Odysseus was having an internal panic.

He looked down at the infant that Zeus himself had instructed him to kill. He held the dagger in his hand with tears in his eyes, trembling slightly.

“Please don’t make me do this…”

He muttered softly under his breath, trying not to let the tears run down his face in fear of being seen as weak.

“Don’t make me do this…”

That child was the same age as Odysseus’ own son Telemachus…he couldn’t kill it…he couldn’t…