Cyd muttered a curse under his breath, brushing a few stubborn leaves out of his hair as he stared at the lion lounging like royalty at the base of a tree. The beast looked lazy, almost bored—but Cyd knew better. That thing was always alert, always waiting.
"It just won't quit," Cyd grumbled, gnawing at his thumbnail. The frustration was starting to boil.
Three days. That's how long this stalker—this oversized monster in a lion costume—had been tailing him. It had clawed at his scalp mid-meal, pressed its paw on his chest while he was sleeping, and even sniffed around outside while he was in the middle of… well, let's just say bathroom breaks weren't safe either.
And nothing worked. Traps? Useless. Distractions? Ignored. Running? A joke. The thing followed him like it had a grudge.
Cyd glanced back at it, quietly sighing. He wasn't sure if it was the Nemean Lion, but everything about it screamed mythic nightmare: too fast, too tough, too persistent.
"I am not Hercules," he muttered grimly, adjusting his pack. "And this is definitely above my pay grade."
And then—
"HEY! You up there with the white hair!"
Cyd blinked. Did someone just yell at him?
He glanced down.
Standing below, waving like a madman, was a broad-shouldered guy with enough muscle to make a minotaur jealous. He looked like someone who never skipped arm day—or chest day, or any day.
"You hear me? Yeah, you, up the tree!" the guy bellowed again, grinning way too confidently.
Cyd sighed and finally turned to face him fully, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.
"I see you're worried I'll steal your prey," the guy said, flexing dramatically. "But don't worry. I'm not here for your game. I came for the wicked lion!"
And with a ridiculous amount of ease, he grabbed the tree trunk and shook it like it owed him money. With a snap, the entire tree came loose from the ground.
Cyd stared. "…Okay, sure. That's normal."
The guy plucked a thick branch off the fallen trunk like it was a toothpick.
"Alright, alright," Cyd said, hopping down. "Let me catch you up on the situation before you start playing whack-a-lion."
"Appreciated," said the guy, planting the branch over his shoulder. "Name's Hercules, by the way."
"Yeah, I figured," Cyd said dryly. "Alright, here's the deal. Just give it a second. I'll count to three, and the lion'll show up."
"…Wait, what?" Hercules frowned.
Cyd raised three fingers. "One… two…"
On "three," he ducked.
ROAR!
The lion exploded from the underbrush like a fury made of claws and muscle, lunging right where Cyd had been standing.
Hercules didn't flinch.
He reared back and swung the tree trunk like a bat. It connected with a CRACK that shook the trees. The lion flipped midair and crashed into the forest with a furious snarl.
"Perfect swing," Cyd said, giving him a thumbs-up. "Ten out of ten. Real heroic form."
"It's not dead," Hercules muttered, frowning at the broken trunk in his hands. "That thing's skin—no wounds. I knocked it back, but it's not enough."
"Told you," Cyd said, already scooping up his pack. "That thing's got armor for fur. We should leave before it stops seeing stars."
"Hold on!" Hercules grabbed his shoulder. His grip was strong enough to make Cyd wince. "You're not just walking away."
"I was," Cyd said, raising an eyebrow. "You had your moment. I'm not really interested in lion-hunting."
"We both came for the same beast," Hercules said, trying to sound diplomatic. "Why not take it down together? Split the glory?"
"I thought you didn't want my prey."
"I changed my mind."
Cyd hesitated. Normally, he'd say no. Glory wasn't his thing, and teaming up with Zeus's golden boy sounded like a surefire way to attract even more divine chaos.
But that eagle watching from above? That was probably Zeus. And he doubted turning down his kid was a smart move today.
"Alright, fine," Cyd said, rubbing his temples. "Let's say I help. But I've got conditions."
"Don't worry about rewards," Hercules said quickly.
"I'm not," Cyd replied, folding his arms. "I just want the teeth and claws. You can have the hide and the credit."
Hercules grinned. "Deal."
"Then listen up," Cyd said, already sketching a plan in the dirt with a stick. "We're not beating it in a fair fight. We need to trick it, trap it, maybe even tire it out first."
Hercules leaned in, nodding. "Alright. Let's make this beast regret ever walking into our lives."
And high above, perched on a branch hidden by clouds, an eagle watched them both—its eyes gleaming with divine amusement.