The world had been reduced to a series of blurry shapes, a fragmented mess of shattered reality. Hercules could vaguely feel his body, knitting together from the catastrophic damage it had suffered.
Damage he struggled to remember the source of.
He remembered their deaths, the guilt that had chipped away at him and the raging retribution that had buried him.
He remembered the dark, cold and lonely.
And then… a flash. A awakening.
And now his broken body lay in a crater so deep Hercules was not sure he could escape it in his wounded state. Not sure he wanted to try. The darkness loomed at the edges of his vision, taunting him with visions of gentle oblivion and empty bliss.
Tempting him with an end to the pain. An end to everything.
But something else lurked in the corners of his mind as well.
A blow so powerful, so brilliant it had nearly ended him. A light so powerful it had knocked the darkness right out of him. A truth so true its corners seared his mind with untenable pain.
A truth Hercules somehow knew, as surely as if it had been beaten into him.
His children were dead. The darkness was a liar. It would not bring them back, nor would it bring them joy if they were to watch him succumb to it.
Atonement comes from action, divorced of grief and rage, executed with the intent at bettering something, at being worthy of the legacy left behind by the fallen.
Only then would that divine light bathe him, acknowledging him as worthy once more, and although it would not absolve him from the weight of his mistakes, nothing ever truly would, it would stand beside him, supporting him, freeing him.
And that would have to be enough.
Hercules already knew the labors he would carry out in atonement's name.
The beast that had slain his children were mere pawns, likely dead at the hands of their brethren and his by now. What mattered was what had guided them to his children in the first place. What had given them the confidence to venture so far into enemy territory.
And he knew the answer.
In the past years, the beasts had grown far more bold than ever before, expanding further than ever and mounting more and more aggressive attacks against humanity.
All due to the rise of the three crown princes, beast princes of such power they were second only to Dargonth himself.
The Golden Lion, the World Serpent, and the Eternal Phoenix.
His broken body began to move, bound to new purpose, and in his every thunderous heart beat, he could feel their end.
Dawn had barely broken when he finally stumbled out of the crater, and back to the sun, he began to limp to the western plains, each step more sure than the last.
There he would find the Golden Lion.
And there the first of the crown princes would die.
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The long golden grass rustled gently in the wind, bending and swaying under its calm flows. The sky overhead was blue, not a cloud in sight. It should have been a peaceful sight, endless golden grass meeting blue sky, but a palpable aura of fear perpetrated the plains. A singular awareness lurked at the edge of one's awareness, warning them.
A predator lurked here.
Most would have turned around and left, but Hercules had come here to seek out that predator. His steps were sure and unbound as he made his way deeper into the grasslands, feeling the aura intensify, almost as if trying to scare him off.
He scoffed. This aura was nothing compared to Micheals.
He traveled for days without seeing a single other living thing, accompanied by nothing more than the swaying grass and his own determination.
Finally, in the distance, a faint speck became visible, and as Hercules approached, it grew, changing from a speck into a great rock as big as a castle. It was a plain rock, muddy brown and streaked with cracks, but the aura coming from it made it feel like a hungry beast. Or rather, the aura coming from the creature atop of it.
As Hercules began his final approach, it lazily got to its feet, stretching with calm confidence. As close as he was, Hercules could finally make out his foe.
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The Golden Lion was a creature with a mane of spun gold and rippling muscles. It was not large, perhaps only as large as Hercules himself, but he knew not to underestimate its power. Under the noon sun, it shone like a miniature star, and its towering aura only enforced that impression. It finished stretching and walked over to gaze down at Hercules with detached amusement.
“What are you doing here, Human?” it questioned, its voice a deep purr.
Hercules only stared at it, struggling to contain his towering rage. He tried to convince himself of the futility of wrathful vengeance, reminding himself of how it had burned him out and buried him. Surprisingly, understanding came easily, and he felt his fist uncleach and his mind still.
The lion had watched in amusement as Hercules struggled to gain his bearings. “What's wrong, Human? Cat’s got your tongue?”
