The ten-year war fought between the allied forces of Achaia and Ilios. It gave birth to countless deaths and countless ruins, and in the end it held within it even the destruction of a city. It was a tragedy that would remain long in history and be handed down to later generations.
Yet what that war conceived was not decline alone. Some men, at the end of repeating these tragic and desperate battles, piled up immortal glory. It was the birth of heroes, radiant as the sun and cruel as the moon.
"King Odysseus."
The man, Odysseus, was one such hero.
A strategist who received the favor of Athena, goddess of wisdom and war. A fighting general who, were warriors ever ranked, would never descend from the upper tiers. A fierce commander accomplished in both letters and arms, who brought his subordinates out alive through thorough command even in the moment of a counterattack. The destroyer of the city, who built the trap of the wooden horse and at last brought down an impregnable stronghold. The king of Ithake, who could return to his own city only after ten years of war and ten years adrift, twenty years of wandering all told.
All of those were the modifiers that pointed to him, the words that praised him. Things that would remain upon the earth forever alongside his name, even if he were to die tomorrow and be buried beneath the ground.
"If you had to endure one more wandering in exchange for gaining greater fame than you have now, what would you do?"
"...You call that a question? Good grief, this is absurd."
Even supposing Odysseus himself placed little interest in honor.
"I have no intention of being parted from my lovely wife any longer. Ten whole years of hardship was enough. What more would I do from here?"
"Is that so?"
"Or do you think that I ought to leave home again at my age? Surely that is not quite right, is it?"
Odysseus chuckled and admonished his guest in a joking tone. What flowed from the corners of his mouth each time was the ease and brazen good humor peculiar to a seasoned man.
A cheerfulness that even his wrinkles could not quite conceal tickled the guest's ears.
"I am content with my present circumstances, and I desire no change. I hope this has served as an answer."
"Is that so......."
That was enough of an uncomfortable subject. Hoping his guest would take the meaning and withdraw at a suitable point, Odysseus filled the empty cup with wine.
Trickle.
The wine rose little by little in the bronze cup.
"But, great king. Fate is not something one can avoid merely by wishing to avoid it."
Then, when the wine had risen to the midpoint of the cup, a strange thing occurred.
"Therefore you shall go forth to war, and for the sake of that war you shall wander again for decades."
The guest's hand, neither young nor old, changed into that of an old woman. Odysseus' hand faltered as he poured, but the anomaly did not stop there.
〚That is your fate.〛
Though he had stopped pouring, the wine within the bronze cup swelled in bulk. It was as though a spring were welling up.
Rising and rising again, the wine finally overflowed the cup.
"Wait, what do you mean—"
Odysseus looked at his own body, submerged to the ankles, and rose in haste. The chair clattered over in the aftermath, but that was not what mattered.
Odysseus' blue eyes stared at the old woman, who still sat there calmly. Thread was tangled about the old woman's hands like chains, knotted as though a lifetime of unraveling could not finish it.
〚The story ends here.〛
"I have done nothing yet......!"
This being is not human. It is a god.
The instant he realized it, Odysseus stretched out his hand toward the guest. It was an act half born of the unconscious.
A man who meant to struggle against the end declared to him tried to cling at the feet of a god.
〚You who shall hold all the glory of the world in your hands, do not despair too much in the long wandering.〛
"Wait a moment!"
But it was not his hand that reached first. The old woman's finger touched his forehead and pushed him backward. The man's body toppled back without even the room to resist.
SPLASH!
Brilliant golden hair collapsed upon the swamp of blood-red wine.
"Haah!"
Immediately after, Odysseus raised himself up in bed. The wine that had been lapping at his toes a moment ago was nowhere to be found. Only a hard bed and a familiar warmth lay beside him.
"...Mmm."
But the scent of wine still seemed to linger at the tip of his nose.
Odysseus rubbed his face with dry hands as he turned over the dream he had just had. He must have sweated a great deal in that short while, for his face and back were truly damp.
"...Dear?"
"...Penelope."
"What is the matter? Your voice doesn't sound right."
That was not all. Only after hearing his wife Penelope's remark could Odysseus tell that his voice had gone to ruin. It was on a level comparable to the times he had bellowed himself hoarse on a battlefield.
"It seems it is because I had an unsettling dream."
Once matters had come this far, concealment was out of the question. Odysseus swiftly abandoned any denial.
"I think I would feel better if my lady would hold me."
"...Really, you."
"Oh, my love. Do you dislike the idea?"
"How could that ever be?"
Instead he went on in his usual joking tone. So that Penelope would waver over whether this was a child's wheedling or true pain, and so that her worry might be lessened even a little.
