The Villain of Ancient Greece

Early spring in March, deep within the Arcadian mountain range.

Layers of verdant forest overlapped like finely carved jade screens, encircling the secluded valley that served as the sacred land of Artemis.

At the heart of the valley, within the clear holy spring, two figures were locked together in fierce, desperate embrace.

Their intense struggle sending broken ripples spreading across the once-calm lake surface, sending snow-white splashes soaring high.

Finally, accompanied by a low, suppressed moan, the Huntress Goddess floated up from the water, her entire body limp, wrapping herself around her lover’s limbs like an octopus, resting her beautiful head against the warm chest, closing her starry eyes in contentment, quietly savoring the wonderful afterglow of their shared passion.

Looking at Artemis’s exquisitely flushed, breathtakingly lovely face, Lorne couldn’t help but curl his lips in a sense of accomplishment as he lowered his head and gently kissed the smooth forehead of the beauty, wrapping her arms around her waist,

The floating phantom, behind him, gradually fading away.

He had to admit that the [Goat] wasn’t just fast when it came to movement; its endurance in certain other aspects seemed pretty impressive, too.

And compared to humans, their desires seemed far more frequent.

Before, he could barely deal with this stunningly beautiful and passionate goddess, even after becoming a god, but now.

After only a brief moment of tenderness, the gaze Lorne directed toward the Goddess in his arms began to heat up once more.

And this was already the seventh time.

But just then, the rustling sound of branches and leaves shaking came from the dense forest, growing steadily closer and the faces of the two lovers who had been secretly indulging in the holy spring instantly changed.

They hurriedly climbed ashore, swiftly evaporated the water from their bodies, and slipped into the dry clothes they had prepared in advance.

At the same time, a petite figure darted through the woods with the speed and agility of a spirit cat, rushing excitedly to the shore.

”Teacher! Lady Artemis! I caught it!”

A trembling young golden doe was lifted high by two small, pale hands.

The little huntress who had successfully captured this prey stood barely over a meter tall, yet she possessed eyes as sharp as those of a forest predator.

Her green hair grew wild and untamed, without any grooming, carrying none of the polished elegance of refinement, instead exuding a pure, natural wildness.

At the same time, a pair of small, delicate cat ears poked out from the green hair, twitching lightly.

Behind her, a little tail identical to that of a feline swayed happily in rhythm with her delighted mood.

”Mmm, Atta is really amazing!”

Lorne stepped forward, placed his hand on that fluffy little head, gently stroking it while smiling in praise.

However, this intimacy caused the green-haired feline girl in front of him to immediately scrunch up her small face as she slapped away the mischievous hand on her head and huffed indignantly in reminder.

”Teacher, randomly patting a warrior’s head is very impolite! I’m not some little child who needs to be coaxed!”

Looking at this little feline girl standing tall with her chest puffed out, solemnly declaring that she was already grown up and independent, Lorne could barely hold back his laughter.

Because she was only three years old.

But considering this girl’s excessively strong sense of pride, Lorne could only patiently nod in a very perfunctory show of respect for a ”warrior,” while inwardly struggling to suppress his amusement and secretly muttering to himself.

’Well… in a certain sense, you really are an adult now.

After all, three years for a cat is roughly equivalent to eighteen years for a human.’

The certain unscrupulous teacher mentally teased her while secretly resolving to feed his little Atalanta more lion’s milk to accelerate her development in the future, continuing his catgirl nurturing plan.

Yes—the little feline girl before him was none other than the Arcadian princess he had once picked up in the mountains, Atalanta.

Probably because she had been nursed on lioness’s milk and received the blessing of the Huntress Goddess Artemis, the princess of Arcadia had awakened the divine factors within her body.

As she grew, her form fused with the characteristics of feline animals like lions, truly turning her into a little catgirl.

As both her teacher and her raiser, Lorne was naturally extremely satisfied with little Atalanta’s transformation and devoted himself wholeheartedly to shaping her into the wild catgirl image he had in mind.

However, the one flaw was that his free-range parenting had been too successful.

This catgirl, who had grown up in the mountains and the temple since childhood, had become far too independent and she wasn’t clingy at all.

At only three years old, she had already started hunting, greatly reducing the amount of cat-petting enjoyment her teacher, Lorne, could have.

Now, he seemed to finally understand the resentment that Teacher Circe once held toward him.

Just as Lorne was lost in emotion, little Atalanta in front of him suddenly sniffed the air with her delicate nose and couldn’t help frowning.

”Strange… why is there a weird smell? It’s like… the scent of stone flowers?”

”Ahem! Ahem!”

Lorne and Artemis immediately coughed in unison, hurriedly changing the subject to divert little Atalanta’s attention.

”It’s getting late.”

”How about we eat first?”

Hearing this, Atalanta couldn’t help licking her cherry lips and immediately nodded.

”Okay! Let’s head back to camp!”

With that, the little catgirl casually released the young doe she had captured, took Lorne’s and Artemis’s arms in each of her small hands, one on the left, one on the right, and walked toward the distant camp.

