(PS: Please support me on patreon there 135+ chapters there and there also my new GoT: The True Dragon Fanfiction of Game of Thrones
https://patreon.com/BX_XDS)
A soft, unnatural rush of compressed air brushed past Atlas's ears, sharp and cold, as the fabric of the world seemed to twist and fold around him. The intense, blinding light of the harbor vanished instantly.
A heartbeat later—
Atlas reappeared inside the small, low-ceilinged shebeen room he had rented months ago in Sami. The air was still and familiar. The worn wooden floor creaked faintly beneath the heavy weight of his boots, the sound immediately grounding. The comfortable scent of old wine, dried herbs, and a fresh, clean seawind drifted through the open balcony curtains. Dust motes, suspended in the pale sliver of moonlight filtering from the window, floated lazily, exactly as he'd left them.
It was as if he had never been gone.
Atlas exhaled quietly, the sound soft in the quiet room. "Feels like stepping into a memory," he murmured, the phrase tasting strange on his tongue.
He walked toward the balcony, the stone railing cool against his fingertips, and pushed aside the faded linen curtain. The cool, crisp night air washed over his face as he stepped out onto the narrow ledge.
Below him, the island of Sami lay tranquil and deeply peaceful beneath the vast, star-strewn Greek sky. The moonlight bathed the terracotta rooftops of the sleeping town in a silvery, ethereal glow. Waves crashed softly against the distant harbor wall, a steady, hypnotic rhythm. Torches flickered in the harbor far below, tiny, restless points of amber light dancing along the black water.
Atlas leaned on the worn stone railing, breathing in deeply, letting the salt and pine clear the lingering scent of temporal displacement from his senses.
No matter how many times I arrive here, he thought, his gaze sweeping over the ancient landscape, ancient Greece is always… beautiful. Raw. Untamed. Alive. A world of danger, yes, but also a world filled with spirit and unmatched light.
His eyes drifted back inside the room. On the small bedside table, a single object lay waiting: a complex brass pocket watch—his own intricate creation—the one he had left behind on purpose to serve as a precise temporal reference point.
He picked it up, the cool metal familiar in his hand, flipped it open, and checked the dial.
Only thirty seconds had elapsed in this world since he stepped into the dimensional rift near the Adrestia.
"Half a minute," Atlas whispered, a faint sense of satisfaction warming his expression. "Efficiency achieved." He closed the watch with a crisp snap and slipped it securely into his armor belt.
Now came the inevitable choice.
Should he go immediately to find Kassandra, Alexios, and Lukas? Or should he afford himself a moment of recovery? He had been running nonstop in his own time and world—a relentless whirlwind of complex experiments, building vast networks, navigating deadly politics, and unraveling elaborate conspiracies. The data and chaos of the Aegis-03 still swirled in his mind like a lingering storm.
They'll be sailing into the heart of a war soon, he reminded himself, the weight of their destiny pressing down. Better to face that coming conflict rested and sharp.
He removed his heavy sword belt, setting the scabbard gently beside the wall, and stretched out, allowing his body to sink into the simple comfort of the bed. The rough linen sheets smelled faintly of sun-baked fibers and sea-salt.
Atlas stared up at the wooden ceiling, hands laced behind his head. I wonder how they're doing, he thought as his eyelids grew heavy, a genuine concern easing past his usual guardedness. Kassandra… Alexios… Lukas… I hope they haven't managed to get into any serious trouble without me.
He snorted lightly, the sound barely audible. Who was he kidding?
They always got into trouble.
Sleep, heavy and immediate, pulled him under a moment later.
Meanwhile, several hours earlier on the sun-baked road leading to Sami…
Three horses tore down a dusty, winding path beneath the blaze of the Greek mid-morning sun.
Well—two were tearing down the road.
The third one… suffered.
"KASSANDRA! Slow down! You're cheating AGAIN!" Alexios yelled, his voice strained. He was practically lying flat on his horse's neck, his mount struggling valiantly to keep pace with the lead animal.
Kassandra twisted around in her saddle, her thick braid whipping dynamically behind her, her face alight with competitive glee.
"Maybe you're just slow, little brother!" she shouted back, urging Phobos even faster with a gentle pressure from her knees.
Alexios groaned in genuine, theatrical frustration. "Slow?! You jumped half a stride before the rock! That's a false start!"
"It's not my fault you blinked!" she fired back, a perfect, practiced retort.
Far, far behind, Lukas bounced violently on his poor, overburdened mount—a giant of a man riding a horse that clearly regretted every single life choice that led it to this moment.
"HEY!" Lukas roared, his massive frame bouncing ungracefully with every uneven gallop, looking less like a hero and more like a sack of potatoes on springs. "WAIT FOR ME, YOU LEAN TWIGS!"
Alexios looked over his shoulder and choked on a laugh, momentarily forgetting his frustration.
