In the simple, secluded courtyard, Atalanta sat comfortably in a wicker chair, devouring her al with relish. Though the food had grown slightly cold, she ate with great satisfaction.
What a strong-willed and sowhat stubborn woman—she had insisted on finishing the task of renting the house before sitting down to eat.
Leaning against the grapevine trellis, Samael shook his head helplessly, then watched with interest as Atalanta's cat ears twitched in contentnt. One had to admit, raising cats was a deeply satisfying experience. Especially when those cats could turn into catgirls—that sense of fulfillnt multiplied exponentially.
Once Atalanta had eaten her fill, Samael stepped forward, offering her a chilled glass of grape wine while tugging at the restless Circe.
"Big Sis, you've worked hard all day. Leave the yard cleanup and dinner prep to and Circe."
Seeing Samael's insistence, the huntress nodded in agreent, then settled down with a jug of wine, sipping it leisurely.
After all, according to their prior arrangent, Atalanta handled the most troubleso task—securing their lodging—while Samael and Circe took charge of miscellaneous chores and future supplies. For a team, such a division of labor was the fairest way to share the burden.
After a long afternoon of work, the yard was finally neat and presentable. By then, the sun was slanting westward, and evening was drawing near. Samael decided to take Circe out to buy ingredients for dinner, intending to cook personally and treat the three of them.
However, as soon as they turned the corner, Circe, her small face scrunched in a pout, couldn't help but complain.
"Samael, I'm so tired. Can we skip this?"
"No."
"Why? We're the ones gathering intel, shopping for supplies, and even paying for the rent…"
"It's ! Not us! Did you see?"
"Yeah. Even though you didn't let follow, I still caught a glimpse of that rchant eting you in the corner."
"Oh, sharp eyes. Then grocery shopping's your job."
"Huh? You're not coming?"
"Now that you ntion it, I suddenly rember—renting the place, lunch, and gathering intel were all my work, not yours."
Samael smirked, pretending to head ho to slack off.
Circe panicked and clung to his arm, refusing to let go. With so many humans around, sending her out alone to buy supplies—did this guy have no compassion at all?
"You eat the most and do the least! One more word, and I'll toss you into the river to feed the fish!"
Seeing the little witch start to get cheeky, Samael's expression darkened as he knocked her lightly on the head. Only after much pleading did he finally agree to accompany her to the market.
...
As for her antics earlier in the day, the ancient serpent saw no need to deny them.
Atalanta was poor—truly poor.
Her participation in the Calydon Hunt was not only to fulfill the divine oracle but also to earn so much-needed inco. After all, her title as Princess of Arcadia would only be granted by her pragmatic father, the king, after she distinguished herself in the hunt—only for him to force her into a political marriage.
For now, this huntress was rely a girl abandoned in the wilderness, relying entirely on herself for food, clothing, and shelter. To treat Samael's injuries, she had nearly spent all her savings in the town where they had stayed before.
To afford the journey ahead, Atalanta had no choice but to sell the spoils of her hunting and gathering at the market. But furs and herbs were common goods. Even if her wares were of fine quality, she was a stranger here, and rchants weren't known for charity—who would offer her a good price?
Buying low and selling high was the nature of trade, and so her earnings were barely enough to get by. Her ager savings couldn't even cover rent in a city-state near the royal capital.
Samael, on the other hand, was swimming in wealth. From sopotamia to Greece, he had accumulated enough assets to buy an entire city-state and still have plenty left over.
Grateful for the huntress's help, he naturally wished to repay her kindness while preserving her pride. After all, Atalanta's most valuable possessions were likely her self-respect and independence.
Half an hour later, the ancient serpent returned ho laden with supplies, nearly crushing the exhausted Circe beneath the weight. He wasted no ti setting to work, preparing a lavish dinner for the three of them.
Soon, the three of them finished their tasks and sat down to eat.
Though Samael's dishes didn't quite match the Greeks' usual preference for sweet-and-sour flavors, the spices and recipes he had mastered over the long years gave the two girls—one young, one older—a delightful sense of novelty, a true feast for their taste buds.
Being of divine descent, all three digested food exceptionally quickly. To make sure his companions enjoyed themselves to the fullest, the ancient serpent went back and forth to the kitchen several tis, adjusting each dish according to their preferences.
Only when the moon hung high in the sky did the satisfying banquet finally co to an end.
After the al, Atalanta took the initiative to clear the plates, while Samael, out of habit, went for a walk to aid digestion.
It was a sha he wasn't holding that silly dog's leash—it would have made the picture complete.
As his thoughts drifted, Samael recalled the information he'd gathered about Typhon's offspring, and the corners of his lips curved upward unconsciously.
Thanks to his involvent, every one of those foolish creatures was living quite well now.
Because of their deeds in protecting humanity, the images of those divine beasts had been carved into ornants and weapons, becoming symbols of glory and valor. Nowadays, Typhon's offspring had beco akin to guardian beasts, revered by many city-states and mortals who had benefited from their protection.
Currently, aside from Ladon guarding the sacred garden, the Harpies on Aeaea, Cerberus in the Underworld, and the eagle atop Mount Caucasus, the remaining mbers were scattered—so who preferred peace lived in the Arima Caverns, while those who enjoyed lively surroundings either resided on Areopagus or joined the Academy of Athens.
Furthermore, their destined adversary, Heracles, had once been taught by Chiron at the Academy of Athens, and his Twelve Labors had only just begun. For the mont, the mighty hero posed no threat or harm to his divine ntors.
The image of the legendary figure surfaced in Samael's mind, and he sighed softly.
So things, however, were inevitable.
Heracles had left his holand of Argos to join the Calydon Hunt as an individual, a clear sign that he had already succumbed to Hera's curse, driven into madness, and in that frenzy, slain his own children. Since then, he had wandered the land, seeking to complete the Twelve Labors to free himself from the goddess's persecution.
The Underworld, though… it had been a while since he'd seen that stupid dog. Perhaps it was ti to pay a visit.
As night settled, Samael lay on his bed deep in thought when a faint resonance echoed within his mind.
The ancient serpent sat up suddenly, a pleased expression spreading across his face.
Finally, news at last.
He crushed a handful of Magic Crystals, tracing the outline of a Magecraft circle with his fingers. Stepping into it, he steadied his mind and attuned himself to the pulsing rhythm.
His eyes softened, filled with deep emotion as he looked ahead and spoke gently.
"Long ti no see, Themis..."
...
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