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

"All books must be handed in, and all published things must be carefully reviewed." Someone posted a notice on the door of the church, "All people must be cautious in their words and deeds."

The tall building of the Examination Bureau stood silently opposite the court.

"In view of the crimes of destroying icons that have continued to occur in barren lands over the past 100 years."

Someone read the notice, "We will give gentle and friendly advice to heretics."

"Come to show the mercy and grace of our Lord."

"Amen."

Cast iron worker opened the blueprint.

"What is this?" He was slightly taken aback.

"The rack and the iron maiden." Someone helped him read out the name on it. He looked at the closed iron box, and cold sweat fell involuntarily, and the blueprint in his hand fell to the ground uncontrollably.

"This, what is it?" His voice was stuck in his throat.

Most prisoners only need to be taken to that room, and after a brief look, they will be too scared to control themselves.

No matter what they wanted him to change books or do, he would do it properly.

Human life is only a few decades.

And they have lived in this world for hundreds of years.

Even gods are about to forget about other lives.

The prisoner who was executed yesterday was hung in the square, and the peasant who burned the icon was caught. He loudly argued that the priest took away his land and house, but he was hanged soon.

There was a crisp sound from the cervical spine.

What the students wrote was strictly scrutinized, "Whether you can clearly identify heresy."

"This book is not allowed, and this book is not allowed." The ignorant priest looked at it casually, throwing other people's life's hard work on the ground casually.

"Or add a few more saints in." He wrote casually on the book and threw it aside. In the afternoon, he should have a sleep and go out to have fun.

Don't create, don't think, let's be manipulated by fate and gods.

You are nothing but grass without roots.

Maesters have spent their lives debating how many wings an angel should have.

People squandered their talents on worshiping the gods.

"No one is allowed to read the Bible except priests."

"Please actively pay attention to the heresy around you."

"Burn heretics!"

"Burn the witch!"

"Buy indulgences, your wealth belongs to the Lord."

"Honor God, king of the world, otherwise no one will support you."

Tartarus sat down, watching a deep gash on the spirit's neck.

"And then I was hanged." The man said flatly.

"What have you done?" Tartarus asked.

"An autopsy." The man said flatly, "I usually hire homeless people."

"So you are not good at learning and left the beautiful world." Tartarus asked.

"It's almost like this story." The man looked very calm.

"This is going to hell," Tartaros said, "I think your stories are getting boring. There used to be stories like mom stabbing dad and son stabbing mom. "

"That's the legend of Agamemnon." The man said softly.

Tartarus was taken aback.

It stands to reason that humans should have forgotten it.

The Almighty Lord asked them to smash or hide all the traces of the previous world.

Tartarus turned around, picked up a lamp, and walked down step by step.

On the eighth floor of hell, there are people who insult God and those who claim to be prophets. They are imprisoned here, and there are three Furies to guard them.

It is said that they have to do the heaviest work every day, walking around holding stones, and shedding bitter tears.

Tartarus concealed his figure.

The souls here are indeed carrying extremely heavy stones and walking under the supervision of the Furies.

Climbing on the rugged mountain road, he kept falling until he was dripping with blood.

However, Tartarus covered his mouth, and in order not to cry out, he almost bit his hand to bleed.

What strange things are these heretics doing?

Just crazy.

They moved stones one by one, and built a platform on the constantly moving center of the earth that the fallen angels would not notice, and the hidden ancient city slowly, inch by inch, like the growth of an ancient tree.

Accumulated little by little toward the sun.

And the philistines of the zeroth layer quietly formed a gray cloud, led by the pagans before the birth of the Son, circling these things, including the beautiful columns of the ancient city, and the beautiful marble women. Human statues, with manuscripts and writings.

Wordlessly guarding them until they are unearthed by the living.

It is said that human beings call the dead people history.

This is the most generous gift that history has given them.

The sinners were silent, paying blood and sweat, mining the hardest stone piece by piece, piling up piece by piece, without cutting corners, they were more serious than the fella who followed behind with a whip.

Probably the angels will be satisfied when they come to visit.

They fell into Sisyphus-like servitude.

eternal pain.

And eternal hope.

Tartarus has never seen such a spectacular scene, he only knows that too many people are imprisoned in hell, suffering eternal punishment, and he only knows that people on this level are blasphemous, treacherous and full of lies guys.

