Either option was possible and downright understandable. The fact that he managed to talk to Typhon was a feat in and of itself.

Instead, however, the man pushed his helmet up to look Typhon straight in the eyes.

And with a jolt of my heart, I realized who the warrior was, and what situation this was.

The hero was Cadmus. Significantly younger, in his early 20's, but I recognized the same firm determination in his eyes.

And this was the legendary moment when he stood face to face with Typhon. After the Olympians' defeat against the Giant. After Zeus was defeated and imprisoned. After the rest of the gods fled into hiding.

"I am Cadmus." Cadmus's voice rang across the valleys, over the loud thunderclaps and the breathing of Typhon, which became the massive storms that ripped apart the lands.

"In my homeland, I am known as the first prince of Phoenicia.

I have left the city to search for my lost sister Europa.
To her, I am a failed brother.

On my journey, I have slain many beasts that troubled farming and the people.
To them, I am known as a hero."

My heart sank at his second draft.

A lost sister. Cadmus had one as well. And if I remembered correctly, he never managed to reunite with her in his mortal life.

But Typhon seemed to be more intrigued at the last depiction.

"Hero? What is a hero?" He boomed.

Cadmus faltered.

"A hero…a hero is…"

Behind the storming breath, two flaming and crackling orbs of energy lighted up.

"Yes?"

Cadmus looked down at his arsenals.

His armor, which shimmered through the acid rain.

His shield, which could fend off the great Drakon Ismenios.

His spear, which could topple a castle wall with a single strike.

Cadmus looked up.

"A hero is—"

The next words of Cadmus were silent. His mouth was moving, but no sound came from it. The sigil shined brightly through the darkness.

I heard my idol's voice in my head, sharp and clear as if he was standing right next to me.

"My answer belongs to mine alone." The voice said.

"What is your answer, lad?"

I blinked again, and I was laying on the sand.

"David!"

Zoë's voice. That was Zoë's voice. She was alive. Alive and doing much better than I was.

That gave me enough strength to force myself up. There was a girl that I've…seen before, through Aphrodite, looking like I was digging myself out of a grave.

"I'm fine…I think." I managed. Zoë stopped right next to me and started to fuss over my wound, but my eyes traveled over to the Manticore.

"Curse all of you!" He wailed into the air, waving his claw at nowhere in particular!

"I will not fade into obscurity! I will be commemorated as the fiercest monster known to mankind!"

He smashed his tail into the ground, making a small explosion.

But behind all the wails and bedamnings, I sensed a genuine dose of fear layered inside.

What did Zoë say before?

"When thou are forgotten—truly forgotten by everyone, then even the most almighty beings cease to exist."

If the Manticore was left to be forgotten as he said he was…that meant he was truly in danger. Monsters could regenerate from death, but nothing could bring them back from being forgotten.

What happens if you stop existing? The thought made me shudder. Even in the face of Typhon himself, I was still existing. I couldn't think of anything worse than that.

I made up my mind.

"I know what to do."

The unknown girl nodded.

"It seems like his skin adapts to whatever material is used against him. If all three of us attack together—"

I shook my head.

No offense to her, it was a solid plan. It was impressive that she'd manage to comprehend the abilities of the Manticore and concoct a plan. That was straight-up Annabeth-level strategizing.

"No. I'll do it alone."

But I had to do it alone. It has to be done this way.

Both for me, and him.

Zoë stepped in faster than I could say anything else.

"No way. Thou are in no shape to pick up a spoon, much less fight. Let me and Reyna deal with—"

The girl frowned. "How do you know my name? We've never met before."

"Let's talk about that after we take care of the beast in the area."

I shook my head again and shook off Zoë's supportive hand.

"Don't interfere. Please."

Zoë halted in the middle of reaching out to me. Her expression was so pained and worried that it almost made me rethink my plan.

"What are thee trying to do?"

"If I tell you, you won't approve."

Before Zoë could argue that I shouldn't do it in that case, I staggered forward.

I blew a low whistle between my lips. My trusted black sword splashed out of the sea and flew into my hand.

The Manticore stopped in his rampage and turned to face me. His eyes were not yet regrown, probably because they still had silver arrows lodged in them, but he had no trouble locating my position.

