It's Always the Swimmers Who Drown

SPLASH! SPLASH! SPLASH!

Facing the constricting coils and crushing pressure from all directions, Polyphemus found his limbs bound by the animated water serpents, their fangs tearing at his flesh.

Yet, despite his lack of magical aptitude, the divine blood inherited from Poseidon and the sea nymph Thoosa granted him the ocean's protection.

The snakes and pythons transformed from the sea water could only temporarily restrict his movements and could not cause effective damage to him at all.

'Did this fool really think dragging me underwater would drown a child of the sea god? How stupid!'

Breathing effortlessly in the depths of water, Polyphemus sneered as he ripped apart several of the liquid snakes in front of him, his single eye locking onto the figure darting upward like a fleeing fish.

"Damn rat, you think you can escape?!"

The Cyclops, who had found his target again, exerted force suddenly.

His huge body dragged many entangled water-like snakes and pythons, like a fierce sea beast covered with seaweed, chasing the figure and rapidly surfacing.

SPLOOSH!

The ocean's surface erupted as he burst free, seawater spraying in all directions, misting the air.

The moment he emerged out of water, his eye narrowed, his right hand snapping up to catch the hidden threat concealed within the spray.

A lightweight bronze arrow, halted inches from his forehead.

"Little rat, is this the best you can do? Even a newborn lamb shoots harder!"

His gravelly voice boomed with mocking laughter.

But the "prey" hovering above him, gripping a bronze bow, merely pointed silently at the arrow's tip.

Polyphemus subconsciously followed the direction of his finger, looking at the front end of the bronze arrow and froze.

Tied beneath the arrowhead with fine thread was a small, unassuming clay vial.

Etched onto its surface were two Hermetic runes:

One, a circular sigil representing Concealment (Water).

The other, a triangular mark now pulsing with faint, ominous light.

In that instant, the Cyclops' sneer twisted into horrified realization and his pupil contracted violently.

SNAP!

A sharp click echoed across the waves.

The bronze arrow in his grip exploded as scalding liquid sprayed across his face and eye—

SSSSZZZZT!

The stench of searing flesh and rotting skin filled the air as agony, white-hot and relentless, seared through his vision. Darkness swallowed his world.

"AAAAAAAH! MY EYE! MY EYE!"*

Polyphemus clutched his face with one hand while wildly swinging the other, his agonized howls tearing through the air.

Seawater splashed violently around him, drenching his body, only to seep into his wounds, intensifying the burning torment.

His features twisted grotesquely as the last thread of his sanity snapped.

"I'LL KILL YOU! KILL YOU!"

Between ragged screams, the Cyclops spat venomous curses.

"Filthy rat... I'll rip off your limbs... twist your head off... pull out your guts... skewer you alive... and watch you die inch by inch!"

But without solid ground beneath his feet, without his throwing weapons, without the accuracy, he was quiet proud of, a few moments ago, all Polyphemus could do was thrash uselessly in the water and scream his impotent rage against the waves.

At this time, Lorne, who had changed his position and retreated to the distant reef, quietly watched the Cyclops go crazy, sharp and calm eyes.

'Most creatures share the same flaw—the deadlier the situation, the more cautious they become.

Yet once they reach familiar terrain, the field where they are good at, they let their guard down.

So the very thing they rely on becomes their downfall.

That's why, there's a saying.. it's often the swimmers who drown.

Polyphemus obviously made that fatal mistake.

His opponent was not a stupid and unresisting lamb, but a demigod who could think and use tools.

Fortunately, he still had a few bottles of poison prepared by Circe, which unexpectedly hit this old enemy hard. Otherwise...

Lorne's gaze flicked to the Cyclops, who was still roaring and flailing after half an hour and could not help but be amazed at the length of the Cyclops's health bar..

Well ...the sheer endurance of the sea god's offspring was staggering.

But judging from his movement range, reaction speed, and the strength of his speech, this old enemy floating in the sea was just a spent force, with not much strength left.

"Coward... cheat... KILL YOU!"

Polyphemus on the sea kept muttering, and now, some kind of grief and anger flowed between the lines.

Blinded, poisoned, and trapped, he was in a completely disadvantageous position that even this man eating beast briefly considered retreating, but every time he tried, the mouse hiding in the dark would occasionally shoot cold arrows and spells to hinder his actions; or he would cast a few dragon tooth soldiers to make a noise, playing on his paranoia until exhaustion pinned him in place.

So he could only wait, feeling his life bleed away drop by drop.

Finally, after another grueling half-hour, the battered Cyclops dragged himself onto a jagged rock—only to collapse face-first into the shallows.

The water's ripple against his cheek signaled approaching footsteps.

However, at this moment, he didn't even have the strength to raise his hand.

With a final effort, Polyphemus turned his head, revealing a face stripped of flesh in places, white bone peering through.

His remaining vocal cords vibrated with hate:.

"Half-breed... Kill me... Father Poseidon... will never... let you go... And that winged bitch who raised you... You will all die... You all will accompany—"

THUD!

The curses died abruptly as a bronze greatsword pierced through the Cyclops' skull.

With a vicious twist, the blade unleashed a surge of violent magic—

BOOM!

The giant's head exploded in a shower of gore, golden-red divine blood staining the seawater with eerie luminescence.

"Too much talk..."

Lorne flicked the blood off his blade with a cold snort, instinctively bracing for the influx of divine essence that should follow a demigod's death.

Yet after several seconds, he could only opene his eyes in disappointment and sheathed his sword with a frustrated click.

Sure enough, the power of war was taken back from the moment he was promoted to a demigod, and this shortcut was also blocked.

They really don't leave any loopholes, do they?

His gaze shifted past Polyphemus' headless corpse to the "spectator" perched gracefully on a nearby reef, with one delicate hand supporting her chin and her lips curving in amused appreciation.

"So, are you satisfied with this performance?"

"You exceeded my expectations quite splendidly."

Hecate's praise sincerely, but then lifted her finger, pointing toward the horizon as she smiled.

"Though it seems new troubles come riding the tide."

Lorne's eyelid twitched.

Channeling magic to his eyes, he squinted at the distant waves—

Beneath the glittering surface, twenty azure-gold figures streaked toward them.

Their upper bodies were sculpted like idealized warriors in ornate bronze armor, tridents gleaming, while fish tails propelled them through the water with terrifying speed.

Among them, three radiated the aura of demigods. The other seventeen? All peak Golden-tier combatants.

Lorne's heart was pounding and his face changed drastically.

The Atlantis Royal Guard.

Damn it all... You're telling me all three options were traps from the start?!

(End of Chapter)