"A-are you alright, big sister?"
Achilles, having shaken off the Black Assassin upon sensing the danger, rushed to assist—only to arrive a step too late. The failed ambush by the Black Lancer had ended with their disappearance into the forest. anwhile, the Red Archer he had been so concerned about, Atalanta, stood unhard. She lowered her bow and stepped forward, steadying the pale-faced Sakatsuki.
"Are you... well?"
Her beast-like claws brushed against Sakatsuki’s black robe, only to recoil as if shocked. After hesitating for a mont, she carefully supported the young man’s body to prevent him from collapsing.
It wasn’t out of shyness or any gender-related reservation—it was pure astonishnt and reverence.
This black robe carried the aura of an Olympian deity... and not just any, but the one from the Underworld.
Though Atalanta was a renowned huntress of Greece, even she had only ever interacted with fourth-generation gods like Artemis and Apollo. Supre deities such as Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon had never crossed paths with her in life.
That said, due to certain circumstances, she had once been transford into a lion by an enraged Zeus, leaving her with an ingrained fear of the chief gods.
Was this unfamiliar young man perhaps a favored servant of Lord Hades? Yet aside from the cloak, he displayed none of the abilities expected of a divine envoy...
A gentle push interrupted her thoughts. Atalanta blinked as Sakatsuki straightened up, his wounds healing at a visible rate, his complexion quickly regaining its vitality.
Sakatsuki’s A rank in Endurance wasn’t due to sheer toughness—it manifested more in the continuous regenerative abilities granted by the Third Magic.
To Atalanta, this near-resurrection-like recovery seed fitting for a divine power associated with Hades.
"Thank you, Red Archer," Sakatsuki expressed his gratitude, but Atalanta shook her head slightly, her gaze fixed intently on his eyes.
"No, it is I who should thank you. After all, by my count, you’ve already aided three tis tonight..." At this, Atalanta herself paused in realization.
He had caught her when she was sent flying by a sword strike, held the front lines against the Black Saber, and shielded her from the Black Lancer’s ambush—refusing to retreat even when gravely wounded.
Every injury Sakatsuki had sustained tonight had been, in so way, connected to her.
In the era Atalanta had lived, what man had ever done such things for a woman?
In Greek society, won were often subordinate to n—Io, beloved by Zeus but transford into a heifer by Hera’s wrath; Cassandra, cursed for rejecting Apollo’s advances; Iphigenia, sacrificed by Agamnon—all were testants to how little agency won held.
Even the fad Atalanta, at birth, had been abandoned by her father, left on the mountains of Arcadia simply for being a girl.
She had long since lost faith in n. Yet Sakatsuki—this man who might well be an envoy of Hades—had, through his actions, forced her to confront the fallacy of her beliefs.
At this thought, Atalanta couldn’t help but glance at the red Rider, Achilles, beside her. With her experience, she could naturally tell this brat harbored admiration for her—but nothing more than that.
If she and Achilles had encountered tonight’s situation, this great hero would undoubtedly have been imrsed in the thrill of battling a strong foe until the Black Lancer took her life. Only then would he belatedly wipe away his tears and wreak havoc on the black faction to avenge her, right?
Atalanta didn’t an to bla Achilles, for this was the common flaw of heroes. They were always intoxicated by conquest and victory, forgetting the loved ones waiting behind them. In the end, love grew cold, familial bonds extinguished, and the tragedy of despair left the heroes with nowhere to hide.
Yet the irony was, the more tragic the heroes’ fates, the more fervently people celebrated their fleeting lives, singing their praises.
—But Atalanta was the princess of nature. She didn’t carry the glory or burdens of a hero. To her beast-like way of thinking, that kind of pride was sothing to be thrown to the dogs.
She valued results over face and dignity; she preferred living freely over dying without regret.
Precisely because the n drawn to her were all the sa, a thoroughly disillusioned Atalanta vowed to Artemis to remain a virgin forever.
Only Sakatsuki seed different from the others.
"Ahem." Realizing she’d drifted off again, Atalanta’s cheeks flushed slightly as she cleared her throat and returned to the topic. "Red Assassin, though I don’t know your true na, I’ll repay you soday."
