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

The trees in summer are dark green, like the best emeralds, translucent, allowing a large piece of venomous sunlight to soften into circular spots on the ground. The black-haired boy is leaning on the tree trunk and eating a dark red apple. , There was a basket beside him, and there were many apples in it.

The boy had a pair of pure black eyes, a pale face, and his facial features were cold and sharp, softened by the afternoon sun.

"If you want to eat apples, why don't you pick them yourself." He turned his head and looked at the girl not far away. The girl sat down on the stone by the stream and turned her head to look at him.

"No, I'm just curious, do you really have wings?" The girl raised her hand and drew a circle in mid-air.

"Don't you have anything else to do?" the black-haired boy said, turning his face away, "Don't look at me."

"I'm not curious about what you ate last night, or other private matters." The girl smiled and leaned forward, "You're still mad at me."

"How can I not be angry with you." The black-haired boy said seriously, "Master Chaos ordered me to watch the door, and then what did you do?"

"I'll try to see if I can pry it open." The girl spread her hands innocently, "I told Lord Chaos that this matter is all mine."

"Are you responsible?" the boy said angrily, reaching out and knocking off the girl's hand that wanted to take the apple, "You just said you wouldn't eat it."

"What did you say to Lord Chaos?" the boy asked, crossing his arms.

"What happened to him." The girl asked, "Did you complain about me after that?"

"No." The young man was silent for a while, "He just laughed, and laughed for a long time."

"That's it." The girl stretched out her hand to straighten her hair, "Don't you know why?"

"I know." The boy replied coldly, but he seemed to get more and more angry, and finally couldn't hold back, "Why, what the hell are you doing?"

Hermes already knew at this time that this young man was probably the legendary god in charge of fate, whose name was Moros.

At this time, this girl looked very young, with bright and clear eyes. She was wearing a beautiful white dress and a gold belt. Her black hair was decorated with gold and flower branches. Bright gold leaf leaves hung from her ears. Beautiful jeweled bracelets hung on thin wrists.

Exactly like those goddesses of noble birth.

Only now did Hermes remember that this young girl was not a refugee from a humble background.

Her father is the pillar of the west, a prestigious and famous family, and her mother is Themis, whom all gods should treat with three points of courtesy.

He had never seen her like this before.

She has long eyelashes, soft hair, and pale pink cheeks.

At this time, she is just the daughter of Iapetus, who is well respected and pampered. She is as bright as a spring flower, a bright star, and a pearl that countless gods covet.

However, at this moment, the girl had a slight difference, and she couldn't tell where it was.

"It's nothing." The girl said brightly, "Since Mr. Chaos didn't scold you, why are you angry with me?"

"Why didn't you tell me what you did?" Moros said gravely. "Do you know that your fate has deviated?"

"I don't know." The girl said with a smile, "Then what's wrong?"

"There is no end to the misery and loneliness that can be expected." Moros declared, "The doom that follows you no matter how hard you try, and the future of losing your freedom and dignity forever."

"Is it so serious?" the girl said softly, holding her chin, "but I've already made up my mind."

"Misery will destroy you," Moros said, frowning slightly.

"Perhaps," Prometheus said with a smile.

"Even if the suffering doesn't destroy you, the loneliness will drive you crazy," Moros said sternly.

"Is that so?" Prometheus stared into the distance, stunned for a second, "But it doesn't matter, if you have friends, you won't be lonely."

She reached out and grabbed Moros' wrist, "If you care so much, promise to be my friend forever."

"I don't care about you at all." Moros's face turned red instantly, and he reached out and tried to grab the girl's hand.

However, the girl's hand gently hooked his fingers.

The black-haired boy froze for a moment, and turned his face away.

"Don't expect me to save you," he said.

"Don't expect it." The girl said with a smile, "Just don't come and watch me at that time. I think you can do it with snacks and wine."

"Who wants to see you." The boy said unhappily.

"I'll cry for you." The girl said, seriously.

"Cry," Moros said. "Only little girls are coaxed when they cry."

"Am I not a little girl?" the girl said in surprise.

"What are you talking about?" Moros raised a hand and covered his eyes, "Eat an apple."

If he compromised, would Lord Moros also compromise? Hermes thought, but when he was peeping, he didn't know that the king of the gods was entertaining Lord Moros on Mount Olympus.

Moros came to Mount Olympus as promised. Few gods have only seen the honor of this lord. He has a lofty and serious status and is dedicated to his duties. Therefore, he seldom socializes and basically does not attend banquets.

