But as the numbers ticked past the threshold, Marcus felt a chill. Heracles wasn't screaming anymore. He wasn't fighting. He was... remembering. And the more he remembered—the soft wool of his crib, the taste of honeyed milk, the way Alcmene's hand felt small in his—the more his muscles, even in that tiny child's body, relaxed.
"Compensate," Marcus whispered from the void. "You will stay here until you forget how to divert rivers. Until you forget the trick. Until you sit in the stench and weep, not because you are strong, but because you are helpless." compensar hercules
Marcus looked at his tablet. The file was closed. But as the numbers ticked past the threshold,
"Sir, the ISQ is below threshold. He didn't bleed enough. He didn't cry." He was
Heracles laughed. It was a sound like grinding stones. "Grief? I killed my wife. My children. In a rage sent by Hera. You want grief? I am a mountain of grief. I just learned to climb it."
Marcus watched the data stream. The ISQ was skyrocketing. Suffering achieved. Compensation complete.
He pressed a button.