Adam POV

After the misunderstanding with Dusa, things finally started to calm down. Mom, in her usual "doctor mode," went over to Dusa and began tending to her injuries. Auntie Maryleen healed me with her trident, the soft glow of its magic making my aches fade. It was nice—except for the part where Nessa kept giving me a bizarre look. She stood to the side, arms crossed, her tail flicking angrily in the water. I could feel her eyes on me, burning holes into the back of my head, but I had no idea why she was upset.

"Hold still," Mom said to Dusa, who winced as the ointment touched her skin.

"You're surprisingly gentle," Dusa remarked, her voice a mixture of humor and gratitude. "For someone who raised such a reckless child."

Mom glanced at me, a knowing smirk on her face. "Adam's... unique. Let's leave it at that."

"Reckless doesn't even begin to cover it," Nessa muttered loudly enough for everyone to hear, her tone sharper than usual.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, turning to face her.

She huffed, looking anywhere but at me. "Nothing. Forget it."

Dusa, watching the exchange with growing amusement, tilted her head. "Oh, she's mad," she said, a mischievous edge to her tone. "That look says it all."

"I'm not mad!" Nessa snapped, her cheeks reddening slightly. "I'm just... frustrated."

"Frustrated about what?" I asked, genuinely confused. "I mean, Dusa and I fought, but we're friends now, so everything worked out, right?"

Nessa narrowed her eyes and stomped closer, the water splashing around her tail. "You could've died, Adam! You just ran off to some dangerous island without telling anyone, and then you fought a freaking gorgon like it was some game!"

"Oh," I said, blinking. "But... I didn't die. And Dusa's nice now, so it's all good, right?"

"That's not the point! You're always doing stuff like this, and you don't even think about how it makes other people feel!" she yelled, her voice cracking slightly.

Dusa chuckled, still holding her side. "Ah, young love. It's so dramatic."

Both Nessa and I froze. "Young what?!" Nessa shrieked, her face turning a deeper shade of red. "I don't—he's—ugh!"

"I think I need to lie down," I said, holding my head. "My brain hurts."

"Your brain should hurt," Nessa snapped. "You've clearly never used it before!"

Mom and Auntie Maryleen exchanged knowing looks, suppressing laughter. "It seems you've made quite the impression, Adam," Mom teased.

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled, rubbing the back of my neck. "Can we just focus on Dusa for now?"

Dusa, watching the entire scene with an amused grin, shrugged. "I think I'm fine. Physically, anyway. Emotionally, I'm scarred from all this... whatever it is."

As everyone began to settle again, Nessa stood a little farther away, her arms still crossed and her tail swishing irritably. I couldn't figure her out sometimes. One minute she was teasing me, the next she was mad, and then she was... blushing? Girls are so confusing.

For now, I decided to let her cool off. After all, the day wasn't over, and who knew what other adventures—or misunderstandings—were waiting around the corner?

We left the Island, and I promised Dusa I would see her again, she said thanks but looked away for some reason. We return to the mainland and head back to our hotel to rest.

David POV

The next day, we returned to the vibrant forest where Artemis's avatar, the Ceryneian Hind, resides. My wife, Samantha, and I sat on the same checkered tablecloth we'd used during our earlier picnic. Still, this time, we had company—two very unexpected guests. Atlante had joined us once again, but not alone. To our surprise, we were introduced to her husband, Hippomenes, a revelation that left both of us blinking in astonishment. Considering Artemis's well-known stance on men, the existence of a "Mr. Atlante" seemed like a contradiction to every myth we'd ever heard.

"You're married?" Samantha asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and disbelief as she looked between the fierce Huntress and her husband.

Atlante smirked a small glimmer of pride in her golden-green eyes. "Yes, though I assure you, it is an anomaly," she said. Her feline ears flicked slightly as she continued, "Hippomenes here is one of the few men Artemis tolerates. He earned her favor... and mine."

Hippomenes chuckled warmly, his voice deep and full of joy. "It's not every day you win a goddess's approval and the heart of her fiercest Huntress," he said, flashing a charming smile. His rugged appearance—broad shoulders, weathered hands, and a confident yet humble demeanor—spoke of a life lived in pursuit of challenges and victories.