"Gods, Lukas, you're barely MOVING!" He cupped his hands around his mouth, his voice carrying clearly in the open air. "Are you riding a horse or a SLEEPING GOAT?!"
Lukas's sun-tanned face went instantly red with effort and indignation. "MY HORSE IS TIRED! I'M HEAVY! YOU TWO HAVE THE WEIGHT OF EMPTY BASKETS!"
"Maybe try eating a single less boar for breakfast!" Kassandra called over her shoulder, the teasing half-serious.
"HEY! MY BREAKFAST IS MY BUSINESS!"
Kassandra smirked triumphantly. "It certainly shows!"
Lukas barked back, "Oh shut—HEY! Don't you dare pass that old woman's fence—"
Kassandra shot past the final stretch—an imaginary finish line marked by a distinctive olive tree near a small farmland—and lifted her arms high, a victorious yell tearing from her throat.
"TOO LATE! I WON AGAIN!"
She slowed Phobos, laughing breathlessly as Alexios rolled in a few seconds later, panting dramatically.
"I swear by the beard of Zeus you cheated."
She casually dismounted, brushing dust from her armor. "I swear you're simply slow."
He jabbed a finger at her. "I wasn't slow—Lukas slowed me down with his THUNDERING FOOTSTEPS echoing behind us! It unbalanced my horse!"
"HEY!" Lukas protested vehemently as he finally arrived, gasping for air and sliding off his exhausted horse. "I run like a heroic beast!"
"You run like a falling tree," Alexios muttered, rubbing his own horse's nose affectionately.
"At least I don't scream like a girl when I lose!" Lukas fired back, catching his breath.
"At least I don't smell like a cyclops!" Alexios countered immediately.
"At least my horse doesn't actively HATE ME!" Lukas barked, pointing an accusing finger at Alexios's mount, which seemed to agree with the sentiment.
"Oh, please," Kassandra cut in, her playful tone gone, looking Alexios up and down. "Your horse looks like it wants to toss you directly into the sea."
"And yours," Alexios shot back, "only listens because it's smarter than you are!"
"That's it—come here and say that to my face, little brother!"
They would have continued, the light-hearted bickering spiraling endlessly as only siblings' squabbles can—but a middle-aged woman suddenly sprinted toward them from the farmland, panic etched deep in her steps.
"KASSANDRA!"
Kassandra stopped mid-insult and straightened instantly, her playful expression vanishing like smoke in the wind. The shift was immediate and total.
"Euterpe? What's wrong?"
The woman stopped before them, her chest heaving violently, hands trembling as she clutched her simple tunic.
"It's Phoibe—she's been taken! Those savage thugs who used to work for the Cyclops grabbed her! They've taken her to Ktimene Beach—please, please help her!"
Kassandra's eyes narrowed, turning sharp as polished steel.
"Phoibe…?"
Her voice lowered to a dangerous, predatory whisper. Before she could say anything else, Alexios muttered under his breath, his playful demeanor completely replaced by cold rage:
"That worthless bastard Cyclops, even in defeat, still sends his rats."
Lukas cracked his massive knuckles with a sound like dry branches snapping. "Good. I needed something sturdy to hit before lunch."
Kassandra mounted Phobos in one swift, economical motion.
"Come on," she said, her voice firm, cold, and heavy with protective purpose. "We're getting her back now."
Alexios kicked his horse forward, the grin that returned to his face feral and focused. "Finally, a proper excuse for violence."
Lukas grinned savagely, the mountain of a man suddenly eager for the fight. "About time."
The moon, now full and brilliant, hung low over the dark, restless sea, turning the incoming waves silver as they crashed against the jagged, black rocks of Ktimene Beach.
Kassandra, Alexios, and Lukas were crouched low behind a massive, shadow-casting boulder, their senses sharp. Ahead, five unkempt thugs lounged carelessly around a small, crackling campfire—drinking crude wine, laughing raucously, and loudly arguing over a game of dice.
A sixth figure was tied to a sturdy wooden post a few meters away, barely visible in the firelight.
Phoibe.
Her small frame shivered visibly in the cold night wind, her hands bound tightly, a rough cloth gag over her mouth, her ankles tied so tightly the rope cut into her delicate skin.
Kassandra's jaw was tight with restrained fury.
Alexios peeked carefully over the rock. "Five of them. And they're sloppy drunk."
Kassandra allowed a thin, cruel smirk to appear. "Excellent. Makes it easier and quieter."
Alexios raised an eyebrow, a familiar, excited glint in his eyes. "Ladies first, misthios?"
"Watch and learn, little brother."
Lukas snorted softly, pulling a heavy bronze gauntlet tighter. "I'll be right behind you. I'll clean up whatever you miss."
Kassandra moved first—silent, fluid, and lethal as a hunting lynx in the dark.
