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‘So, if I just capture that woman, the kingdom will be mine?’

‘Wow, suitors are already lining up. Should I give it a shot, too?’

Those filthy gazes that see her not as Atalanta, the huntress and young hero, but merely as a woman to be possessed and a tool for power.
Confronted for the first time with the vile desires of men, she was at a loss.
And the man who came out to greet her—the one who claimed to be the general of her father, King Issus of Arcadia—was even more outrageous.

“Hmph, His Majesty is too much. Just because he has no sons, he sends me to retrieve the girl he abandoned in the forest. Well, she’s pretty enough; maybe we can use her for the purpose of a political marriage.”

A statement that looked down on her endlessly, showing no courtesy or respect.
And the following words were the catalyst.

“Princess, how about me as your husband? I may not know much, but I’m excellent at nightly affairs.”

The General’s eyes were infinitely vulgar as he laughed heartily at her.

A dirty mouth that mocked her pride.
Vile eyes that tainted her honor.

By the time she came to her senses, her whole body was already covered in blood.

She had dared to tear out the tongue of the General who insulted the daughter of Artemis.
She had dared to gouge out and crush the filthy eyes that had ogled the huntress raised by the king of the mountains.

A massacre happened in the blink of an eye.
As the General, who lost his tongue and eyes in an instant, screamed, all the soldiers around rushed into the tent, and they couldn’t contain their astonishment at the sight of her drenched in blood.

“A monster! A monster has been born from the royal lineage!”

Ha.
She smiled coldly.
With a heart that seemed like it would burn with rage, with a cold cruelty that froze her reason.

The men whose eyes had gleamed with vile desire now tinged with fear and terror seemed laughable.
Originally more accustomed to the bow and spear as a huntress, but believing in the pride of Greece, she came empty-handed.
She drew a sword from the waist of the General, who screamed hideously.

A sharp, hard, and cruelly gleaming killing tool.

Gripping it with both hands, as she had learned, she looked at the man crawling on the ground like a worm.

And slowly swung it toward his neck.
As she had learned, slowly, without wavering.

-Clang!

But the sword did not cut the neck of that vile man.

“Master…”

“…I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to find out about it like this.”

In an instant, Chiron had broken through the Arcadian army and blocked her sword.
Holding her lightly in his arms, Chiron glared at the Arcadia soldiers, who looked up at him with awe and fear.

“How dare you insult my disciple, blessed by Artemis, the little hero?!”

-Boom!!

Chiron’s angry hooves shook the ground, and the divine power he unleashed crushed the shameful Arcadian army.
Then, the immortal, a descendant of Kronos who had seen Olympus’s first glory and whom the king of the gods had honored, roared.

-Zeus! King of Olympus!! Was the honor you promised me so light?!!

-Rumble!!

The oldest sage’s rage summoned the mightiest sky fire, answering from heaven, earth, and the underworld.
The bright morning sky was suddenly covered by pitch-black thunderclouds, and threatening lightning flickered above, glaring at the sinners.

-Oh, Artemis! Protector of maidens!! Will you truly stand by as your daughter is this humiliated?!!

-Shaaah!!

A pure white crescent moon in the center of the thundercloud-covered sky responded with a howl of rage.
The blade-like moonlight flashed coldly, like a guillotine, at the sinners who had insulted her daughter.

A terrifying yet awe-inspiring sight.
The humans, who directly faced the wrath of the distant yet near gods, cried out hideously for mercy, but the old sage’s hand gently covered her eyes and ears, stopping them.

“Let us go now. To home, to our home.”

Chiron’s voice, once filled with roaring fury, was now soaked with sadness and regret.

What happened to those vile men, Atalanta did not know.
She only knew that the forest nymphs were busy restoring the place where the Arcadian army had been for an entire week.
News came that Arcadia, cursed by lightning and crescent moon for having a foolish king, was plagued by all sorts of calamities and was in decline.

It was after that.
Even the young heroes who had once stood shoulder to shoulder with her, Atalanta began to realize that they were just ugly men anyway.
Except for Actaeon, who admired Artemis like her, Asclepius, who treated her with calm eyes, and her ever-teaching mentor, Chiron.

No man was allowed to approach her.

