Chapter 61: Dionysus (5)
After resting, Dionysus returned with every potion and artifact he could gather to counter the Mad Conqueror.
“I brought everything I could… hope it’s enough.”
Silenus and Ampelos exchanged one last glance, then calmly advised him.
“Hmm… [Fairy Tear Bone] might work.”
“Yeah, and the [Jester’s Concert] artifact should be plenty.”
Together, they selected 21 reagents and artifacts to weaken the curse.
All set.
Since neither Dionysus nor Ampelos (who didn’t know the “m” in magic) could cast, Silenus took the lead.
“Here we go.”
He channeled his mana.
The artifacts and reagents resonated, forming a green light bird that landed on the Mad Conqueror.
The potion’s color faintly—barely—lightened.
“Huff… huff… Damn.
Even with Nysa’s strongest 21 items, this is all we get?”
Silenus wasn’t wrong.
Dionysus and Ampelos grimaced—whoever invented this was a monster.
“No choice. I’ll trust my resistance and drink it.”
Silenus had poured all his mana.
No more help on Nysa.
Asking outside? Hera and Artemis would never allow it.
Dionysus chugged the untouched Mad Conqueror.
Glug glug glug
He drained the vial.
Silenus and Ampelos watched tensely, ready for violence.
Hours passed.
Nothing.
“…”
All three were confused.
“…Wasn’t this supposed to be a legendary curse?”
Ampelos shot Silenus a ‘you scammed us’ look.
“Don’t glare! I only know it from records!”
Silenus frantically flipped through his book.
‘Hmm… it says…’
“Yeah, Ampelos, don’t blame Master. The effect—”
BLEGH!
Dionysus suddenly vomited.
‘What kind of curse takes this long?!’
“SHIT! What now?!”
“I don’t know! Only records exist! It drives you mad and strips everything needed for sanity!”
“Then it’s stripping him RIGHT NOW!!!”
BLEGH! BLEGH!
Before they could act, Dionysus emptied his stomach—until nothing remained.
“…”
He stopped.
On the ground: blue chunks.
Dionysus stood, eyes blank.
Silenus and Ampelos whispered, watching.
“Now what?”
“Records say madness varies…”
After standing blankly for ages, Dionysus snapped his head toward them.
GASP!
They clamped each other’s mouths.
“Hey, Master, Ampelos—my dear friend.
No need to worry. I’m perfectly fine.”
“Uh… um…”
“Looks mad… but also not?”
Dionysus ignored them.
“I’m not crazy.
My mind is clear.
I finally understand my calling.
To subdue Poseidon and Hades—my father’s enemies—
And earn every Olympian’s recognition.”
He dramatically raised his arms to the sky, then offered Ampelos his hand.
“Come, friend.
Let’s conquer the wicked.”
Ampelos stammered, overwhelmed—
WHACK!
Dionysus collapsed.
“Phew. Ampelos, tie him to the tree, fast. Get the Hyades.”
“Y-Yes, sir!”
Silenus had secretly readied his olive-wood club the moment Dionysus started talking weird.
While Dionysus was distracted by Ampelos, he swung with everything.
“Hah! Athena-blessed olive wood never fails. Always wanted to test this baby.”
“…”
Ampelos, tying Dionysus, thought:
‘Is this guy insane too…?’
He glared at Silenus worshipping the club.
Silenus, briefly lost in club euphoria, caught the look and coughed.
“Ahem. I paid good money for this—1,000 gold coins.”
(Back then, a family of four spent ~4 gold a year. In another context, that might’ve been understandable.)
Sadly, his excuse only made Ampelos’ gaze colder.
Soon, the Hyades nymphs—Dionysus’ nannies—arrived, summoned by Ampelos.
“What in the world happened?!”
First thing they saw: Dionysus tied to a tree, Silenus holding a club.
“Uh… well…”
Silenus explained: Satyrs caused trouble → Dionysus begged Hera → drank Mad Conqueror.
(He omitted the part where he clubbed Dionysus with an Athena-blessed olive-wood staff.)
“How did this happen…”
“We told him not to hang out with bad friends.”
“Like father, like son—never listens.”
The nymphs grumbled but checked Dionysus’ condition.
“Hm? Why’s the back of his head dented…?”
“Ah… must’ve happened while subduing him when he went mad…”
“Fair enough.”
“…”
Silenus felt a sharp glare but stood proud.
‘He was mad. I did subdue him.’
“Fine. We know what to do. But our power is limited.”
Silenus nodded and explained what was needed now.
Even the powerful Hyades could only temporarily restore sanity.
“Yes. That’s doable. Mad Conqueror was made by Circe—almost no god can fully cure it.”
“Ah… that explains the lack of records.”
Silenus finally understood why the curse was so vile and scarce in documentation.
Circe—if not for Hecate and Poseidon’s protection, she’d be a corpse by now.
“While we prepare, get this: strongest bull horn on the mountain. Ampelos knows where—take him.”
“Got it. We’ll grab it before Dionysus wakes.”
“Ugh…”
Dionysus woke to a throbbing skull.
‘What happened? Drank the potion… then blacked out…’
He forced heavy eyelids open.
Only a campfire.
He was tied to a tree.
“What the hell?”
As he tried to cast a spell to assess—
“Hey! You’re up!”
Ampelos, gathering firewood, approached.
“How’s it? Still wanna conquer everything?”
Dionysus sighed at his friend’s finger-waving nonsense.
“Ampelos, not the time. Untie me.”
“Nope. Can’t.”
“What?”
“You’re not fully cured, they said.”
“What are you—”
Dionysus was baffled—he felt perfectly sane.
“Did I actually go insane?”
“YEP! Kept ranting about conquering Hades and Poseidon, becoming an Olympian. Almost dragged me into it!”
Bits came back. The curse hid deep before his divine power could purge it.
Worst part: it wasn’t harmful—it transformed you into your ideal mad self.
So… he’d been half-mad even before vomiting.
“Unbelievable. My divine power couldn’t touch it at all.”
Ampelos tilted his head.
“Wait… you drank it thinking your god-blood would handle it?”
“…”
“And this is Hera’s trial?”
Dionysus kicked a rock at his suddenly wise friend.
‘Why is he smart only now?’
“OW! Why?!”
“Shut up and untie me. I’m fine now.”
Ampelos quickly freed him—just in case another rock flew.
‘Of course Hera knew his power. But Ampelos, now a wiser satyr, kept that to himself.’
Soon, Silenus returned with bull horn and ingredients.
“Oh! You’re awake!”
“Yes. Thanks to you, Master.”
“Nah. The Hyades did most of the work.”
“I’ll thank them properly later.”
“Not now—they’re exhausted. Here, drink this. It won’t stop the fits, but they’ll become sporadic.”
Dionysus chugged the potion. Bitter, stinging—like swallowing poison ivy.
Ugh.
“Swallow fast. Only works in one go.”
He downed the last drop.
No effect.
“Hm. Nothing?”
“At first, yes. But you’ll get a warning minutes before madness hits.”
“Ah… so I’ll know.”
“That’s our limit.”
Dionysus was grateful.
His nannies and mentor had done everything possible.
Even this was huge—random madness would’ve killed him the moment he left the mountain.