The azure sky was tainted with red as the sun slowly approached the horizon. The cool sea breeze parted Herakles' messy hair as the rising waves washed his sandy feet. His posture was the same as ever, yet he looked tense. As though he were hoping for something to happen.

Hope...How long had it been since he had felt that emotion?

For 3 thousand years he had wandered the earth. He had done many things and seen even more.

He had defeated the undefeatable, killed the unkillable, and done the impossible.

He had slain Giants, tricked Titans, and fought gods.

He had ruled mortals and commanded their armies.

He had crawled out of the depths of the underworld itself.

His very name induced reverence among mortals and demigods alike. Yet...Yet if he were to live through it all again...he would refuse in a heartbeat. Why? Anyone would think that he would be proud of his achievements and to a certain extent, he was. Even though he usually put out a brooding old-man image, he had pride that was carved deep into his bones. But all his life, he had been told what to do. He was but a plaything in the hands of beings who claimed to hold divine wisdom but were still petty and childish.

With all his strength and power he had fought many, but he had never fought for himself.

His eyes flickered with rage as he remembered the memory of the night Hera decided to get back at Zeus through him. She had driven him mad. Mad enough to kill his wife and children. The memory of him kneeling before his daughter's body, his hands covered in her blood, was seared into his head, never to leave. It would haunt him for the rest of his immortal life.

Large cracks started to spread beneath his feet and the ground kilometres away rumbled. With a deep breath, he quickly calmed himself lest he reduced the entire island to rubble. He truly didn't intend to lose control, but his calf muscles had twitched when he lost himself in anger. Sometimes his divine strength was a hassle.

He sighed and held up a metal contraption that had a little celestial bronze in it. It was a gift from Hephaestus himself. He poked it a little and with the sounds of gears turning a virtual screen flickered on, showing a 5-year-old boy, who looked like a miniature version of himself, dodging the punches of a Blemmyae.

Herakles never thought Athos could dodge one punch, let alone so many. All he had intended to do was to let Athos experience the world in all its unfairness. Learning that things would not go your way all the time would only benefit his son and a few days of surviving by himself in the wild along with a run-in with a monster would teach him just that.

Herakles intended to step in when the Blemmyae launched its first punch and then lecture Athos on how one must always be alert and that he would not always be there to block a monster's punch for him. But he had a feeling that if he let Athos fight, he would see something surprising, and unlike a mortal's prediction, a God's premonition was usually true.

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Herakles' eyes grew wider and wider as he saw Athos show high battlespace awareness, and decent fighting techniques. It did not look as though it was his first fight whatsoever.

'Did the boy sneak into the forest without my knowledge?', he thought but then shook his head. No, that was impossible.

He watched as Athos exploited the Blemmayae's naivety, dropping a tree on its shoulders, but it seemed that it wasn't enough to put it down as it burst out of its wooden prison dashing forward. Herakles clenched his teeth, causing some more miniature earthquakes when he saw Athos get swatted like a fly, but he did not interfere. If he did, it would void whatever effort his son had put in to cull the monster. He knew It was a stupid reason, but it was just him convincing himself. Truthfully, in his heart of hearts, he just wanted to see what his son was capable of, even if it put his son in danger.

He teleported to where his son lay and waved his hand, healing his injuries. Athos' swelling receded and he let out a contented sigh as divine energy filled his being. He now looked like a kid taking a nap rather than one that just killed a monster. Herakles's face sprouted a rare smile, but when he noticed the dried blood on Athos' face, it promptly disappeared.

Perhaps he wasn't as good of a father as he thought he was.

***

A pounding headache greeted Athos after waking from a very odd nightmare of giant faces telling him nice things.

He found himself on a soft bed staring at a wooden ceiling. He looked to his side and found a large glass filled to the brim with liquid that looked like honey. He grabbed it and noticed it was cold to touch. He gingerly took a sip and his mouth was greeted with the most wonderful explosion of flavours.

It was as though someone had taken every food that Athos had ever enjoyed, mixed them together, and condensed them into this heavenly liquid. There were flavours that shouldn't go together but did. It filled him with energy and soothed his frayed nerves. Wasting no time, he instantly gulped it down feeling disappointed when he saw the bottom of the glass.

"That is Nectar, the drink of the Gods and judging from your expression, I dare say that you've enjoyed it"

Cursing inwardly, Athos turned around finding his father standing next to his bed. Herakles had the habit of randomly teleporting next to, or behind him. It was rather annoying.

"Father! You're here", he said, looking a little miffed. This man had no regard for privacy.

"I understand that you may be angry, but the test was necessary. You shall thank me later", Herakles said, mistaking Athos' expression as him being pissed at being thrown into a near-death battle, which he indeed was.

Athos almost snorted. He could smell the bullshit in that sentence, but it looked as though Herakles was reassuring himself more than anything. He nodded begrudgingly, for the fight had indeed slapped him awake, both figuratively and physically. He couldn't dilly-dally anymore. He HAD to grow stronger.

"You faced a monster that no demigod your age would have been able to fight. Even a demigod twice your age would have struggled greatly and would have died rather than slaying the creature. Thus, it is only right that you are rewarded"

Athos' eyes lost his previous displeasure and glinted with excitement. This was what he'd been waiting for.

"Follow me", Herakles said, before turning and walking out of the door. Athos quickly jumped out of the bed and followed his father out of the wooden house, into a large open field from which the beach and the ocean could be easily seen.

Herakles stopped and turned around to face Athos, his hands behind his back.

"Before you receive your reward, you must finish your training. But fret not, the wait will be worth it, Trust me."

"Training?", Athos tilted his head, confused. He couldn't possibly mean...

"I shall teach you how to fight. I shall teach you a martial art that albeit now lost to the vastitudes of time, reigned supreme. A martial art that I created", Herakles continued, a smile gracing his handsome face.

"Pankration", Athos whispered.