"The trouble with you is that you mix sincerity and falsehood far too well."
"...I do not believe I have ever once told my lady a lie."
"Liar. You're trying to deceive me even now."
"It is true, my lady. I am always striving to be a truthful man to you."
"I am sure you are. You're the sort of swindler who, rather than spinning lies himself, deliberately invites misunderstanding by holding his tongue."
Well, it did not work particularly well. Penelope knew the man called Odysseus far too well. Even that 'knowing' was possible only because he had permitted it, but in any case.
"Forgive me, my lady."
When his second ploy also came to nothing, Odysseus changed his attitude at once.
Flattening himself like a dog and rubbing his face against Penelope's hand: the operation known as 'Charm and Flattery.' It was the measure he used as a last bastion when every attempt had failed to go his way.
"I may be a swindler, but I am still a man who looks at no one but you."
"...You really are wicked."
"I love you."
"...Had I known you were this shameless, I wouldn't have married you."
"...That is a joke, is it not?"
"Who knows?"
Of course, being a last resort did not mean it worked every time. And even when it worked, there were occasions like this one that brought slight side effects.
Odysseus' body tilted to one side.
"...Sob."
"...Wait, are you crying?"
"Huuu......."
"Dear?"
Weeping began to flow from the man lying face down. Penelope's face was dyed with dismay in an instant.
"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Truly. How could I ever have married anyone but you? My love is you and no one else."
"...Is that true?"
"Of course. I truly have no one but you."
"You mean that, don't you?"
"Naturally! Who else would I ever hold in my heart...ah?"
Flustered, Penelope swallowed her rambling excuses. It was half a beat later that she noticed the weeping from Odysseus had stopped all at once, and that a trace of laughter clung to every syllable he let out.
"You, really!"
"A-ah, that hurts. That hurts, my lady!"
"You will be the death of me!"
Past fifty years of age, and yet why was he so much like a child? Penelope slapped Odysseus' broad shoulder again and again, then rose from the bed.
"Where are you going, my lady?"
"I'm not telling you!"
"Oh... my love, are you angry?"
Naturally Odysseus rose after her. Sleep had long since fled him because of the nightmare, so it was no trouble. The man's feet came down upon the floor in pursuit of his love.
"Do not follow me."
"It is still dark all around. At least take a candle with you."
"I will manage on my own, so do not concern yourself."
"Oh dear."
Odysseus smiled awkwardly, reflecting that his prank might have gone too far. He could find his way without light, but his wife could not, which made it all the more troublesome.
Angry with him though she was, he wished she would at least carry a candle. He worried that slender body of hers might take a fall.
"My lady, I was in the wrong. Please forgive me. I will not do it again."
"Liar. Do you know how many times I have heard that very—"
RUMBLE, CRASH!
"Eek!"
A single flash split the dark night, and the startled Penelope lost her footing. Odysseus' pupils widened as he hurriedly caught her up.
"...I think my heart just dropped, my lady."
"...Mine too."
The reasons their hearts had dropped were surely different, but for once their opinions matched. The dispute between the two of them halted for a while.
"The thunderbolt seems to have fallen toward the garden... could the god Zeus be angry?"
"...That will not be it. Had he truly been angry with us, he would have struck the house itself with lightning rather than somewhere as vague as the garden."
"If that is so, then it is a relief......."
"Trust me, my lady."
Odysseus gently soothed Penelope's unease as he examined the world beyond the window. SHHHHH. With the lightning as its starting point, rain began to fall. It was a rain so dank and cold that it felt ominous.
"The air seems likely to turn cold, so my lady should return to the room first."
"And you?"
"I must check the spot where the lightning struck. It would be a problem if a fire were to break out."
Even if a fire had started, with rain pouring down like this it would soon go out... but it was within his own home regardless. As king of Ithake, he could not let such unease pass lightly.
"But......."
"If there is a lightning-struck tree, I will at least bring back a branch. It will surely make a fairly fine keepsake."
"...You must be careful."
"Yes."
After escorting Penelope to the door of the room, Odysseus threw himself out of the window. His body, robust despite his years, cleared the window in a single bound and crossed onto the adjoining walking path. It was a path that connected to the garden.
"My king!"
"You were already out?"
"We thought a fire might have started......."
"Well done. That is reassuring."
He commended the two servants, who looked to have just come running out, while observing the spot the lightning had struck. The torch in a servant's hand was lighting the surroundings, which made his inspection all the easier.
Odysseus' sandals trod the rain-soaked grass.
"Judging by the traces left behind, it seems to have been ordinary thunder and lightning. Do not worry, and go inside."
"Is that so?"
