The first light of dawn had already settled over the rolling hills of Nemea when Iolaus stirred awake. The crisp morning air sent a shiver down his spine as he pushed himself up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The forest around him was silent—too silent. A hush that felt unnatural, pressing down on him like a warning.

The fire that had kept them warm through the night was now nothing more than a dying memory—a handful of embers glowing faintly, a wisp of smoke curling into the sky. But something else caught his attention.

A dark stain in the dirt.

Blood.

Right next to the tree where his uncle had rested.

Iolaus’ breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded as he scrambled to his feet.

Shit… that idiot went back to the cave.

He didn’t waste a second. Snatching up his sword, a waterskin, and a small roll of bandages, he bolted through the trees. His feet barely touched the ground as he ran, the cold wind stinging his face. His mind churned between worry and frustration.

Why? Why do something so reckless after what had happened? Had Hercules learned nothing from the first battle?

The cave entrance loomed ahead. He skidded to a stop, heart hammering. He couldn’t see anything yet, but he could hear it.

The roars.

They weren’t the same as last night. No blind fury this time—these were deeper, heavier. They carried pain.

Then, the ground rumbled. A slow, deliberate tremor. Not from the cave. From something moving.

Iolaus turned just in time to see him.

Hercules.

Emerging from the trees, carrying a massive boulder on his shoulders like it was nothing. Each step made the earth groan beneath his weight. His body was different—there was no hesitation, no lingering exhaustion. This wasn’t the man who had sat by the fire the night before.

His uncle’s face split into a grin, teeth flashing beneath his thick bear

d.

“You’re finally awake, Iolaus.”

Iolaus could only stare, breathless. Then, shaking his head, he found his voice.

“What the hell are you doing, Uncle?”

Hercules walked past him and dropped the boulder with a heavy thud. Dust rose into the air.

“I explored the cave last night. It has multiple exits. I won’t let the beast escape again.”

Iolaus frowned.

“And what? You’re going to trap yourself in there with it? That thing nearly killed you!”

Hercules simply gestured to his bare chest. Yesterday, his skin had been torn, his body marred with fresh wounds. Now, only scars remained—some thin and silvery, others deep and jagged. His left arm bore a clear bite mark, but even that had closed.

“Look at me,” he said calmly. “Do you think that monster healed as fast as I did?”

Iolaus had no answer.

Something had shifted in his uncle. The anger, the desperation—it was gone. In its place, a steady, unshakable confidence. And for the first time in days, Iolaus saw him smile.

“Don’t get yourself killed,” he muttered.

Hercules gave him a brief glance before stepping toward the cave’s entrance. His voice was firm, unwavering.

“Don’t get confused.” He placed both hands on the boulder. “I’m not locking myself in with the lion.”

His fingers dug into the stone. Tiny cracks spiderwebbed across its surface.

“I’m locking the lion in with me.”

Iolaus exhaled slowly, watching in silence.

Just before sealing the entrance, Hercules looked back one last time.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his tone lighter than before. “For how I treated you. I just needed… something to clear my head. And, well—” He chuckled. “Punching an armored monster is pretty therapeutic.”

Iolaus raised a brow. “How the hell did you change this much overnight? What happened?”

Hercules tightened his grip on the boulder, his fingers pressing deeper into the stone. His voice was quieter this time, almost thoughtful.

“I just want to focus on the one thing I know how to do.” He took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders.

“Fight.”

His eyes burned with something unreadable.

“I haven’t forgiven myself. I’m nowhere near that.”

The rock groaned under his grip.

“But for today…” A quiet exhale. A steady smile.

“I’ll just be the hero.”

Iolaus said nothing. He only nodded.

Without another word, Hercules shut the entrance.

Darkness swallowed him as he stepped deeper into the cave. The air was thick with the lion’s scent. His footsteps echoed against the stone walls, and far ahead, deep within, a low, guttural growl vibrated through the mountain.

Hercules sighed, flexing his fingers. If he died here, at least the lion would starve.

