No matter who my opponent is, whether they resort to cunning or lean on gear, if they win by it, it's a proper victory.
Luring Atalanta around with a [golden apple] and beating her in a race is one method. I don't deny that. But there's one thing I absolutely cannot allow.
I'd vaguely remembered the story of Melanion racing Atalanta, but beyond that, I saw it—his gaze, the way he looked at her…
"You're going to try to win by using this? Not the worst trick as a tactic… but where did you get it?"
"U-Unhh…!"
As soon as night fell, I took my chance when Melanion was alone and ambushed him. Although I attacked him, I neither killed nor seriously injured him. I simply grabbed him by the collar and confiscated the [golden apple] hidden in his cloak.
There were three [golden apples] in total. I don't know their exact value, but there's no doubt they came from a divine being. Otherwise, a man like him—good looks aside, utterly unremarkable—couldn't have gotten his hands on such precious items.
He was puny enough that when I hoisted him up by the collar, they didn't feel heavy at all. I glared down at Melanion.
"Answer me. I have almost no patience, you know?"
"Ah… Ah, Goddess Aphrodite… hic!"
After he answered, I let go and dropped him to the ground. What a pathetic excuse for a man. From his appearance and behavior, he'd care about nothing but carnal pleasure—and I recall that if he forgot to offer tribute to Aphrodite, he'd be punished by being turned into a lion.
If I hadn't intervened and taken those [golden apples], even if Melanion got away, Atalanta would have ended up as a lion too. I refuse to let that happen, for old times' sake. It may be meddlesome, but this situation warrants it.
"Get out of here this instant, you worthless bastard!!!"
"Uwaaahhh!!!"
Spooked by my shout, Melanion trembled, rolled pathetically on the ground, and fled. A worthless whelp to the very end.
Watching him disappear, I turned toward the gaze that had been fixed on me. By chance—or fate—there stood Atalanta. Perfect. If she saw this, I could tell her I'd driven off that scoundrel who coveted nothing but her face and body—
"Well… as you can see, he was just a lewd fool trying to borrow divine power to beat you. We should return these apples to Goddess Aphrodite first thing in the morning—Huh?"
Atalanta was looking my way, but as she stepped closer, her gaze grew sharper— not at me, but at the [golden apple] I held against my chest.
Her eyes on the [golden apple] were like a cat staring down its prey. I cradled two in my left arm, but she fixated on the one in my right hand.
When I moved my right hand to the left, her eyes followed; when I lifted it up, her gaze tracked upward. I'd heard these apples were irresistibly alluring, but I never imagined this. Normally she lives by pure instinct—yet here she was, coveting them so…
"Hey, Atalanta! Get a grip!"
"I'm perfectly sane, Iskios."
"Your words and your actions are completely opposite, you hear me!!!"
I shook my hand faster, and Atalanta's movements grew more eager, determined not to let me drop the apple.
Those [golden apples] originally belonged to Melanion, a gift from Goddess Aphrodite. In other words, they were on loan. But he ran off, so they fell into my hands… I have to return them.
But the problem is, Atalanta is ignoring any talk of giving them back. Are these apples truly that irresistible?! Well… it makes sense; a single apple sparked the Trojan War…
"Don't rush me, Atalanta! Listen to me, please!!!"
Uncharacteristically, Atalanta's eyes glittered as she looked at me. Her usual impassive expression remained, but those eyes shone differently.
But right now, all she saw was the [golden apple]. I had no choice but to dart into her shadow and vanish. The moment I disappeared, she froze and looked around in bewilderment.
No matter how much she searched, this shadow-hiding technique is mine alone. Neither gods nor beasts can find me in it, so of course she couldn't. Hiding cooled her head naturally.
(Is your head any cooler now?)
"Ah… sorry. I have no idea where you are, but…"
Yes, hiding is better for now. But I finally understand why the gods fight and obsess over these apples. The [golden apples] truly radiate a pulling, seductive power. They hold the might of the divine class within…
Indeed, it makes sense that only true divinities could claim them. Hera, Athena, even Aphrodite fought for these apples… If they would go that far, it's no wonder Atalanta is fixated on them.
