Myth: The Ruler of Spirituality-Chapter 855 - 336 Paris

Chapter 855 -336 Paris

“Sigh—I just knew…”

At the Aigaleo Mountains, beside an unnamed pond.

The aged face stiffened once again, and even though she had been prepared, Atropos still found it difficult to accept when she personally heard “never heard of it.”

Indeed, she had always been aware that in Chaos’s Mortal Realm, the Fates were never liked.

Whether it was the mortals on earth or the immortal deities, even Zeus, who treated them with respect, still instinctively detested and rejected them.

After all, destiny could not be changed, and the Three Fates were even more so.

...

What they brought was never good news, only vicious reports that tormented people day and night.

A Prophecy, a mortal king committed the tragedy of killing his father and marrying his mother.

To evade destiny, three generations of Divine Kings slaughtered each other.

Atropos understood this; no one liked unavoidable disasters.

Yet, whenever she came to the Mortal Realm, she still wished to reveal her own name.

The Goddess of Destiny had once promised in her heart that she would reward anyone who could recognize her at a glance.

However, regrettably, no one in the world had yet received this honor.

“Cough, cough, a craftsman… being able to earn such a household at a young age, you must have worked hard.”

“It seems, I, an old fellow, am indeed useless, cough, cough…”

Coughs continued, her body ravaged by the backlash of destiny so frail.

Atropos had no doubt, although she was a deity, under that dreadful erosion, she probably could not compare to even a stronger mortal.

With humble remarks, the Goddess of Destiny shifted the tone, ready to get to the main topic.

However, unexpectedly, Laine by her side seriously took over her lead.

“In that case, you’re not wrong, especially since you seem to be not far from death.”

“Being of such an age and still having to climb up here… it seems that any weaving industry outside Athens really has no future.”

“…”

Before she could speak, Atropos took a deep breath, forcibly calming the rebuke that nearly burst forth.

From a mortal’s perspective, this human was not wrong.

After all, Athena was the Goddess of Wisdom, and a skilled maiden with bright eyes.

Her woven fabrics could even move the Stars, and Athenians always focused on the inheritance of weaving.

No country could surpass Athens in this regard, even Atropos admitted that, in terms of skill, even Clotho, who weaves destiny, was far inferior to Athena.

“Young man, I think you might have a bit misunderstood.”

“Although we indeed only make some fabrics, what my sisters and I weave are not ordinary materials.”

Speaking solemnly, the Goddess of Destiny leaned on her cane.

At this moment, Atropos’s rational mind told herself that she need not debate such matters with a mortal.

Life span barely a century, born at dawn and dead by dusk, too weak to have any perceivable impact on destiny.

The Goddess of Destiny couldn’t see why she needed to care about his opinions.

However, for some reason, today Atropos felt unusually competitive.

It seemed that no matter what, she did not want to be surpassed by the mortal before her.

“Our threads are tangible; they change into myriad colors in my sister’s hands; our threads are intangible, and apart from Clotho’s skilful hands, no one can grasp their true form.”

“Whether narrow or wide, Lachesis always draws the most perfect shapes; not lacking an inch or a hair, my hand holding the scissors never wavers.”

“All mortals on earth and gods in heaven, anyone for whom I have woven the end product has never failed to want to see its face… And for this, we are revered. Young man, let the Sun, Moon, and Stars bear witness, every word I have spoken is a veritable truth.”

“So now, do you still think you are somewhat better than me?”

As Atropos finished speaking, the aged face lifted.

Not far from the pond, something in a bush slightly trembled.

The awaited person was there.

Yet at this moment, the Goddess of Destiny stared directly into Laine’s eyes, without the slightest deviation.

This human’s appearance was an accident, according to her original plan, she shouldn’t be here arguing about such trivial matters.

But right now, Atropos wanted to hear this mortal’s submission and recognition… even though it was unreasonable, but as a deity of Chaos, that was what she had to do.

Chaos’s deities were just so, if they wanted to do something, then it must be done well.

Even though mortal recognition was meaningless to her, it was still the same.

“Hmm… It sounds like you have some skill, but even so, it doesn’t make any difference.”

“As a craftsman who has worked hard for many years, how could I be surpassed by a weaver.”

