Chapter 1

The First Hero of Greece

"Although your life was short, your actions speak for themselves." The ghostly judge boomed as he declared his sentence. "William H. Bonney, born Henry McCarty and better known as 'Billy the Kid', a reincarnation of Perseus Eurymedon, son of Zeus, for the crime of living a life of murder, violence, theft, and more, with little to no attempt to atone for such misdeeds or take action for the betterment of others, your sentence will be damnation in the fields of punishment."

"And on your final reincarnation, no less." Another judge added gravely. "You had lived such virtuous lives beforehand, alongside your betrothed. Now, your application to enter the Isles of the Blest has been voided. You have lost your chance to reunite with your love, all thanks to the selfish life you chose to live."

Now typically, when the judges of the Underworld tell you that you're a right piece of shit and that you're going to hell, most men would probably start panicking and try to bargain with the judges. Some might just collapse and have a breakdown. Others still might try to fight back and rip and tear their way out of the Underworld, like some action game hero, usually with poor results.

But, as spectral soldiers advanced and seized the reincarnated Greek Hero, all Perseus could think of was "Oh man, Andromeda is going to kill me."

As the enforcers of Hades dragged him to his new forever-home in the fields of punishment, Perseus let himself reflect on the life he had just lived, and the sentencing he got. "Oh geez…" he grimaced. The worst part about his judgment was the judges were right. Billy the Kid was not a good person. He may have had a rough childhood, but he still killed quite a few people and rustled no small amount of cattle. No matter how roguishly charming Perseus was, that didn't change the fact that he was just a thug, and that he had really dropped the ball.

"The last gods-damned reincarnation!" he groaned. Three lives of heroism only for him to slip away into his vices and tumble at the finish line. Andromeda had completed her final reincarnation over half a century before he did, living as a nameless woman who fought in the Haitian Revolution. But now, she would have to spend the rest of eternity in the Isles of the Blest alone, while her husband eternally burned just next door in the fields of punishment.

He supposed that the reincarnation before their last, which they had spent together, had affected their behavior in their final lives. Ah, he remembered that life well. "Robin Hood" is what people had taken to calling him, and his wife Andromeda was by his side, living as Maid Marian. Although they were bandits, they had fought for a just cause, lashing out at the tyrannical king John Lackland, stealing from the rich barons and lords, and giving back to the poor and needy. But while Andromeda was inspired by this life to continue fighting for the oppressed and trampled by participating in the insurrection that sent ripples across the world in Haiti, Perseus indulged in how fun it was to put his natural talent of smooth-talking and stealth to use to become a criminal. A famous and beloved criminal, but a criminal nonetheless.

Ah, it seemed like they had finally arrived at the fields of punishment. As the enforcers carried him to his own personal slice of hell, Perseus took in the screams of pain from the sinners around him. It was interesting to note that there was a lot more fire and brimstone than when he had first caught a glimpse of the place on his way to Elysium after his first death. Probably something to do with the so-called "Christianization" of the afterlife he had heard so much about, letting the idea of the Christian hell bleed into the realm of Hades as most unaware sinners saw being thrown into the burning pit as the ultimate punishment.

"Ah, lads," Perseus grinned nervously at the ghostly enforcers holding him by the shoulders. "I don't suppose my eternal punishment can just be letting the missus talk my ear off about how badly I screwed up here, eh? Haha."

If the enforcers heard his little attempt at a joke, they made no sign that they did. They brought him to a dark chamber, tossing him in. With a grunt, he hit the ground and the shackles binding his wrists melted into shadows, fading into the darkness that surrounded him.

Getting up and dusting his tunic off, Perseus looked around at the void that filled the chamber. Pure darkness in all directions, completely featureless. It was like he was swallowed by Erebus itself.

"So, what's all this then?" Perseus called out into the void. "Is this my punishment? Just nothing? Or…" Perseus donned his signature smile. Not the smile he wore when he was genuinely happy, of course. It was a charming, but ultimately deceiving smile he wore whenever he brandished his mightiest weapon. Not the scythe-sword Harpe, not the mirror-shield Gorgoneion, but his wit. Oh yeah, it was time to bullshit the void.

"Ah, I get it." Perseus mused with swagger. "Can't think of a punishment for me, can you? It's pretty hard to find a way to turn the worst crimes someone has committed into torment when you're trying to punish such a heroic soul like me." The darkness didn't respond. Time to turn the charm up to the max. "After all, I am the three-times Elysium winning hero, Perseus Eurymedon of Argos. Maybe you might recognize me? Conqueror of Medusa, slayer of Cetus, the first hero of Greece, grand-daddy of Herakles?"

