On the night the wedding of Peleus and Thetis took place, Atalanta lay alone in her chamber at the palace of Iolcos.
She had asked Iskios to take her place at Peleus's wedding, and he insisted that she stay behind.
So tonight, in the absence of Jason, Medea, and Iskios, she remained in Iolcos. Atalanta stared around the room as she lay on the rough bed Iskios had hastily constructed.
It was supposed to be their shared room—but tonight, at least, she was its only occupant.
They had ended up sharing a room because Iskios had beaten her decisively in the footrace, winning her hand in marriage according to the rules. Yet their relationship hadn't changed much. If anything, they saw each other more often than before.
They felt more like close friends than husband and wife. Still, Atalanta held Iskios in deep respect.
With her eyes closed, she thought quietly to herself. Though the room was shared, it held only their most basic belongings—and two separate beds.
"What should I do from now on...?"
Lately, she had been taking supplemental lessons from Iskios in something he called "morality." The more she learned, the more he seemed an alien presence among Greek men.
A hero who fought for the weak. A hero known by name, yet one who evoked both admiration and contempt. In this end-of-days Greece, only the strong received glory and honor. Women and the powerless were either cast aside or oppressed.
Atalanta herself had lived by the law of the jungle—only the fittest survive—until recently. But the morality Iskios taught outright denied that world-view.
Some worshipped him for those ideals. Others hated him for them.
Remembering those teachings and the things Iskios had said to her, she asked herself again: What was the right path for her? Was she truly on the right track?
Lost in her thoughts, she sensed someone nearby and sat up.
"─You are the one who married Iskios...aren't you?"
"...!?"
Startled, Atalanta turned toward the voice.
A woman stood in the room, her presence utterly out of place. Her long black hair fell over her eyes, shading her face—but Atalanta felt murderous intent seething through those locks.
"...This may be the last time I introduce myself. I am Iskios's mother."
"Iskios's...mother...!?"
Atalanta knew the rumors of Iskios's parentage. She had heard that his mother was the Luna Goddess Selene—a divine spirit, if not one of the Twelve Olympians.
Instinct told Atalanta that staying here would end poorly. She tried to flee, but Selene had appeared by the door, blocking every exit. Her legs wouldn't move.
"...When I heard that rumor this morning...I was furious! Outrageous! I will never tolerate my son marrying someone like you!"
Selene unleashed her wrath without restraint. Atalanta's flesh trembled and her strength drained; she collapsed to the floor.
Atalanta had known fear before, but never like this. Selene's divine anger rendered her helpless.
As Selene glared at her with murderous hatred, she produced a black boar hide she'd hidden behind her back and brandished it in front of Atalanta.
"This..."
Atalanta recognized it at once. It was the trophy hide that Meleagros had gifted her for slaying the Calydonian boar.
Selene pressed the hide against Atalanta's chest as if to stab her with it.
"Then...let me do this. Become a filthy beast and earn Iskios's hatred—let him kill you."
No sooner had the boar hide touched her than Selene vanished. Hallucinations gripped Atalanta's mind, and her reason slipped away.
She found herself in a forest—dark, with only faint light filtering through. The shadows threatened to swallow her whole. With each passing moment, Atalanta felt herself slipping away from humanity...
Indescribable rage surged within her. Bestial instinct took over, and her eyes glowed yellow like a savage creature's.
"─Rampage, you wretched beast..."
"Aaaaaaaaaaa!!! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!"
Corrupted by the boar hide and Selene's curse, Atalanta lost herself completely. She roared like an animal as Selene watched coldly, then turned and left.
Clutching her head, Atalanta fought to remember who she was. But with every heartbeat, she became more beast than woman. Her roars grew louder, born of fury—or perhaps of some primal instinct she no longer understood.
Atalanta was gone. All that remained within the room was a rampaging beast. It crashed through the door with its shoulder and burst out beyond the castle walls.
***
The wedding of Peleus and the goddess Thetis concluded without any notable incident. As soon as it ended, Jason, Medea, and I mounted the chariot and headed back to Iolcos.
"Why didn't you help, you ungrateful king?"
"Oww! What good would it have done me? The opponent was a goddess!"
"J-Jason, sir!!!"
I pinched Jason's cheek in frustration, and when he cried out in pain, Medea panicked and dragged us apart in the chariot.
I might have thought how lovely love makes a woman...but I knew better. Medea was the sort of woman you had to watch closely. If anything happened to me, I didn't dare imagine the consequences.
"Stop it, Iskios! You're tormenting Jason!"
"Hmph, the king can't even look after his own vassal—no need to throw a tantrum."
"Oww...I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Iskios...!"
But this was just idle venting. My true anger was reserved for that bastard Zeus who dumped all this on me.
I apologized to Jason, but this was end-of-days Greece. Insulting the gods or defiling their temples was beyond forgiveness.
No matter how trivial the offense, they seized on it and harassed the culprit until their anger subsided. It might seem excessive, but in this era of might makes right, it was simply the way of things.
"Jason, we'll arrive in Iolcos soon!"
...No, now that I thought about it, nothing's changed from my previous life. Hearing the charioteer's words, I recalled only faint memories of my past life.
As a child, I lived simply, but I couldn't ignore neighbors suffering from famine and war. I did what I could—volunteering, donating—on my days off.
Though my first life ended while I was still young, I've always believed the same thing: Don't give up. Do what you can. Even if one person can't change the world alone, someone might—
"J-Jason, sir...!"
"Welcome back, Jason!!!"
As soon as we reached the walls of Iolcos, Jason and I sensed something amiss. He put aside his earlier whining and, with the air of a king, asked sternly,
"Hmm...? What's going on?"
"W-Well..."
The castle yard felt chaotic. The soldiers looked tense, and many were already arming themselves, as if preparing to rush out and report to us.
But they didn't have to. We arrived before they could depart. When I asked what was happening, one guard's face went pale and he hesitated. His partner then answered with a gloomy expression.
"Lady Atalanta...has suddenly gone berserk!!!"
"What!?!"
"She attacked us without warning, and now Captain Pele is tying her ankles to subdue her!"
Hearing this, Jason recoiled in shock. The worst scenario flashed through my mind. Atalanta, rampaging like a beast...Why had she lost control? The cause needed no explanation—it was all my fault.
Yes...I was to blame. I had failed to do what was necessary with my mother. No matter what I said, she would have cursed Atalanta. Yet I hesitated.
I was negligent. I didn't tell my mother I was married to Atalanta, despite having had ample time to do so.
"Iskios!? Hey, where are you going?!?"
"Lord Iskios!!!? Where are you off to?!"
—This is my responsibility. Whatever the outcome, Atalanta and I are husband and wife. Even if my first marriage never happened, I must fulfill my duty as her partner.
There was no time to hesitate. Every second counted. I hurriedly, swiftly, and at full speed scaled the walls and charged into Iolcos.