"Oh my, what a great relief."
The two servants were relieved, and Odysseus quietly caught his breath as well. Since waking he had been forcing himself to feign composure, but the clamminess the nightmare had left behind still held him by the ankle.
"My king!"
Just then, someone's voice came from beyond Odysseus' residence.
"King Odysseus!"
As Odysseus recalled, the owner of this voice was a stout young man who lived in the village by the harbor. He was as fleet of foot as any herald, and Odysseus had been rather impressed by him once.
"Pirates! Pirates have appeared!"
In short, raiders had arrived. Odysseus' eyes crumpled into a scowl at sea robbers appearing right after that dream, of all times.
"You, go and wake the soldiers this instant. And you, go to my chamber and bring my sword and shield."
"Yes!"
"Understood!"
No, this too would be needless worry. How long had it even been since the ten-year war ended, that another war would break out? Let alone a war so vast that it would leave him wandering for decades. How?
Besides, the gods who spin fate never showed themselves before men to begin with. If this had truly been an oracle, the god of the rainbow or the god of messengers would have come; the god of fate herself would not have appeared.
"Open the gate."
"Ah! Yes!"
So this is not an oracle, absolutely not. It is merely a nightmare, the anxiety he carries about with him at all times given shape.
Odysseus shut his unease away with such words as he gave the order to the guard. Beyond the gate, which opened with a CREAK, stood a man streaming with blood.
"My king......!"
"I heard what you were shouting. Explain in detail."
"It, it is."
Odysseus checked the extent of the man's injuries, then gestured to his soldiers. One soldier hurried off to fetch bandages and medicinal herbs, while the other led the man to a spot beneath the eaves.
"Did they attack suddenly?"
"Yes, yes."
"And what does their scale appear to be?"
"It was dark, so I could not......."
"I see. The damage?"
"The bastards set fire to several houses... hurgh."
"Is that so. Well done. The boldness and wisdom you have shown today will be acknowledged even by the goddess Athena."
Odysseus stepped back so the soldier could treat the man, and tapped the man's forehead as he went.
"So leave the rest to me. I shall present a fitting recompense to those who dared come to plunder the Ithake of this Odysseus."
His lips curled up in a grin unsuited to the situation, yet no one around him found it uncomfortable. If anything, the man's head nodded as though bewitched by Odysseus' smile.
"Father!"
Just then Telemachos, the son of Odysseus and Penelope, came running in beneath the eaves. At the young prince's arrival the soldiers' heads bowed briefly.
"We march at once. Telemachos, make ready."
"...Yes!"
Odysseus, for his part, gazed quietly at his son.
If, if a war truly did break out... Ithake would fall to Telemachos. His son, who did not covet women, did not desire riches, was capable as a king, and even served his mother well.
That one fact was Odysseus' only comfort.
"Son, let us go."
"Yes!"
Of course, the best thing would be for last night's nightmare to end as nothing but a dream. Odysseus patted his son's back, then took up the weapons a servant had brought.
Soon twenty soldiers and two commanders ran after their king toward the harbor.
"Hahaha! How worthless!"
"Aaaaagh!"
Just as they reached the port, they found fleeing townspeople and criminals lost in plunder. The god of night had not yet drawn back the hem of its robe, but the burning houses stood in for the sun. The blazing flames lit the darkness scarlet.
"Telemachos! I am dividing off six soldiers for you! Circle the village and strike the enemy from behind!"
"Yes!"
As the situation was worse than expected, Odysseus split his force. Telemachos, given his orders, immediately took the soldiers and separated from the main body.
"Proud sons of Ithake! Kill the raiders who dared set their eyes on this land! Show the bastards what we are!"
Immediately after, Odysseus entered the village with the remaining soldiers and commander.
It was then that arm muscles still firm despite his fifty-odd years took hold of a spear shaft. The moment he sent a god's breath flowing along his veins, strength coursed through his aged body and the world began to turn with Odysseus at its center.
The presence he had kept shrunk small so as not to hinder those around him swelled in size with tremendous force.
"Charge! Move in pairs and attack the enemy!"
Once he had entered a battlefield, there was no longer any need to match pace with ordinary soldiers. Odysseus signaled to the one commander he had, then shot out ahead of the line.
WHOOSH!
Before he took hold of his sword, Odysseus first threw the spear slung across his back. Through a world blurred by both the driving raindrops and his aging eyes, the thick shaft flew straight and true.
SQUELCH! The spray of blood that followed came from the body of an enemy. Pinned to the ground like a fish speared on a harpoon, the enemy soon let his tongue loll out.
"This old man doesn't know his place!"