Beneath that charming smile, Perseus hid a deep cringe. It really wasn't his style to so arrogantly boast about his admittedly impressive status. In all the lives he lived, he made it a point to live as humbly as possible, and not to brag about anything, whether he deserved to or not. Of course, whenever he was bullshitting someone, it didn't really matter whether he broke that little code or not. It wasn't really representative of him after all, just a facade he put up for others.

"Of course, that's not the only name I go by." He continued to brag. "I've accomplished a great many heroic feats in my other lives as well. Perhaps you know them? Sir Percival of the Round Table, and the legendary Robin Hood?" Time for the finisher. With a seductive smirk and half-lidded eyes, a look that always drove girls crazy, he began. "Really, cattle rustling and a few dead in self-defense. How are you supposed to punish that? I'm sure that you're a hard-working employee of Hades, and I'd absolutely hate to make your job so difficult. How about you just let me slip out and head off to Elysium? I'll lay low for a while, then I'll reincarnate and live a virtuous life. And if I do get caught, I'll keep your involvement under wraps. Just a little secret, between the two of us, hm?" He sealed the deal with a wink.

It was an unbeatable technique. Paris? Adonis? Achilles? Pfft, those posers had nothing on him. He, Perseus Eurymedon, voted Ancient Greece's number one pretty boy seven years in a row in the poll for both male and female demographics! No charmer in Greece was even a match for the first hero! A charm that had only gotten greater use as Percival, the most pious and virtuous knight of the Round Table!

"Always the charmer, aren't you?" A voice as rich and sweet as honey spoke. Perseus spun around, looking around at the void surrounding him to find the source of the voice. "You were just as much of a flirt when we first met, as well."

Behind him. Perseus whirled around and saw, sitting in the void where it hadn't been before, a vanity. A large bronze shield, polished to a ludicrous degree, served as a mirror for the woman putting on her makeup in front of it. A woman… with snakes for hair.

He was at a loss for words. "Wha- you- M-medusa?" Perseus stammered.

The youngest Gorgon sister let out a laugh that caused a strange pressure to form in the former hero's chest. "Who else?" she laughed. "I know you sons of Zeus will fuck anything that moves, but trying to seduce literal emptiness isn't something I'd ever see from you, Perseus."

Although he was just a spirit, Perseus' mouth felt dry. "You…" he began. "You shouldn't be here. You should have gone to Tartarus."

"Why yes, Perseus, yes I should have." Medusa mused as she began to apply some eyeshadow. "I should have gone to Tartarus after you killed me."

The first hero felt his heart drop like a stone. "Oh." The barest whisper left his lips. "You're…"

"Mmm, you catch on quickly, don't you? As expected of the 'hero of wit.'" Medusa hummed as she picked up a bronze tube of lipstick and began to color her lips a glossy shade of black.

Or rather… the image of Medusa put on lipstick. So this was Perseus' punishment. The deepest, most repressed guilt that he had sheltered from all those years ago, now brought back to the surface.

Medusa was a monster, there was no getting around that. She had killed countless people and thrived on the same bloodlust that drove other monsters to destroy. But she had also once been human, a human who was unfairly cursed by the people Perseus called his family, and the ones who had sent him to kill her.

Contrary to what the stories told, Perseus did not arrive on the shapeless isle that the Gorgons called home and immediately behead the snake-haired woman. He had snuck up on her while she slept, using the mirror shield Gorgoneion to see, as to not fall prey to her cursed gaze of stone like so many other would-be heroes did. But, as he laid eyes on the reflection of the sleeping monster, he found himself paralyzed. Not caught by the cursed gaze, but rather bewitched by her shocking beauty.

Okay, look. He was sixteen and never had a girlfriend, looking at the woman who could actually reasonably boast to be more beautiful than the goddesses, okay?! That's like sending a lonely, pubescent teen to assassinate a supermodel. That one was on the gods!

Well, the gasp of shock at Medusa's beauty, aside from triggering the young hero's sexual awakening, also woke her up. Medusa herself was pretty surprised at the fact that someone had snuck up on her while she was sleeping and hadn't killed her, which in turn allowed the hero to run away into the night, flush with embarrassment. When morning broke, Medusa elected not to tell her sisters of the midnight encounter.

Over the next couple of days, Perseus would watch Medusa from the shadows, looking for an opportunity to strike from beneath the mantle of shadows he wore. But inexperienced Perseus lacked the great stealth that he would learn later in life, and Medusa was very much aware of her new observer. She played along, pretending to not notice him before sending a chilling smirk in his direction, scaring off the boy again.

