It gave out a mournful shriek as its flesh mended. The abomination in Athenian armor groaned hoarsely as the beast thrashed violently.
Suddenly, the remaining fishmen who had been engaging the Amazons turned toward the beast. Without hesitation, they abandoned the fight and rushed at Atrius, swarming the golden giant.
It was for naught.
Atrius shrugged them off, stomping furiously on those that attempted to climb his body. Lyssipe, seeing this, stood up from where she had fallen and shouted to the Amazons, still stunned by the sudden turn.
"Recover the injured and retreat further!"Let them meet their end as they will!" she commanded.
Without a second thought, they sprang into action, searching through the corpses for wounded sisters. Among the dead, they found many still alive—some unconscious, others missing limbs, and a few already beyond saving. Grim-faced, they carried on without pausing for grief.
Lyssipe ran to Agave, who had fallen into a pile of bodies from the shockwave of Atrius's collision with the beast. She was dazed, shaking her head as if to clear it.
"That was reckless, Agave. It could have killed you," Lyssipe said, helping her up, disapproval etched on her face.
Agave looked past Lyssipe to the golden giant stomping and tearing the fishmen apart, his armor drenched in blood and gore. The beast had almost fully healed and now snarled with renewed hatred.
"But it worked," Agave replied, staring at the carnage—gore, rage, and blood painting the battlefield.
Her eyes gleamed. She bent and picked up a spear from the fallen.
She looked up at the still-clouded sky. "I doubt any more will descend. With their dwindling numbers, that thing will slaughter them all soon."
Lyssipe nodded silently. Nearby Amazons gathered, watching warily. In the distance, others carried the injured to safety. Occasionally, a crippled fishman would crawl toward Atrius, only to be swiftly dispatched by spear or sword.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Atrius continued stomping with fury. Though many, the fishmen could not topple the titan. His auramite armor soaked ever deeper in blood, he tore the creatures from his body like leeches.
Seeing this, the beast lunged, snapping its jaws at one of Atrius's hands, aiming to sever it.
Clang!
Caught off guard, Atrius couldn't dodge—but the auramite was no mere decoration. The beast's teeth left only shallow scratches on the gauntlet.
Raging, Atrius swung the arm violently. The beast clung on, refusing to let go. It bit harder. With his other arm, Atrius continued to batter the swarm of fishmen.
"Ooahhhnhn!"
The abomination moaned loudly, its pus-ridden face contorting as its eyes flared a cold, haunting blue.
"Oaaaahhhh!"
It wailed—a piercing, mournful sound that stabbed the ears of all who heard it. But to the beast below, it was fuel. Muscles bulged, teeth sharpened, and the creature bit deeper, its tail thrashing and claws gripping the earth.
Its strength had surged.
"What is happening?" Agave asked no one in particular.
Sniff. Sniff. Sniff.
"I can smell the sea," one Amazon said. Others nodded, faces grim.
"That thing on its back—some kind of sorcery," Lyssipe spat, eyes narrowing. "Prepare for more attacks. Retreat further."
Without another word, she turned and ran.
Entangled, overwhelmed, Atrius grunted in frustration.
Bzzzzzz!
Lightning suddenly arced over his armor. The fishmen clinging to him—and those nearby—were fried in a burst of voltage.
Kreee!
The beast screamed in pain, releasing his gauntlet. The abomination's glowing eyes dimmed as it moaned in agony. In its disfigured expression, a flicker of clarity passed.
"Help me," it mouthed softly. Barely audible to mortal ears.
Only Atrius heard it—and he ignored it.
Grabbing the beast with both hands, he pinned it as its body spasmed.
The fishmen around them lay paralyzed, foaming, convulsing—no longer a threat.
He focused on the writhing beast, forced open its massive jaws, and reached for its grotesque tongue.
The creature thrashed desperately but could not escape his iron grip. His hand dug deeper into its throat.
It shrieked in panic.
Then—with brutal finality—Atrius yanked out its tongue, dragging intestines along with it.
Skreeeeh!
The beast violently flung Atrius away, thrashing madly, crushing paralyzed fishmen in its death throes. Even those who had recovered were not spared.
Then it collapsed—spent, its lifeblood spilling into the earth.
Atrius stood silently, his rage cooling. He dropped the beast's torn innards and surveyed the ravaged battlefield.
The Amazons stiffened as his red gaze swept over them. They slowly retreated, fearful of provoking the titan's wrath.
Atrius looked at the tiny warriors with confusion. His glowing eyes flickered beneath the cracks of his broken helm. His armor groaned as he turned.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
He heard a heartbeat.
The creature still lived—or perhaps... it had revived.
He knelt beside it, compelled by something he did not understand. Though every instinct screamed to finish it, he held back.
He was... awakening from his bloodlust.
The abomination on the beast's back continued to moan.
Listening closely, he heard it whisper.
"Help... kill me... kill... me..."
Atrius's eyes burned crimson. Rage surged anew.
With one devastating punch, he smashed the abomination's skull.
His fist met resistance—as if striking something more than flesh—
BOOM.
The Athenian abomination exploded into bloody mist.
Whoomph!
A wave of energy erupted from the remains, making Atrius stagger back. The beast's pounding heart stopped.
From afar, the Amazons watched in silence. Their bodies trembled, yet they held their weapons tighter.
Atrius knelt, unmoving. Then slowly, his muscles eased. He stood, armor creaking under his bulk.
He looked around at the battlefield strewn with corpses, his gaze pausing on the fallen.
Then he turned—toward them.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
He approached slowly.
"Ready yourselves, sisters!" Agave shouted.
They prepared, weapons raised, eyes dark with resolve.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
He came closer, towering over them.
They swallowed hard.
Then—before they could strike—
"Greetings," Atrius said calmly, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.
Meanwhile...
The battle between Hippolyta and Heracles had reached its zenith.
Hippolyta had managed to bind Heracles with her glowing lasso, pinning him to the ground and pounding his face with relentless fury.
Heracles grunted, straining against the magical cord. He thrashed, finally tossing her off him and rolling away. Rising to his feet, he dodged a swift strike. The lasso slackened in her absence.
Taking the opportunity, he summoned his club, catching it mid-flight.
Bang!
Hippolyta rolled aside just in time. She swept his knees with a brutal kick, forcing him to kneel.
Hisssssss!
Heracles hissed in pain.
Hippolyta rose and kneed him hard in the face.
Thud.
He fell onto his back, nose bleeding. Before he could rise, she kicked the club from his hand and straddled him.
"You're just like him, aren't you? War empow—"
Crack!
She punched him in the throat, cutting him off.
Heracles gasped and lay still.
"Right... You've won," he rasped. "What are you waiting for? Do it. Kill me."
Hippolyta stood, frowning.
"What's happened to you?" she asked solemnly.
"What are you waiting for?! Kill me!" Heracles roared, veins bulging, eyes blazing.
She remained silent, staring down at him.
"Do you pity me? I need none of your pity! You won—now end it!"
He screamed louder, voice filled with pain.
Still, she didn't move.
Unable to endure her gaze, Heracles surged to his feet and tackled her, choking her viciously.
"I told you to kill me! Why did you hesitate?!" he shouted, tightening his grip.
She struggled, but his strength was relentless.
"I told you to kill me... now I will fulfill my promise," he whispered grimly.
There was no joy in his voice.
Hippolyta clawed at him—but he didn't relent.
BANG!
A heavy blow struck Heracles's head.
Thud.
He collapsed, eyes wide in shock. Blood poured from his scalp.