"And how, may I ask, did you manage such a feat?" David asked, genuinely intrigued. "Considering Artemis's... reputation."

Hippomenes leaned back slightly, a nostalgic look crossing his face. "A race," he began. "I won Atlante's hand in a race, with some divine assistance from the goddess of love herself, Aphrodite."

Atlante groaned, rolling her eyes. "He cheated," she interjected, though there was no venom in her words, only the teasing familiarity of a long-married couple.

"A tactical advantage," Hippomenes corrected with a smirk. "I'd say using Aphrodite's golden apples showed ingenuity. Isn't strategy just as important as speed?"

Samantha laughed, clearly enjoying the banter. "I think you two are the perfect balance of brains and brawn."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Atlante replied, her lips twitching into a faint smile.

As the conversation continued, our focus shifted to the forest clearing ahead, where Adam was running around, his laughter mingling with the sounds of nature. Creatures of all kinds surrounded him—birds perched on his arms, a fox darted playfully at his heels, and a stag watched protectively from the edge of the clearing. It was a scene straight out of a fairy tale.

Hippomenes watched with a nostalgic expression. "I must say, your son would have been an excellent hunter in our time. Many legends could be written about his exploits."

"Legends?" Samantha asked, raising an eyebrow. "He's five."

Hippomenes nodded solemnly. "Even at five, his instincts are sharp, his movements purposeful. Few can command the attention of the wild as he does."

"That's true," Atlante added, her tone thoughtful. "He's not just playing with those animals—he's communicating. They follow him willingly, not out of fear or obligation. That's... rare."

David smiled, his chest swelling with pride. "Adam has always had a way with animals. Even before we knew about his Sacred Gear, he'd talk to squirrels, birds, and even the neighbor's dog as if they were old friends."

"Well," Samantha said, shooting her husband a mock glare, "let's not forget who taught him compassion and patience."

Hippomenes grinned. "A team effort, then. Still, if he lived in our time, he'd be hailed as a prodigy of the hunt."

Atlante's golden-green eyes narrowed slightly, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "But that also means he'll attract attention—dangerous attention. Sacred Gears are rare, and his ability to communicate with creatures of all kinds makes him a unique target."

The weight of her words settled over us like a cloud. David glanced at me, and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was—how do we protect him from the dangers of this world we've barely begun to understand?

"That's why we're here," Samantha said finally, her voice steady. "To learn. To prepare him for what's out there."

"And he'll be ready," Atlante assured us. "I'll personally see to it that he has the skills to navigate the challenges ahead."

Hippomenes nodded in agreement. "And if he ever needs help setting traps or devising strategies, he's welcome to call on me."

"Thank you," David said, his voice filled with gratitude. "Knowing he has allies like you makes all of this a little less daunting."

As the conversation drifted back to lighter topics, I found myself watching Adam again. He was now attempting to climb a tree, with a group of chipmunks cheering him on from the branches. Despite the challenges and uncertainties ahead, his laughter was a reminder of why we were doing all of this—to give him a chance to thrive in a world that was bigger and more magical than we'd ever imagined.

The tranquil beauty of the forest was shattered in an instant. The symphony of chirping birds and rustling leaves was replaced by an eerie, collective stillness. Every animal in the vicinity, from the smallest squirrel to the most majestic stag, froze in place, ears pricked, alert to some unseen danger.

Adam was the first to react, his instincts flaring as he suddenly stood, his small body tense, eyes wide. "Something's wrong," he muttered, scanning the trees.

Then, it hit us—a deep, guttural roar that seemed to shake the very earth beneath us.

ROOARRR!

The animals erupted into chaos, scattering in every direction. Birds took flight in a flurry of feathers, and deer leaped through the underbrush with wild abandon. Even the most territorial of creatures abandoned their posts, fleeing as if their very lives depended on it.

"What was that?" Samantha gasped, clutching my arm as we both instinctively moved closer to Adam.

Atlante was already on her feet, her bow in hand, an arrow knocked and ready. Hippomenes crouched low, a dagger in one hand while his sharp eyes scanned the trees. Even the Ceryneian Hind, usually composed and untouchable, pawed at the ground nervously, her antlers angled toward the source of the sound.