No.

Not this time.

He moved forward.

The tunnel widened into a vast natural chamber. And there it was.

The lion.

Curled up in the corner, licking its wounds. Its breath was slow, labored. Even through the dim light, he could see the bruises from their last battle, the patches of torn fur. It was strong—but not invincible.

Their eyes met.

The beast’s lips curled back. A deep, guttural snarl echoed through the cavern. Its muscles tensed.

Then, it roared.

The cave trembled.

Hercules grinned.

“Alright, you son of a bitch…” He rolled his shoulders, settling into his stance.

“No more interruptions.”

The lion lunged.

Fast.

But Hercules didn’t attack first.

He waited.

No blind rage. No reckless charge. He watched. He learned.

The beast’s claws slashed through the air. He dodged.

Another strike—faster.

He leaped back, light as a whisper.

The lion’s claws met stone. A massive rock split apart like wet clay.

Now he knew.

It was deadly—but only if it hit him.

The lion lunged for his throat.

At the last second, Hercules ducked.

And smiled.

His fist shot forward like a cannon.

BOOM.

The impact was devastating.

The lion’s body struck the cave wall with a sickening thud, stone cracking beneath its weight. It convulsed violently, its ribs rising and falling in jagged, uneven breaths. A deep, guttural noise rumbled in its throat as blood trickled from its jaws, staining the floor beneath it.

Hercules didn’t move at first. He simply watched.

Calm. Steady.

The lion lifted its head, its golden eyes locking onto him.

And for the first time… there was something in them that had never been there before.

Fear.

The man who had once been its prey now stood before it, an unshakable titan.

Hercules exhaled slowly. He had no anger left, no reckless fury. There was only certainty.

The lion’s instincts betrayed it. It ran.

Hercules let it.

He stood still, counting the seconds.

One.

Two.

Three.

Then, he heard it.

The frantic scraping of claws against stone. The lion was at the entrance, desperately trying to dig through the boulder, its powerful limbs tearing at the rock in a panic.

There was no escape.

Silence fell over the cave.

A low, muffled growl rumbled in the distance.

Slowly, Hercules lifted his gaze.

The lion had given up on the entrance. It now stood perched on a higher ledge, staring down at him, its breathing heavy, its muscles trembling from exhaustion. Its eyes still burned—but not with rage alone.

There was despair there, too.

Hercules’ lips curled into a small, knowing smile.

“So… only your skin is invulnerable.” His voice echoed in the cavern. He rolled his shoulders, loosening the tension in his muscles.

“Let’s finish this.”

He spread his arms, shifting into a fighting stance.

The lion growled, baring its fangs. Its claws scraped against the stone beneath it as its muscles coiled like a tightened spring.

Hercules lifted a hand, flicking his fingers in a taunt.

“Come on,” he said. “Try again.”

The beast had no choice. Its pride wouldn’t allow it to cower any longer.

It leaped.

The cavern shook with the force of its charge, a deafening roar ripping through the air. Jaws wide, claws extended—it aimed to tear Hercules apart in one final, desperate attack.

But Hercules didn’t wait for the impact.

He lunged forward.

The lion’s claws slashed through empty air where its prey had stood just a second before. It landed gracefully, twisting mid-movement to strike again—

Too late.

Hercules was already behind it.

With impossible speed, his powerful arms locked around the lion’s thick neck.

The beast thrashed.

It reared up, a storm of muscle and fury, dragging Hercules across the cave with sheer strength. His heels dug into the stone, carving deep lines into the ground.

But he held on.

He clenched his teeth, every fiber of his body straining, every muscle coiled in unrelenting tension.

His biceps turned to stone, his grip an iron vice.

The lion’s roars turned ragged. It fought with everything it had, claws slicing into Hercules’ arms, carving deep wounds into his flesh.

Blood dripped to the ground.

But his grip never wavered.

The cave trembled as the lion, in one last act of defiance, threw itself backward against the wall—

CRACK.