Along the way, Atalanta didn’t stay idle either.

Sometimes she asked her teacher on the left about combat techniques, other times she raised hunting-related questions to the Huntress Goddess on her right.

The three figures, one big, one bigger, one small, chatted casually as they walked, resembling a family of three strolling through the jungle.

In this harmonious atmosphere, they soon arrived at their destination.

Looking ahead, a grand temple built from cedar, cypress, white marble, and gold stood imposingly in the open, secluded valley.

Nineteen hunting nymphs who had just returned were busy with their tasks: some organizing quivers, some butchering game, others feeding the golden-horned deer that pulled the carts with fresh grass.

Tendrils of cooking smoke already rose from the bonfire in front of the temple.

Golden-roasted beast meat sizzled and dripped fat, while bubbling mushroom soup filled the air with a delicious aroma.

Inside the temple, nine graceful figures sat in two rows, as usual, engaging in post-hunt recreation, playing exquisite music and singing sweet melodies.

On the left side of the temple sat four of them. They were:

- Euterpe, seated and holding a long flute. Her name means ”delight,” and she presides over lyric poetry and music;

- Thalia, standing and holding a comedy mask. Her name means ”flourishing,” and she presides over comedy and pastoral poetry;

- Beside her was Clio, whose name means ”praise,” and she presides over history;

The one with the melancholic expression leaning close was Polyhymnia, whose name means ”sacred song,” and she presides over sacred songs and rhetoric.

On the right side of the temple sat five more.

They were:

Terpsichore, seated and holding a seven-stringed lyre. Her name means ”delight in dancing,” and she presides over choral song and dance.

Calliope, standing and holding a wax tablet. Her name means ”beautiful voice,” and she presides over epic poetry;

Melpomene, holding a tragic mask. Her name means ”sweet singer,” and she presides over tragedy and lamentation;

Beside her was Urania, whose name means ”heavenly,” and she presides over astronomy and astrology;

The one with her back to the scene, embracing her lyre, was Erato, whose name means ”lovely,” and she presides over love poetry and solo song.

Seeing Artemis, Lorne, and Atalanta arrive together, the nine Muses of the arts all rose to their feet, joyfully inviting the three to join them and take part in the revelry.

As the hunting nymphs brought forth delicacies, Lorne shared the newly brewed fine wine.

The goddesses gathered before the hunting temple, enjoyed the food, drank the wine, and, emboldened by the alcohol, began to sing and dance.

Infected by the joyful atmosphere, the nymphs joined hands and unleashed their abundant energy through wild, untamed dances.

As the mood grew ever more fervent and heated, even the usually reserved Muses gradually gathered their courage and, with their eyes shimmering like water, cast inviting glances toward Lorne.

.

.

.

Time flew by.

In the blink of an eye, three years had passed since Apollo’s exile.

During the first half-year, the nine Muses had obediently stayed within the hearth goddess’s temple, keeping close to Lorne and rarely venturing out.

With Athena’s protection and Artemis occasionally returning to watch over them, they had successfully fended off the covetous gazes of many and gradually settled into peaceful days.

In the course of their time together, they came to enjoy this way of interacting with the wine god more and more.

It was not a relationship of superior and subordinate, but rather an equal exchange between friends.

Unlike when they could only accompany Lord Apollo’s poetry as supporting green leaves to his red flower, this wine god was an excellent audience.

Most of the time, he would make time to sit quietly below the stage, attentively listening to each Muse’s work.

He not only acknowledged their individual unique talents, offering precise evaluations, but also provided targeted suggestions for improvement.

Whenever their inspiration ran dry, Dionysus would take them to appreciate natural landscapes, venture into human cities, or enjoy fine wine under the setting sun, allowing them to spark creative inspiration through these experiences and feelings.

One had to admit, spending time with this wine god had been the most relaxed days in their memory.

No need to worry about obeying orders; they could simply be themselves.

So when the wine went to their heads and instinct overpowered reason, the Muses could not help but crowd forward, vying to claim the best listener and, together with him, perform their own spontaneous musical movements in indulgence.

However, before the nine Muses could settle who would be the first to dance with their ”true fan,” a light cough interrupted their argument.

Artemis swirled her wine cup and cast a faint, lingering gaze toward the nine Muses.

Instantly, the nine Muses, who had been burning with enthusiasm, felt as though they had plunged into an ice cellar.

Their blood rapidly cooled, the intoxicating haze in their bodies dissipated by more than half, and they hurriedly shrank back, turning into ostriches.

Even so, the Huntress Goddess’s gaze did not leave them. Instead, a trace of suspicion gradually appeared in her eyes.

When had their relationship become this good?

Just as Artemis was about to open her mouth to ask, she was suddenly pulled up by a hand.

”Lady Artemis, since they are sincerely inviting you, you shouldn’t put on airs as a goddess.”

Lorne smiled and winked, then grabbed little Atalanta beside him and walked toward the Muses by the bonfire.

Immediately understanding, the nine Muses of the arts hurriedly took hold of Atalanta’s and Artemis’s hands, forming a circle around the fire and beginning a lively dance.