The two danced around each other, avoiding direct contact for days until eventually, they began to speak to each other. They spoke of small things, like the weather, and each other's older siblings. Medusa regaling her inadvertent admirer with tales of Stheno and Euryale's antics, while Perseus told stories of the short time he spent with Athena and Hermes. If someone were to look at the two as they talked, (Avoiding Medusa's gaze of course) they could genuinely believe the two were simply close friends.

But of course, there is only one ending to the tale of Perseus and Medusa. One day, the two sat on the beach and talked, just like all the days before. Words were exchanged. Words Perseus forced himself to forget, because he could not bear to remember the reason why he did what happened next. With zero resistance from the Gorgon, Perseus stood up, drew Harpe, and cut her head clean off her neck. It killed her instantly.

There was silence, and then a howl of agony rang across the island. By the time the two elder Gorgon sisters arrived on the beach, all they found was the blood and dust that had once been their sister.

That memory seared itself into Perseus' mind and burned into his soul. A burn that could never fade. But he forced himself to forget. A burn like that would not fade or heal, but he could at least cover it up. But before him now sat the monument to his regrets, his greatest accomplishment, and his worst failure.

Medusa's eyes met his through the mirror, and she smiled. Gods, that smile. The pressure in his chest grew unbearably painful. Putting her lipstick down, she stood from where she sat at the vanity and turned around.

"Ah!-" Perseus flinched and looked away before her gaze could meet his. Medusa just chuckled and sashayed towards the hero.

Close. She was so close. "Come now," she tittered, cupping his cheek and tilting his face towards hers. "I understand being cautious, but I am just a figment of your guilty conscience, aren't I? It's okay, you can peek. I don't mind."

Perseus had considered himself a man of strong will. Most Demigod children of Zeus were, after all. And it would be pretty pathetic if his greatest strength was his talent and goading others, yet he himself would give after a bit of banter.

But despite that willpower, despite his iron resolve and unfaltering mental resilience, Perseus collapsed at Medusa's gentle teasing. His eyes opened. First, just a sliver. And then-

Oh gods.

She was gorgeous.

He had always looked at her through a bronze mirror, never once looking directly at her. He thought it would make little difference, seeing as Gorgoneion was enchanted to produce the purest reflections possible, but he was wrong. Staring at her now, he could easily understand why Medusa had once been worshipped as a goddess in her own right.

"Really?" She chuckled, tilting her head to the side. Had she just read his thoughts? "Was I really that beautiful, or do I just look like this now because I was your first crush?"

Perseus just gawked in response. He had no idea what he was supposed to say, no idea what to do. He was lost, enchanted by the Gorgon's gaze.

Medusa laughed again, finding amusement in his stupor. "Well, I suppose that's enough teasing. You are here for eternal punishment after all."

Perseus snapped out of his shock with that. "Wait, wait wait, hold on. What?"

In lieu of responding, Medusa socked him in the face.

"GAH!" The condemned hero tumbled backward and crashed into a post that was not there before. As he opened his eyes, light flooded his vision. As he adjusted to the new brightness, he looked around to see that the darkness the chamber had been was now replaced by what looked like a modern boxing ring, surrounded by a screaming crowd. And on the other side of the ring stood Medusa.

"Well, when I told you that I was a manifestation of your guilty conscience, that wasn't entirely true." The Gorgon admitted with a smirk. "I may take form and thought from your own mind, but I'm made flesh through the power of the Underworld. Hence the reason why I can touch you."

"What?!" Perseus exclaimed. "Medusa, what the hell is going on?! What's with the fighting ring?! Who are these people?!"

"Oh, these?" Medusa gestured at the crowd that surrounded them. "Well, you remember when you were trying to seduce the void? You mentioned that it would be hard to find a punishment for a true hero. See, you weren't exactly wrong there." Her grin turned predatory, and oh, that certainly made him feel things he didn't want to feel. "So because of that, every last shred of guilt, and every negative thought you've ever had about yourself needed to be used. These people? All the poor schmucks you've ever killed."

Perseus blinked and pulled himself to his feet. "What, you mean Phineus' army?! I don't regret killing those guys, they were assholes! They tried kidnapping my wife and conquering her kingdom!"

Medusa shrugged. "As I said, we were using what little you could give us."

Perseus looked around at the crowd outside of the ring and noted a few faces he could vaguely remember. Soldiers of Phineus and king John, Saxon invaders, a few wild west gunslingers. They booed at him, and he returned with a rather rude gesture. "Well, then what about this boxing ring? What's up with that?" He asked as he turned back to Medusa.