"Soday"?
Verb or noun?
Sakatsuki blinked. He knew Atalanta’s temperant well. Faced with Atalanta’s promise, he could already imagine fresh ga piling up outside his door.
Weren’t those the gifts a hunter would give?
The problem was, such repaynt wasn’t particularly useful—unless Atalanta delivered herself as the gift (big misunderstanding).
"No need for repaynt. We’re allies, after all." Sakatsuki’s gaze lingered on Atalanta, and an idea suddenly struck him. "Actually, I’ve always been interested in your body... Wait, no—to be precise, your ears and tail."
Honestly, after transmigrating for so long, Sakatsuki missed the cat he’d raised in his original world. As its dutiful servant, he’d toiled tirelessly for that fat cat—wasn’t it all in hopes of it one day turning into a catgirl to repay him?
Alas, his plans were cut short midway, sothing Sakatsuki had always deeply regretted.
And now, conveniently, a large catgirl (actually a lion) stood right before him.
"So... can I touch them?"
Thus, Sakatsuki made a request that would be considered bold by most won. Yet after a mont’s hesitation, Atalanta actually nodded in agreent.
"They’re just symbols of so curse or side effects, nothing noteworthy... Just for a little while, though."
As ntioned before, Atalanta grew up in the forests and wasn’t particularly sensitive to matters between n and won. To her, this was also a way to save ti on hunting—why not?
"Big sis, this...!" Neither Sakatsuki nor Atalanta had any objections, but Achilles, who was standing nearby, was utterly dumbfounded by the bizarre exchange between the two. However, after a single glance from Atalanta, he promptly gave up and walked away to question his life choices.
"Well, let’s begin now." Having shooed away Achilles, Atalanta turned back, her hands hanging naturally at her sides as she calmly closed her eyes, waiting for Sakatsuki’s ’hands-on approach.’
Without the slightest hesitation, Sakatsuki reached out with the mindset of petting a cat, placing his hand atop the green-haired girl’s head.
Though her hair had never been ticulously cared for and was left to grow freely, it felt surprisingly smooth and cool to the touch. As his hand moved, the soft, faintly warm animal ears slipped into his palm, perfectly sized to be held in one hand.
The gentle stroking, the familiar texture, and the just-right height instantly transported Sakatsuki away from the battlefield, as if he had slipped back into the warmth of his humble abode.
After every exhausting day, returning to his rented apartnt to find the cat lounging on its climbing tower had always been his greatest source of solace.
After all, no one could resist an adorable, well-behaved little cat—no one (emphatically)!
mories surged like the tide, causing the young man to narrow his eyes slightly as his movents increasingly mirrored those of petting a cat. anwhile, Atalanta, who was on the receiving end, gradually relaxed from her initial discomfort, closing her eyes and surrendering to the inexplicable comfort.
A soft moan escaped her lips as the girl’s cheeks flushed slightly, her half-lidded eyes and lazy expression making her look as though she was acting coquettish.
After this brief indulgence, Sakatsuki withdrew his hand as promised. Surprisingly, Atalanta instinctively rose onto her tiptoes, nuzzling against his palm like a cat still craving more affection from its owner.
The mont she opened her eyes, Atalanta herself was startled by her own actions. But Sakatsuki seed unfazed, rely smiling as he bid her farewell before turning and disappearing into the woods.
"Strange, isn’t Assassin coming back to the church with us...?"
Noticing the movent, Achilles approached, only to find Atalanta clutching her own animal ears, lost in thought.
"Uh, big sis, what’s up with you?"
Achilles stared at the hunter, whose usual composed deanor had completely vanished, leaving behind an almost dazed and adorable version of Atalanta. His lips twitched as he couldn’t help but ask.
"N-nothing." Atalanta replied absentmindedly, her hands still lingering on her ears as if testing sothing, but eventually letting them drop in defeat.
No matter what I do, I can’t recapture that sa feeling of relaxation... What’s going on?
Atalanta reminisced about that fleeting sense of fulfillnt, suddenly feeling an inexplicable sense of loss.
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