ROOARRR!

The sound came again, this time louder, more anguished. Adam stumbled back, his hands flying to his ears as his face twisted in pain. "It's hurting," he whimpered. "So much pain."

Before any of us could respond, a flash of green light appeared, and from it emerged Artemis herself. Her silver bow was already in her hand, her expression sharp and commanding. "What in Tartarus's name was that?" she demanded, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.

Atlante straightened, her ears flicking in irritation. "Something big, something angry," she said. "And it's getting closer."

Hippomenes sniffed the air, his expression grim. "It smells... wrong. Like blood and decay."

Adam stood trembling, still clutching his head. "It's in pain," he said again, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before Artemis could respond, another flash of light illuminated the clearing. This time, a slender man stepped through. His feathered hat and flowing locks of orange hair gave him an almost whimsical appearance, but the grim set of his mouth betrayed the gravity of the situation.

"Hermes," Artemis acknowledged curtly. "What are you doing here?"

"Artemis, we have a problem," Hermes said without his usual playful tone. "A Hydra is on a rampage, and Father has tasked us with handling it. It's tearing through villages and forests—everything in its path."

Samantha gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "A Hydra? As in, the multi-headed, impossible-to-kill beast?"

"The very same," Hermes confirmed, his expression grave. "Artemis, we need to put it down before it causes more destruction."

Adam's small voice cut through the tension. "No! You can't hurt it!"

All eyes turned to the boy. Hermes raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "And who is this? Artemis, you didn't tell me we were bringing mortals to the table."

Adam took a step forward, his little fists clenched. "It's not rampaging because it's a monster. It's in pain. I heard it. It's hurting."

Hermes sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Kid, this isn't a fairy tale. Hydras don't have feelings. They destroy. That's what they do."

"First of all," I said, rising to my feet and glaring at the god, "you don't talk to my son like that."

Hermes blinked, clearly unaccustomed to being challenged by a mortal. "Listen, sir, this isn't some family picnic. This is divine business—"

"Second," I interrupted firmly, "my son has a Sacred Gear that lets him communicate with animals. And if he says the Hydra is in pain, I believe him. In fact, out of everyone here, Adam has the best track record for calming ferocious beasts. So maybe you should give him a chance."

Artemis raised a hand, silencing Hermes before he could argue further. Her silver eyes studied Adam closely. "You truly believe the Hydra isn't acting out of malice but pain?" she asked.

Adam nodded, his expression earnest. "Yes. I can feel it. It's hurting so much. Please, let me try to help it."

Artemis exchanged a glance with Atlante and Hippomenes, her lips pressed into a thin line. "If he's wrong, it will mean death for all of us," she warned.

"I'm not wrong," Adam said firmly.

Finally, Artemis sighed, lowering her bow slightly. "Very well. We'll let the boy try. But Hermes and I will be ready to intervene if things go south."

Hermes threw up his hands in exasperation. "This is madness. But fine. If the kid wants to play hero, who am I to stop him?"

"Thank you," Adam said, his voice filled with determination. He turned to Samantha and me, his eyes shining with both fear and excitement. "I can do this."

Samantha crouched down, cupping his face in her hands. "Just be careful, okay? Promise me."

"I promise, Mom," he said, hugging her tightly before stepping forward.

The group moved together, following the sound of the Hydra's roars. The closer they got, the more oppressive the air became. The trees thinned, giving way to a clearing where the massive creature writhed in agony. Its many heads thrashed about, snapping at nothing, and its thick, scaly body was covered in gashes that oozed dark green blood.

Adam took a deep breath, his small frame dwarfed by the towering beast. "It's okay," he murmured, stepping forward. "I'm here to help."

Adam POV

I stood before the titanic Hydra, its three serpentine necks coiling in agitation, each head glaring down at me with glowing, venomous eyes. Their grey, scaly forms rippled with tension, the fins atop their heads flaring outward like warning flags. Even in its pain and rage, the creature exuded a terrifying majesty.

ROOAAARR!

The Hydra's bellow shook the ground beneath me, the force of its anguish-filled roar vibrating in my chest. Venom dripped from its gaping maws, sizzling as it hit the earth and carved blackened craters into the dirt.

