King of Underworld

Chapter 111: Heracles of Thebes – (2)

“So, Heracles has lost his motivation. No matter what we try, we can’t rekindle his spirit. I humbly request your assistance…”

Heracles? Losing his motivation? Was it that he’d lost his dream of becoming a hero, or that he’d grown lazy in his training?

If even Chiron’s guidance couldn’t resolve this lack of enthusiasm, then the problem must be deeper.

I’d seen heroes lose their way before—many had wandered aimlessly or become arrogant after tasting success. But motivation? That was a different matter.

In Oedipus’ case, his despair and guilt led him to lose the will to live, but Heracles? That didn’t seem likely.

Perhaps he was grappling with the idea that his immense strength made him more of a monster than a man.

Or maybe he’d grown arrogant, thinking that becoming a hero was an easy feat given his innate power.

As I pondered, Styx, who had been watching my expression, interrupted with a question.

“Hmm…”

“Hades? What’s written on that scroll?”

“It says Heracles has lost his drive. It’s understandable, given the overwhelming strength he was born with.”

“Ah…”

The requirements for a mortal to become a hero are simple.

Either they possess great physical strength, cleverness, divine lineage, or are chosen by fate to complete great tasks. That’s how they become heroes.

But not all heroes are created equal.

The difference in strength between a hero like Cadmus and one who only manages to defeat a few monsters is vast.

What we, the gods, seek to cultivate is someone who can surpass even Cadmus—one who transcends the limits of mortal strength.

Even if Heracles is destined to be a hero, he’ll reach his limits if his motivation is crushed.

Could this be related to my decision to dip him into the River Styx?

“…This won’t do. I need to meet Heracles myself.”

“You’re going personally?”

“Yes. If his will is broken, I’ll provide him with a new goal, give him something to strive for. I’ll also need to tell him about Hera’s involvement.”

If I didn’t explain that he had nursed from Hera as a child, he’d inevitably face her wrath at some point…

It might be better for Heracles to directly seek forgiveness at Hera’s temple.

* * *

Not long after, I arrived at the hero training grounds on the outskirts of the Underworld.

Chiron, sensing my approach, quietly made his way over and bowed deeply.

“My apologies, Lord Hades. I once prided myself on being the best educator, yet now…”

“No need to blame yourself. You’ve done well. Heracles losing his motivation is more my responsibility, given that I dipped him into the River Styx.”

“I suspect the issue stems from his immense power. It’s hard to guide someone with such strength. No amount of coercion will make him a hero, and since no weapon can harm him…”

It wasn’t hard to spot Heracles.

While all the other heroes were sparring and sweating on the training grounds, one massive, muscular figure lay sprawled on top of a high cliff, staring up at the sky.

His iron-like body, exuding power even in stillness, could have easily been mistaken for that of a god.

And yet, despite his divine strength, his eyes were empty, filled with a deep lack of purpose.

I approached him.

“Are you Heracles?”

“…Who are you? Another hero sent by Chiron to persuade me? I already told him—I have no interest in continuing my training.”

Suppressing my divine aura as I often did in front of mortals, I was met with this dismissive response.

He didn’t even bother to look at me, still gazing blankly at the sky.

“Do you know how meaningless that emptiness you’re feeling is?”

“What did you say?!”

“Does the world feel as soft as wool to you? Do the people in the streets seem as fragile as animals? Or perhaps, with your body of steel, you think training holds no value anymore?”

“And who exactly are you to say that to me?”

Heracles stood abruptly, his voice rising in anger.

Ah, now he’s paying attention.

“You don’t understand anything! With just a bit of strength, I can break and crush everything around me! What’s the point of training? A lion is born a lion. Techniques and discipline are for the weak!”

“You don’t want to become a hero?”

“A hero? Of course, I do! It’s the greatest honor, isn’t it? That’s why I’m still here. But what I’m saying is, their training is pointless for someone like me. It used to help, but now it’s unnecessary. I’ve worked hard enough to become a hero—now all that’s left is to complete my tasks!”

Heracles glanced down at the other heroes training below the cliff.

For someone born with immense power, training must seem trivial. Slaying monsters was a simple task for him.

A demigod who was invulnerable from birth, having nursed at Hera’s breast—of course, the world seemed beneath him.

