Quests

Achlys woke to the searing pain coursing through his muscles, every inch of his body aching from the previous day's ordeal.

Ah, the battle, his mind flashing back to the battlefield.

The horror, the bloodshed, the senseless violence.

The battle had ended, but the war didn't.

And it won't end for a year, Achlys thought bitterly, remembering a soldier who had mentioned something about having nine years to see his daughters.

One more year. A whole year.

There'd be another year where people fought like wild animals, gutting each other for no real reason.

The thought of enduring another year of this senseless carnage made Achlys' stomach churn.

He had seen enough death and destruction to last several lifetimes, and the weight of it all threatened to crush his spirit.

Achlys couldn't fathom how he would survive the next time someone came and told him to charge into battle again.

His limbs felt leaden, every movement a reminder of the violence he had endured and inflicted.

He struggled to sit up, grimacing as he gingerly stretched his stiff arms and legs.

I can't keep doing this, he realised, staring at his trembling hands. Not like this.

Achlys closed his eyes, trying to shut out the memories of the battle.

This turned out to be a mistake though, as the faces of his fallen enemies flashed before him, their eyes wide with terror, their mouths frozen in silent screams.

Stomped down bodies, mangled limbs, and rivers of blood…

Achlys had survived, but he wasn't sure how.

Each cut he had delivered, each parry and block, had been automatic, driven by a primal desire to live.

Achlys glanced down at the Mythos panel, which he had summoned as soon as he woke up.

It was still glowing faintly before him.

Hopefully, there's something easy that I can do and get another, actually useful, ability, he thought and scanned the list of quests.

But as he read through them, his heart sank.

…

Quest 1: [Survive the Trojan War]

Difficulty: Easy

Quest 2: [Find a way into the troops of the Trojan Horse]

Difficulty: Hard

Quest 3: [Trick enemies into falling on your blade]

Progress: 0/20

…

Achlys stared.

Easy? Achlys thought, incredulous as he read the first quest again.

Survive the Trojan War—easy?

He almost laughed, but the sound caught in his throat, bitter and dry.

Achlys could feel the panic rising in his chest, a sharp contrast to the dull ache that permeated his body.

So I do have to survive one more year. Is this some kind of joke? he wondered, his mind racing.

The system had to know the odds were against him.

He was still a mortal, for Zeus' sake.

Surviving a whole year of this relentless conflict wasn't just difficult; it was impossible.

His eyes drifted to the second quest.

[Find a way into the troops of the Trojan horse].

If surviving in Troy is easy, I can't wait to find out how hard this one will be, he thought sarcastically.

Then there was the third quest.

[Trick enemies into falling on your blade].

Achlys' hands tightened into fists as he read the progress line: 0/20.

While the quest was straightforward and even if it was grim, it was probably accomplishable.

Is this what I've been reduced to? Achlys wondered, his gaze unfocused.

Tricking my enemies into their own deaths, like a coward who hides behind tricks and shadows?

However, what choice did he have?

You complete quests, get some kind of power-up and get a better chance at survival.

That was how the myths worked…

Achlys leaned back, staring up at the tent's canvas roof.

The morning light filtered through tiny holes, casting a pattern of dim specks across his vision.

I have to complete the third quest as soon as I can, he thought, his frustration boiling beneath the surface.

He needed to use everything at his disposal.

Light Tricks, he thought, summoning the power's description once more.

[You can make something appear different from what it actually is.]

Achlys was reluctant to use tricks in battle, but after yesterday—after seeing how easily his carefully honed skills could be overwhelmed by sheer numbers and chaos—he began to see things differently.

The tired soldier closed his eyes and focused, feeling for any change inside him.

He felt his beating heart, the pain in his limbs, and the dark, persistent whisper of fear that appeared to linger at the back of his mind after the battle.

He heard the distant clamour of soldiers going on, the sound of armour clanking and weapons being sharpened.

He smelled the acrid scent of sweat and blood that still clung to his skin, even after brushing his body so hard it hurt.

The last one could be my imagination though, he mused.

And as if that thought was a catalyst, he felt something else.

It was like trying to grasp smoke, elusive and barely there.

Achlys concentrated, and suddenly, his eyelids were bombarded with bright light.

Opening his eyes, he found himself staring at a shimmering image of his self, standing in front of him.

Achlys blinked, and the illusion vanished.

He stared at the empty space where he had been, his mind whirling with a mix of awe and disbelief.

Well, this change might not be so bad after all, Achlys thought, a glimmer of hope sparking in his chest.

Before he could dive into the possibly useful ability though, someone stopped outside his tent.

Achlys' head snapped up, eyes narrowing as the flap of the tent shifted, and a woman stepped inside.

For a moment, he could barely make out her features against the dim light, but as she moved closer, her face became clearer.

She was on the short side, with dark hair neatly tied back, and a simple cloth headband that kept stray strands from falling over her eyes.

Her face was soft and unassuming and she wore a simple, dark tunic, with sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

There was also a heavy apron tied around her waist, which was stained with blood...