Night had fallen. Outside the cave at Mount Pelion, a bonfire blazed, casting the only flickering glow beneath the starlit sky.
Heracles woke slowly, stirred by the gentle evening breeze. Opening his eyes, he saw the full moon hanging deep within the velvet darkness, Artemis’s ever-watchful eye upon the mortal world, surrounded by a scattering of brilliant stars.
He exhaled quietly. Before his mind was fully awake, his gaze caught sight of a young figure clad in linen robes, standing casually nearby.
Heracles jolted upright, instantly alert. Yet his very first instinct wasn’t to prepare for battle but to clamp his hands over his ears to block out what he knew was coming.
“Bwahahaha! So timid—and yet you dare call yourself a hero?” Seeing this, Rovi couldn’t help but mock him mercilessly.
“Um…Rovi, perhaps a bit more moderation…” Beside them, Chiron gave a strained smile, trying gently—and futilely—to restrain this capricious sage.
Several hours had already passed since the earlier “battle” outside in the forest. Faced with Rovi’s “request,” Chiron had been unable to refuse, naturally appearing here as asked.
As for those centaurs, Rovi had refrained from killing them out of consideration for Chiron’s plea, instead imprisoning them temporarily with his powers.
Yet in these brief interactions, Chiron had clearly observed the sage’s manner of conduct—indeed wise enough to pinpoint someone’s weaknesses instantly, and then…mercilessly roast them.
“Chiron, I told you—don’t be too gentle with your students. Brief kindness might strengthen them, but prolonged indulgence only breeds cowardice!” Rovi shook the wooden barrel in his hand, then drained the richly purple Greek wine in a single gulp, letting out a deeply satisfied sigh.
“Yes, yes… I understand…” was Chiron’s only reply.
Of course he understood. Yet as a teacher, he simply couldn’t suppress the impulse to treat his students gently.
“You…” Rovi shook his head slightly, knowing that this exact trait would one day lead Chiron to his doom—but it wasn’t his place to say more.
After all, he had come here to learn, not to lecture.
So he shifted his attention to Heracles, who was desperately attempting to lower his presence.
“Trying to escape, future great hero?”
“No! I wasn’t! Don’t make things up!” Heracles, who’d just lifted his foot, quickly spun around.
He wasn’t afraid of fighting—even if he lost, he’d willingly accept it.
But he really didn’t want to be verbally destroyed.
“A true hero isn’t someone who merely excels in combat,” Rovi smiled mischievously. “Do you know what else truly makes someone heroic?”
Heracles could no longer ignore him.
Because he deeply wished to become a hero.
His birth—as a bastard child of Zeus—was not something glorious. He was born out of the god king’s infidelity, hated by Hera, and resented by his mortal “father.”
Yet even though he grew up scorned by everyone around him, Heracles had never despaired; instead, it kindled in him a wish to ensure no one else had to suffer as he had.
That was precisely why he had accepted Chiron’s guidance here—to become a true hero.
“I want to know,” the young demigod said, taking a deep breath and forcing down his anxiety as he slowly approached Rovi beside the fire.
He moved cautiously, nervous, and only relaxed slightly when he saw Rovi wasn’t about to roast him again…
“Scared, scared, scared—why the hell are you still so scared?!” Rovi suddenly shouted, nearly scaring Heracles out of his wits. He almost fled but was barely restrained.
“Sit down.”
Heracles steadied himself obediently and sat.
His psychological trauma was now quite profound.
“Let me tell you clearly: if you want to be a hero, you don’t just need exceptional combat power—you also need exceptional speaking skills. Like mine.”
Really? Heracles stared suspiciously at Rovi’s dead-serious expression.
“Cough cough—!” On the side, Chiron choked, spitting out the wine he’d just swallowed.
“If you don’t believe me, ask him,” Rovi pointed casually at Chiron.
Chiron’s lips twitched awkwardly.
Can I deny this? Dare I deny this…? This was, after all, the ancestor-grandmaster.
Respectful as Chiron was, such disrespect was utterly impossible.
“You still don’t believe it, huh?” Seeing Heracles’s continued disbelief, Rovi laughed again. “Then tell me—should a hero save people, or kill people?”
Heracles didn’t answer, but Rovi could read his reply clearly from his eyes:
Obviously, save people.
Clearly, Heracles was unlike those reckless, self-styled “heroes” of Greece who indulged their every impulse.
“Then tell me—will more people die if you fight, or if you don’t?”
Naturally… if he didn’t fight.
“And how can you prevent others from fighting?”
By using words.
Heracles’s eyes lit up in realization.
“Exactly! Words,” Rovi clapped appreciatively, clearly pleased. “Use words, insults even, to defeat enemies without a single strike!”
Defeating enemies without fighting… Chiron immediately straightened up, sensing profound wisdom hidden within those casual words.
Indeed, the sage was also subtly teaching him something!
“So, now repeat after me—’Fuck him up!'”
Rovi opened his mouth expectantly.
“…”
Never mind. Chiron retracted his previous thought.
He now suspected the sage was simply bullying Heracles.
But in truth, it wasn’t mere teasing.
Rovi was urging the awakening of Heracles’s internal strength.
The young demigod had yet to control the divine blood inside him fully, even fearing the existence of that powerful bloodline.
Fear caused rejection, which in turn led to madness due to incompatibility.
Now, Rovi taught him recklessness—forced him to confront and master his own power.
Moreover, Rovi was deliberately accelerating Heracles’s growth to provoke the gods watching over him—forcing them to pay attention, and thus drawing their attention away from himself.
Indeed, Rovi had long noticed divine favor upon Heracles.
As Greece’s most famed hero, Heracles was always carrying the hopes and expectations of numerous gods.
His life had to follow precisely the trajectory they planned.
There was no room for deviations.
Though it was slightly regrettable that Heracles wasn’t becoming as wild as he’d intended—his upright nature was simply too strong to be quickly changed—Rovi’s approach nevertheless quickly yielded results.
…
Three days later.
Returning after half a day out, Chiron brought Rovi an update: “Rovi, if you truly want to become a hero, you must first pass the trials and receive recognition from the gods.”
“Currently, the gods’ council on Mount Olympus has temporarily adjourned, and some gods are returning to earth.”
“I think this is an opportunity.”
Of course, it was an opportunity.
An absolutely wonderful, perfect opportunity!
After all, Rovi had been agonizing over how to provoke the gods directly.
In this Age of Gods, what surer path toward death existed than actively picking fights with Olympians?
—
T/N: FUCK HIM UP!
This is a fan translation of 求你让我上英灵座吧 by 洛州白马 All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!
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