A New Perspective

The dawn had already settled over the hills of Nemea when Iolaus opened his eyes. The air was cold, and the silence of the forest pressed down on him like a warning. He sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The fire that had burned strong the night before was now nothing more than a handful of dying embers, a thin wisp of smoke drifting into the sky.

Then, he saw it.

Blood.

Right next to the tree where his uncle had rested.

He jumped to his feet, his heart pounding.

—Shit… that idiot went back to the cave.

Wasting no time, he grabbed the essentials—his sword, a waterskin, and a small roll of bandages. He had no idea what Hercules was planning, but if he was thinking of facing that beast again, he wasn't doing it alone.

He ran.

The trees blurred past him, the wind biting at his face. His mind wrestled between worry and frustration. Why? Why do something so reckless after what had happened? Had he learned nothing from the first fight?

When he reached the cave, he froze.

He couldn't see anything yet, but he could hear the roars.

They were different from the night before. No blind fury this time—something deeper, heavier. Pain.

The ground rumbled. No, not the ground. A step.

Iolaus turned his head and saw him.

Hercules was walking toward him, effortlessly carrying a massive boulder on his shoulders. Every step made the earth groan, every movement radiated raw, immeasurable power. He was not the same man who had sat by the fire last night.

—Ah, you're finally awake, Iolaus. —His uncle smiled through his thick beard.

Iolaus stared at him, speechless. Then, he shook his head.

—What are you trying to do, uncle?

Hercules dropped the boulder beside him with a heavy thud.

—I explored the cave last night. It has multiple exits. I won't let the beast escape again.

Iolaus frowned.

—And what? You're going to trap yourself in there with it? It nearly killed you last time!

Hercules pointed at his bare chest. Where deep cuts and open wounds had been the day before, only scars remained. His side, his back, his forearms—marked, but healed. A bite wound stood out on his left arm.

—Look at my wounds. —His voice was calm. —Do you think that monster recovered as quickly?

Iolaus had no answer.

Something had changed in his uncle. He wasn't consumed by anger or desperation anymore. His expression was steady, almost… relaxed. For the first time in days, Iolaus saw him smile.

—Don't get yourself killed. —He sighed.

Hercules gave him a brief glance before stepping toward the cave's entrance.

—Don't get confused. —His voice was firm. —I'm not locking myself in with the lion… I'm locking the lion in with me.

Iolaus had no words.

Before sealing the entrance, Hercules looked back one last time.

—I'm sorry for how I've treated you. I just… needed something to clear my head. And, well… punching an armored monster is pretty therapeutic.

Iolaus raised a brow.

—How the hell did you change this much overnight? What happened?

Hercules gripped the boulder, his fingers pressing into the stone. Tiny cracks spread across its surface.

—I just want to focus on the one thing I know how to do. Fight.

He took a deep breath and smiled, resolute.

—I haven't forgiven myself. I'm nowhere near that.

The rock groaned under his grip.

—But for today… I'll just be the hero.

Iolaus nodded in silence.

Without another word, Hercules shut the entrance.

Darkness swallowed him as he stepped deeper into the cave. His eyes adjusted quickly. The air was thick, heavy with the beast's scent. Each footstep echoed against the stone, and deep within, the lion's roar shook the mountain's core.

Hercules sighed, looking down at his hands. If he died here, at least the lion would starve.

He clenched his fists.

No. Not this time.

He moved forward.

The tunnel widened into a vast natural chamber. And there it was.

The lion.

Curled up in a corner, licking its wounds. Its sides rose and fell with effort, the bruises from their last battle still fresh. It was strong—but not invincible.

Then, it saw him.

The beast roared, and the cave trembled.

Hercules grinned.

—Alright, you son of a bitch… no more interruptions.

The lion lunged like lightning.

But Hercules didn't attack first.

He waited.

His mind was clear—no blind rage, no reckless charge. He would learn.

The lion's claws slashed the air. He dodged.

Another strike, faster.

He leaped back, nothing but a whisper in the wind.

The beast's claws shredded a massive rock, splitting it into four like wet clay.

Now he knew.

The creature was lethal—but only if it hit him.

The lion roared and lunged for his throat.

At the last second, Hercules ducked.

—Ha.

His fist shot forward like a cannon.

BOOM.

The impact was devastating.

The lion slammed against the cave wall with a dull thud, its body convulsing violently. Blood dripped from its mouth.

Hercules walked toward it, calm, steady.

The lion looked up at him, and for the first time, its eyes held something they never had before.

Fear.

The man who had once been at its mercy now stood before it like an unshakable titan.

He was no longer prey.

Instinct betrayed the beast—it ran.

Hercules let it go.

He waited.

One. Two. Three seconds.

Then, he heard it.

The frantic scraping of claws against stone. The lion was clawing desperately at the blocked entrance, trying to escape. But there was no way out.

Silence.

A muffled growl.

Hercules lifted his gaze.

The lion had returned, now perched on a higher ledge, staring down at him. Its eyes burned with fury and despair.

Hercules smiled.

—So, only your skin is invulnerable…

Let's finish this.

