Athos felt sore all over as he slowly opened his bleary eyes, finding himself on a soft bed, staring at a familiar wooden ceiling. His muscles spasmed and stabbing pain shot through his body. That power boost had really messed him up. It wasn't supposed to hurt this much, but combining the Oni boost with the blessing was a bad idea. Japanese and Greek probably didn't mix well.

He groaned and managed to sit up, finding a glass filled with nectar at his side. He felt a sense of deja vu, grinning when he remembered his very first fight with the Blemmya. He'd gone from that to beating the shit out of gods.

He quickly gulped down the golden liquid that gave its signature explosion of flavours. He'd never get tired of that. It went to work, soothing his frayed nerves and healing his muscles.

He gave out a sigh of relief before flipping his palm and taking out Achelous' horn. It had hollowed out, making it smooth and dark on the inside. It didn't look magical in the slightest, but he knew it could solve world hunger in like a week.

He gripped the horn tighter as the words Achelous muttered rang in his head.

"..What have I ever done to you..."

Indeed. What had the river god done to him? Achelous wasn't a monster nor an evil god by any means. The god was minding his own business, mourning his rather dour predicament when he had barged in and forcibly cut off his other horn. It was not a question of who was right, but a question of how far he would go in his quest for power.

What he did was NOT justified by any means, at least by modern moral standards. His fervorous need for power had blinded him to his sanctimoniousness - the very same trait he accused Zeus of having. Didn't he slander the gods for being petty? For being cruel? How was he any different? What right did he have to denigrate the gods and question their decisions when he was not all that dissimilar to them? After all, He'd hurt a peaceful god, who wanted to do nothing but spend the rest of his immortal life singing his sorrows to himself.

Moreover, most of the gods he'd met, except Janus, were good to him, not to mention his father, who had raised him from when he was born. Sure, that did not mean that the gods were suddenly entities that one must look up to, but not all gods deserved to be labelled as 'Sadistic pieces of shit'.

He was a hypocrite.

He closed his eyes and relived his second life. How far would he go for power? Just what lengths would he take to reach his goal? Will a river of blood follow his footsteps?

He opened his eyes again, and his electric-blue pupils felt a little different.

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Anything. He would do anything to achieve his goals.

Whether it be breaking the earth or cutting the sky. Killing Gods or slaying Titans. Nothing would stand in his way, and if something or someone ever did, they would find Leviathan's blade slitting their throat.

But he had to acknowledge one thing. He had no moral high ground.

He was power-hungry, cruel and selfish, but he would not be a hypocrite, at least not any longer.

Just then, the cornucopia shot out an apple that smacked his head.

'Dammit!'

Why did the cornucopia have to work on emotions!

***

Athos walked out of the wooden house into a large open field where his father was standing with his arms behind his back.

"You have the cornucopia?", Herakles asked.

Athos nodded and brought out the ordinary-looking brownish-black horn.

"Hmmm. Looks just like I remember it. But beware, Athos. That can attract some unnecessary attention. There's a reason I sacrificed it to my old man in return for a club.", Herakles said, summoning what looked like an oversized baseball bat - a five-foot-long polished cylinder of mahogany with a leather handgrip studded in bronze.

"Unnecessary attention?", Athos frowned. He thought for a moment before realising that other than the story of Herakles actually gaining the cornucopia, there were no other legends that spoke of his father using the said item. Why did his dad decide to forgo such an artefact?

"Figure it out yourself. Here, catch", Herakles interrupted, throwing Athos a gold coin that had the same exact Nemean Lion skin engraving.

"I'm warning you; there isn't any charge up. Like Achelous, I was bullshitting then, but you cannot return unless a minimum of two months have passed. Moreover, I shall NOT answer your prayers unless absolutely necessary. Learn to rely on yourself. You have the strength and the courage. Do not squander it.", he continued, his rugged face serious.

Athos' eyes widened and his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"What is it?", Herakles asked, confused.

"You just made a pun. It...It was horrible!", Athos mumbled, acting as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"It wasn't", Herakles grumbled, scratching his temple.

"It was. It definitely was"

"Quiet! boy. It is time you contin-

"Nononono! don't 'Boy!' me. That was a pun! You actu-

"Shut up! You heard nothing! Off you go!", Herakles said, flicking his finger and enveloping Athos in a flash of golden light.

***

Athos opened his eyes finding tall trees surrounding him in all directions. It was the very same park he'd been teleported to when he had first left the island. But unlike last time, when he heard people jogging, birds chirping and old men gossiping, the park was dead silent.

His eyebrows twitched, the grin he had on his face slowly fading. This was not right. He slowly walked onto the footpath, turning invisible, all the while rubbing his ring. The place was devoid of souls. Even animals were nowhere to be found. This was really strange. His watch told him that it was around noon, and this was when people would choose to laze around, lolling about on the grass, enjoying their picnics.

He made his way toward the colt tower, through the empty park, growing warier by the second. He suddenly spotted something odd in the corner of his eye. He whirled around to find a shimmering white figure, about a hundred yards away.

It was so bright that he could barely make out its features, but once his eyes adjusted, he could see it beckoning him. Wait...how could it even see him in the first place? Wasn't he invisible?

He sighed and shook his head, following the ghostly spirit.

Invisibility was overrated.