Myth: The Spiritual Dominator

"Huh—I knew it..."

In the Aigario Mountains, next to the nameless pool.

The old face stiffened again. Although she had been mentally prepared, when Atropos heard the words "I've never heard of it" with her own ears, she still found it difficult to accept.

Yes, she had always known that in Chaos's world, the goddess of fate had never been popular.

No matter they were mortals on earth or immortal gods, even Zeus, who treated them with great courtesy, still instinctively hated and rejected them.

After all, fate cannot be changed, and this is especially true for the three goddesses of fate.

They never bring good news, only bad news that keeps people awake day and night.

A prophecy that a human king would commit the tragedy of killing his father and marrying his mother.

In order to avoid their fate, three generations of God Kings killed each other.

Atropos understood this; no one likes inevitable disaster.

But every time she comes to the world, she is still willing to say her name.

The goddess of fate once promised in her heart that anyone who could recognize her at a glance would be rewarded accordingly.

Unfortunately, however, no one in the world has been able to receive this honor so far.

"...Ahem, a craftsman... He must have worked hard to earn such a fortune at such a young age."

"It seems that I, an old fellow, am really useless, ahem..."

The coughing continued, and the body that had been destroyed by the backlash of fate was so fragile.

Atropos had no doubt that although she was also a god, under such terrible erosion, her body would probably not be able to match that of a stronger mortal.

After two simple words of modesty, the goddess of fate changed the subject and prepared to get to the point.

However, what she didn't expect was that Ryan on the side took over her words seriously.

"You're right. After all, judging from your appearance, you're probably not far from death."

"I'm so old and I have to crawl here... It seems that there is really no future for the textile industry outside Athens."

"..."

Atropos was choked before he could finish his words. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down the scolding that was about to come out.

From a mortal's perspective, there is actually nothing wrong with what this human said.

After all, Athena is the goddess of wisdom and a bright-eyed girl with deft hands.

The fabrics she wove even made the stars in the sky fascinated, and the Athenians have always paid attention to the heritage of textiles.

No country can compare with Athens in this respect. Even Atropos admits that in terms of skills alone, even Clotho, who weaves fate, is far inferior to Athena.

"...Young man, I think you may have a misunderstanding."

"Although we are indeed only making some weaving, the fabrics that we sisters weave are not ordinary things."

The goddess of fate spoke in a deep voice, leaning on a cane.

At this moment, Atropos's reason told her that there was no need for her to debate such matters with a mortal.

With a lifespan of no more than a hundred years, they are born in the morning and die in the evening. The weak are not qualified to have any perceptible influence on their fate.

The goddess of fate really couldn't think of any reason why she should care about his opinion.

But for some reason, Atropos felt particularly competitive today.

It seemed that no matter what, she didn't want to be outdone by the mortal in front of her.

"Our silk thread is visible, and it changes into thousands of colors in my sister's hands; our silk thread is invisible, and no one can pull its true shape except Clotho's skillful hands."

"No matter how long or narrow or wide or long, Lachesis can always draw the most perfect shape; not a foot or a millimeter off, and my hand holding the scissors never wavers."

"The people on earth and the gods in heaven, as long as I weave the finished product for them, there is no one who does not want to see its face... We are respected because of this. Young man, let the sun, moon and stars bear witness for me that every word I say is true and true."

"So now, do you still think you are stronger than me?"

Atropos finished his words and his old face raised.

Something was shaking slightly in a bush not far from the pond.

Here I am...the person I've been waiting for is right there.

However, at this moment, the goddess of fate stared straight into Ryan's eyes without the slightest deviation.

The appearance of this human was an accident. According to the original plan, she shouldn't have argued about these useless things here.

However, at this moment, Atropos just wanted to hear this mortal's bow and recognition... Even if it was unreasonable, as the god of Chaos, she had to do this.

The god Chaos is like this, as long as he wants to do it, he will do it.

This is true even if the recognition of mortals means nothing to her.

"Hmm...it sounds like you have some skills, but even if I say that, it doesn't make any difference."

"As a craftsman who has worked hard for many years, how can I be outdone by a weaver?"

He spoke with a smile, as if taking Atropos's words as boasting.

There was no more movement from the bushes in the distance, so Ryan pretended not to notice.

Anyway, it will be his turn to appear on stage soon.