Her grin was all teeth. "Oh Perseus!" She simpered, feigning a swoon of adoration. "The most charming of the Greek heroes, whose wit was sharper than his sickle-sword!" The faux swoon slipped off her face and was replaced by a taunting smirk. "...Who also never paid attention during pankration lessons and had his rear handed to him by boys half his age!"

Perseus' eyes widened a fraction. "Oh, you are not doing this to me right now."

Medusa's grin only grew wider. "And there's the blood in the water."

Faster than Perseus could react, Medusa had slipped behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and slamming him into the ground in a magnificent suplex. Though the son of Zeus would normally be much faster and stronger than the Gorgon, in the realm of his mind and the field of punishment, logic took a backseat.

"I-illegal!" Perseus wheezed on the ground, the wind knocked out of him by the surprise wrestling maneuver. "I may suck at pankration but I know for sure that suplexes are definitely not allowed!"

Medusa just laughed again and shook her head. "If it's not eye pokes or crotch shots, it's fair game. Just because a move didn't exist back then doesn't mean it's illegal."

Perseus bolted to his feet and scrambled to the other side of the ring, away from the maniacal manifestation of Medusa from the most morbid of his memories. "H-hold on!" He pleaded. "Can't we talk about this?!"

Medusa beamed. "We sure can! Do you want to talk about grappling first, or striking?"

"N-neither…?"

"Both it is then!" Medusa announced, rushing towards him at blinding speeds. "Get ready for your eternal pankration crash course!"

Perseus felt the weightlessness wash over him once more as his first crush suplexed him once more. This was going to be a loooooong damnation.

The first hero hit the mat once more, and the crowd erupted into cheers.

O - O - O - O - O

Tisiphone the Fury was not having a good day. Sure, seeing as she was a violent Underworld spirit whose sole purpose was to torment mortals one could see this as karmic justice, but she was just trying to do her job, damn it! There hadn't been a screw-up this bad since that time Thanatos lost a bet to Sisyphus! And if left unchecked, it could lead to an even bigger disaster than the time Herakles went on a rampage!

"Lord Hades, Lord Hades!" The Fury cried as she burst into the quarters of the ruler of the dead. "It's terrible! Oh my goodness, it's a calamity out there! If we don't do something about it soon, I fear the entire Underworld may be in grave peril!"

The eldest brother of the Olympian gods looked up from the endless paperwork that splayed out across his ebony desk. He scowled at the intrusion with dark circles beneath his eyes. "Is that so, Tisiphone." The king of the Underworld drawled as he rose from his seat and strolled over to the grand windows behind him. Pulling open the curtains and revealing the vast realm of the dead that lay beneath his grand dominion, there was…

...Nothing of note.

Hades looked back at the Fury with an eyebrow raised. "Nothing has changed Tisiphone." He said, having not believed Tisiphone's frazzled cry, to begin with.

"N-no my lord, not a disaster that we could see from here! A prisoner has escaped, a very important prisoner indeed!" Tisiphone exclaimed.

Hades rolled his eyes. "We don't have any prisoners, Tisiphone. That's what Tartarus is for."

"From the fields of punishment, my lord!" The Fury elaborated. "Someone was fled from the fields of punishment!"

Hades huffed indignantly. "Those aren't prisoners, they're citizens. Citizens of the grand and spacious realm of the dead, just like those in Asphodel and Elysium. They just happen to be on parole. Forever. In hell." The god sighed and sat back down at his desk. "But, go on. Who was the unlucky soul that escaped the fields?"

"Perseus, my lord!"

Hades blinked. "...the son of Poseidon? I wasn't aware we had even begun hunting for him yet. Is Alecto back from her undercover mission already?" He began to sift through the many papers laying at his desk. "If so, then I should have a mission report from her somewhere…"

"No, my lord! The other Perseus!"

Hades just stared at her blankly.

"...the first one!"

"WHAT?!" Hades roared, shooting to his feet. "We had him locked away in a maximum-security torment cell! How in Tartarus did he break out?!"

"B-but my lord," Tisiphone stammered. "I thought you said that they weren't prisoners-"

"I KNOW WHAT I SAID!" Hades snarled. "How did he get out?!"

"H-he caused a riot!" Tisiphone explained, cowering from the god's wrath. "Security had to come in and break it off, and he slipped past them!"

