What?
Huh?!
The one with the most complicated feelings in this moment was undoubtedly Palamedes.
He was only brought here to stand at the front and boost morale, basically a mascot, and somehow every god had taken him for the real Achilles.
He had even been personally named by the gods to participate in the duel.
Was there anything more absurd than this?
The expressions on every hero's face became something to behold.
Palamedes himself was absolutely panicking.
Meanwhile on the Trojan side, someone had already stepped forward.
None other than Paris, the weakest of their three-person roster.
Paris was going first.
Obviously the Trojan side planned to send Paris out as a probe, to test the waters and chip away at whatever Greek fighter came out.
Hector and Penthesilea, who had no expectation that Paris would win, simply sent him out first to let him do what damage he could while they observed the enemy's weak points.
On the Greek side, no one was stepping forward.
Stuck between options, sending Palamedes out was a problem; not sending him out was a problem.
His actual combat ability was too weak, and the disguise was too likely to fall apart.
But Agamemnon and the others were equally unwilling to be charged with offending the gods, and none of them knew what to do.
Even Odysseus, who normally had nothing but contempt for Palamedes, was in no mood for schadenfreude right now.
With the entire Greek force watching, all those soldiers' eyes on them, if they just outright declared that the gods made a mistake and Achilles wasn't here, that was as good as defying divine authority and telling the whole world that the gods were blind.
A profound humiliation to the gods.
They were dropping a rock on their own feet.
But this wasn't the time to argue about blame.
Odysseus's mind was spinning at full speed.
There was no escaping this, so the only path was straight through.
But maybe the situation wasn't quite as terrible as it looked.
They might not win this duel, but they could still follow the original plan.
"Listen, Palamedes. No, 'Achilles!'
The first bout is yours. Paris relies on his bow, but you are wearing the great hero Achilles's armor.
That flawless and hardened armor will block every attack he sends your way.
With the power of this armor behind you, if you can defeat Paris and even better, capture him alive, we can still proceed with the original plan.
As long as the fight ends quickly enough, no one will realize this Achilles isn't the Achilles they know. "Odysseus said.
It was the only path to winning they had left, now that substituting players was off the table.
And if they could capture Paris, even if the later rounds of the duel were lost, they would only have lost Helen.
They could still find other pretexts to continue the war against Troy. (Odysseus, suffering internally: Helen! My Helen!)
As long as Paris was in their hands, they could still use him as leverage, exactly as originally planned.
When Odysseus laid out that bold idea,
The heroes found it actually sounded workable.
Palamedes's combat ability was nothing impressive, but he was at least wearing Achilles's armor.
How hard could it be to beat Paris?
What a twist; nobody expected things to develop this way.
Night was somewhat surprised too.
But also, what a perfect opportunity.
There was no way he was going to sit back and watch the Greek side sail through a crisis this smoothly.
He was supposed to be here causing damage.
This was exactly the moment to act.
All it would actually take was to expose Palamedes's true identity on the battlefield.
Quite straightforward enough.
.
.
.
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At the same time, Palamedes was trembling with fear.
Wait, they were actually sending him out there.
His eyes went wide.
This was nothing like what the original plan said.
He was told all he had to do was stand in the back and show his face as a mascot.
But it also seemed like there was no other way out of this.
Agamemnon had already made his decision, adopting Odysseus's suggestion.
The heroes were urging Palamedes to move; the countdown was almost up.
Palamedes felt like his legs were filled with lead.
He couldn't make them move.
And just then, Night's fingers plucked the strings.
A melody rose, the kind that stirred courage and sent off a warrior before battle.
He looked toward Palamedes and said quietly:
"May your journey be without hindrance. May you return safely."
Every other voice was demanding that Palamedes win, capture Paris, and give them enough leverage to keep Hector from moving freely, giving Greece some chance of pulling through.
As for what everyone else demanded of Palamedes, all of it boiled down to one thing. Win.
Capture Paris. Give Greece a fighting chance by putting Hector in a bind.
However, with everyone pushing him, only Night played his music calmly and told him to come home safely.
In a moment like this, even though he asked nothing of him, compared to the crushing weight of expectation every other hero placed on his shoulders, those words about returning safely were unexpectedly warm.
The fear in Palamedes's chest seemed to ease considerably.
And since he was himself a person deeply attuned to the musical arts, a poet and musician by nature, his more tender and sentimental side was drawn out by the melody.
He looked at Night with moved eyes.
He didn't know this Griffith well before, but if he survived the battlefield and made it back, he fully intended to call him a friend.
What Palamedes did not notice, hidden beneath that melody just now, was Night casually drawing on a thread of the conceptual essence of the divine armor set.
The concept body inherited from Achilles's complete divine weapon set.
In that single brief moment,
Night attached that concept body to Palamedes, into the actual physical armor he was wearing in this world, and then quietly did what he needed to do.
As Achilles's own armor, Achilles, as the original owner, held the deepest connection to these weapons.
And Night, who had inherited everything of Achilles's power, was no different.
On this battlefield where Achilles was absent, he was the true rightful owner of the title of the next Achilles, in every sense that mattered.
He did not even need physical contact.
He transmitted the concept body's power through the sound of the music, using the melody itself as cover, and completed everything in one instant.
Nobody would suspect him afterward.
Even the gods above did not notice what happened just now.
What a sad and ridiculous situation.
If not for Night's strong emotional control forcing him to stay composed, the corner of his mouth would not have been able to stay down.
But even without laughing, he could not stop his whole body from trembling slightly.
The other heroes who noticed this assumed Night was deeply worried for Palamedes, grieving over the dangerous battle he was about to walk into.
Even King Agamemnon's impression of Night changed considerably.
Originally, he had no goodwill towards him because of the previous incident with the divine deer, but now he was somewhat moved and surprised.
What a noble spirit.
He was actually saddened over Palamedes, a complete stranger to him, going into danger.
Even a tyrant as hard-hearted as Agamemnon couldn't help but feel a little moved.
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(End of the Chapter)