(Thanks to me, it was averted this time, but if you hadn't stepped in, you'd have ended up with that pathetic scoundrel and met a ruinous fate.)
"…Hmm, looks like that's right. Three of them…"
But this is only a temporary fix. Atalanta's mindset now is that of a wild beast—survival of the fittest. That thinking can't guide anyone; I refuse to accept it as 'human.'
The reason I'm not helping her right now is because she doesn't act like a human. I planned to stay hidden and slip back to Callisto's room, but suddenly Atalanta clenched her fist, searched for me, and glanced up at the ceiling.
Her eyes squeezed shut as if steeling herself, and what she said next truly surprised me. And when I heard those words, I couldn't help but change my own perspective.
(Given the right opportunity, a human can grow without limit.)
The next morning, Callisto sensed the palace in an uproar. Cradling her son Arcas, she hurried outside to see what was going on.
She couldn't piece together what had happened when I went alone to meet Melanion, but she was even more shocked to see Atalanta and me standing side by side outside.
"Iskios?!"
"Hey, hey, what on earth happened here?"
"You said you weren't going to compete?!"
"Where did that challenger Melanion go?!"
There stood Atalanta and me, unmistakably. Atalanta was supposed to race Melanion today, so why was I here?
The courtiers and soldiers, and especially the king, gaped when they saw me stretching my arms as if warming up. They all remembered I'd said I wouldn't race Atalanta.
For some unknown reason, I took my place on the starting line alongside Atalanta. Spotting Callisto among the spectators, I waved and called out, "Yo!" Startled, she hurried over and demanded—
"Iskios…?! What on earth is going on?! You— you're competing?!"
"Well… at first, I had zero intention of competing. I was just going to go out there and make do with whatever was set up. But…"
When I glanced out of the corner of my eye at Atalanta, she looked away for some reason, her cheeks faintly flushed. I didn't press her further and instead smiled at Callisto.
"That one finally showed something akin to humanity. My meddlesome habit never dies, so here I am competing."
"Habit, you say… Lord Iskios's meddling is never a bad habit—"
"—Shh, you'll wake the child."
When I called my meddling a bad habit, Callisto was about to protest, but as her voice rose, I placed a forefinger to her lips and turned my gaze to baby Arcas sleeping quietly in her arms.
Looking at Arcas, unaware of the chaos around him, I gently stroked his hair. Then I peeled off my dark green cloak—the same color as the forest—and removed my mask as well.
"By Zeus!" some cried, for the man who always hid behind a stone mask had now taken off both mask and cloak of his own accord.
"We're racing, after all. Since I'm all in, there's no mercy."
"Ah…"
I stripped off my mask and cloak simply to shed any hindrance and face Atalanta at full strength. In Greece right now, when it comes to pure mobility, the only true heroes are the huntress Atalanta and me, the man who once outran Apollo.
Some who saw my face at last understood why Apollo hunted me and why I always concealed my identity. Indeed, anyone would be struck dumb by such a face. Even the king blushed when he saw it.
As soon as I removed my mask at the starting line, countless eyes pierced me. Naturally, I scowled, then pointed at the large tree in the distance.
"The rule is to touch that tree and return to this line, right?"
"Yes… but is that really okay? You hated showing your face before, didn't you?"
"Hiding is one thing, but to lighten my load I had no choice. And besides, didn't I say? If you seek salvation, I will never hold back…"
Why I suddenly joined the race and why I removed mask and cloak to compete earnestly—that was because of what Atalanta told me last night.
We both still remembered her words: when Atalanta, for the first time, looked me in the face and said, "Help me." There was genuine sincerity and desperation in her voice. Someone like her would never admit she needed help, yet she did.
"Iskios…! I know it's shameless, but… I have one request… I want you to see me, and save me…!"
(A request for help…?)
"I… I want you to help me…! I want you to save me…!"
Hearing that plea from Atalanta—she who had been nothing more than a beast—I felt a flicker of her will to learn humanity. Since she asked for my aid, I reached out my hand in response. Nothing more special than that.
Of course, no one but Atalanta and me knew what had passed between us, but without anyone realizing, the king gave the signal.
"On your marks… set… go!!!"
At his command, Atalanta and I launched ourselves from the line like the wind, racing full tilt toward the distant tree.