He pointed at his fake father. "Yeah, he’s here now, and we’re about to cook up a good plan to kick your butt, old man."

He turned to the masked bastard, cracking his knuckles. "So what’s the plan?"

"Plan?" He shrugged. "I thought we’d just brute force it out."

Shiro turned toward the masked bastard, dumbfounded. "You’re joking."

He shrugged. "Nope. But here, drink this."

"Dude, you are a horrible partner," Shiro muttered, grabbing the purple drink off his hand and downing it in one go.

He swallowed. Paused. His face scrunched up.

"So what was that?" The taste was bitter and burny, like someone had liquified regret and added a hint of sewer water.

"Poison," he said casually.

"Oh, okay. Thanks."

A pause.

Realization hit him like a freight train.

"You bastard—" he snapped. "You’re trying to backstab me!" He doubled over as he tried to gag out his entire stomach. But nothing came up.

"You’ll be fine. Quit being dramatic," the masked man muttered.

And he was right. All Shiro felt was a slight burning sensation crawling through his veins like liquid fire taking a scenic route through his organs. Uncomfortable? Yes. Lethal? Not at all.

’I’m going to kill him. Right after we kill Dad. He’s next on the list.’

"You two done?" The beastly man had just been standing there, arms crossed, listening to them blabber like he was watching two idiots argue over directions to their own funeral. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

"Can you just give us a minute?" Shiro muttered, waving a hand at him. "My idiot partner and I are trying to hatch a plan to kick your butt. So wait a bit longer."

His beastly brow twitched. "You think this is some kind of joke?"

Shiro sighed. "Oh my god. Fine. You’re so impatient." A small pause. "I’m slightly confused though. Why are you even doing all this? If you call yourself a god, then why kneel before another god?"

"Because he’s a demigod," the masked man softly. "He used to go by Hercules."

"Herc— what?"

"It’s Alcides now." His father’s voice dropped. Lower. Quieter. Almost human again. "I abandoned my godhood." He looked down at his own beastly body, which didn’t look human at all anymore. "The gods took everything from me."

And for the first time, Shiro heard despair in his father’s voice.

"I don’t know, being a god was fun," Shrio muttered, cracking his fingers one by one again. "Do whatever you want, sleep with whoever you want. Honestly? Great time. Five stars. Would recommend." A beat. "Until the gods decided to remind you that fun has an expiration date."

In that moment, his father’s massive frame seemed to shrink, just slightly. Not physically. Something deeper.

"I had a wife. Children. A life." His voice came out like gravel being dragged across stone. "Hera couldn’t stand my existence. I was proof of her husband’s betrayal. A walking reminder that Zeus loved someone else, even for a night."

He paused. His claws dug into his own palm, drawing blood he didn’t seem to notice.

"She cursed me. Drove me mad. And in that madness I—" He stopped. Swallowed something that wasn’t spit. "I killed them. My wife. My children. With these hands."

Silence.

Not the dramatic kind. The suffocating kind. The kind that made the air feel heavier than his club.

"When I came back to myself, when the madness lifted and I saw what I’d done—" Another pause. Longer this time. "I wanted to die. Begged for it. But the gods wouldn’t even give me that. Instead they gave me twelve labors. Twelve impossible tasks as atonement. As if anything could atone for what I did."

His fists clenched. The ground beneath him cracked.

"I completed every single one. Killed beasts no mortal could face. Descended into the underworld itself. Dragged Cerberus out of hell with my bare hands. And when it was over, when I’d bled and broken and given everything I had—they told me I was forgiven."

He laughed. Broken. Hollow.

"Forgiven." He laughed. Broken. Hollow. "Like it was theirs to give. Like the woman and children I buried were just a price of admission." His voice dropped. Quieter. Harder. "Like it was my fault and not theirs."

His yellow eyes drifted upward, toward the moon.

"And then I died. Poisoned by my own wife. The second one. The one the gods let me have as a reward. Burned alive on a funeral pyre while my son watched. And Zeus—my own father—pulled me up to Olympus and made me a god. Like that was supposed to fix everything. Like sitting on a golden throne would make me forget the sound of my children screaming."

He looked at Shiro. And for the first time, not as a weapon. Not as a mistake. Not as a problem that refused to stay buried. He just looked at him. Like he’d finally found someone who understood what he was going through.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

"When I was reborn into this body, I thought it was over. I thought maybe this time I could start fresh. Live quietly. Forget."

"You know, old man," Shiro said, quieter than he meant to, "I think this is the first time you and I can actually relate."

His father looked at Shiro, confused. Like a dog that had been kicked so many times it didn’t recognize a hand that wasn’t swinging.

"But it was Lady Ishtar who helped me regain my memories and promised me a chance to get my revenge on Hera."

’And of course she did.’

Shiro hit himself in the face with his own palm. "Old man, we had such a good connection going, and you had to ruin it by saying that witch’s name."

"How do you know her?" The voice came out growling, low and dangerous.

"Golden skin, black hair, crimson red eyes, voice like hypnosis?"

"Where did you see her?" he asked, sounding desperate now. The kind of desperate that made Shiro’s stomach twist, because it was the same desperation he’d heard in his own voice more times than he’d like to admit.

Shiro’s expression softened. Just barely. Just enough to say trust me on this one. Going after her was a road with no good ending. And even though he wasn’t exactly a fan of his fake father, he wouldn’t wish that damn goddess on his worst enemy.

"She’s not someone you can trust." His voice came out quieter than usual. Almost gentle. "I know her better than anyone. She’s no better than Hera or whatever the other ones are called."

"Where is she?" The voice came out as a threat. Low. Rumbling. The kind of voice that expected an answer and planned to hurt something if it didn’t get one.

"Sorry, old man." Shiro shook his head. "Can’t tell you. She took away someone special from me." His eyes hardened. "So I’m going to need her to rot on that island."