Hades stared at her for a moment before storming back to the window and yanking the curtains open. "There's no riot in the fields of punishment Tisiphone!" He growled, looking down at the perfectly peaceful field of burning souls and agony.

"I-it was in his cell my lord, that's why they had to open it up to stop it!"

"HOW DO START A RIOT IN YOUR OWN CELL?!"

Tisiphone swallowed in anxiety. "W-well, we had no way to punish him properly, since he had lived several lives, almost entirely as a hero. So we may have had to… give form to his conscience to produce individuals to torment him." The fury shrank back in fear as the god of the Underworld glared daggers at her. "...And he may have incited those individuals into a chaotic melee that spiraled out of control. He was most likely planning this escape for the better part of a century."

"BAH!" Hades stormed past Tisiphone and out of his office. "And just as we were preparing to hunt down the new Perseus too! Can't I trust you grunts to do anything?!"

But just as Hades stormed from the halls of his domain with an apologizing Fury trailing behind him, the object of the god's ire slipped into the palace without a sound. With a gait that he had honed for several lifetimes, Perseus jogged down the black marble halls of the palace of the Underworld without making so much as a squeak on the polished floors. Gone was the awkward teen who couldn't even stay hidden with an enchanted item of shadows, instead he was a man who trained his ability to slip past the enemy undetected to perfection. Odysseus? Houdini? Never heard of 'em.

Sneaking past the ghostly and undead guards that still patrolled the palace, Perseus arrived at last to his destination: the armory. Taking care not to let the large obsidian doors groan as he opened them, he slipped in and gazed upon the countless gleaming armaments from ages long past. Swords, spears, clubs, guns, and shields of all types lined the walls and stands that carried them, and more than a few hummed with almighty power, weapons fit for a god. And ahead… was his jackpot.

Sitting upon the dark pedestal laid a helmet. It was made of pure darkness, its form morphing and shifting like the waning shadows of dusk. One moment, it was a spartan helmet. Then, a mask of comedy, then tragedy. Then, it was a blackened wreath of laurels, and then it was a gleaming crown of black and gold.

Just as Keraunos, the all-slaying, was forged from the corpse of Ouranos, and just as Ennosigaios, the all-breaking, was forged with the offered life-force of the great goddess Gaea, so too was Kthonios, the all-concealing, forged from the harvested essence of the endless dark, Erebus. There was nothing that could lay eyes on whosoever donned the mantle of endless shadows and no force that could strike that which wore the crown of nothingness.

Perseus smirked as he approached the pedestal, and the mantle hummed with power, eager to see where its new master would take it. Perseus arrived before the dark crown-

-and walked right past it. At the back of the room sat a dusty cardboard box laden with cobwebs, labeled 'toolz from loserz'. Rooting through the many rusted swords and splintered spears tucked within it, the Demigod hero pulled from the box an incredibly pathetic-looking lump of shadows out and brandished over his head as though he was Sir Percival claiming the Holy Grail all over again.

"Old Reliable!" he crowed. "I've missed you, buddy!"

In response, the lump shifted slightly, as if it were an incredibly old and incredibly fat cat who was upset to be awoken by snuggles from its owner.

"Come on, don't be like that!" Perseus insisted. "It'll be just you and me, like the old times! What do you say, little guy? One more time around the block? Just so I can earn a spot in the Isles of the Blest with the missus!"

Old Reliable shifted once more, seeming to express exasperation, then acceptance. It had been a while since the two of them worked together.

"That's the spirit!" Perseus cheered. "Alright then, let's bounce! We don't have the other treasures with us right now, but I've picked up enough tricks over my past few lives to keep us covered until we find them."

Old Reliable shifted, morphing and changing its shape and color to take on a new form. It resembled an ornate Venetian mask that would cover half of his face, making sure that Perseus would still be able to flash his signature smile.

The hero grinned. "I like your style, buddy. Looks like it's surface-bound for us!"

With that, the first hero of Greece donned the mask and melted into the shadows, vanishing from view.

And then, the only one left in the armory was an incredibly indignant and outraged mantle of darkness.

Cing Krimson's Qringe Korner: OG Perseus is ready to kick names and take ass! And he's all out of names.

To those who know me from my other story, don't worry I'm not abandoning baby-boy Asterios and his story. I just hit a little bit of a block writing is all, and I had this little plot bunny hopping around my head. This story is going to be a bit more light-hearted than my other, or at the very least I'm going to try and make it more laid-back.

But man, can you imagine? Your own personal hell for over 100 years is your childhood crush beating the crap out of you while making fun of you for failing gym class. RIP Perseus. Hopefully, he can get this life done right.