At last, I had led them out of the Hellespont.
Before us lay the land we had long awaited.
But I knew... I would never get to set foot on it.
My time was up.
I collapsed to the deck beside the statue, my body numb, breath shallow and fading.
The companions of the Argo erupted in joyous cheers.
The long and perilous voyage through the strait had finally ended.
They rushed toward the statue of the goddess Hera, now lying loosely on the deck.
Chants of praise and reverence rang out across the ship, thanking the goddess for delivering them from death.
But in truth… they should have been thanking me.
No one spared a glance for the one dying alone at the prow of the Argo.
Their worship and admiration were reserved solely for the statue.
It stung—yet it was simply the harsh truth of this world.
People admire what they believe in.
As for side characters like me, we're always expendable—used and discarded without a second thought.
No one would ever even notice.
The golden needle of Lachesis slowly pulled at the thread of my life.
What I had been given… was now being returned.
The destiny granted to me was unraveling, piece by piece.
First, the knowledge of navigation began to leak from my mind.
Then the sky, once dark, grew clear and bright again.
I was leaving this world in peace—never to return.
My eyelids grew heavy.
The world before me faded into a blur.
And the last thing I saw… was the gentle smile of Asclepius, walking toward me with Atalanta at his side.
Her face… looked truly sorrowful.
Who would've thought someone who used to argue with me constantly would wear such an expression?
A warmth filled my heart.
At least… someone did care, in my final moments.
Asclepius gave me one final word.
A single, simple word.
I once called it "the briefest prophecy ever spoken by Asclepius."
But why now?
Why would he choose this moment to say it?
And this… this was the prophecy Asclepius whispered as I slipped away:
"Hero."