Cyprus.
A slender silver-haired youth, clutching a bag in his arms, stumbled hastily through the dense forest.
Severe abrasions on his arms and legs, blood seeping from his forehead, and a bronze arrow piercing through his left shoulder blade... Every one of these signs unmistakably indicated that he was fleeing an assassin's pursuit.
"Escape? Can you escape?"
A dark cold snort sounded; a middle-aged man with a head of disheveled red hair and a red beard, dressed in a Thracian-style green robe, carrying a wooden spear, followed leisurely behind the silver-haired youth, showing no hurry to end the chase. It seemed he was simply enjoying the process of hunting and tormenting his prey.
Seeing his pursuer closing in once more, the fleeing silver-haired youth, or rather, the future Medicine God Asclepius, clenched his teeth and reached into his bag, pulling out two clay bottles and hurling them behind him with all his might.