"It's okay, Mr. Hydra," I called out, steadying my voice against the tide of fear bubbling inside me. "I'm not here to hurt you. I heard your pain."

The center head snarled, its deep voice reverberating through the clearing. "GO AWAY."

I took a tentative step forward, my hands raised in a gesture of peace. "No. If I do, you'll die. I'm here to help."

The left head hissed, its sharp teeth glinting like daggers. "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Before I could respond, the side heads launched twin jets of venom in my direction. My instincts screamed, and I leaped to the side just in time, the acidic spray narrowly missing me and sizzling against the ground. The stench of decay hit my nose as I darted to the Hydra's flank, weaving through its lashing heads and venomous spits.

"Please stop!" I pleaded as I dodged another snap of jaws. "I just want to help. What's hurting you?"

"WHY WOULD A HUMAN CARE ABOUT ME? JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"

The Hydra roared, its center head lunging forward.

I ducked low, the head's massive fangs snapping shut inches above my head. Before I could recover, the left head surged toward me, its jaws wide. I leaped to the side at the last moment, barely avoiding becoming its meal.

My breath came fast, my heart pounding in my chest. "Think, Adam. Think." I needed a plan, something to stop this from spiraling into disaster. Fenrir's lessons on hunting flashed through my mind—his constant mantra to observe, analyze, and adapt. My mother's anatomy lessons followed, reminding me to look for the source of a creature's distress.

As I scanned the Hydra's massive form, my eyes caught something—a dark stain pooling at the base of its tail. Toxic green blood oozed onto the ground, and a large, jagged brown object protruded from the flesh.

"Hey, Mr. Hydra," I called out, keeping my voice steady even as its heads loomed closer. "Would the pain you're feeling be coming from the base of your tail?"

The heads hesitated, their massive jaws freezing mid-attack. The left head tilted slightly, its sharp tongue flicking the air. "HOW DID YOU KNOW?" it asked, suspicion mingling with its anger.

I pointed toward the tail. "Something is sticking out of it, and it's bleeding pretty badly. If I pull it out, do you think the pain will stop? Will you stop destroying everything?"

All three heads exchanged glances, their glowing eyes narrowing as they studied me. "WHY WOULD YOU HELP ME?" the center head rumbled, its voice quieter but no less menacing. "YOU'RE JUST A HUMAN."

"My mom always says to help those in need," I said firmly, channeling the lessons she'd drilled into me. "And right now, you need help."

The Hydra's heads paused again, their massive forms eerily still as they seemed to weigh my words. Their glares softened ever so slightly, and the center head spoke. "ALRIGHT, HUMAN. BUT IF YOU TRY ANYTHING... YOU WILL BE MY NEXT MEAL."

"Deal," I said with a nod. "Can you roll onto your back so I can get a better look?"

The Hydra rumbled, a sound like grinding boulders, before reluctantly rolling onto its side, exposing its massive tail. Cautiously, I approached, the ground trembling slightly beneath its immense weight. The object in its tail was clearer now—a jagged, spear-like shard of wood, nearly as thick as I was, embedded deep into its flesh. Green blood oozed from the wound, pooling on the ground and giving off a faintly toxic scent.

"This is going to hurt," I warned, gripping the sides of the shard. My hands slipped against the slick wood, so I wiped them on my shirt and tried again. Bracing myself, I planted my feet and pulled with all my might.

The Hydra roared in agony, its tails thrashing as I yanked at the object. I dug in my heels, straining against its weight. "Almost there!" I shouted, sweat pouring down my face.

ROOAAARR!

With one final heave, the shard came free, and I stumbled backward, nearly falling over. The Hydra writhed, its cries echoing through the clearing. Green blood gushed from the wound for a moment before it began to slow, the beast's natural healing kicking in.

I dropped the shard and stepped back, my hands trembling from the effort. "There. It's out," I said, breathing heavily. "How do you feel?"

The Hydra's heads twisted to inspect its tail, each one tilting curiously. The center head turned to me, its glowing eyes softer now. "THE PAIN... IT'S GONE."

Relief flooded through me. "I'm glad," I said, a tired smile breaking across my face.