The nineteen nymphs also giggled and joined hands, forming an outer ring and happily singing and dancing along.

So that was what they meant?

Looking at the smiles blooming on everyone’s faces, Artemis suddenly understood as she quietly moved closer to her lover, using the revelry to conceal her restless heart and the behavior that went against her status as a virgin goddess.

Confirming that the Huntress Goddess beside him had dropped her suspicion, Lorne secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

That was quite close.

He had almost been dragged down by these Muses.

To be honest, even though he hadn’t taken down any of these nine beauties, their relationship was quite close...so close that he just needed a chance, and he would be able to get them.

Artemis was a perfect beauty...so stunning with a perfect physique, but his desires had increased a lot, and even this once-a-full-moon wait was too much.

It’s just that her jealousy was quite too strong.

Of course, that wasn’t a wrong thing, since she’s completely in the shape of her lover, fulfilling his every wish and desire, she deserved to be treated the same, too.

She was a virgin goddess forgodssake.

But desires are endless.

With nine beauties around him, it was not easy to endure.

However, to be safe, it was better not to linger too much in front of his little sweetheart.

But all the same, the plan was about ready to move to the next stage.

Having made up his mind, Lorne waited until the end of one dance rhythm, then pulled Artemis back to their original seats and spoke in a low, serious voice.

”I heard Thessaly has recently suffered a disaster.”

The low murmur in her ear made Artemis freeze for a moment as she turned to look at her lover beside her, then bit her cherry lips tightly.

”This is his punishment. Father will not agree. I can’t get away.”

”So… I want to take them down to the mortal world to have a look…”

Lorne gazed in the direction of Thessaly, his words carrying deeper meaning.

Artemis immediately understood, her chest overflowing with emotion.

”What if we’re discovered?”

However, looking at his emotional lover, Lorne’s gaze was gentle, full of understanding.

”Don’t worry. We’ve just recently received invitations from some mortal city-builders. We need to travel the mortal world anyway. Thessaly can simply be one of the options.”

Artemis’s eyes lit up, and she nodded happily in full agreement.

This way, it wouldn’t be a special visit to check on the exiled Apollo.

It would just be a trip along the way.

Still, before departing, the Huntress Goddess couldn’t help worrying about this lover of hers who dared to defy Father Zeus’s command for her sake.

”Then you must be careful.”

Lorne smiled and nodded.

At the end of the banquet, he sent off the reluctant Artemis and entrusted little Atalanta to her care.

As the Huntress Goddess disappeared from sight, the Muses, who knew they had guilty consciences, finally breathed sighs of relief.

Then they turned cautiously toward the wine god in the center of the gathering.

”Where are we going next? Back to Olympus?”

”No… to the mortal world…”

Lorne shook his head, murmuring meaningfully.

”To accomplish something great.”

As he spoke, he reached up and broke off a branch, transforming it into a staff.

His body twisted and shifted; his once-tall, straight figure gradually hunched over.

His black hair turned white, and his star-bright eyes were covered by a layer of dull gray.

Then, the blind old man lightly tapped his staff, the corners of his mouth curving into a pleased arc.

”From now on, we shall be called ’Homer’…”

The Muses looked at each other in stunned silence, exchanging bewildered glances.

~~

Several days later, on Mount Pelion, in a certain river valley.

A man with golden hair and green eyes, upper body that of a handsome, refined human, lower body the long, brown-yellow four-hoofed form of a horse, knelt on the gentle grassy slope outside a cave.

Thump, thump, thump, thump…

Rhythmic pounding of a stone pestle into a mortar by this centaur deity echoed crisply, drifting into the wide, airy cave behind him.

”Mr. Centaur, I came to see you.”

Hearing that familiar form of address, the centaur god trotted over and handed a bowl of thick, dark-green medicinal liquid to the blind old man at the entrance.

”Teacher, I don’t think I need this anymore. I feel much better already.”

Smelling the pungent odor, the old man’s face turned green, feeling a wave of nausea and hurriedly declined with a dry laugh.

”Don’t give up on treatment. If the medicine washes and clears the meridians around your eyes a few more times, there might still be a chance to cure your blindness.”

The centaur healer advised gently, then paused for a moment.

”Also… my name is Chiron…”

”Alright then, Mr. Centaur..”

The blind old man, seeing that he couldn’t refuse, blinked, muttered under his breath, and helplessly took the stone bowl.

Then, pinching his nose, he downed the bitter, sour, and slightly rotten concoction in one gulp.

Ugh… my name… never mind…

Chiron took back the empty bowl and shook his head helplessly at the strange title.

He left behind some sour-sweet wild fruits wrapped in leaves to cleanse the patient’s palate of the bitterness, then trotted away.

The old man, invited into the cave, held the curled leaf in his hand and tossed the fruits inside into his mouth, chewing with a contented expression.

Then he tapped his staff lightly, his gray-white eyes turning toward the gloomy white-haired youth inside the cave, and a faint smile appeared on his face.

”It’s been a while, little Asclepius, my brother…”