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

"Prometheus?" Themis' voice came from the other side of the stream, and the barefooted girl in the stream grabbed the hem of her skirt and raised her head, "Mom, what's the matter?"

Her arms were full of beautiful rushes.

The surface of the water was sparkling, and the golden sun was shining brightly. She raised her hand and used the back of her hand to block the sun on her face. She looked at the rush grass in her arms and felt a little bit reluctant.

"Why are you picking rushes?" the black-haired boy asked in a low voice.

"Because it's fun," the girl said with a smile. She turned around and put on her golden slender slippers. She left a little water stain on the stone and showed a bright smile.

Transparent summer, Maemi, water drops, rushes, and that girl.

Many years later, in the darkness of Hades, Moros would still think of that summer day.

That bright as a bubble girl.

He opened his eyes, and he saw the lighthouse in the distance, with a night watchman dozing beside him. He stood up, and the faint morning light appeared on the horizon, and he was about to reach a town.

"Oh." Moros turned his head, and there were two people on the boat parked by the pier who looked quite familiar.

"Apollo? Poseidon?" Moros couldn't help asking, the two gods looked ashamed and were sharing a piece of bread.

"You?" Poseidon asked, "You rebelled too?"

"No, what are you going to do?" Moros sat down and asked.

"We're going to do hard labor." Apollo said softly, shaking his hand, showing him the shackles on his wrist, "Build a city wall for Troy."

"Me too." Poseidon turned his face away and said.

"What are you doing, Lord Moros?" Poseidon asked.

"Master Tartarus told me to come and see the world." Moros said, "If you want to build the city wall, I can go too."

"This is the work of slaves." Apollo said softly, "I'm afraid it's not appropriate for you to be noble."

"Slave?" Moros tilted his head slightly.

"It's just that there is no personal freedom. You need to wear shackles and do hard labor every day." Poseidon explained irritably.

To his surprise, Moros nodded.

"Okay, I can go," he said quietly. "Let me start as a slave."

"Actually, I think you can experience culture and art." Apollo said, and couldn't help but look at Moros. He had a pale face, and he didn't look like he had a fever.

"I want to be a slave." Moros said quietly, without any expression on his face.

"Is it okay to work all day without enough food?" asked Poseidon.

The God of Destiny in black thought for a while.

"Yes, I am willing to be unfree," he said softly. "I am willing to suffer from inequality."

To be honest, he didn't know what kind of life a slave should lead, and what kind of life a king would lead.

He didn't want to see the king's palace and great achievements.

"I would like to be a slave."

"This guy has a fever, must he be drinking too much?" Poseidon couldn't help asking.

Apollo seemed to remember something.

"It's not bad to be a slave," said the blond Sun God. "Look, it's almost dawn, and we're going to report to the king, and then he will assign us work."

"Okay." Moros said softly.

"Hurry up." The overseer with the whip yelled angrily, "Stay slow, don't eat today's lunch."

Moros was carrying two stones on his back. He stretched out his hand to slightly support the ground to adjust the angle, and stood up. A gray line stretched before his eyes. Everyone was bent over and their ankles were tied. With black chains.

Apollo walked in front of him, and he pushed a cart full of large and small stones. Poseidon was behind him, and he could hear the god of the sea cursing.

"Stop scolding, there's only a little water." Apollo couldn't help turning his head and said.

"I'm not thirsty." Poseidon said stiffly.

The supervisor came over with two buckets of water.

"Don't grab it if you have the ability," Apollo couldn't help but said.

Poseidon picked up the ladle and scooped up a large ladle of water for himself.

Moros picked up the water ladle, and then he poked the old man beside him, "Aren't you thirsty?"

"My legs can't move," he said.

"Let me get some for you," Moros said softly.

"No need, drink it yourself." The old man said, he closed his eyes, "I'll be fine if I die today."

dead.

Moros's heart skipped a beat.

He had never heard such a cold and hopeless word before.

"You're not going to die," Moros said.

"Everyone is mortal," said the old man, and he turned his head. "How can a person be free from illness if he eats whole grains? He just lives and dies."

"You will surely die if you stay here." The old man said, "You are still young." He leaned close to Moros's ear, and whispered, "When it gets dark, break off your shackles and run to the mountains."

Although his voice was very soft, it was as hard as a rock.

"Can you?" Moros asked softly.

"Why not, you are also a human being, and the king is also a human being." The old man said sharply.

