Chapter 35 Part 3
Hercules stood by, seemingly patient. Freighton picked his eyes up from his axe which rested on the ground. He raised his hands in an attack posture, then extended his index finger in a come here motion to Hercules.
Hercules obliged him, coming in slowly, casually. Once he was within range, Hercules quickly moved his arms as if to grapple Freighton by the neck. Freigton caught his arms with his own, and the two stood locked with each holding the other's arms. Neither man budged.
Freighton could feel the force of Hercules pushing against him like an elephant. Every cell of his being pushed back. He could feel his heels sliding and his bones grinding. Every sinew in his body screamed in unison. Hercules was tearing him apart. he knew it was only a matter of time before he yielded. then it dawned on him--he could simply yield now. His body became like spaghetti almost instantly, and Hercules stumbled as he suddenly found himself in the position of being able to push Freighton's flaccid body wherever he wanted. This was the moment Freighton had hoped for. As Hercules stumbled, it allowed Freighton just enough time to cast off the grip that Hercules exerted on his arm. As he did so, he allowed Hercules's forward momentum to continue to move forward. Freighton extended his foot at an ankle level and stepped out of the way. Hercules had his foot catch across Freighton's. He tumbled to the ground.
Loud laughter began to peel like thunder at this spectacle. As it began to taper off, Aries spoke.
"MORTAL, YOU FIGHT LIKE A WOMAN. YOU DO NOT USE YOUR STRENGTH TO OVERCOME YOUR OPPONENT, BUT INSTEAD USE HIS STRENGTH AGAINST HIM. SINCE HERCULES IS NOT MORTAL, THIS WAS THE ONLY STRATEGY THAT WOULD HAVE SAVED YOU. IT IS NOT ALWAYS DISHONORABLE TO FIGHT LIKE A WOMAN AS ALL FIGHTING IS A COMBINATION OF YIELDING AND PRESSING AN ADVANTAGE AND ONLY A FOOL DOES ONE AND IGNORES THE OTHER. I SHALL NOT DESTROY YOUR TRIBE, AS YOU HAVE PROVEN YOURSELF TO STILL BE A WARRIOR. THE FATE OF THE OTHERS HERE, HOWEVER, WILL BE THE FATE ALL COWARDS FEAR THE MOST AND EXPERIENCE FREQUENTLY. I MUST HONOR MY WORDS WITH THE MORTAL SAL."
Freighton seemed to absorb these words. Behind him, Hercules had gotten on his feet again. Freighton half-expected an attack from behind, but yet Hercules did not move toward him. Freighton cautiously retrieved his axe. He cast a look at the remaining Metheons. They were still fleeing or hiding. Something twisted in his gut. He was repulsed by the conduct of those who were supposed to be his countrymen. He had come here to defend them. Perhaps he might have pushed the issue before his struggle with Hercules. He might, because he had still been afraid of death himself then, have shown bravado for others who were cowards. Yet, now, he only had a bitter taste in his mouth from seeing them flee. They cared for no one but themselves, and they had no honor. On some level, Freighton felt like they were going to get what they deserved--not because they had lost, but because of how they had chosen to handle their loss--like scared mice. Just as scared mice would find themselves the plaything of a deadly cat, so too would these Metheons. Freighton turned his eyes toward the lands of his tribe and began to slowly exit the field of battle in that direction. He appeared not to either notice or care about the cries the remaining Metheons made as Hercules systematically slaughtered them.