But that power…

“And you think that paltry strength is enough?”

“What did you say?”

“There are countless beings in this world with power equal to or greater than yours. Some of the monsters you’ll face in your tasks are stronger still.”

His lack of experience made him blind to this.

Heracles was strong—certainly stronger than any mortal he’d meet.

But when it came to facing monsters, gods, and Titans, it was a different story.

A prophesied hero, unlike ordinary mortals, is required to operate on a higher level.

He would need the strength to tear apart the vile Gigantes…

“Are you satisfied with just becoming a hero? Is aiming higher beyond your reach?”

“Higher than a hero?”

“To transcend mortality. To become a god.”

Heracles blinked, then chuckled softly.

“Gods? Really? I’ve heard that my father is Zeus, but even so…”

“…Look into my eyes. I’ll show you just how insignificant you really are.”

Heracles finally realized who I was. His gaze shifted from boredom to curiosity, then uncertainty, and finally a faint glimmer of hope.

There was a flicker of anticipation in his eyes, a tiny sliver of desire to change.

At this point, his strength likely rivaled that of a lesser god. He wouldn’t die from this… probably.

Perhaps it’s time to give him a glimpse of the Underworld.

* * *

“…Look into my eyes. I’ll show you just how insignificant you really are.”

The man urging me to become a god… was he truly a god himself?

But even the great hero Cadmus had slain a demigod—the son of Ares. Could a god really be that much stronger?

As I locked eyes with the man’s cold, black gaze, my world was turned upside down.

Whoosh!

It felt as though I was being pulled into an endless abyss.

I couldn’t breathe, and yet, I was still alive.

I kept my eyes open, but everything around me was dark.

An eerie energy crept over me, making my body tremble uncontrollably.

Where… is this place?

I was falling… endlessly, deeper and deeper into the abyss.

There was no end in sight, just a plunge into some unknown depth of the void—Tartarus.

Nausea overwhelmed me as my vision spun and my body refused to move.

For the first time in my life, I felt powerless. My strength was utterly useless here.

Was this… death?

…

…

…

Crash!

“Ahh! Cough… Huff… Hahh…”

“Pull yourself together. It was merely an illusion.”

As soon as I met his gaze, I collapsed.

Panting heavily, gasping for air, I realized I had just experienced the sensation of death itself.

My entire body trembled, my knees giving way beneath me, my eyes wide with shock.

Yet, despite the overwhelming fear and the sweat pouring from my body, I hadn’t died.

Of course, it was exactly as I had expected.

After all, Heracles was the first—and likely the last—mortal to meet my gaze head-on and survive.

I suppose I should attribute it to him being Zeus’ son.

Addressing my nephew, still clutching his throat and gasping for breath, I spoke again.

“Your father, Zeus, is far stronger than I am. And yet, you—the son of Zeus—are content with being nothing more than a hero worshipped by mortals? Pathetic. If your mind is still unchanged, you may leave for the world of the living. No one will stop you.”

“…W-who… are you?”

“I am your father’s brother.”

“W-wait… then… Hades? Cough… Huff…”

As he knelt on the ground, still struggling to catch his breath, I allowed him a moment to recover.

After some time, he looked up at me hesitantly, cautiously choosing his words.

“…What must I do… to achieve the deeds that would make me a god?”

“Do you wish to become immortal?”

Heracles hesitated for a moment before continuing.

“Every man in Greece dreams of accomplishing great deeds and becoming a hero. To become a hero like King Cadmus… there is nothing greater. And yet, the idea of becoming a god… if that path is now before me, shouldn’t I take it? Even if…”

His eyes were different now. They held a glint of determination—the spark of an ambition that all great heroes possess.

To aspire to something as grand as godhood… that is what will forge you into the greatest of heroes.

Even after experiencing death, trembling with fear, and realizing who I am, he still meets my gaze.

“…even if I must face the wrath of some powerful god in the process.”

Once again, he stared directly at me.

“…Impressive.”

I was genuinely pleased. This was the spirit of a true hero.

Now I understood why his name would endure for millennia.

I regarded him with satisfaction.

“Then I shall tell you what you must do—and what awaits you when you return to the world of the living.”