He spread his arms, shifting into a fighting stance.

The lion growled, its muscles coiling.

Hercules taunted it with a flick of his hand.

—Come on. Try again.

And the beast, unable to hold back, leaped.

It launched itself from the ledge with a roar that shook the cave, jaws wide, claws outstretched in a desperate attempt to tear Hercules apart.

But Hercules didn't wait for the impact.

He lunged forward.

The beast missed, its claws slicing through empty air where its prey had stood just moments before. It landed gracefully, twisting around with a snarl—

Too late.

Hercules was already behind it.

With impossible speed, he wrapped his powerful arms around the lion's neck, locking it in an iron grip.

The lion roared and thrashed.

Its body was a storm of muscle and claws, dragging Hercules across the cave with sheer force. The stone floor cracked beneath his feet, fissures forming with every step backward.

But Hercules held on.

He gritted his teeth, every fiber of his being straining.

His biceps turned to stone, his grip tightened. The lion's roar turned into a strangled gasp.

It fought with everything it had.

Claws tore into Hercules' arms, carving deep wounds.

But his grip was unrelenting, his muscles coiled so tight that even the beast's claws barely broke through his skin.

The cave trembled as the lion, in one last desperate move, threw itself backward against the wall.

CRACK.

Hercules was crushed between the rock and the beast's full weight.

He spat blood.

Pain exploded in his ribs—they were breaking under the pressure. But he didn't let go.

If he loosened his grip now, he was dead.

So, he did the opposite.

Instead of yielding, he squeezed harder.

His arms locked like the embrace of death itself.

The lion's movements turned erratic.

Its breath came in desperate, hollow gasps. The air could no longer reach its brain.

It staggered.

Its claws stopped moving.

The once-mighty muscles, filled with rage and power, went limp.

With a final motion, Hercules twisted.

CRACK.

The sound was sharp.

The lion collapsed.

Dead.

Hercules, covered in sweat and blood, remained on his knees beside the monster's lifeless body.

The cave was utterly silent.

It was over.

Iolaus sat on the ground, his back resting against a rock, gazing silently at the horizon.

The sun had begun its descent, painting the land in shades of gold and crimson. He hadn't heard a sound in minutes.

And that unsettled him.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady himself. What if something had gone wrong?

What if his uncle was dead inside that cave?

The thought twisted his stomach.

Then, a deep, rumbling noise made him snap upright.

The massive boulder at the cave's entrance was moving.

The ground trembled as the enormous barrier slowly slid aside, filling the air with a rough, grinding sound.

Iolaus leaped to his feet, drawing his sword.

He aimed it at the entrance, heart pounding.

Something was emerging from the darkness.

First, a shadow. Then, a bare foot, covered in dust.

Hercules.

He stepped out slowly, his bare torso streaked with blood and sweat, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

Dragging behind him, an enormous weight.

Iolaus rushed forward.

—Did you do it? —he asked, his throat tight.

Hercules lifted his head and, with a confident grin, revealed the lion's lifeless body.

—Of course. Who do you think I am?

For a moment, the fear vanished.

Iolaus let out a laugh and smacked his uncle's palm in victory.

—First labor is done. —He grinned. —That fool Eurystheus is going to love seeing this.

They both chuckled, already imagining the cowardly king's reaction to the dead beast.

Hercules felt something stir in his chest.

A feeling he had almost forgotten.

Victory.

The first real one in months.

They walked along the rocky path, the sun sinking into the horizon.

Hercules carried the lion's corpse over his shoulders as if it were a sack of grain. The weight wasn't an issue—but the journey back would be.

—Well, three long months to Mycenae. —He sighed, already feeling the exhaustion creeping in.

Iolaus nodded, eyeing the massive body of the beast.

—So… what do we do with it?

—With what?

—The lion, uncle. Shouldn't we deliver it to Eurystheus?

Hercules frowned.

—He told me to kill it and bring proof. Never said he wanted the whole body.

Iolaus pondered for a moment.

—It's indestructible, right?

—Yeah.

—Then… why not use the pelt as armor?

Hercules stopped in his tracks, giving him an unimpressed look.

—Oh, really? And how do you suggest I put it on? Like a suitcase?

Iolaus rolled his eyes.

—Don't be an idiot. Like a cloak.

Hercules sighed and let the corpse drop to the ground with a heavy thud.

—Give me your knife.

Without question, Iolaus handed it over.

Hercules positioned the blade against the lion's hide and pressed down hard.

CRACK.

The knife snapped instantly, its tip flying off and embedding itself in a nearby tree.

Both of them stood in silence.

—Well… —Hercules muttered, staring at the broken blade. —I guess that's exactly our problem.

Iolaus' mouth fell open.

—That knife was a gift from my father!

—Yeah, well—

—Don't be an ass!

—I'll buy you another one in town.

Iolaus huffed, then snapped his fingers.

—Maybe the old man knows how we can skin it.

Hercules raised an eyebrow but nodded.

Without another word, they continued down the path, leaving the dark, silent cave behind them.

The first labor was complete.