Capítulo 3: Please, let me be wrong about this
"Hercules? Come on, you big lug, rise and shine!"
The voice outside grew more insistent, but I remained frozen, staring at my new body—Hercules' body—with a mixture of awe and sheer panic.
I flexed one massive arm experimentally, watching the muscles ripple beneath the skin. It was like looking at an anatomy textbook come to life.
"This can't be happening," I muttered, my voice deeper and more resonant than I was used to. "I'm hallucinating. Or dreaming. Or having some sort of psychotic break brought on by years of academia and subpar cafeteria food."
I pinched myself, hard enough to leave a mark on my—Hercules'—bronzed skin. Nothing changed. The rough-hewn walls of the ancient Greek room remained stubbornly real, as did the herculean body I now inhabited.
"Okay, Alex," I said to myself, trying to inject some rationality into the situation. "You're a scholar. Approach this logically. What do you know about Hercules?"
There was no use in panicking, so I tried to calm down.
I ran through the facts in my mind, Hercules was the son of Zeus and the mortal woman Alcmene. Known for his incredible strength and bravery. Completed twelve seemingly impossible labors as penance for... for...
"Oh, gods," I breathed, a new wave of panic washing over me as I realized.
"The labors. Am I here at the start of the labors? Please, let me be wrong about this."
The door burst open, startling me out of my internal crisis.
A man strode in, muscular but dwarfed by my new physique. He looked at me with a mixture of exasperation and fondness that spoke of a long friendship.
"Finally awake, are you?" he said, tossing a leather satchel onto the bed beside me. "Come on, Hercules. Nemea awaits, and that lion isn't going to slay itself."
I stared at him, my mind racing.
The casual mention of Nemea and a lion could only mean one thing- this was Iolaus, Hercules' faithful companion, and we were indeed at the start of the legendary Twelve Labors.
"R-right," I stammered, trying to sound more like the legendary hero and less like a panicking professor.
"Nemea. Lion. Slaying. Got it."
Of course, that was a total disaster!
Iolaus raised an eyebrow.
"Are you feeling alright? You sound strange."
I cleared my throat, attempting to deepen my voice further.
"Just... had a weird dream. Give me a moment to get ready."
As Iolaus nodded and left the room, I stumbled to my feet, marveling at the strength I could feel coursing through my new body. Each movement was filled with a power I'd never experienced before. I took a step and nearly put my foot through the floorboards.
"Be careful," I whispered to myself. "You're definitely not in a familiar place anymore."
I made my way to a polished bronze mirror hanging on the wall, bracing myself for what I'd see.
The face that looked back at me was both familiar and alien—the strong jaw, the determined eyes, the leonine mane of hair. It was Hercules as I'd seen him depicted in countless statues and vase paintings, but now it was... me.
"Well, Dr. Matthews," I said to my reflection, "looks like you've got your wish. You're about to experience Greek mythology firsthand."
I attempted a confident smile, but it came out more as a grimace.
"Just try not to get yourself killed in the process."
I turned away from the mirror and began to gather what I assumed were Hercules' belongings.
I couldn't make Iolaus wait longer - he would definitely get suspicious otherwise.
As I did, I couldn't help but feel a mix of terror and...was that….excitement?
After all, how many historians get to actually live the events they study?
But with that excitement came a sobering realization.
I knew the myths, the stories of Hercules' great deeds. But knowing about something and actually doing it were two very different things.
I may have Hercules' body, but I still had the mind—and more importantly, the combat experience—of a bookish professor.
As I strapped on a leather breastplate that felt comically inadequate for facing a monstrous lion, a thought struck me. In the myths, Hercules was known for his strength, yes, but also for his cleverness.
Maybe, just maybe, my knowledge could be an asset rather than a hindrance.
"Hercules!" Iolaus finally called from outside, maybe tired of waiting. "The day's wasting!"
"Coming!" I shouted back, grabbing a massive club that was leaning against the wall. Its weight felt reassuring in my hand, which went to show the strength at my disposal now.
I took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders and trying to channel some of Hercules' legendary confidence.
"Alright, Alexander," I said to myself. "Time to put all those years of study to the test. Let's go make some myth."
With that, I stepped out of the room, ready—or at least, as ready as I could be—to face whatever this new, ancient world had in store for me.
As I followed Iolaus out into the bright Greek sunlight, one thought kept running through my mind.
I really should have read the fine print on that mysterious diary.
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