A Peculiar Trojan War - Part 4
The sound of war cries echoed from all sides as the two armies clashed.
Spears, laced with murderous intent, were thrust forward, and arrows shot through enemy flesh, creating a horrifying battlefield.
The sound of flesh being torn, the clash of metal upon metal, and the stench of blood filled the air.
Screeech—Thwack. Squish! Roar!
"Die! Die, die!"
"Let’s show them the might of Sparta!"
"Zeus, lord of the skies, watch over me!"
"The god of war, Ares, is watching us!"
Soldiers swung their weapons at each other, shouting the names of their gods. Amidst such a fierce battleground, the figures that stood out the most were, naturally, those who had ascended to the ranks of heroes.
Whoosh—Thud. Slash!
"They say the Trojans are a strong army. They’re nothing special!"
"Don’t let your guard down, Achilles! Even you must stay cautious!"
"Hahaha! Patroklos! You’re the one who should be careful!"
Achilles, hailed as the greatest warrior among the younger generation of heroes, fought alongside Patroklos, who, though not his equal, possessed exceptional bravery.
"I need to target the commander... but I can’t spot him clearly."
"What about going after that berserk one? Lady Penthesilea!"
Penthesilea, Queen of the Amazons and an ally of Troy.
"Hector! Face me in battle!"
"As you wish, Ajax!"
Hector, recognized as Troy’s greatest hero, and Ajax, the prince of Salamis and a towering figure, showcased their prowess as countless soldiers fell by their hands.
Those who had reached the level of heroes could not be stopped by ordinary forces. Even if they weren’t from the previous generation of heroes who had honed their skills by defeating monsters, the same principle applied.
"Agh! Aaaaah!"
"A monster! It’s a monster!"
Soldiers from both sides collapsed, spewing blood. Yet, the battle seemed evenly matched, with neither side gaining a definitive advantage.
The overall skill of the Greek heroes surpassed their counterparts, but... frequent interventions by the Olympian gods, Hector’s strategic brilliance, and the morale boost from Hades’ temple in Troy kept the Trojan soldiers resolute.
Clouds and mist appeared here and there as the gods’ seemingly coincidental interventions swayed the tide of battle.
"Aeneas! Flank them and strike their side! Penthesilea! Hold off Ajax for a moment!"
"Understood, Hector! Allies, follow me!"
"Leave it to me. Amazon warriors! Show them our strength!"
"There. The one with the shining helmet, that’s Hector, right?"
"If I can bring him down, this war will end. Shall we give it a shot?"
"That one, shooting arrows from the hill, is the Trojan general Pandaros! Raise your shields and...!"
"Our Troy is protected by the Sun God and the King of the Underworld!"
"Ares, god of war! I dedicate this glory to you!"
"The god of fairness and mercy, Pluto, stands with Troy. Charge!!"
The number of fallen soldiers piled up on the ground, and multiple avatars of Thanatos, invisible to mortal eyes, appeared to guide the dead. Above the clouds, the two gods of war blessed their chosen armies, inspiring courage in their troops.
"Damn it, why does the sun only shine on their side? It’s blinding!"
"The Trojans worship Apollo, that’s why!"
"Urgh... I swear my spear landed first..."
"Huff. Thank you, Goddess Athena!"
Shouts, screams, and the blood of mortals spilled upon Demeter’s earth. The thunderous sound of charging chariots roared... and amidst it all, Apollo’s gaze landed on Achilles.
The prophecy that he would surpass his father, Peleus.
The fastest movements in the Greek army.
The armor crafted by Hephaestus, a gift from his mother, the goddess Thetis.
Lightly armored and swift, Achilles’ exploits made him the most prominent figure among the Greeks. No one could stop him as he rampaged in the heart of the battlefield.
"That Achilles... he’s making things difficult for the Trojans. He’s wearing Hephaestus’ armor, and his spear is blessed by Athena?"
The Sun God descended invisibly and approached Pandaros, Troy’s finest archer.
"Pandaros. I am Apollo. Do not turn your head; listen to my words."
"...!"
"Do you see that commander rampaging across the battlefield?"
"Yes. Achilles, isn’t it? But with that armor..."
"Kill him. I will guide your arrow to strike the gap in his armor."
"...Understood!"
A faint light enveloped Pandaros’ arrow as he shot it toward the rampaging Achilles on his chariot. The arrowhead, sharper than anything in that moment, flew with unerring precision.
Screeech—Ting!
"Urgh!"
The arrow aimed at Achilles pierced the head of one of his horses, grazed his armor, and fell to the ground.
Athena, who had been watching him closely, had deflected the arrow with her hand. Still, Achilles’ relentless momentum on the battlefield faltered.
"Achilles."
"Ah... Lady Athena?"
"The gods are targeting you. Be cautious, Achilles."
Thanking the goddess, Achilles withdrew briefly to regroup, while Athena disappeared to assist the other Greek commanders.