Hercules groaned, pain exploding through his ribs as they fractured under the force of the impact. A sharp, metallic taste filled his mouth.

He spat blood.

His lungs screamed for air. His body begged him to let go.

But if he did—he was dead.

So, instead of loosening his grip…

He squeezed harder.

His arms locked tighter, his fingers pressing deep into the lion’s thick hide. It let out a strangled gasp, its once-powerful movements turning frantic, erratic.

It staggered.

Its claws stopped moving.

The mighty muscles, once filled with fury and power, began to go limp.

Hercules didn’t hesitate.

With a final motion, he twisted.

CRACK.

The lion collapsed.

Dead.

Hercules stayed on his knees, breathless, his body covered in sweat and blood. He stared at the lifeless beast, his pulse still hammering against his skull.

The cave was utterly silent.

It was over.

Outside, Iolaus sat on the ground, his back against a rock, staring at the horizon.

The sun was beginning to sink, its golden light painting the land in shades of crimson and amber.

The quiet unsettled him.

He had been waiting for minutes. Too long.

What if something had gone wrong?

What if his uncle was dead in that cave?

The thought twisted his stomach into knots. He ran a hand through his hair, breathing deeply, trying to push it away.

Then, the earth rumbled.

His eyes snapped toward the cave.

The massive boulder blocking the entrance shifted. Stone groaned, dust rising into the air as the enormous barrier slid aside inch by inch.

Iolaus was on his feet in an instant, sword drawn.

Heart pounding.

A shadow stretched across the ground.

A figure stepped forward.

Bare feet, dust-covered. A broad chest, streaked with sweat and blood. A body that shouldn’t have been standing after what it had endured.

Hercules.

Iolaus rushed forward, barely able to find his voice.

“Did you do it?”

Hercules lifted his head, and a slow, confident grin spread across his face.

With one hand, he dragged the lion’s lifeless body behind him.

“Of course.” His voice was rough but steady. “Who do you think I am?”

For a moment, all the fear disappeared.

Iolaus laughed and smacked his uncle’s palm in victory.

“The first labor is done.” His grin widened. “That fool Eurystheus is going to love seeing this.”

They both chuckled, already picturing the cowardly king’s reaction.

And for the first time in months…

Hercules felt something stir in his chest.

A feeling he had nearly forgotten.

Victory.

The sun dipped lower as they began their journey back. Hercules carried the beast’s corpse over his shoulders as if it were a sack of grain.

The weight didn’t matter.

The three-month journey home, however… that would be a problem.

“Well,” Hercules sighed, already feeling exhaustion creeping in. “This is going to be fun.”

Iolaus eyed the lion’s massive body.

“So… what do we do with it?”

Hercules frowned. “With what?”

“The lion, Uncle. Shouldn’t we deliver it to Eurystheus?”

Hercules huffed. “He told me to kill it and bring proof. Never said he wanted the whole body.”

Iolaus thought for a moment.

“It’s indestructible, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then… why not wear it?”

Hercules stopped walking.

Iolaus smirked. “Like a cloak.”

Hercules glanced at the beast, then at Iolaus.

Then, he sighed and dropped the lion’s body onto the dirt with a heavy thud.

“Give me your knife.”

Iolaus handed it over without hesitation.

Hercules pressed the blade to the lion’s hide and pushed down hard.

CRACK.

The knife snapped instantly. Its tip shot off, embedding itself into a tree.

They both stared in silence.

“Well…” Hercules muttered. He looked at the broken knife, then at Iolaus. “I guess that’s a problem.”

Iolaus’ jaw dropped.

“That was a gift from my father!”

Hercules sighed. “Yeah, well—”

“Don’t be an ass!”

“I’ll buy you another one in town.”

Iolaus huffed, crossing his arms. Then, an idea struck him.

“Maybe the old man knows how to skin it.”

Hercules raised an eyebrow but nodded.

Without another word, they continued down the path, leaving the dark, silent cave behind them.

The first labor was complete.