King of Underworld

Chapter 124

The Second Labor - Slaying the Hydra (3)

Heracles dodged the Hydra’s continuous regeneration and attacks, his mind racing to find a way to stop the creature from healing itself.

‘If burning it won’t work... then perhaps piercing it through might stop the regeneration.’

He imagined impaling the creature’s body with many trees, weighing it down with rocks, and burying it in the earth. Surely, not even an immortal beast could survive that.

But...

‘Have I really retreated this far?’

Heracles glanced around, realizing his position. He had rolled across the ground to avoid the Hydra’s venom and stepped back several paces. Meanwhile, the monster kept approaching, regenerating its heads no matter how many were destroyed.

The contrast between hero and monster was stark. It was painfully clear who was the hunter and who was being hunted.

Grit!

Heracles clenched his teeth unconsciously. Could this be right? Even if he defeated the creature, would this humiliation ever be repaid?

How could a coward who dodged the Hydra’s venom dare to challenge the gods?

Wasn’t the idea of burning and burying the creature something that lesser heroes would think of?

If he couldn’t face a monster like this head-on, he would drift further and further from Olympus.

‘No. The very thought of using tricks was the mistake from the start.’

Crack!

Heracles gripped his iron club with both hands, no longer lazily swinging it with one hand. The steel groaned under the pressure of his hands but he ignored it, his focus now solely on the Hydra before him.

Men who used their wits to trick and defeat monsters were praised as heroes. But Heracles wasn’t just aiming to be a hero—he was aiming to become a god, one who would look down upon the world from the heavens!

“I’ll smash you.”

He would shatter the Hydra’s regeneration with sheer brute force.

Heracles, remembering the Nemean Lion he had slain with his bare hands, swung his club with all his might. No longer did he care about the poisonous fluids splattering. This was a full-powered strike.

Whoosh! Splat!

‘If the fluids are venomous, instead of dodging, I’ll use the force of the wind to blow them away!’

One of the Hydra’s heads flew off, but none of the creature’s venomous fluids splattered in his direction. Feeling confident, Heracles continued swinging his club.

From left to right. Right to left. He struck with full power over and over again.

How long would he continue? Until the monster in front of him could no longer regenerate and was finally dead!

Whoosh—! Splat!

“Haaaaaah!!!”

Blow after blow.

Heracles’ body, strengthened by Hera’s milk and the power of the River Styx, was the greatest of any mortal. He could continue unleashing full-strength strikes without tiring in the slightest.

All his senses were focused on one thing—obliterating the enemy in front of him.

He wasn’t thinking about simply killing it; he was thinking of crushing it, pulverizing it with a storm of blows. Whether it was a mountain, a monster, or venom, nothing could stand in his way.

“Let’s see which is faster—your regeneration or my destruction!”

Hissss?!

One of the Hydra’s heads was obliterated. It regenerated. Two heads were destroyed at the same time. They regenerated. Three heads—no, four—were torn apart. They regenerated again.

One of the Hydra’s heads reared back, ready to spew venom and melt the hero, but Heracles’ club struck it first, sending it flying.

The battle between Heracles and the Hydra lasted for two full days.

The Hydra’s venomous fluids and Heracles’ sweat soaked the ground, fragments of the battlefield scattered everywhere.

A regenerating monster versus a destructive hero.

In the endless cycle of regeneration and destruction, it was the monster that finally gave in.@@@@

With all his might, with all the feats he had accomplished, why wasn’t it enough?

In the end, Heracles had slain the Hydra.

And in the process, he had also defeated Chrysaor, the golden sword, and Lamia, the monster who preyed on children near Athens.

“Hades. I’ve brought Lamia.”

“Thank you, Thanatos.”

Thus, Lamia arrived in the underworld and naturally came to see me. She trembled in fear, kneeling on the floor of the audience chamber.

As I glanced at her, I could sense many emotions in her eyes—rage, fear, resentment toward the gods, and sorrow. Her hatred was so deep that not even the waters of Lethe could wash it away.

“Raise your head, Queen of Libya.”

“Q-Queen? Heh... Am I still a queen?”

“Look at your body. Do you still see the serpent’s lower half?”

Hera’s curse had been lifted upon Lamia’s death. To be precise, her corpse still bore the curse, but her soul, upon entering the underworld, had shed the form of the half-human, half-serpent monster.

“I’ve eaten over a hundred children... Heh... What punishment will you give me? Tartarus?”

“I know that you were cursed by Hera and transformed into that form.”

“......”

“You lived a life drenched in blood because of Hera’s curse for sharing love with Zeus. I will take that into account. I also acknowledge that, as a mere human, you had no choice but to yield to Zeus.”

Lamia’s affair with Zeus had led to Hera’s curse. She had lived a tragic life, stealing and devouring children, seducing men to their deaths.

But I couldn’t simply show her mercy.

“You have killed far too many children. Regardless of Hera’s curse, you must still atone for your sins.”

“...Heh...”

“You were not in full control of yourself, so I will grant you the blessing of Lethe and erase your memories.”

With a gesture from the goddess of forgetfulness, Lamia’s eyes became vacant. But she still had to pay for her sins. Perhaps after centuries of penance, she could be granted reincarnation...

As Lamia departed, the goddess Lethe approached me.

“As for Chrysaor, just as you instructed...”

“Yes. The goddess Medusa is with him. Like Pegasus, he remains devoted to his mother.”

“Soon, we’ll send him to the hero training ground. Even without his flying golden sword, his body alone will be enough for the heroes.”

Monsters often found no peace, even in death.

The Nemean Lion, the Chimera—they were all in the training grounds of the underworld. Even though Bellerophon despised the idea, it was necessary.

Chrysaor would soon join them.

“Hades. Shouldn’t we stop Heracles’ labors by now?”

“...?”

“There’s a growing debate among the gods of Olympus. He’s already slain two of Typhon’s children. Some are saying he’s already the hero of prophecy...”

“How is Hera reacting?”

“Her expression was furious when Zeus’ bastard completed his tasks and killed the monsters... or so Hermes, who visited the underworld, told me.”

Now that the idea of Heracles being the hero of prophecy was gaining traction, it would be difficult for Hera to kill him outright.

Instead, she would likely throw more grueling tasks his way, knowing I had forbidden divine punishment from killing him.

And Gaia had apparently blocked Heracles on his way to slay the Hydra.

She might continue interfering with his tasks.

“It’s too late now... Even if the giants escape the gods’ sight, Heracles will...”

Perhaps it was time to kidnap a giant and throw it at him.