"And so, as the years went by, the prisoner became the overseer of the garden in the songs of poets. Apart from the gods and itself, no one knew the origin of the matter."
Like a song of poetry, Dionysus narrated the legend of the hundred-headed dragon.
Before him, Heracles frowned slightly. By now, he could roughly guess what the other was about to say.
Excluding the fact that he also needed to obtain the Golden Apple, the God of the West Wind probably never expected him to complete such a task in the first place.
After all, an enemy that could display divine power in the mortal realm, and even more so in the deep sea, was nearly invincible. This wasn't a matter of will or faith.
Perhaps cunning was his only path, and the gods had already laid out this smooth road.
"The hundred-headed dragon Ladon, sounds terrifying and difficult to combat."
With an unchanged expression, the great hero asked.
"So Dionysus, do you have any ideas about this?"
"...Of course."