Smilingly speaking, as though taking Atropos’s words as boasting.

No more rustling came from the distant bushes, and Laine simply pretended not to notice.

After all, it would soon be his turn to enter.

······

Rustle rustle…

The breeze rustled, and the sound of the pond was crisp and moving.

The fragrance of michelia surrounded the tip of his nose, but Paris had no mood to enjoy it.

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

He also possessed a globally recognized handsome appearance that could easily captivate others.

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

It might be because of the irregularities of Destiny or perhaps some other influence.

This mortal, who was supposed to have a major impact on the world, had not gained much fame yet, at least no deity had shown him favor.

He should have been chosen by a goddess to decide the ownership of the Golden Apple; he should have directly faced three rewards, choosing among Wisdom, Power, and Beauty.

Helen, who with a smile could dissipate the murderous intent of hundreds of thousands, was supposed to be his wife. After Hector’s death, he almost had the right to inherit the throne of Troy.

However, now Paris had nothing. To keep him away from the dangerous battlefield, they even sent him away from the fortress earlier.

This seemed like protection, but it was also a kind of disgrace.

No heir to the kingdom would avoid war and death, at least not openly in this era.

Angry but powerless to change anything, Paris truly had no real strength.

Thus, the annoyed Paris left the camp prepared for him and wandered aimlessly through the mountains.

Perhaps by coincidence, when he had awakened from a nap, Paris unexpectedly discovered two extraordinary figures beside him.

“…”

“… Both mortals on the ground and gods in the sky, they all desire to see their visages in the fabrics I weave…”

Every word was so clear, and Paris could not help but peek out from a crevice in the bushes.

An ugly, elderly woman and a young man in black clothes with silver ornaments.

But whether it was the old woman or the young man, Paris knew that they were probably not ordinary people.

In that old woman’s demeanor, in Atropos’s gaze, he clearly felt a familiar essence.

It was an arrogance and disdain, like how aristocrats view the peasants beneath their feet or how a king views his attendants.

It’s not equal to cruelty or evil, it could be tolerant and benevolent.

But such ‘benevolence’ was definitely not founded on kindness.

“I never thought that just taking a nap would lead to such an encounter…”

“Who are these people? This man must be some famous demigod hero that I have just not seen before.”

“As for this old one… could she be an evil witch?”

Silently hiding at the side, in Paris’s mind, this was exactly how priests described witches.

Arrogant, presumptuously trying to compare with deities in some respects.

Or cold and ugly, hiding malice behind a hideous face.

Or dirty and reclusive, not bathing for decades and consuming only mud and decay.

Sniffing the air, the faint scent of decay and a soul-piercing stench further confirmed this possibility.

No wonder she appeared in such a remote place; indeed, witches are always so malevolent.

“… But regardless of who they are, what does it have to do with me.”

“If only gold would fall from the sky.”

Carefully hiding, Paris attentively listened.

He had heard of this old witch’s powers. What about this young man?

Even if it was merely mutual flattery, it would serve to pass the time.

“…”

“… As for me, since you claim your weaving to be so exceptional, why, as an excellent craftsman, wouldn’t my creations be equally superior?”

The voice traveled from the pond to the bushes, Laine’s voice clear and audible.

“Give eyes to a mud sculpture, and the gods can’t distinguish them from living beings.”

“Paint a disk in the sky, and light truly comes to the mortal realm at night.”

“Constructing a house of my own, the world knows to follow suit… Atropos, this is the skill I’ve honed over many years.”

Still no lies; just as the Goddess of Destiny merely described her own reality, so did Laine.

Only when the initial ‘mud sculptures’ were created did life begin in the world.

If he had not painted the disk, there would be no light in the ancient night sky.

As for the house he built, to this day, there was only one imitation, something Atropos probably could not discern from Destiny.

“… Young man, sometimes it’s better to stick to the facts.”

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As Atropos’s gaze gradually lost its feigned warmth, she determined that the man in front of her was merely blathering.

A joke, not to mention the extraordinary skill described, even if he was just a well-known craftsman known throughout a kingdom, he wouldn’t be so obscure in Destiny.

“Respecting elders is sometimes not a bad thing.”

Glancing past the bushes, Atropos slowly said:

“Speaking more humbly might spare you some needless trouble.”