Moros felt for a split second that he saw something.

That girl, some kind of blessing, or curse, given to these poor creatures.

Curse to be free even if you break your neck.

Even if you live in a lowly position, you can give blessings with a broad mind.

"But I want to stay." Moros said softly, and he showed a consoling smile, "I can't run away by myself, I saw they wrote that if someone ran away, they would punish the people they knew."

Apollo turned back, and the blond sun god was wiping the water from his mouth with his sleeve.

"I didn't expect you to be so conscientious." He stretched out his hand and patted him on the shoulder.

Then he pushed the car, "Tell me, how can we build an impenetrable city wall?"

"A friend of mine told me that sticky rice seems to work wonders," Moros said, strapping the stuff on his back.

"Your friend." Apollo asked.

"Well," Moros said softly, "she's pretty well-informed."

Apollo smiled.

"Prometheus."

"How do you know?" Moros asked.

"It's nothing." Apollo said softly, "Tell me, will the king let us continue working at night because the gods don't need to sleep?"

"If you say again, I'll break your leg." Poseidon muttered.

"What's for dinner?" he asked.

"That." Apollo pointed to the opposite side, where a bunch of things that looked strange and exuded even weirder smells were placed there.

"Stop talking," Poseidon said.

Apollo said you might as well sew my mouth shut.

Then the three of them were told that the dinner was canceled because of chatting.

"Damn, I won't sew your mouth shut, I'm not called Poseidon."

The white-haired girl gently played with the pomegranate in her hand, Tianhou lay prone on the bed, and the maid treated the wound on her body, her face turned pale from the pain.

She raised a hand to let the maids back out.

"Are you satisfied?" Hera asked.

"It's alright." Prometheus smiled and said, "Are you alright?"

"I shouldn't believe your so-called only a little flesh and blood suffering." Hera complained in a low voice.

"I'm sorry I was wrong," Prometheus whispered.

Hera tried to hold herself up.

"Aren't you in pain?" She couldn't help asking.

The white-haired girl's shoulders moved slightly.

"It hurts too." She answered honestly.

"Then you?" Hera couldn't help asking.

"Hold it," Prometheus said softly, "What else can I do."

She put her hands down gently and sat on the steps, looking calm and happy.

"You look happy," Hera asked.

"Yes, you see, you got the promise, and Zeus also knew that his rule is not indestructible." Prometheus said softly, "And I also got what I wanted."

"Why are you unhappy?"

"I heard him say that he will send you to Tartarus tomorrow," Hera said.

"That's it," the white-haired girl said softly.

Never seeing the sun again, endless torture, the most terrifying hell in the world awaits her, yet she doesn't seem to have any fear or pain.

She lowered her eyes, looking down at Mount Olympus.

"What did you see?" Hera asked.

"Humans," she said softly.

"Disease, aging, pain, and fighting, bleeding, and oppression." Hera said softly, playing with her hair with her fingers, "I'm very disappointed."

"There is still hope." The girl said softly, she raised a hand, and the beautiful colorful-winged bird landed on her fingertips.

She couldn't be more aware of how many weaknesses she has given these creatures.

But they also have many, many advantages.

I trust them, she thought, smiling.

She likes gazing at the world like this, seeing the warm orange flames, some scholars reading under the lamp, some mothers playing games with their children, and some men talking about poetry and philosophy.

People are sleeping in the quarry.

There are armies marching in the cold dawn.

She lowered her eyes.

They had forgotten her, her name hadn't been mentioned for a long, long time, and she had become a buffoon, a liar who played tricks on the gods.

Even became a man.

"Is this what you care about the most?" Hera couldn't help asking.

"It's okay." The girl smiled, "Men are men, why are you wearing women's clothing?"

Hera couldn't help but smile.

"He also said that I drank too much." The girl said angrily, "Heavenly conscience, I persuaded Zeus not to drink too much in the past."

Hera felt that this guy wanted to laugh out all the wounds on his back to be satisfied.

She stood up suddenly, stretched out her hand seemingly very briskly, and threw a perfect parabola, throwing the pomegranate into the big river, which will rush to the sea to feed the world.

"Actually, eating one by yourself will be beneficial to your body." Hera suggested softly.

The girl turned her head and smiled, "Thank you."

The evening wind blew her hair, and the light cast a thin layer of warm light on her face.

Hera suddenly realized something, something all the gods had forgotten.

She is very pretty.