One burly thug stood and yawned, stretching his arms above his head. Before he could fully exhale, Kassandra was behind him. A powerful hand clamped over his mouth, cutting off his shout, and a knee drove viciously into his unprotected ribs. He collapsed instantly, the muffled grunt lost in the sound of the waves.
The second thug turned, confused by the sudden silence. Kassandra grabbed his collar, slammed his head into a nearby wooden crate with a sickening thud, and delivered a precise chop to the side of his neck. He dropped instantly, unconscious before he hit the sand.
Alexios burst from his hiding spot, a wide, gleeful grin splitting his face, looking like a man who'd waited all day for this simple pleasure.
"Surprise, you miserable drunkards!"
He swung his foot low, executing a practiced leg sweep with a flourish, knocking one startled thug off his feet. The man hit the ground face-first in the sand with a heavy thud.
"You're welcome, malaka," Alexios said smugly, dusting off his hands.
The final two thugs grabbed clubs and charged him in a clumsy rage.
Alexios sidestepped the first wild swing, grabbed the man by his belt and collar, and tossed him straight over the fire and into the sand on the other side.
"Next!"
The last remaining thug blinked in drunken confusion—then found Lukas towering over him like a mountain of angry armor, his hands already clenched into massive fists.
"H-hey now— let's talk this out—"
CRACK!
Lukas didn't hit the man. He punched the thug's shield so hard and centrally that the dry wooden center shattered like pottery, the bronze rim ringing loudly as it flew apart.
The thug screamed, horrified. "MY FAVORITE SHIELD!"
"Now it's your favorite memory," Lukas replied simply, then bonked the man on the head with one immense, flat hand.
The thug collapsed instantly, a stunned expression replacing the horror.
Kassandra dusted her hands, satisfied. "And that's five."
Alexios stretched dramatically, rolling his shoulders. "Barely a warm-up. We need to find harder thugs."
Lukas picked up a large, useless shard of the broken shield. "it's a nice shield… what a shame."
Behind the crates, Phoibe peeked out, her eyes wide, her lower lip trembling.
"Kassandra…?" she whispered faintly.
Kassandra rushed over, cutting her ropes with swift, decisive strokes of her dagger. "Phoibe, are you alright? Are you hurt?"
Phoibe shook her head quickly, tears welling in her eyes. "No—I mean yes—I mean… I'm not hurt! Just so scared."
Kassandra cupped the child's face gently in her hands, her expression softening immediately. "You are safe now, little bird. It's over."
Phoibe's eyes, still wide with shock, filled with tears of pure relief. "They said… they said the Cyclops hired Talos the Stone Fist to kill you if they failed…"
Alexios snorted loudly, leaning against a post. "Talos? That idiot? I've seen three-legged goats with better aim."
Lukas crossed his massive arms, scoffing. "I saw a chicken beat him in a footrace once."
Phoibe blinked, her fear momentarily forgotten. "Really?!"
Lukas paused, thinking. "…No. But it sounds true, right? You believe it."
Phoibe nodded slowly, considering the source. "…It does."
For the first time that night, Kassandra smiled—a genuine, warm expression that erased the coldness from her face.
"Talos isn't worth one of your tears, Phoibe. He wouldn't last two seconds against us combined."
Phoibe finally exhaled completely, relief softening her small, tense frame. She suddenly noticed the two imposing strangers standing behind Kassandra.
She whispered, her voice still shaky, "Kassandra… who are they?"
Kassandra stepped aside with a mischievous, proud smile.
"That big, loud one," she pointed, "is Lukas. Don't let his size scare you—he's basically a gentle, oversized goat."
"HEY—!" Lukas shouted, immediately protesting.
"He is!" Alexios added instantly, grinning. "Loud, hairy, and smells like he lives in a stable."
"I DO NOT!"
Phoibe giggled, a sweet, high sound of returning joy. "He kind of does…"
"And this," Kassandra said, placing a comforting, strong hand on the young man's shoulder, "is my real younger brother. Alexios."
Phoibe gasped aloud, her eyes wide with recognition. "Your… brother?! Oh! Oh wow! You're really her brother??"
Alexios puffed his chest out dramatically, relishing the awe. "The one and only. Handsome, heroic, and incredibly modest."
Kassandra smacked the back of his head lightly but firmly. "Modest, he says."
Phoibe's grin spread ear to ear, the darkness of the evening finally lifting. "This is amazing! You're both so cool!"
"Obviously," Alexios said, preening slightly.
Lukas pointed at himself, his expression wounded. "What about me?"
Phoibe hesitated for a critical second.
"…You're cool too!" she said quickly and loudly.
"See?" Lukas said proudly, looking at the siblings. "Even kids know greatness when they see it."
The group laughed together—a warm, relieved sound that washed over the quiet beach. For the first time that night, everything felt truly, safely, whole.
(PS: Please support me on patreon there 135+ chapters there and there also my new GoT: The True Dragon Fanfiction of Game of Thrones
https://patreon.com/BX_XDS)