You will also encounter Shura Field after exile [Greek Mythology]

"Helen!" The King of Sparta stood under the walls of Troy and shouted loudly, "Helen, here I am now, you let your lover get out and fight me to the death."

"I want to prove that he is not a man!" The Spartan king patted his chest and roared loudly.

The blond Paris came out, with a shield hanging on his thin arm, looking a little funny.

After a few rounds, Paris was knocked to the ground, hugging his brother's ankles, crying for him to save him, Hector's golden eyes rolled away, and he bit his lower lip to bleed.

"Put him in the back," Troy's coach said, waving his hand.

"You know what you're doing?!" the king of Sparta yelled, "Hector!"

"Let me kill the bastard here, and then I can say my humiliation is over and we'll go," he yelled.

"Impossible." Hector said softly, "Look, if Agamemnon's labor expedition did not grab anything, how could you come and leave as soon as you said?"

The upright king of Sparta choked.

He turned his head and looked at Agamemnon's fat face. Even his simple mind knew that Hector was right.

Agamemnon's desires are hard to fill. He knows that just last night, he and Achilles had a fight over the female slave. Among the people who went out this morning, he really didn't see the figure of the swift-footed hero.

This made him feel a little uneasy.

To the Greek coalition forces, Achilles is the embodiment of victory. He is not there, and the whole front seems to be floating.

"Want to fight me?" Hector asked, taking the spear from the attendant next to him, the king of Sparta hesitated, "I just want to kill Paris, boy."

His voice was obviously much lower than before.

"You sleep like this?" the priestess asked.

The blond Achilles was sleeping comfortably in the tent under a blanket, "What's wrong?"

"What does it matter to you whether I sleep or not?"

"Your people are being killed," said the priestess.

"Shouldn't they be your enemies?" Achilles said indifferently.

The priestess seemed to realize something, and turned her head unhappily, "If you are angry with a female slave, even if you are an enemy, I will look down on you."

"Why don't you say it, I'm just angry for you." Achilles opened his sea-blue eyes playfully and asked.

"No, you are angry for yourself." The priestess said indifferently, "Even if I am a dagger, a dog, or a horse, you will still be angry, and it has nothing to do with me."

"You are very eloquent." Achilles said, reaching out to grab the arm of the priestess, but she dodged, "Go to sleep, I'm going out, wait for your compatriots to be killed, my church Brother Hector will save me," said the priestess.

Achilles jumped up from the bed, "Then I'll kill you first."

"Okay, please pick me out from you and put me on the other side when the time comes." The girl said.

"Forget it, have fun with you." Achilles lay down, "You can snatch as many female slaves as you want, and as you said, it would be a good choice for me to find a goat."

"You are disgusting, Achilles." The priestess stopped and sat down.

"Why don't you leave?" Achilles challenged, "Do you want to compete with the goat?"

"I've never seen such a disgusting person in my life." The priestess covered her eyes.

The sound of the gold thread falling and breaking exploded in Moros's ears. This is the war of mankind, countless deaths, the warrior fell from the chariot, his hands were covered with mud, he traveled in the world for a long time, to be honest Except as a slave to the king of Troy.

Most of the time he just traveled farther, maybe met some people, but did not make friends.

He has seen the frailty of human beings and the struggle of human beings, but he always feels that there is a layer of separation. Prometheus said that human beings will eventually declare freedom. He may have seen hope, but he may not have.

But he was willing to believe her.

"Then watch the outcome of this war with me, and then decide." The girl said with a smile, "To be honest, I can't bear it."

If you only go with me because you love me.

Then I am really sorry for you.

Prometheus thought to himself, she left without saying goodbye 1000 years ago, if she asked Moros if she wanted to go with her, probably he would say, yes, I want to go with you.

He is so lonely.

To him, he is everything.

She didn't lie, she only wanted half of his life, and the one who can give half of his life to his lover is already extremely loyal.

She was unwilling to accept his whole life.

She once made an oath that she would be the last free person in the world.

So she wants to set him free too.

1000 years ago, when she saw the boy in the tower, she had this idea. She didn't want that silent but kind boy to be caged by Moros' golden wire forever, but he was meek and peaceful, completely Everything was accepted without any objection.