The Hydra's heads lowered toward me, and for a terrifying moment, I thought it might strike. But instead, the center head dipped low, as if bowing. "THANK YOU, HUMAN."

I give the Hydra a Cheshire grin as I laugh, "No Problem!"

Hermes POV

"By Father's might, he actually did it," I muttered in awe, my usual swagger momentarily forgotten. Before my very eyes, a mortal child had done the impossible—subdued and calmed the raging offspring of the original Hydra, a creature whose very presence had made even the mightiest gods tread carefully. This wasn't just some fluke; it was pure, undeniable courage and skill.

Artemis, standing beside me with her silver bow slung across her back, crossed her arms and let out a low whistle. "To think all this destruction—entire forests scorched, rivers poisoned—was caused by a simple splinter lodged in the creature's tail," she mused, her voice carrying both incredulity and a touch of admiration.

I turned to her, my hand already reaching for the pouch at my side. "Right, about that," I muttered, dreading what was coming next.

Artemis's piercing silver eyes flicked toward me, the smug grin on her face already forming. "Pay up, Hermes," she said with mock sweetness, holding out her hand expectantly.

Grumbling under my breath, I pulled out a small pouch filled with Ambrosia jellies—the divine delicacies I'd bet in a moment of hubris. "This bet was a mistake. I never should've—"

"You're the one who suggested it," Artemis cut in, her grin growing wider as she plucked a golden cube from the pouch. "You were so confident, Hermes. Something about 'no mortal child could ever succeed where gods tread lightly,' remember?" She popped the jelly into her mouth, savoring it with a sigh of satisfaction.

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled, watching as she delicately licked the golden syrup from her fingers. "No need to rub it in."

Artemis raised an eyebrow, her expression practically glowing with smugness. "Oh, but it's so much fun," she teased, leaning against her celestial bow.

We both turned our attention back to the clearing, where the boy, Adam, was speaking to the Hydra in soft, calming tones. The creature, still enormous and intimidating, had lowered its massive head to the ground, its earlier aggression replaced by something almost akin to submission. The once-raging beast now lay still, its glowing eyes fixed on the boy who had freed it from its torment.

"Honestly," I muttered, shaking my head in disbelief. "This kid's something else. He walked right up to a creature that could've swallowed him whole, dodged venom and fangs, and somehow managed to win its trust. I can't decide if he's brave, insane, or both."

"Probably both," Artemis said with a chuckle. "But you have to admit, there's something... special about him." Her tone softened slightly, and for a moment, the usual sharpness in her voice was replaced with something warmer, almost maternal. "Most would've seen a monster and drawn their swords. He saw a creature in pain and chose to help. That's rare, even among gods."

I tilted my head, considering her words. "And that's exactly why he's going to be a magnet for trouble. You know as well as I do, Artemis—beings like him don't go unnoticed. He'll draw the attention of all the wrong people."

Artemis's expression darkened slightly, her hand brushing the hilt of her bow. "Let them come," she said simply. "This boy has more heart than most mortals I've seen in centuries. Maybe even more than some gods. And I'll make sure no one forgets that."

"Touching," I said with a smirk, hoping to lighten the mood. "But let's see how long your favoritism lasts when he starts causing chaos in your forests."

Artemis rolled her eyes, but the faintest hint of a smile remained on her lips. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, let's just savor the fact that we're not dealing with a rampaging Hydra anymore."

I nodded, watching as Adam climbed down from the Hydra's tail, his clothes torn and streaked with dirt but his face beaming with triumph. The Hydra's heads followed his movements, their expressions almost... grateful? I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

Adam turned to us, waving enthusiastically. "It's okay now! Mr. Hydra's feeling much better!"

"Mr. Hydra," I echoed, chuckling despite myself. "He named it."

"Of course he did," Artemis said dryly, though the corner of her mouth twitched in amusement.

The Hydra let out a low rumble, a sound that could only be described as a purr, and the boy patted one of its massive snouts as if it were a giant puppy.

"By Father's beard," I murmured. "I need a drink."

"After that," Artemis said, gesturing toward Adam, "I might join you."

And with that, we all headed back to the forest, the Hydra looking at our departing forms with respect and gratitude.