—There was once a certain man that walked the land of Greece.

Born with the destiny to be a hero and a king, he was raised in martial and ruling matters, and when he departed the home of his childhood in order to meet his father, he traveled the land and slew threats lurking all around Attica. He traveled in that ship that once held the greatest heroes of an era and met priceless friends.

He forged a genuine legend to leave to future generations, second only to a single man, and attained fame and renown as a hero before meeting his father — and when the woman that wanted her own sons to take the throne sent him on a suicidal task, he bested the impossible once again, reunited with his family and reinstated to his proper place.

He offered himself in place of others and swore to stop a foreign king’s tyranny over his people. He met a woman he fell in love with, slew the beast and broke the king’s hold over his country. He returned, beloved by the masses, and took the crown.

—Beyond any doubt, what a brilliantly heroic tale.

And yet—

His first love abandoned at the whimsy of a god because he did not have enough strength to challenge him. His mortal father killed by his own forgetfulness and grief. His second love murdered by her sisters. The loss of his mother and his sworn friend.

The death of a child he would always carry on his shoulders, his burden alone to bear.

The legend of a hero that never once lost to anyone. The tale of a man that lost everything he once cared for in the end.

—But it’s fine. It’s okay.

Because no matter how many bad turns it has, no matter how much grief you bear, no matter how many things you have lost, it is for the sake of that which you’ve left behind that you must face forward.

Your pride as a hero. Your sadness over those you let down. Both are equally important in order to face the future with your own hands.

Because if your mistakes cannot be fixed, you can only learn and hope not to repeat them. That is why, even if you are a slave to your own story — challenge it, with your own two hands.

So face forward with a smile, promise yourself that much, take a step, and never let it overcome you, even if it seems impossible.

. . .Then again, if something like that was enough to deter you, you would have never become a hero in the first place, right?
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[center][h2]Theseus[/h2][/center]

Amidst those figures in the chamber, there can be no second-guessing his “quality as a legend” as being top of the line.

The founder-king of Athens certainly left behind proof matched by few as the second greatest of his time, surpassed only by Heracles. His many glories and tragedies were recorded for future generations, and he had left his mark as a hero indelibly engraved upon the world.

Indeed, someone whose “brilliance as a Heroic Spirit” would not lose out to anyone else’s.

Yet, at the same time—

“—So this is how [i]Hell in a MoonCell[/i] is gonna be held, huh?” He offered a carefree laugh. “Sure, sounds fine to me. Any ideas as to what the A-show’s looking like or is it going to stay a surprise?”

Was he supposed to be so relaxed? Between his easy smile and the apparel he had chosen to wear, one could not be blamed for thinking him some sort of beach-goer that had gotten lost along the way and wound up here.

But at the same time, his voice carried the sense of an unshakeable confidence in himself. That being said — there was a far more pressing matter than those Servants that surrounded him. To begin with, this was something he should have done from the start.

The ring he wore as a necklace gleamed softly under the light as he brought a hand to tap it, eyes closed as if concentrating on something else.

Channel open, establish communications, time to contact your manager.

“Dad,” He said, looking for all the world as if he was just speaking to the air in front of him. “You hear me?”

[color=00aeef]“Yo, T! Been a while hasn’t it?”[/color] 

In all likelihood, this was not a voice any other Servant around the room would be able to hear or perceive, seeing as his Noble Phantasm only broadcasted it to Rider himself. The man in question allowed himself a small smile.

“Too long. Nice talking to you dad — did you get the memo on the situation?”

[color=00aeef]“Sure did!”[/color] The voice sounded almost ridiculously youthful for who it was supposed to belong to. [color=00aeef]“The others are already asking me to share with them — it’s been a while since I saw a couple so legitimately stoked about [i]anything[/i]. The PBO streaming service is shaping up to be a success!”[/color] An odd cracking sound came from the line, but Rider focused more on how eager his father seemed to feel about the whole thing.

Theseus let out a laugh at those words, extending his hand as though grasping something — which, in this case, turned out to be a can that had appeared from nowhere. This much was only expected in the case of his father.

“Well, I hope it does turn out fine. I’ll hit you up if something else happens.”

[color=00aeef]“No problem, T! To a good time!”[/color] The line was for a second suffused by the sound of his father drinking whatever it was he had gotten his hands on, before letting out a satisfied sigh once he was done. [color=00aeef]“Oh, and tell that Egyptian to feed her pets better, that croc’s a Divine Beast but its only ability is making me sad. Anyway, catch you when the action starts, got stuff to do.”[/color]

Well, his father was true to form as always. He probably meant he had found some "sick new waves" and he wanted to practice that human sport he had fallen in love with.

Sometimes, Theseus wondered why all waves he might find in his little corner were not "sick new waves," considering just who, exactly, his father was. But, well, not really his problem.

Opening the can and bringing it to his lips as he observed the mad inventor deal with what had come after him — what do you know, he [i]could[/i] see where his father was coming from — he took a mouthful.

Then, he promptly spat the seawater out with a cough, getting the feeling that Poseidon was laughing at him.