Cyd had always believed in knowing his cards before he played them. And not just knowing them—understanding them, mastering them. He didn't want to depend on power. He wanted to own it.
But three years of brutal training under Chiron still hadn't revealed the true limits of this so-called "immortal body." And now, staring down the snarling, building-sized Calydonian Boar, those limits were about to get tested.
Cyd spread his arms wide, exhaled slowly, and didn't move an inch.
"Cyd, move!" Atalanta's voice rang out from the treetops as she leapt down, legs a blur, bow gripped tight in her hands.
But she was too far.
It should've taken just a breath to cross the space between them—but suddenly it felt like miles.
"Why am I so slow?" she gritted through clenched teeth.
The boar, three tons of raw fury, bore down on Cyd in a charge that could've leveled a city wall.
Cyd's eyes sharpened. "I can do this."
And then the boar struck.
Or at least, it should have. But at the last possible second, Cyd twisted back, arms looping around the beast's massive tusked snout. The impact hit him like a mountain dropped from the sky, the ground beneath them shattering with a thunderous boom.
Atalanta froze. Dust flew. The forest stilled.
Then—crack. Not bone, but stone—earth splitting apart under the pressure. And from the haze, she saw it:
The boar flying.
Cyd stood in the crater, dust swirling around him, arms still outstretched from the throw.
"Real shame," he muttered, flipping the airborne boar off with a grin. "People think humans survive with brute strength. Turns out, we're just really good at using yours against you."
"You literally just used brute strength," Atalanta deadpanned, then walked over and kicked him in the knee.
"Not true," Cyd said, shaking out his arm. "That was a textbook example of redirecting momentum. Physics, Atalanta. Aristotle would've been proud."
"Did you find its weak spot while you were being heroic?"
She looked away quickly, cheeks flushed. She definitely hadn't forgotten to look. Nope. Definitely not too busy worrying about him.
"Nope. Still thinking crowd tactics might be best," she mumbled.
Cyd sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Well, doesn't matter. I don't think our porcine friend's planning to let us walk away."
The boar had recovered—and then some. It was now tearing through trees like they were paper, its body bulging grotesquely, swelling with every bite of dirt, bark, and who-knew-what-else.
"I think it just ate a rock," Cyd noted.
"You're worried about its diet?" Atalanta rolled her eyes. "It's huge! You're not going to be able to throw it again. Next time you try, it's going to flatten you like a bug."
Cyd's grin turned sharp. "That's why I've got a new plan. When it charges again, that'll be the end of it."
The boar let out a roar, its eyes glowing red with rage. Its body had grown nearly twice its original size. No way anyone would mistake it for a normal animal now. This was a monster.
A calamity.
"Good. Makes it easier to hit." Cyd turned to Atalanta and held out his hand. "I need your help."
Atalanta folded her arms. "I'm not leaving."
Cyd laughed, shaking his head. "No, I mean—lend me your strength."
She blinked. "Oh. Um. Only this once," she said, blushing, and placed her hand in his.
"Thanks." Without warning, Cyd pulled her into a hug from behind.
She stiffened. For a moment, instinct took over and she relaxed her head against his chest—just like she had during those long, quiet nights recovering on the road. But she quickly realized what was happening and started squirming.
"What do you think you're doing!?"
"Trust me," Cyd whispered.
He took her left hand, the one holding her bow, and guided it. His other hand reached into her quiver, drew an arrow, and notched it with practiced precision.
"This is something only we can do."
Atalanta opened her mouth to protest, then shut it. After a moment of silence, she bumped the back of her head against his chin. "If you screw this up, I will bite you."
"I welcome the challenge," Cyd murmured.
His bracer pulsed with light—the sigil of Apollo, god of the sun, glowing like fire beneath his skin. That warmth flowed down his arm and into Atalanta's bow.
Atalanta's eyes widened. "This is…"
"Moon and sun," Cyd said. "Your divine bow from Artemis. My blessing from Apollo. Together? We've got one shot."
She stared at the weapon now glowing in her hands—its wood threaded with golden light, silver veins pulsing across the limbs.
The Calydonian Boar snarled. Its eyes locked onto them.
It charged.
"One shot," Cyd said, voice low. "Aim for the exposed spot."
"Don't tell me what to do," Atalanta muttered, but her voice lacked bite. She inhaled deeply, heart steady. This wasn't fear. Not anymore. With Cyd behind her, arms guiding hers, everything felt strangely… safe.
Like no matter what happened, they'd face it together.
She wasn't sure if that made her stronger—or more vulnerable.
Probably both.
The boar came crashing forward, earth cracking beneath its weight. They leapt back in unison, just as it lowered its head for the killing blow. In that instant, with the beast's chest lifted and its underbelly exposed, the window opened.
The moment slowed. Dust froze in midair. Cyd's voice cut through the stillness.
"You're not a predator," he said, eyes locked on the boar. "You're just prey that got cocky."
Atalanta smirked. "And I hate being looked down on—especially by pigs."
She released.
The arrow blazed with divine light—silver and orange fused into a spear of fire. It tore through the air and struck true, piercing the boar's nostril, slamming out the back of its skull in an explosion of blood and magic.
The beast staggered.
Then it crashed to the ground in a rumble that shook the mountains.
Its eyes rolled back. Its body convulsed once.
And then it was still.
Silence fell over the forest.
"Well," Atalanta said, slowly lowering her bow, "I guess pigs do fly."
Cyd collapsed to the ground with a grin. "That… was awesome."
Atalanta turned, looked down at him, then sat beside him.
"You owe me," she said.
Cyd tilted his head toward her. "Dinner?"
She raised an eyebrow. "You are aware we just shot a divine monster the size of a cottage, right?"
"I was thinking… bacon?"
Atalanta groaned. "You're unbelievable."
And yet, she didn't move away. In fact, she leaned a little closer.