Became Moros, became the God of Fate.

With no thoughts of his own, no preferences of his own, and nothing of his own, he empties himself without hesitation to meet the expectations of others.

They hope that Master Moros is extremely diligent, so he will comb the silk thread carefully day and night.

They wanted Lord Moros to be majestic, so that he would never cry or laugh.

Cronus has always praised him, Tartarus respected him, Zeus respected him, no matter what generation of gods he was, they all spoke well of him.

Perhaps in the eyes of others, this is enviable.

But Prometheus knew how oppressive and painful it would be if everyone liked him.

Dedication is a good thing, Prometheus thought, but I want you to be happy.

I also want you to be free.

Freedom is not the absence of responsibility, or the destruction of everything.

I want you to be free from the bottom of your heart.

Don't be attached to the god king, and don't be attached to me.

She decided to be cruel to him personally, let him see the bloodiest and cruelest scenes of human struggle, let countless golden threads break in front of him, let him see that human life is worthless, and horseshoes will trample flesh and blood into mud, forcing Those who reap the heads of the weak.

She wanted to hold his hand and search for the long-glowing gold in the dust.

She knew that the so-called immortal birds were born from raging fire. She used to think that this boy was a fleeting dream of her girlhood, but since he wanted to go with her, she didn't intend to disappoint him.

She has taught countless knowledge to others, but she has never been as disturbed as this time.

But she is insatiable in this life, the more difficult and precious things are, the more she wants to achieve them, and now she wants to teach the caged bird to be free.

May your wings not be melted by the sun.

The soldier I just met yesterday was lying on the ground with blank eyes today, and Moros stretched out his hand, ready to pick up the corpse.

"He's dead." The coach said mercilessly, "Come here, pour lime."

"Humans will pour lime on the corpses to avoid the plague." The white-haired girl said softly, pulling him aside, "If there are few corpses, you can still burn them. If there are too many, you can only deal with them in this way."

Moros saw the powdery lime being poured on top of the corpse, and their eyes were still open.

"Live for more people." Moros whispered, "Is that so?"

"Hmm." The girl said softly. She was wearing an ordinary farmer's clothes and hid her hair in a hat, helping to clean up the corpse.

Moros saw that some peasant women would take off the rings of the corpses and put them in their pockets.

Human beings are really hard.

"Then I have to live." The peasant woman said with a smile.

"Why?" Moros asked softly, the peasant woman seemed to feel strange, and her eyes widened.

"How wonderful it is to be alive," she said. "If the war is over this year, next year my goats will grow, and then I will marry my daughter to a literate man in the city."

There was a slight smile on her face, "Young man, it's hard to live, but you have to live."

"Of course, people have bad luck," said another farmer. "For example, the grapes are hit by frost."

"But the grapes that have been beaten may taste better." He said, "Look, there are no boats that have not been repaired before going to sea."

"Don't be overwhelmed, young man, have any relatives died?" He asked kindly, "They won't die, they will be taken to the sky by Zeus, and the stars you see are all them."

"What's the use of becoming a star?" Moros sighed.

"Lighten those who walk at night." The farmer smiled on his old face, "I tell you, it works. My son was beaten to death by the Greeks last year."

"My land has not recruited any small animals that can grow anything. I dreamed that he was helping to drive them out."

Moros is one of the gods who are most familiar with the underworld in this world. He knows how ridiculous what the old man said, but he feels a kind of sour sadness.

"Dead people are not really dead." The farmer vowed, "When you die, you will see him waiting for you there, maybe you fell on the walk, it was his fault of it."

Moros couldn't help smiling, "It shouldn't be so boring."

The farmer laughed, "I heard what my father said, can I be wrong?"

He carried the corpse and threw it into the lime pit, "It's just a ****, there's no need to care so much about it."

"He cried like a dog last night." The peasant woman smiled in Moros's ear, "Now he knows it again, and he is a life mentor again."

"It was difficult for us at the time, but we all came through." She stretched out a rough hand and put it on Moros's shoulder, "Son, you can do it too."

It will all pass.

After all, people live longer than horses.

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