"This… this can't seriously be a pig."
Cyd's voice cracked somewhere between disbelief and spiritual betrayal as he stared at the thing stomping through the forest like it owned the continent. The word boar did not apply here. This was a mobile mountain with tusks and anger issues.
"Technically, it's a Calydonian boar," Atalanta said casually, as if pointing out a slightly inconvenient traffic jam. "Target acquired."
They'd finally reached Calydon after days of travel, several nights of awkward campfire conversations, and a steadily escalating game of "How Close Can I Bite His Neck Before He Freaks Out." Atalanta, thanks to whatever curse or enchantment had knocked her power offline, had been stuck relying on Cyd for mobility—and, annoyingly, naps. But the moment her strength returned?
Yeah. First thing she did was try to tear his throat open again. Romantic.
"Okay," Cyd muttered, yanking her behind a tree as the monster snorted and bulldozed through the underbrush. "So, update. Hermes definitely oversold my confidence for this one."
"What happened to 'face danger with courage, win glory in Ares' name,' or whatever you were saying earlier?" Atalanta smirked, drawing her bow.
"Yeah, well, I thought we were fighting a boar, not a sentient landslide."
Before he could object further, a sharp twang cut through the air—thwip—and an arrow embedded itself right in the monster's—uh, sensitive rear region.
"WHAT. DID. YOU. JUST. DO?" Cyd blinked, staring at Atalanta like she'd just lit a match in a gas station.
"Started the hunt," she said, lowering her bow. "You coming or what?"
"You absolute lunatic, I wasn't ready! This is supposed to be a plan, not a pig-punching speedrun!"
"I don't plan hunts. I win them."
The boar shrieked in rage, spinning toward them like a furry meteor with tusks. Cyd swore, grabbed Atalanta, and leapt into the air as the earth beneath them exploded into flying dirt and shattered roots.
"This is officially the worst vacation."
"Less whining, more not-dying," Atalanta said, already nocking another arrow.
"Right. Hero mode. Got it."
Cyd thrust his left hand into the air, invoking the sun itself. A flare of light burst from the crystalline seal on his wrist, streaking down his arm in golden threads, wrapping around his muscles like molten armor. His skin burned with divine radiance, his pulse syncing with the fire of Apollo's blessing.
"In the name of the gods—let's make this boar bacon."
The moment they hit the ground, the boar charged. Cyd slammed his foot down. The earth cracked. The boar's skull hit the dirt with a deafening THUD, stunned long enough for Cyd to vault off its back with Atalanta in tow and vanish into the trees.
"Okay, that," Atalanta said, brushing leaves from her shoulder, "was actually impressive."
"Yeah?" Cyd panted, smirking through the pain. "Because I'm so not doing that again."
They barely had time to catch their breath before the boar roared and lunged again, trees cracking under its fury.
"Plan?" she asked, already on a branch.
"Stall it, wear it down. Pray it trips and dies of embarrassment."
"Solid."
Arrows zipped through the air. Three of them hit home. None of them mattered. The boar wasn't bleeding—just madder.
Cyd ducked, flipped, and landed squarely on the monster's head again. "Heads up!" he shouted as he stomped, slamming it back into the ground.
"You think if you concuss it enough it'll forget we exist?" Atalanta yelled.
"Working theory!" he yelled back.
But it wasn't enough.
The boar rolled—rolled like a steamroller with a grudge. Cyd had to sprint across its spine just to keep from becoming forest jam.
"This thing has no weak spots!"
"Everything alive does," Cyd growled, leaping from the boar's back and landing on a stretch of cleared earth. "We just haven't found it yet."
The boar paused. Its tiny piggy brain processed the missing weight. It sniffed. Cyd was directly in its line of sight. The creature braced.
Cyd didn't move.
"Cyd," Atalanta called, perched above. "What. Are. You. Doing."
"Buying time."
"That's stupid and reckless."
"That's kind of my brand," he said, cracking his knuckles. "I need you to watch it. Every twitch. Every shift. We find the opening, we take it. This ends today."
The boar dug at the dirt with its hooves, preparing to charge.
"Run," she begged, her voice cutting through the noise. "You idiot, RUN."
"No." He turned, meeting her eyes with a look that was equal parts crazy and brave. "I believe in you, Atalanta. Find its weakness. I'll keep it busy."
Then he raised his hand, taunting the beast.
"Come on, bacon boy. Let's dance."