The First Labor - The Pride of Nemean Lions (1)

It had been three days since the hero knelt in front of Hera’s temple, begging for her forgiveness. On the third day, a storm began to rage, targeting Heracles specifically and lashing at him relentlessly.

Whoosh

Cold rain poured down upon him, turning the ground into a muddy quagmire. The earth beneath his feet became a mire of slick, wet mud, the chill seeping through his skin.

Whirr

As the tempest, infused with Hera’s wrath, swirled around him, it sought to wrench him away from the temple. But Heracles held his ground, his endurance and iron-hard muscles, forged in the Underworld, holding firm against the battering storm.

After a week, Heracles had become something of a local legend near Hera’s temple. Word of the brawny man enduring a god’s wrath in penance for his misdeeds had spread to nearby towns and cities.

"Hey, are you the one called Heracles? What could you have done to deserve this...?" "Watch out! The storm’s raging only over there!" "How merciless of Lady Hera..."

As tales of his suffering spread, so too did sympathy. Many began to hope he would withstand the punishment and earn the goddess’s forgiveness.

Two weeks in, the sympathy Heracles had garnered from the people prompted Hera to send a hailstorm to scatter those cheering for him. Large, stone-hard hailstones rained down continuously.

Thunk. Thud-thud.

"Whoa, let’s step back!" "Watch out! The hail is only falling in that area!" "It really does seem like Hera’s punishment..."

Yet Heracles, with his Styx-enhanced skin, remained unscathed. He stood firm, unyielding in his original position, unmoved by the pelting ice. Now, whispers circulated that he was no mere mortal. Perhaps he was a demigod or a monster in disguise.

After three weeks, Hera, from above the clouds, grew anxious. She had hoped to drive Zeus’s illegitimate son to madness by pushing him away from her temple. But the man only continued to prostrate himself, seeking her mercy. His persistent pleas so close to her temple posed a risk to her priests, for should he lose control, they might be caught in his violent wrath.

Unable to bear it any longer, Hera called upon her daughter, the goddess Hebe.

"Hebe." "Yes, Mother?" "As the goddess of youth, lure that man away. Just make sure he leaves my temple."

Disguised as a mortal woman, Hebe approached Heracles. Even in human form, her beauty, as the goddess of youth, captivated all who laid eyes on her.

"Goodness..." "Such beauty... Could it rival the famed Princess Psyche’s?" "She might as well be an avatar of Aphrodite."

The crowd marveled at Hebe’s beauty as she walked over to Heracles, who remained bowed in the storm’s fury. People sighed as they watched her approach the man suffering under divine punishment.

"Are you the one they call Heracles?" "..." "Lady Hera is harsh indeed. Why would she inflict such a trial upon you?" "..." "I’m curious about your story. Won’t you come with me somewhere quiet where we can talk? I doubt Lady Hera would mind if we just stepped away briefly."

Her hand, filled with feigned compassion, reached out to touch his shoulder. But he remained utterly unmoved, staring resolutely at the ground. After some time, realizing her charms were ineffective, Hebe left.

By the fourth week, a furious Hera summoned Pan, the god of nature and son of Hermes. If storms, hail, and alluring goddesses couldn’t dissuade him, then perhaps something else would.

"Pan, show that bastard the filth of nature. Let him experience the revulsion of animals shedding waste in his presence." "I understand, but... Isn’t that man Heracles?" "Do not speak that cursed name in my presence!" "Y-yes, my apologies!"

Following the queen’s command, Pan set to work. Birds flying above, deer drinking from nearby streams, boars, squirrels—all creatures of nature obeyed.

"From now on, let your waste fall upon that spot."

Animals began to deposit their droppings upon Heracles. One by one, the mounds of excrement accumulated, eventually forming a putrid heap in front of Hera’s temple, emanating a stench that was unbearable.

Thus, Heracles found himself in a truly foul situation.

Drip. Plop. Squelch—

"Ugh... the smell! What is that?" "Leave him. He’s obviously done something terrible to warrant such penance before Lady Hera. It’s been four weeks now." "But what’s that? Birds and beasts are all relieving themselves there!" "Shh! It must be divine punishment."

"The stench is unbearable! Even within the temple, we can smell it!" "Perhaps we should pray to Lady Hera to spare him. I can’t take this odor any longer." "What could he have done to deserve this?"

Sympathy for Heracles turned to revulsion. The pile of animal waste on his body soured people’s view of him. The noble image of a sufferer enduring a goddess’s wrath was overwhelmed by the immediate and nauseating smell.

‘Damn it. This stench might just knock me out.’

Heracles was about ready to lose his mind. Although hail, storms, and even seductive women couldn’t faze him, his will was truly tested by the unbearable stench.

Drip.

‘Argh! That damned beast just relieved itself, then urinated...!’

But while his resolve wavered, it was still stronger than that of the priests. The overwhelming stench, day and night, forced them to finally pray to the goddess.

"Lady Hera, what offense could he possibly have committed?" "Please, just let him perish... The temple reeks of animal waste..." "While he may deserve to die a thousand deaths for offending the Queen of the Gods, surely he has repented by now..."

Observing this from above, Hera was incensed.

"That damn bastard has such endurance!" "Mother, he wouldn’t even look at me. Perhaps it’s time to forgive him..." "Silence, Hebe!"

‘Hmph... Even though he was dipped in the Styx, he’s still mortal. If he dies through these labors, so be it.’

A month and a day later, on the Day of Thanatos, a priest approached Heracles, who was covered in filth and reeked to high heaven. It was the same priest he’d met when he first arrived.

"Ugh... The smell. Heracles, you’ve won." "...!!" "Lady Hera has issued an oracle. First, go wash yourself and receive the task."

Clutching his nose, the priest rushed back into the temple. Heracles finally stood up, after nearly a month of lying prostrate.

Drip-drip.

Animal waste fell from his body as he stood, a smirk playing on his lips. At last... Was the Queen of the Gods about to assign him his task?

Splash!

The hero dashed into a nearby river, stripping off his soiled clothes and diving in. The fish fled, and even the river god emerged, furiously waving his staff.

"What madman is polluting my river? Oh, it’s you—the one suffering divine punishment!" "A river god...? My apologies." "What did you just say? ‘My apologies’? By Tartarus, had today not been the Day of Thanatos, you would die by my hand, not Lady Hera’s!"

The river god vanished, leaving Heracles staring into the water. His expression wasn’t fearful, though.

‘I think I could take him in a fight... Maybe?’

Shaking off the notion, he cleaned his clothes and donned them anew. When he returned to Hera’s temple, the animal waste was gone—likely wiped clean by the goddess’s power.

"Heracles, enter. The High Priestess will deliver the oracle to you."

Hmm.

The aged priestess, resplendent in ceremonial garb, approached him.

"I shall convey Lady Hera’s oracle to you." "......" "There is but one way to cleanse yourself of your original sin. You must complete the tasks assigned by the goddess." "How many tasks must I complete?" "There are ten in total, and the first one has been revealed."

Ten tasks? Sounds like I’ll be traversing all of Greece. While my goal is godhood...

As he grumbled internally, he listened to the first task.

"Your first labor is... to rid the land of the pride of Nemean lions."

A pride of lions? When I learned from Chiron, I was told there was only one lion in Nemea.