Instead, a pirate beside him raised a spear in indignation. It seemed these bastards did not even know whose land it was that they had invaded.
"And do you know your own place, you bastard?"
Odysseus harbored a thin irritation and derision at that fact. He could not help it; the fact that only precious townspeople had died at the hands of such creatures was truly lamentable.
A twisted sneer clung to the blade as it was swung.
"Di—!"
"When you arrive in the afterworld, give my regards to a few nobodies of Ilios."
"Kurgh!"
A single sword strike cut the robber's body in two. It would have been hard even with the strength of a young man in his prime, but for Odysseus, clad in a god's power, it was not particularly difficult.
Odysseus' foot kicked the bandit's long spear up into the air.
"Where is your captain!!"
He snatched it up in a flash and hurled it to one side. An enemy who had been fleeing at the sight of the soldiers fell with his torso run through.
"Come out! You cowardly things!"
Rather than relying on sight, Odysseus swept his surroundings with his presence-sense. Unfortunately, no being worth calling a captain could be felt yet. The man's eyes narrowed as he saw through the darkness, hunting down and killing the remnants.
〚Father!〛
"Over there?!"
Then, from far off, his son's voice came to him. Odysseus' sandals immediately ran across the mud. The enemies he met along the way could not stop the man who had been the leading figure of that great war of the past and the architect of its victory.
〚Father! Help me!〛
At least the enemies could not. The moment he heard his son's desperate voice, Odysseus' blue eyes dilated. The slight sense of wrongness in his son's voice was buried beneath the urgency of the situation. Odysseus' legs kicked powerfully off the ground.
"Filthy bandit scum—!"
Soon his son's presence came through the sheets of rain. It was twice as weak as usual, as though he had been driven onto the defensive. Odysseus' blue eyes blazed like fire.
"Ha! For a mere foot soldier, you have some skill!"
"Di...e!"
And directly before Telemachos there was a presence he had never encountered before. The closer he drew to the raider, the more distinctly that being's impression came to him. A blue-green as free and refreshing as the wind. It was a color he had certainly seen somewhere.
"But you cannot defeat me!"
Yet before he could dwell on that familiarity, the blue-green young man began driving Telemachos back. The gap in skill was not overwhelming, but it was plain that Telemachos was the weaker of the two.
Odysseus' hand hurriedly seized the spare spear slung on his back.
"I shall grant you my mercy—?!"
CRASH!
The spear that split the air drove into the ground with a roar. Such was the force behind it that the spear, as long as a grown man, was buried more than halfway into the earth.
'...He didn't seem strong enough to deflect this.'
But rather than satisfaction at the sight, Odysseus felt a subtle discomfort. In small part it was regret at failing to finish his opponent in one blow; in large part it was puzzlement that an attack which should not have missed had missed. Since he had struck while accounting for a certain degree of resistance from his opponent and it had still been deflected, that question ran all the deeper.
"Father......!"
"My son, are you still of an age to need your father's help? Carry on like that and you will never stand on your own, will you?"
...He would let it pass for now. There were, after all, those who made up for their own lacking skill with mystical arms.
Odysseus carved that fact into his mind alone and cut into the fight. Now that his son had come within a distance where he could help no matter what happened, his heart was finally at ease. The face that had been feigning composure grew truly calm.
"When did I ever......!"
"This is the only time I will help you, so do better from now on. I cannot go on cleaning up after you forever, can I?"
"No......!"
"Oh dear, the soldiers over there seem to be struggling. Go and help them."
Since matters had come to this, he teased his son as well, as though he had never worried at all. The way Telemachos' face colored with indignation was rather funny. And who was the one who had asked for help first?
"H-how. How can a mere foot soldier have such strength......."
"A mere foot soldier?"
It hardly mattered. Odysseus drew his sword as he looked at the raider, who had gone pale upon recognizing the gap in skill. He still had a spear left, but it was a choice made out of concern that it might glance aside again.
The rain, which still had not stopped, soaked everything around them.
"So that is how you see me. Well, dying inside such a delusion would not be so bad."
A dream was only a dream after all. Odysseus pressed strength into the ball of his front foot as he looked at an opponent far too weak to harm him. The soil, gone sodden with rain, slid back beneath him and shot him forward.
"Wander the netherworld without even knowing who killed you, you lowly pirate bastard."
But at the moment Odysseus' sword, outpacing time, was about to cleave the young man's body, something showed in the old man's blurred vision. A grip-iron shield carved with the head of Medusa. It was the symbol of a god he knew well.
CLANG!
Without so much as grazing the young man's collar, Odysseus' sword was knocked aside.
"...Die!"
