Chapter 1: Merely a Biological Father

600 years before the Imperial Calendar, Holy Terra, Thebes.

"Ander Will, your son is so handsome. If he were to participate in the chariot races of Thebes, he would surely take first place."

"Of course, if you were to take the field yourself, I think even the noble ladies of Athens would go wild for you, oh, my Ander."

The woman, who held the noble status of the city lord's wife, was trying to press her plump, greasy body against the man who was currently baking clay tablets. Meanwhile, the "son of Ander Will" she spoke of—Aaron Will—leaned against the wall in a daze. He had been rather lethargic lately.

In his dreams, someone was always shouting in demand: "Where on earth is Father? Humanity needs him!"

And whenever Aaron tried to speak to the person in his dream, a kaleidoscope of twisting colors would warp his dreamscape and cast him out.

He only vaguely recalled that the figure opposite him—or perhaps, a demigod?

That man, over twice the height of a normal human, with a perfect physique that seemed carved by Athens' most renowned master sculptor, wearing a laurel wreath and a white robe, asked with a melancholy expression: where was his father?

Ridiculous. You can't find your own father, so you come asking me?

From the looks of it, this big guy seemed to have run into an extremely difficult situation and was seeking help.

If he couldn't find his father, even a relic of his father would do to turn the tide of battle.

Was a demigod scion going to wield the thunderbolts of Zeus to defeat those Titan demons?

In the end, the demigod struggled to utter a name, which sounded something like... Rowboat Gillyman?

Aaron shook his head and woke up. He really couldn't make out the man's accent clearly.

He was around seventeen or eighteen years old, bare-chested, wearing only a beast-hide apron.

His father claimed it was the hide from the rump of the giant Miami Lion, recovered from the tomb of Heracles.

If his mother hadn't insisted that he wear some clothes, Aaron felt he would have remained naked until adulthood.

That was why his father had gone to all that trouble, spending a whole night away, and returning with these sewn hides in his hands.

Every year he grew older, his father would patch and alter the hide skirt.

Aaron suspected that his father had probably just asked one of the noble ladies pursuing him for a lion pelt brought back by hunters.

His father had never really cared for him. When Aaron was small, bath time meant being thrown directly into the river, only to crawl ashore miles downstream, spitting out water—a commonplace occurrence.

Ander Will was truly not a father who knew how to look after a child.

He was merely a blacksmith in Thebes, occasionally baking clay tablets inscribed with text for the townspeople.

His mother, unable to bear his father's casual, free-spirited nature, had gone back to the northern Kingdom of Macedon to serve as a priestess again.

Strangely enough, the people of Athens said that priests and priestesses had to be virgins.

Aaron yawned and stood up, stretching his body, which possessed exceptionally well-defined muscles despite him never having exercised.

Yet, the lady's eyes never strayed from his father.

A man with somewhat dark skin, calloused fingers, and coarse, dirty linen clothes, who looked like nothing more than a gaunt old man.

By Zeus, how could such a man captivate the hearts of noble ladies?

Could the bow of Eros have been made by his father, who had rigged it somehow?

He shook his head, rubbed his own bald scalp, and looked with a hint of envy at his father's thick, shoulder-length hair.

He finally spoke up:

"Lady Ledance, the Lord Governor's carriage will be passing by here in a quarter of an hour."

Only then did Lady Ledance reluctantly let go of Ander's arm—a strong, muscular arm that looked as though it could lift ten of her.

She adjusted her appearance, flashing a smile that was physically unsettling, and pulled a few staters from her bosom, which happened to be stamped with the head of Heracles.

"Aaron!" Lady Ledance called out loudly. "Take good care of your father."

"Actually, that old ghost of mine will return late today, as emissaries from Rome have arrived. But you've reminded me, boy, I must go prepare the banquet."

Aaron deftly pocketed the staters. This was their household budget for the next few months, equivalent to ten years of income from his father's blacksmith shop.

Mimicking the salutes of the arena gladiators after a fight, Aaron offered a sycophantic smile:

"Of course, my lady, rest assured. I won't let a single scratch come to my father's skin."

He glanced back at his father's slightly hunched, lean frame as he continued to bake the clay tablets, thinking to himself that perhaps she just had a taste for that sort of thing.

Ah, Mother, our family has to rely on Father selling his charms just to get by.

Fortunately, it hadn't come to the point where he had to sell his own.

Relieved by this thought, Aaron escorted Lady Ledance to the door.

He had many questions, and ventured to ask:

"My lady, your family name is Ledance, but the Lord Governor's family name is Minondas. Why are you still addressed as Lady Ledance?"

The lady was in a very good mood today. Reaching the roadside, she climbed into the carriage prepared by her servants, squeezed her bloated body inside, and turned back with only her head showing, the fat on her face bunching up as she laughed:

"If I were with your father, I would gladly become a member of the Will family. Unfortunately, my husband and I share nothing but a cold political marriage, just as I cannot stop him from seeking pleasure in the brothels. We only need to maintain appearances."

Aaron pressed further: "But I've heard rumors in the streets that you don't care much for your own father, and have cursed him several times, asking why the old fossil hasn't died yet."

The woman's expression soured, and she said coldly, "I am loyal to the House of Ledance, not to a useless man who happens to share my father's name. That old fossil is merely my biological father."

"Little brat, this is none of your concern. But for your father's sake, I'll keep an eye out among the daughters of wealthy families to see if there's a match for you. Hohoho."

The woman chuckled in what she fancied to be a coquettish manner and disappeared behind the curtain.

Aaron stepped back, watched the carriage roll away, and then returned inside.

"Father? Father? Fine, you always ignore me. But—you have to listen to me today. My sleepiness is getting worse. If Mother were here, she would already be preparing herbal medicine for me, instead of tinkering with clay tablets like you do. By the way, what's for dinner tonight?"

He started with an imposing posture, but by the time he reached his father's side, his tone had gradually withered, turning as meek as a lion cub facing a grown lion, capable of nothing but feeble huffs.

The father finally stood up, retrieving the red-hot clay tablet from the kiln with his bare hands.

He turned around, his ordinary, plain Anatolian face showing no change in expression as he spoke coldly:

"Just catch some fish. Buy some spices and grill them."

Aaron sighed helplessly. "Fine, fish again. I've nearly cleared out all the fish nearby."

He strongly suspected that his father had tried to learn how to fish a few years back, failed to catch a single one, and developed a spiteful craving for eating them ever since.

Aaron walked into the house, packed his wooden harpoon, and slung a woven reed basket over his back.

"Well then, Father, remember to ask those noblewomen chasing you if any of them know medicine. I'd rather take bitter herbs than be sent to some god's temple to have my backside groped by a priestess."

Aaron never expected a reply; he just felt uncomfortable if he wasn't talking.

And his father, aside from food requests, almost never spoke to him.

Just as his foot stepped out the door, his father's voice drifted from inside the room:

"By the way, what did you see in your dream?"

Aaron turned back in delight. This was the first time in months his father had answered any of his other questions. He said with a trembling voice:

"It was... it was a demigod. No, more like a god-like figure. He was asking me where his father was. I suspect it was Ares, but how could a god of Olympus not know where the great Zeus is?"