"You are not enough."

"Hero. What do you think makes a hero, hero?"

The Manticore paused, taken aback by the question. Soon, he snarled.

"I don't care."

"In Ancient Greek, a hero was a man who did the extraordinary. Those who achieved impossible feats. Those who rose above their limits as mortals to reach further beyond.

I, for one, believe that is a key element. But there is one missing."

"Silence!" The Manticore roared. "You are nothing compared to my strength!"

"Strength, given to you by an unrelated other?"

I've heard the story in the van ride by Annabeth.

Rose has been given some monsters 'upgrades', so to say, which was why the bear twins had their owl-like wings when Percy said they didn't have any when he saw them last summer.

The Manticore went silent again. And this time, his expression was truly conflicted. He looked down at his paws, which were slightly trembling.

"I am yet green. But I can at least promise you a dignifying closure."

"I won't be defeated by you." The Manticore muttered.

He sharpened his claws, and then dug them deep into his own skin.

With a pained, yet oddly refreshing roar, he ripped off his made-up, invincible skin. The mixture of red, silver, and gold skins is scattered into the wind to reveal the original orange fur of the Manticore.

"I am the Manticore!" The Manticore shouted in triumph.

"Terror of Persia! Devourer of men! And you, David Lee, will be the next victim between my fangs!"

I held the sword over my head. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and focused.

My mind and body and spirit were directed only to the blade in hand, and nothing else.

I took a single, deep breath.

I couldn't help but smile. And I'm sure, the Manticore did the same.

We both launched ourselves at each other.

We both swung our weapons at each other.

A shower of hot liquid sprayed over my face, and I opened my eyes.

Both paws of the Manticore were half an inch away from either side of my face.

And my sword was buried deep into his chest.

A small stream of blood gushed out from the wound. The Manticore let out a heavy cough, which was blood-soaked as well. His body leaned forward, and I caught the massive body over my shoulders.

"You…you…" The Manticore struggled to form words. His voice was getting weaker by the second. I could feel his body slowly turning into dust.

"I will become a hero," I said.

"I will become one of the greatest ones in humanity's history. And then, you will always be known as one of the toughest opponents I've ever faced.

You will be remembered."

The Manticore took another shaky breath, and then completely dissolved into a scatter of golden powers.

But right before he did, I saw a relieved smile on his face.

My feet stumbled again. The last strike required too much energy to pull it off.

Zoë and Reyna started rushing over as I fell on the shore as well.

Hey, would you look at that? I didn't take 2 weeks+ this time!

I told you I'm excited about the finale, didn't I?

I'm not promising the next chapter would come out in a similar time-space, but I hope at least this was a joy to read.

I bet some of you are surprised that Reyna is not just a cameo. Yeah, I don't really like cameos, not that there is anything initially wrong with them, but I'd prefer the references with some more substance than just the "Oh, that's from the other thing I know!" gig.

Though I must say, this Reyna is how I see her as a character. I'm not always the one to go with the major flow with these 'character analyses', so don't hesitate to tell me what you think of this Reyna. Is it identical to the OG, or does it have some differentiating traits, or does it feel like a totally different character as a whole?

On to the Manticore's fight.

Again, it pains me to cut down Zoe's attributions in combat. Especially since the next two battles, she won't be doing much in terms of 'combat'. You'll see when we get there. Believe me, Zoe is my favorite OG character in the entire series, closely followed by Reyna. I'll think of a way to portray her more, or at least how to write archery more interesting than 'she shoots and the thing dies'.

I hope the Manticore's story didn't feel too out of anywhere. I looked up the OG, and there he just spilled his background in a single paragraph, so I didn't put too much work as well. Though I did my best to showcase why he wanted a glorious battle for his namesake.

The 'being forgotten=fading' rule of this world is such an interesting topic because it leans into how real stories work. There must've been more Greek Myths from various cities in Ancient Greek, but all we have today are the few that have survived through time. The lost stories are...gone. Faded away.

So yeah, really like that setting.

I hope you had fun time reading, I'll see you all in the next chapter.

Ta ta~