And the raider, who had registered Odysseus' attack half a beat late, moved. Far from knowing what was protecting him, the raider seemed not even to realize that he was being protected, and merely swung his sword with a face full of malice.
SLASH!
"Father?!"
A long gash was carved across Odysseus' chest. Perhaps the sword held some mystery in it; the cut flesh began to rot away in an instant.
"Why, why......?"
But what truly tormented Odysseus was neither the wound he had taken nor the fact that he had been struck by a mere sea robber.
The wounded hero's gaze fixed solely upon the area around the pirate's shoulder.
"Goddess, why?"
〚My favored Odysseus. It is regrettable that matters have come to this.〛
"Father!!!"
SQUELCH!
The raider's sword, swung once more, pierced through the region of his heart. The abilities that would ordinarily have protected Odysseus were eroded by the god's authority and could exert no power at all.
Before the betrayal of the god he had trusted and revered most, Odysseus' blue eyes wavered.
"I am merciful, you bastard, so I shall grant you my noble name to keep your road to the afterworld from being dull!"
Along with the smell of rotting flesh, the world began to tilt little by little.
"I am Telegonos!"
...No, that was not all.
"Son of the great hero Odysseus and the potent witch Kirke!"
At the instant the blade began to withdraw from his body, Odysseus thrust his hand forward. It was pure muscular strength, borrowing neither a god's energy nor the power of the heights he had attained.
"Take it as an honor to die at the hands of one such as—?!"
The pirate who had just spouted that bullshit went round-eyed, but Odysseus paid him no mind.
His thick hand clamped further around the hilt the raider held. His opponent was deeply bewildered by a grip too strong to believe from a dying old man.
"Goddess."
But he was not the sort of man to die alone even in death. Odysseus' eyes flashed as he burned away the last of his life. Though his abdomen was run through, the man who held both the piercing sword and its owner raised his own sword with his other hand.
"The warrior you have newly chosen does not seem to be so excellent a man."
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and Odysseus' sword aimed for the raider's chest. If it lodged as he wished, it was an attack that would shatter the shoulder and smash the heart.
"This crazy old man—"
〚I know that already. For I shall never again receive a hero such as you.〛
CLANG. The god's shield, visible yet unseen, blocked the path of his sword once more. It was a display that made Odysseus wretched to the very end.
To be made to die so abjectly against an opponent he could have killed, one who could never have killed him. A grinding sound came from between Odysseus' teeth.
〚That is precisely why you must die.〛
"Father!"
"King Odysseus!"
"Ah, great Odysseus!!"
"...What?"
But his strength was already spent. The curse spread through his whole body at last, the force in the grip he had held by sheer will drained away, and Odysseus' body collapsed where it was.
The raider tried to catch his falling body, but that much he struck away first. Dazzling golden hair scattered across the mud.
"Wait, Odysseus? What do you mean......."
"Father! Father!"
"Tele, ma, chos."
"N-no. This cannot be, Father......!"
"Get, up. The fight is not yet......."
"Kill that bandit at once!"
"My prince, you must fall back!"
"Quickly, get His Majesty—"
"Your, moth, er......."
Ah, Penelope. My eternal love. My one and only companion. And yet I swore that I would never leave you behind again.......
"Ah... my love......."
Had he been a little stronger, a little more meticulous, had he at least had the wit to notice a god's change of heart, would the ending have been even slightly different? But he had not, and for that price he dies.
Hoping his beloved would not be too badly shaken, Odysseus received the god of death as it drew near. His vision went black at once.
.
.
.
Four thousand years later.
Land contaminated by the Fourth World War.
Inside a city humankind had carved out to escape the contamination, a boy slammed his own head against a desk.
⌈Telegonos, who failed to recognize his father Odysseus and killed him,...(abridged)...after marrying Penelope, entered Elysion with the blessing of his mother, Kirke......⌋
"...I will kill him."
The impact of striking the desk had split his forehead and it bled, but the fierce light in the boy's eyes never went out.
"I will kill him without fail."
Odysseus. By the name of his reincarnated body, Yul.
"Without fail, I will tear them apart and kill them. Telegonos, and Athena and Kirke......!"
It was the first declaration and oath he spat out with a history book in his hands after becoming aware of his past life.
※This work is a product of the author's imagination; the place names, characters, events, organizations and so on that appear in it differ from reality and are unrelated to the relevant historical facts.
※Proper nouns from Greek mythology follow Classical Greek pronunciation wherever possible, but words more familiar in their English or Latin form are written that way.
¹Prologos Πρόλογος
In ancient Greek drama, a monologue or dialogue that explains the background and sets the mood of the play before the main stage begins.
It is the word from which Prologue derives.