This was no longer a war of mortals alone. The fierce contest of power among the gods affected the morale of soldiers on both sides.
Of course, all of this was being observed by Hades in the Underworld.
A war had broken out in the world of the living.
And what happened in the Underworld as a result of the war? Naturally, it was overwhelmed with work.
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A wave of souls, crossing the five rivers of the Underworld, flooded the judgment halls, where the three judges, the Minos brothers, worked tirelessly, their heads turning endlessly.
"They say a great war has broken out in the living world. So it seems."
"Wasn’t it between the Greeks and the Trojans? Hold on, these souls need to go this way!"
"Lord Hades. The souls arriving this time have..."
Yes, it was indeed busy.
The war between Troy and the Greek coalition had caused a sharp increase in the number of deceased soldiers in armor.
Every day, the Minos brothers worked hard, and the expression on Thanatos’ face grew darker as the days passed.
"Lord Hades, god of the Underworld! Arbiter of mortals! Please judge them directly!!!"
A fervent plea reached him—directed not to Pluto, but to Hades, invoking the Underworld.
After several clashes between Troy and the Greek coalition forces, the Greek camp was filled with injured soldiers sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain.
"Ugh... Mother."
"Thanatos... I see him standing before me."
"To die in a foreign land... Please, place a coin and mint leaves in my mouth..."
Men with severed arms, others impaled by spears, and some crushed under charging chariots. Many lives were lost, their bodies unable to receive proper treatment, their cries for help fading into silence.
Amidst the cacophony of screams, Menelaus, the king who had rallied the Greek coalition, strode forward, his steps filled with rage.
He crossed through the Spartan camp, heading toward his tent with unrelenting purpose.
Wham!
"...Ah."
Throwing the flap of the tent aside, Menelaus stepped in to find Helen, sitting despondently.
The two locked eyes for a moment.
Covered in blood and wounds, his muscular body exuded the metallic stench of blood.
Helen, once the queen of Sparta, now wept as she gazed at him.
"Sob..."
"Why are you crying?"
"It’s... it’s because..."
He studied her for a moment, then let out a bitter chuckle as he sat down.
"Are you crying because you think I killed Paris? Or because I survived?"
"That’s... not it."
"Weren’t you the one who fell for Paris and fled to Troy? Are you now going to tell me you’ve missed me all along?"
As Menelaus confronted her, Helen broke into uncontrollable sobs, lowering her head.
Tears, like dewdrops, streamed down her face, so beautiful it was said to rival the gods themselves.
"The cries of our Spartan soldiers outside must be reaching even this tent."
"..."
"All of those sacrifices... all because you abandoned me and ran off to Troy. You must bear the burden of your sins entirely."
The tent grew silent, save for Helen’s quiet sobs.
Outside, however, the camp was alive with noise as preparations for another assault on Troy were underway.
"I will kill every living being in Troy and sever Paris’ head. After that—"
"Please, don’t do this."
"What did you say?"
"It’s all my fault. Because of me, the people of Sparta... It’s all my fault, so kill me instead."
Ha! Menelaus let out a dry, bitter laugh.
The weight of his responsibilities as a king, his hatred for Paris, his resentment toward the gods,
his fury and lingering affection for Helen, who had betrayed him...
The screams of dying Spartan soldiers outside...
The overwhelming rage that had fueled him since his return from the battlefield began to simmer down.
Though he hated Helen for leaving him for Paris, seeing her face now stirred a different emotion within him—a softening of his heart.
Did Helen feel guilt? For the deaths of Spartan soldiers? For being the root of all this tragedy?
She had betrayed him and fled... and now, at this moment? Ha. Hahaha... Hahaha!
Swish!
As he let out a hollow laugh while staring at the ceiling, Menelaus suddenly pulled Helen close and stepped out of the tent.
He grabbed a spear lying nearby and pointed it toward the heavens.
Whoosh—Boom!
The sky opened as if punctured, releasing a torrential downpour, thunder and lightning rumbling intermittently.
Perfect. Weather befitting the gods’ wrath. It would ensure his voice reached them clearly.
Clench.
With a resolute gaze, Menelaus embraced Helen tightly.
Yet his expression was filled with sorrow and a grim determination.
"I will entrust your judgment to the gods. And I, too, will stand before them to be judged."
"A-ah..."
"Goddess of Justice, Dike... no, the god of fairness, Pluto..."
Menelaus paused briefly before continuing his plea.
"Lord Hades, god of the Underworld! Arbiter of mortals! Judge us yourself!!!"
His booming voice reverberated through the camp.
Menelaus raised his arm and aimed the spear at the heavens.
His intention was clear—to have the spear fall back to pierce both him and Helen.
Screeeech!
The moment the finest warrior of Sparta hurled the spear, he knew.
The spear’s trajectory was set—it would land squarely upon Helen and himself.
Clench.
Closing his eyes, he tightened his embrace around Helen.