This floor is guarded by the three Furies, who sit peacefully on top of their eerie statues, looking down at the suffering, but constantly fighting beings.

This is the connivance of that guy Moros.

Does he know what this is doing?

Tartarus clutched his chest, in all fairness, if it was him.

He wondered if he could hold back the wavering of letting go when he saw these men still fighting for their heresy after death.

They were in pain, howling, bleeding, and crying.

Still moving forward.

Among them were young students, girls who were murdered for wanting love, old guys who called themselves charlatans, middle-aged men who wrote pamphlets all their lives and died in the wilderness, and innocent people who were hunted down. witch.

They are all unknown people, they were extremely ordinary in life, and they were silent in death.

They just want something different from others.

Maybe just one day, someone said, instead of being locked up here, we walk with the stones in our arms.

Might as well do something else.

So everyone stood up with the remaining sliver of courage and hope, and the blazing fire in hell would illuminate the way forward.

What else can I do.

This is probably the so-called.

One person raises the fire and thousands of people hold the salary.

"Grass." Tartarus covered his mouth.

My time has not yet come, some people are born after death.

God can destroy the Tower of Babel ten thousand times, we can rebuild it ten thousand times.

"Dig no more," said the priests. "These are dark things, and misfortune will come upon them."

The veiled goddess stands silently among the gossip, looking beautiful in her own right.

She is plump and graceful, self-contained in her own beauty.

Although she was talking about this outrage, people still couldn't take their eyes off her.

The students put the heavy classics on the table, and when the teacher taught at night, he said frankly that he planned to practice translation.

When humans die, do they lose everything?

Maybe.

Maybe there is still a little something to give to those who are still alive.

This heart is a living fire that will never be quenched.

The Inquisition stood under the dark night, the girl walked through the chaotic streets, Sariel watched the moon hang high in the sky, and people lit a little firewood to keep warm.

"What story do you want to tell today?" someone asked.

"São Paulo had a storm in Venice?" someone suggested.

"No, it's too familiar." Another person retorted.

"But what else will he say," said one.

"Isn't he the story of St. Paul, St. John, or St. something?"

The troubadour plucked the strings, "This is your own choice, don't want the stories of saints today."

"Yeah yeah," people said, "do you really have another story?"

"Yes," said the poet, "have you ever heard of the May King?"

"Talk about this, tell about this," said the people, "what the May King is about."

"A young man went on a noble expedition with the emperor, but when he returned to his hometown, he found that his land and his sweetheart had been shamelessly usurped by priests and nobles."

"So he came to Sherwood Forest." The troubadour paused with feigned reserve, and the people looked at him enthusiastically, expecting him to continue.

Tell the story of the green tree and the blue robin.

It tells how the green forest hero attacked the castle of the nobles, distributed the money generously to the poor, and how he dragged out the priest with a full belly, and made him cry bitterly and confess his sins.

They don't know the names of these guys.

They called him Robin Hood.

The king of May, the uncrowned king.

"Does Robin Hood really exist?" Sariel asked softly.

The girl listened intently to the story with her chin resting on her chin. She shook her head, "Who knows, maybe it's a story about one person, maybe it's about many people."

Sally felt a certain fear.

This guy who doesn't know if he exists, this villain, but he can see that people love him, yearn for him, and the power of faith is gathering.

As an angel, of course Sariel wanted to reprimand why such a guy could gain faith.

However, Sariel had to admit it.

This story made his blood boil with enthusiasm, and he wished he could take up a sword, kill his enemies, rob the rich and help the poor, and uphold justice.

Maybe it's because of this girl's bad taste, why do humans like chaos so much.

"This is not chaos." Prometheus said with a smile, listening to the story carefully, "This is called breaking and building."

Dots of flames shone on her face, and the night fell under negative pressure.

Sally saw something.

Humans say that the dead will turn into stars in the sky.

Probably the most useful at this time.

The author has something to say: I wish everyone a happy Mid-Autumn Festival~

Refill

感谢在2021-09-2111:55:03~2021-09-2115:46:59期间为我投出霸王票或灌溉营养液的小天使哦~

Thanks to the little angel of irrigation nutrient solution: 1 bottle of grapefruit tea and loli;

Thank you very much for your support, I will continue to work hard!