Mycenae loomed before them, an impenetrable fortress of stone and shadows. Towering walls, crowned with battlements, cast long silhouettes over the dirt road. Alcides walked with a steady stride, though his mind was far from the city's grandeur.

Beside him, Iphicles kept pace, his eyes scanning their surroundings. They had barely crossed the gates when the murmurs began.

"It's him…""The monster of Thebes…""They say he murdered his own children with his bare hands…"

The whispers slithered through the crowd like venomous serpents, low but piercing. Alcides ignored them, his gaze fixed ahead, unwavering.

At the top of the hill, Eurystheus' palace awaited.

They stepped into the throne room, where the king sat with an expression of feigned warmth. He spread his arms in an exaggerated gesture.

"My dear cousin!" he exclaimed, his tone dripping with false enthusiasm. "You've traveled far to see me."

"Apparently, we have unfinished business…" Alcides began, but Eurystheus raised a hand, cutting him off.

"No need to explain," the king said, a sly smile playing on his lips. "I already know everything."

Alcides frowned.

"How…?"

A shiver ran down his spine.

From behind the throne, stepping out of the shadows like a predator, came Hera.

She wore a flowing Greek chiton that clung to her form, the golden filigree tracing elegant patterns along the deep neckline. Bracelets and earrings shimmered under the torchlight, and atop her head rested a delicate diadem shaped like a peacock—her sacred symbol.

She didn't need to speak. The air itself thickened in her presence.

Alcides felt his blood boil. His muscles tensed like a wolf preparing to strike. He stepped forward, but with a mere snap of Eurystheus' fingers, the guards raised their spears, their tips pressing against his chest.

"From now on, Alcides," Eurystheus declared with a smirk, "you will not take a single step without my permission. Not if you truly seek redemption."

Hera's smile widened, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Don't worry," she purred, her voice sweetly venomous. "I personally ensured that your wife and children had… proper passage through the Underworld."

Alcides' stomach twisted.

What did she mean by that?

Had his family been cast into Tartarus?

Rage roared inside him, a storm pounding against his ribcage, demanding release. But he couldn't act. Not here. Not now.

Eurystheus, savoring the tension, gave a theatrical sigh.

"Now, let's get to the important part. You will undergo ten trials—each more impossible than the last. Feats beyond any mortal… perhaps even beyond a god."

Hera tilted her head, feigning humility.

"Your first trial must be worthy of my husband's bastard," she said, her words laced with poison.

Eurystheus nodded.

"In the fields of Nemea, there is a beast that devours all in its path. They say its golden hide is impervious to arrows. Your task is to slay it."

Silence hung in the air.

Eurystheus leaned forward, his fingers intertwined, his grin widening.

"Do you accept, cousin?"

Alcides lifted his head. His eyes burned like embers.

"I will."

Eurystheus clapped his hands lightly, as if indulging a child's game.

"Ah, one more thing…"

He leaned back into his throne, his smirk deepening.

"Your name, Alcides, is stained with the blood of innocents—your own children. A servant of mine and the gods cannot carry such a disgraceful title."

Alcides clenched his fists.

"What are you saying?"

Eurystheus relished the moment before delivering his final blow.

"Your name will change. You are no longer worthy of being called a son of Zeus. From this day forward, you shall be known as 'Hercules.'"

The weight of the name crashed down on him like a mountain.

"The glory of Hera?!" He seethed, barely restraining himself. "You son of a—"

Eurystheus simply raised a hand.

"Remember, cousin, your redemption depends on me."

Alcides—no, Hercules—gritted his teeth so hard he nearly cracked them. But he turned away all the same.

'The glory of Hera.'

It was an insult. A leash wrapped tightly around his neck. A reminder that the woman who had destroyed his life was now the one directing his so-called redemption.

Hera smiled. Her figure dissolved into golden light, her laughter lingering in the air like a curse.

Heracles clenched his fists until his knuckles cracked.

Without another word, he strode out of the throne room.

Iphicles followed closely behind. But before crossing the threshold, he turned to Eurystheus.

"What are you really after?"

Eurystheus leaned back with a satisfied smirk.

"Nothing in particular…" he mused, his voice thick with amusement. "I just want to see how far a god's bastard can fall."

A chill ran down Iphicles' spine as he stepped out of the hall.

The dawn painted the sky in muted hues as Iphicles and Iolaus arrived at the lake. The water was pristine, reflecting the world with an ironic calm, as if unaware of the misfortune looming over them.

Iphicles kept his gaze fixed on the horizon, his mind trapped in the puzzle of the lion. He had searched for weaknesses, any useful knowledge—but nothing seemed promising.

"They say it's invulnerable," he muttered in frustration.

Beside him, Iolaus held the reins of two horses, his eyes never leaving the water.

"Then how can he kill it?"

Iphicles sighed.

"I don't know."

Silence settled between them—until the water stirred.

From the depths of the lake, Hercules emerged.

Naked, battle-worn, his form rose against the morning light, droplets cascading over his scarred muscles. But it wasn't his body that commanded attention.

It was his eyes.

No doubt. No fear. No rage.

Only cold, exhausted determination.

As he reached the shore, Iphicles tried to smile.

"You look… renewed."

Hercules didn't answer.

A servant of Eurystheus stood waiting at the edge of the water, holding a glowing iron brand.

"The king has ordered you to be marked," the man said indifferently. "Would you like something to bite down on?"

"No."

Hercules extended his arm without hesitation.

The red-hot iron seared into his bare shoulder.

A sickening hiss filled the air.

The stench of burnt flesh followed.

But no scream came. No reaction.

Only a whisper, barely audible.

"The son of Zeus… branded like an animal."

The servant stepped back, closing a small parchment ledger.

"From this moment, you are Hercules. Servant of the gods and his majesty, King Eurystheus."

Iphicles looked away. Iolaus clenched his fists, barely holding back his fury.

Hercules draped a toga over his shoulder, leaving half of his torso exposed, fastening it with his leather pauldron. He strapped on his bracers and armored sandals with unhurried precision.

Then, he turned to his brother.

"Why is he here?"

Iphicles lowered his gaze.

"I cannot follow you, brother. My body is too frail for such a journey. But my son… he will have your back."

Iolaus straightened, his curly hair catching the wind, his eyes burning with resolve.

Hercules studied him for a moment, then gave a single nod.

Without another word, he mounted his horse.

And together, they rode toward Nemea.

Then he woke.

Darkness surrounded him.

The dying embers of the campfire crackled faintly, their light flickering weakly over charred wood.

Hercules opened his eyes slowly.

The pain was still there, burning through his body, but his mind was clear.

For the first time, there was no doubt.

He sat up, his silhouette barely visible in the dim light. Iolaus slept beside him, breathing steadily, unaware of his uncle's awakening.

Hercules exhaled, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

And then, the lion's image returned.

Its fury. Its brutality. Its impenetrable golden hide.

But something else.

The way the beast roared when his fist struck it.

Not when he used his sword. Not when he fired his arrows.

When he hit it with his bare hands.

A faint smile ghosted across his lips.

He knew what he had to do.

End of chapter 3.