Even Chiron couldn’t alleviate her deep-seated hatred and pain, and extraordinary young heroes like Hercules, Jason, and Theseus felt sorry for her suffering.
She turned her eyes away and blocked her ears from them.

After all, they were just the same beasts.

Still, when she closed her eyes, it was vivid.
The gaze of the beasts who looked at her with disgust.
The filthy cries of the beasts who insulted and humiliated her.

‘So, if I just capture that woman, the kingdom will be mine?’

‘Wow, suitors are already lining up. Should I give it a shot, too?’

‘Princess, how about me as your husband? I may not know much, but I’m excellent at nightly affairs.’

Shut up.
Disappear.
In the swamp-like darkness, how many of those eyes had she plucked out and stomped on, and how many of those tongues had she ripped out.
Seeing her drenched in blood all over, those eyes and tongues cried out in unison.

A monster! A monster has been born from the king’s lineage!
“Shut up!!”

I am not a monster.
I am the proud daughter of Artemis.
A great huntress raised on the milk of the king of the mountains.

“I’m not someone you can call a monster!!”

If she were to argue until her throat burst, a sword would somehow end up in her hand.
A sharp, solid, and cruelly gleaming murder weapon.
If she slowly lifted it, a monster lay at her feet.
A monster drenched in blood all over.

The monster slowly opened its mouth and spoke.

‘You are a monster.’

Daughter of Artemis, whatever.
Raised on bear’s milk, not human milk.
If being stained with so much blood doesn’t make you a monster, what does?

Monster, monster, monster.

With a twisted smile, the blood-soaked monster singing of monstrosity somehow resembled her.
The short, tied-up ponytail of reddish-brown hair. The limbs beautifully tanned brown.
Even those eyes, filled with despair and mockery, were exactly like hers, making it all the more detestable.

She slowly lifted the sword.
Slowly, as her master had taught her, without wavering.
So she could sever the neck in one swift motion.

And using that balance, she swung the sword in one go.

-Clang!!

But once again, the sword did not cut the monster’s neck.
A foot that sprang from the side caught the sword with its instep.

“Hey, stop sulking and get up already.”

She tried to turn her head to see the owner of the voice, but she was already lying somewhere.

“…Huh?”

The bitter smell of herbs, the pure white ceiling.
A familiar ceiling greeted her.

“Where is this…?”

With a hazy mind wandering through jumbled memories, she sensed a strange presence moving beside her.

“You’re awake, eh? Crazy girl.”

When she slowly turned her head, recognizing the familiar voice from a dream, a boy with a nonchalant face was looking down at her.

“Dianes…”

“Yes, thanks to some crazy girl, I’m stuck here on this beautiful day. I’m Dianes.”

Chapter 1, Verse 3 of the Art of Infinite Iron Head.
Grabbing by the Collar, Precise Aim, One Strike Destruction.
According to the clear and precise teachings of those principles, if my master of the Infinite Iron Head had seen it, he would have given a thumbs up, saying, “That’s my student,” for such an artistic Iron Head technique.

Honestly, after knocking out Atalanta with a single Iron Head move, what came to mind was,
Wow. I must have mellowed out a lot.
If I had encountered a late-blooming talent with such yellow sprouts during my Heavenly Demon era, I would have immediately ordered a complete overhaul treatment in the name of the Heavenly Demon after a thorough re-education in the mental training hall.
To think I ended it with just a single knockout blow.

Anyway, Atalanta started the fight, threw the first punch, and even executed the “First to Cry Wins” strategy.
Her killing instinct and fierce nature clearly deserved a 15-minute thorough re-education, but even for me, it was hard to be cruel to a girl who was almost like my granddaughter in terms of age.
…Honestly, I had a strong urge to slap that whiny brat kicking around, but with all the eyes around us, I couldn’t afford to ignore the attention.
So, I racked my brain and resolved the situation in a manner befitting my age (?).

And any sudden intruder would have disappeared as well.
Finally, I was about to taste the main dish, when suddenly, Chiron, with a troubled face, and Chariclo, looking at me with a mysterious gaze as if wondering what on earth this was, asked me to take Atalanta to the infirmary.
Under the pressure from these two elders, which prevented me from saying, “Why me?” I ended up personally carrying the unconscious child—no, Atalanta—to the infirmary.