Hercules just stared at his open hands in wonder, feeling the control he now wielded. He wondered for a moment where he had learned such lessons, but quickly tossed aside the irrelevant thought. Rage and pain, at least for this fight, would not rule him. He closed his eyes and tuned out the arrogant cat, reaching for the path that had been carved into his body, again and again.
Strength.
A towering aura erupted out of him, filled with the nature of power itself, matching the lions. Its arrogance immediately vanished as it let out a low growl. “What is the meaning of this?”
Hercules responded with a punch, striking the air with such force a shockwave erupted from his fist, rushing out to impact the great rock the lion had been resting on. It shattered with a dull boom, sending the lion leaping up into the air, roaring in anger.
To its credit, it reacted immediately, pushing off air and throwing itself towards Hercules in a streak of gold, fangs flashing. Hercules met its head with his fist, refusing to back down in a frontal collision. The world stilled for a second, frozen at the moment of impact.
Then, with an explosion that flattened the grass for hundreds of feet, the lion was thrown back. It twisted gracefully to land on its feet, recovering its composure immediately.
“I see. One of the First.” It began to prowl around him, stalking him as it might stalk prey. “What made you come here now?”
Hercules didn’t respond.
It snorted, its arrogance returning. “Very well, keep your secrets. You won't be leaving here alive anyway.”
With that it charged once more, striking out with a vicious claw.
And was blown back.
It charged again.
And was thrown back once more.
Again and again it came, and again and again it was thrown back.
Then grasslands around them had been reduced to a series of massive craters, the landscape unable to handle the clash of the two titans.
And still the lion came.
Hercules fought perfectly, giving everything he had to that battle, countering every attack with one of his own, dominating and exceeding the lion at every turn.
Yet it just seemed to keep coming.
Endlessly.
Inexorably.
Inevitably.
Its aura only seemed to grow with every blow it received, its strikes growing the tiniest bit stronger. At the beginning, they had been weak, weak enough to blow off easily, but now each one was approaching one of Hercules’ blows in strength.
And Hercules’ strength was fading, his blows lacking the indomitable might that had defined his opening moves.
“You feel it, don't you” the lion purred, “The exhaustion sinking into your very bones. The growing fear. You are prey, and I the predator. Fight all you want, little human, the end comes all the same.”
Its moves became less vicious, more playful, suddenly avoiding direct clashes and confusing Hercules with rapid movements. Then finally, it struck head on once more, and this time Hercules was not able to repel him. The next strike left a bloody gash along his arm, and the next ripped a chunk of flesh from his leg.
Feeling the end approaching, the lion began to alternate between bloody blitzs and playful games, clearly enjoying itself. Hercules was soon a bloody mess, but the light in his eyes refused to dim.
Finally, the lion stopped moving for a second, sitting down to observe Hercules, who looked less like a man and more like a half eaten cut of meat.
“Impressive human. To fight me for this long. But I tire of this game.”
He lunged forward with such force the air behind him exploded with a dull boom, forming a cone behind him. Hercules came alive in that moment, drawing from reserves of speed and strength he didn't know he had. With a slight adjustment he managed to duck under the bloody fangs and loop his arms around the lion's neck. Its movement almost tore it free from his grip, but with the last of his strength he held on, taking the both to the ground.
“What?! What is the meaning of this?!”
The lion began to trash and roar as Hercules began to squeeze his neck. It put up a mighty struggle, slamming him into the ground and cutting him with its claws alike, but closing his eyes, he refused to let go, squeezing the lion with body, path, and will.
An eternity passed in the darkness, an eternity of pain and blood.
When he woke up, he found himself lying atop the corpse of the Golden lion.
He smiled, though the act sent a spike of agony through him.
Then he let the dark embrace him.
—------------------------------------
It was dusk when he finally woke up, feeling every one of his half-healed wounds as he rolled off the lion’s corpse. In the dusk light its mane glowed a golden red.
It truly had been a magnificent beast, though rotten inside.
As the reality of his victory sank into him, Hercules felt like a great weight had been lifted from his back. He stood taller, his aura flaring with the introduction of new, unburdened power.
He shifted his gaze back to the lion's corpse, wondering at its seemingly invincible pelt.
He grinned.
To the victor the spoils.