He has black curly hair, pure black eyes, and a snowy complexion, so he looks strict and rigid. He is dressed in a black dress that has never changed for thousands of years. The thin horse with prominent black ribs stands on the ground The golden stables of Olympus.

It heralds the arrival of the god of destiny.

All the gods bowed their heads.

"Great king of the gods, may your reign last forever, and the world will be blessed."

He bowed his head and saluted, and then sat down at the table. What is little known is that Moros was born very handsome. After all, few ignorant people dared to look directly at his face.

However, he is indeed handsome and cold, like a star in the extreme sky.

Moros picked up the gold cup and took a sip of the wine. His black eyes calmly watched the clouds ahead, and he tilted his head slightly, listening to the speech of his neighbor.

"Everything is going well recently." Moros replied, he was always reticent, but Zeus smelled that he didn't seem to intend to meddle in someone's affairs.

"It's just that we haven't drank and talked like this for a long time." Zeus said with a smile, "So I miss you very much."

Moros returned a short smile.

After the banquet, Zeus stood up, laughed and said that it is rare to be free today, why not take Master Moros to visit the holy mountain, and the other gods who have nothing to do can go back to rest on their own.

"The newly built palace of Hephaestus." The god king raised a hand, pointing to the majestic building on Mount Olympus, "He is extremely talented in this area."

"It's rare." Moros said. It is true that the scenery is good, but the king of the gods should not just ask him to visit the mountain.

"Everything that goes according to fate is good," Moros said.

Zeus looked at his face.

He still had a face as calm as a pool of deep water.

"Are we talking about the same thing?" The king of gods laughed.

"Yes." Moros replied.

"Are you going to see her?" Zeus said, quickly restraining his smile.

"She won't let me go," Moros said, his voice flat.

"Excuse me, but is she still your friend?"

Zeus asked, his words were obviously respectful, but his voice carried a kind of majesty that the side of the couch does not allow others to sleep peacefully.

"I made an oath on this matter." Moros replied, he would never lie, and Zeus suddenly felt that this was not bad, at least he gave himself a definite answer.

And he said he would not interfere in this matter.

That's not bad.

After getting a satisfactory answer, the king of gods quickly restrained his majesty, as if it had never been here before.

"Actually, she was also my friend." Zeus sighed softly, "I still don't know why we parted ways and came to this point."

Moros seemed to recall something from the past, nodded slightly, and shook his head again.

The girl woke up from her dream, she didn't seem to show any dissatisfaction with Hermes spying on her dream, her head still hurt.

To be exact, it hurt even more than before, the sun had already risen very high, and the hot breath made the slate start to heat up.

But she didn't have any extra strength to get up, she opened her eyes slightly, and could only see a patch of white sunlight and the red copper chains.

Hermes really wanted to blurt out that you are okay, but he quickly remembered that this girl would not die, and she would not die no matter what.

He couldn't even tell whether this eternal life was a curse or a blessing.

He knew that if the girl refused to utter the prophecy, the king of the gods would prepare countless punishments for her, but she only opened her eyes halfway, not knowing what she was looking at.

Hermes didn't ask what he wanted, so he chose to return. However, he had just arrived at Mount Olympus when he heard that the king of the gods had a banquet for Lord Moros.

"Did the lord say anything?" Hermes asked.

"He had a very happy conversation with the god king." One of the gods said, "Sure enough, that incident is just a rumor."

The thing about him being friends with that madman.

Hermes was slightly taken aback, but he soon felt that it was normal for Moros to behave like this.

This is a misery in fate, and of course he will not interfere.

I don't know if it will hurt her to tell Prometheus that Moros and Zeus have a good talk next time.

To crush that woman, Hermes thought, this is what the God King meant. However, he couldn't deny that he also had some thoughts about this in his heart, destroying her psychologically and torturing her physically.

I want to see the day when she bows her head and bows her head as a vassal, and she wants to see her abandoning all her arrogance and reserve and kneeling at the king's feet.

That prisoner was really unpleasant, too unpleasant.

When night fell, the temperature gradually dropped, and the girl curled up on the rock looked at the bright colors of the stars in the distance, not knowing whether it was the Milky Way or the lights of the world.

She fumbled to pick up the feather, dipped a charcoal pencil wet with dew, and drew a mark on the flat stone slab.

Another day passed.