······

Wow…

The breeze blew, the sound of the pond was clear and moving, and the fragrance of the rose flower surrounded his nose, but Paris was not in the mood to enjoy it at all.

Paris, the second son of the King of Troy and the brother of Hector.

He also has a handsome appearance that is recognized by the world, which can easily make others fall in love with him.

However, at this moment, hiding in the bushes beside the pond, Paris was extremely excited.

Maybe it's because of the difference in constants, or maybe it's some other influence.

This mortal, who was destined to influence the entire world, has not yet gained much fame, at least no god has favored him.

He should have been chosen by the goddess to decide who would own the golden apple; he should have faced three rewards and chosen between wisdom, power and beauty.

Helen, whose smile made hundreds of thousands of soldiers stop killing her, should have been his wife. After Hector's death, he was once qualified to inherit the throne of Troy.

However, Paris now had nothing. In order to keep him away from the dangerous battlefield, he was even sent away from the fortress in advance.

This may seem like protection, but it is also a shame.

No heir to a kingdom would escape from war and life and death. At least on the surface, no royal family of this era would do so.

I was angry but powerless to change it. After all, I really didn't have any strength.

So an angry Paris left the camp prepared for him and wandered aimlessly in the mountains.

Perhaps it was a coincidence, but when Paris woke up from his nap, he unexpectedly discovered that there seemed to be two unusual guys beside him.

"..."

"...The people on earth and the gods in heaven, as long as it is the finished product I weave for them, there is no one who does not want to see its appearance..."

Every word was so clear that Paris couldn't help but lie down in the gap between the bushes to peek out.

An ugly old woman, and a young man in black clothes and silver jewelry.

But no matter which one it was, Paris knew that this was probably not an ordinary person.

He clearly felt a familiar smell on the old woman and in Atropos' eyes.

It was arrogance and disdain, just like how a noble looked at the common people under his feet, or how a king treated the servants around him.

It does not mean being cruel or evil, it can also be tolerant and kind.

But this kind of 'merciful' reason is definitely not kindness.

"I never thought that I would encounter something like this during just a nap..."

"Who are they? Could this man be some famous demigod hero, but I have never seen him before?"

"As for this old thing... could she be an evil witch?"

Hiding quietly aside, in Paris's impression, this is what the wizards described by the priests were like.

Or they are arrogant and try to be comparable to gods in some aspects.

Or a cold, ugly face hiding evil intentions.

Or they may be dirty and solitary, not taking a bath for decades, and living on mud and filth.

I sniffed the air and the faint smell of decay and the stench that penetrated the soul once again confirmed this possibility.

No wonder they appear in these remote places, wizards are indeed so evil.

"…But no matter who it is, what does it have to do with me?"

"It would be nice if gold could fall from the sky."

Trying to hide well, Paris pricked up his ears silently.

He had heard of the old witch's abilities, but what about this young man's?

Even if it's just praising each other and comparing with each other, it can be used to kill time.

"..."

"...As for me, since you claim that your weaving is so excellent, how can my work, as an excellent craftsman, be inferior?"

The sound spread from Xiaotan to the bushes, and Ryan's voice was clearly audible.

"Add eyes to the clay figurines, and the gods will not be able to separate them from the living."

“Draw a plate in the sky, and light will really come to the world at night.”

"I built a house of my own, and everyone in the world who knew about it would rush to imitate me... Atropos, this is the skill I have worked so hard on for many years."

There were still no lies, just as the goddess of fate was just describing her own truth, and the same was true for Ryan.

Only with the birth of the first "clay figurines" did life come into being in the world.

Without the plates he painted, there would be no light in the night sky in ancient times.

As for the house he built, there is only one replica of it in the world today, but Atropos probably didn't have it, so fate would have it.

"...Young man, sometimes it's better to be realistic."

His eyes gradually could no longer maintain the false gentleness, and Atropos was sure that the human in front of him was talking nonsense.

Are you kidding? Let alone achieving the extraordinary skills he described, even if he was just a well-known craftsman famous in a country, it is impossible for him to have such a weak presence in fate that it is as if he does not exist.

“Respecting elders is sometimes not a bad thing.”

Glancing at the bushes beside him, Atropos said slowly:

"If you speak more modestly, you may avoid unnecessary trouble for yourself."