Sleeping with a different woman every day. No monsters, no curses, no gods breathing down your neck—just soft pillows, warmer company, and a lot of very specific demands. Honestly, as far as traps went, it was kind of genius.
The so-called "heroes" of the Argo weren't exhausted. They weren't out of strength. They were just tired of doing anything that didn't involve being pampered. Farming? Hah. That was for peasants. They were heroes, and heroes were born to enjoy life—not plow dirt.
And the worst part? That logic actually made sense to most of them.
Cyd sat on the ship's mast, one leg dangling as he watched the argument break out below. A few of the guys were shouting over whose turn it was to clean the fish they caught. Real important stuff. He rolled his eyes.
They'd left the Island of Women three days ago, but the aftereffects still lingered. Athena had appeared to Cyd the night they departed, elegant as ever, her voice cool and clear.
"I will teach you how to earn the blessing of Ares," she said. "Even if it kills you."
And knowing Ares? It just might.
Compared to other gods, Ares was an absolute nightmare. Even Hades was less of a gamble. Athena was a goddess of strategy and restraint—Ares? Pure rage in a bronze helmet. Getting him to willingly bless someone was like asking a tornado to fill out a survey.
And yet Athena was confident.
"She talks tough," the goddess had smirked, "but make her laugh, bleed a little, show her a fight worth watching—and she'll love you for it."
"She," Cyd had repeated, flatly.
Another goddess. Of course. As if stealing Hephaestus's job hadn't been enough, now he had to flirt with Ares.
"Why not just turn Zeus into a woman while we're at it?" he grumbled. "Oh wait… can't. Or else how'd we get Heracles?"
Cyd let his head thunk against the mast behind him with a dramatic sigh. He knew the drill by now: match the god's domain, play to their twisted sense of favor, and pray it didn't end with a spear through the ribs.
Wisdom for Athena. Fire and craft for Hephaestus. And now, blood and chaos for Ares.
His thoughts were interrupted by the yelling below intensifying.
"How long do you think this is gonna last?" he asked Atalanta, who was leaning nearby, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed.
"Since they left the last island? They've been buzzing for another. Probably hoping it's full of more… 'relaxation,'" she said, making a face. "Heracles is the only one insisting we have enough supplies first. Small miracle he's got a few on his side."
"Let me guess—Jason's voting for the island stop?" Cyd muttered.
Atalanta gave a knowing smirk. "He's the leader in name. But he knows the crew follows whoever lets them have the most fun. So yeah—he sides with the majority. Smart politics."
"Still wish Heracles was in charge. Things would be less ridiculous."
"Would they?" she raised a brow.
"Okay, slightly less ridiculous," Cyd allowed with a stretch. "Anyway, I'm sitting the next one out."
"Oh?" Her tone shifted. "So you're staying on the ship?"
He nodded. "Just a hunch, but I've got a feeling this next island's gonna be a disaster."
Atalanta seemed to relax. Barely, but he noticed.
"I'll still go hunt," she said casually.
"Hey, if you bring back something that's not dried fish or hardtack, I'll love you forever."
"That a command?"
"A humble request."
"I'll think about it—if I'm not full."
She tossed her braid over her shoulder and turned away, but there was the tiniest smile on her face. Victory.
Then came the inevitable—Jason rallied the crew, and once again, they overruled Heracles. Another island. Another chance to mess things up.
Cyd gave Heracles a lazy salute from the mast. "I'll guard the ship."
"Yeah, yeah. Just don't let it sink." Heracles looked so done. Like he was babysitting a pack of toddlers with weapons.
Atalanta lingered for a moment, watching Cyd before slipping off silently.
Once everyone was gone, Cyd stretched his legs and yawned. "Alright. Everyone's gone. You can show up now, oh mighty god…"
Five minutes passed.
"…Okay, maybe not."
Then a familiar voice—light, smug, unmistakably annoying.
"Guess again."
Cyd blinked. Hermes was suddenly perched next to him like a cat that had always been there. "Seriously? I guessed that?"
"You hoped it," Hermes said, flashing that grin of his. "And it was a good call not going with the others."
"Let me guess… man-eating harpies? Another love cult? Or is it a flesh-eating tree this time?"
"Close," Hermes said, pointing toward the island in the distance. "There's a cyclops living there. One of his sons."
Cyd's stomach dropped. "Great. Offend Poseidon's kid. Real smooth. That's like asking to get shipwrecked and cursed."
"You won't drown, at least," Hermes said, tapping the wristband on Cyd's arm. "Check your wrist."
Cyd looked. A faint blue crystal shimmered on his bracer. His eyes widened.
"When did that happen?"
"When you decided not to go ashore," Hermes said. "Poseidon's been watching you. He already blessed you once, but this… this is his second nod."
Cyd blinked, stunned. "You're saying… I've got three godly blessings now? In one voyage?"
"Three that you know of," Hermes winked. "Not bad for a so-called ordinary mortal."
Cyd exhaled. "Yeah, well… I still feel like I'm just a regular guy caught up in divine nonsense."
Hermes leaned in, his tone suddenly serious. "That's what makes you dangerous—to both gods and monsters. You keep doing the impossible. It's not luck. It's you."
Cyd was quiet for a beat.
"…You didn't come just to say congrats, did you?"
Hermes shrugged. "Nope. Can't lie to you anyway—part of the deal with my blessing."
"So what is it this time?" Cyd muttered. "Another mission? Another goddess?"
"Artemis," Hermes said.
Cyd groaned and dragged a hand down his face. "I want to take back everything I just said."
"Too late," Hermes said cheerfully. "Welcome to the big leagues."