Thunder rumbled and roared!!
Driven forward by the surging waves, the ship plowed straight into that mass of dark cloud.
Like a beast that had long been waiting for its prey to step into its den, opening its eyes and baring its fangs.
All at once, thunder crashed across the entire sky, and rain began to pour down in sheets.
Standing at the entrance between the deck and the cabin, he gazed out at the world around him and felt that this storm was no ordinary thing.
Rumble!!
Amid thunder that sounded like it wanted to tear the world itself apart, the cries of the crew rang out.
Even the luxurious vessel Telephus had prepared for him began to pitch and sway violently in the fierce storm.
The sailors' faces went pale with fear, as though they had just laid eyes on something terrible.
None of them had ever encountered a storm this terrifying out at sea.
In the midst of the gale, one man tried to take the helm and was blown overboard, his scream swallowed by the waves.
Others rushed frantically to save him, and the whole deck fell into chaos.
The ship lost its heading in the howling wind.
One after another, those who knew how to steer made their attempts to bring it back on course and failed every time, as though some invisible force were keeping them away from the wheel.
The helm spun wildly on its own, and the ship, lurching back and forth in the wind and rain, was hopelessly stuck.
Finally, Night could sit still no longer.
He knew that if nothing was done soon, everyone on board might die here.
Or perhaps if he openly declared his intention to turn back, the storm might stop on its own.
If this truly was some god trying to block his path forward.
Night stepped out onto the deck and stood there in the open rain.
The crew shouted for the noble hero to go back inside.
Even in the grip of this crisis, they managed to hold onto their professional duty, but Night understood clearly that this was no longer something human effort could fight against.
A god was working behind the scenes.
Only divine power could counter divine power.
So, he took out the divine lyre and walked steadily to the prow, every step deliberate and firm.
Before the eyes of the crew, straining to see through rain-soaked lashes, a scene unfolded that looked like something out of a great painting.
His silver hair streamed freely in the wind and rain.
His eyes closed slightly, his face tilted upward, and his upright figure was filled with a sacred quality, like someone bathed in moonlight.
The next moment, he plucked the strings and let the most free sound in the world ring out.
Another hero in Night's place, even one as gifted with an instrument as Orpheus, would likely have tried to use music to soothe and calm the storm.
But he understood that the power of the lyre alone was unlikely to quiet a storm of this scale.
He had to find a different path.
If a storm stood before him, meet it with the storm itself; try to guide and redirect that force and make it serve his purpose.
When a song of absolute resolve and free will rang out fiercely beneath the black clouds, like a bird determined to break through every layer of darkness and reach clear sky on the other side,
"Music is the freest thing in the world," Night murmured, and then poured everything into the music.
Like a towering mountain, like a crashing tsunami, like an erupting volcano, like the trembling of the earth's own veins tearing the ground apart, a piece of music that melded perfectly and harmoniously with the raging storm continued to pour forth.
Within the storm, the ship seemed pushed by a pair of invisible hands, swaying and struggling, yet moving forward in one steady direction with impossible certainty.
Following the call of his heart.
Night did not care about where the wind would carry them.
This was the break in the storm, and getting out of it came first.
Finally,
After some unknowable stretch of time, the sound of the storm faded from his ears.
The sun's light broke through on the horizon and fell across the deck in warmth and gentleness.
Every single crew member stood in stunned silence, minds still drifting back through the harrowing ordeal they had just survived.
"We are through. Try to get a bearing on our position and bring the ship back on course." The moment he said those words, a chorus of excited cheering erupted across the ship.
They called his name, crying out in admiration.
That was unbelievable!
The hero could do something like that through music alone?
And far above on the horizon,
The gods who had watched it all were also somewhat taken aback.
Not yielding to fate, not defying fate, but rather, taking fate into his own hands.
Griffith. What kind of man was he really?
When faced with a trial of fate, he had made a choice completely unlike any hero of this era.
Nearly everyone who had ever challenged fate in the past died for it.
Only those who followed fate mostly survived.
A small number managed to first follow it, then break free of it.
Even someone as powerful as Heracles, when facing the trials meant to earn his godhood, had no choice but to submit, driven by his incompetent brother to carry out one dangerous task after another just to survive the early stages.
Yet the scene just now left even the gods who had been watching unable to find the right words.
That man used music to take command of a storm, turning an unruly natural disaster to his own purpose and converting it into the very force that drove his ship forward.
How arrogant and audacious!.
But
Up above, Artemis, in her aspect as goddess of the hunt, was quite satisfied with what she just witnessed and even found herself pleasantly surprised.
Looked at from a different angle, what he just did was essentially hunt the thunder and storm of nature itself.
Even she had never tried that particular approach to hunting.
The storm had originally been a trial she sent for him, to see what he was made of.
Unlike the time with Agamemnon's fleet, there was no real malice behind it.
But his vessel was obviously no match for Agamemnon's vast armada from that occasion.
Compared to Agamemnon, who in the end was forced to offer up his own daughter, his performance was in a completely different class.
If it were a test, Agamemnon did not even pass.
He merely stopped the goddess's anger enough to have the trial called off.
By that measure, Night scored full marks.
And these were full marks on a hundred-point scale.
Others who scored full marks did so because one hundred was their limit.
If the ceiling were raised to a hundred twenty or a hundred fifty, in her eyes Night would still be full marks.
Since the other party passed her trial, he deserved a reward.
It was about time she used that as a reason to go and meet the hero her brother had taken such a liking to.
And yet,
Before Artemis could act,
Something entirely new happened down on the sea below.
A beautiful melody suddenly rose from the surface of the water.
But this time it was not him playing.
It was a wave of clear, beautiful female voices singing.
Artemis's expression changed.
Sirens. Sea witches.
Creatures that had absolutely no business appearing anywhere near the Trojan coast.
Another god had intervened.
A flash of sharp awareness crossed her eyes.
The nerve of it.
Moving against a hero who had passed her trial, clearly meant that they were disregarding her.
.
.
(End of the Chapter)