greek mythology stuff

Chapter 100
Counting from the first consecutive moon rises, the long night has lasted for a full 53 years.

Fifty-three years is enough to wipe out those mortals who cannot adapt and cannot survive.

Those that survive will continue to write a new chapter in history.

At the beginning of the long night, Mount Olympus was frantically looking for Hephaestus, the god of fire.

But soon they gave up.

Although they searched into chaos and found the hidden island of Lemnos, the god of fire, Hephaestus, happened to leave, taking his favored goddess Clotho with him.

He has not returned for 53 years.

Even if Apollo's mother, one of the wives of Zeus, the god-king Zeus, and the nurturing goddess Leto went to ask Hephaestus' mother Hera in person, she never found Hephaestus.

Because Hephaestus happened to go away, and did not return.

So it's normal to not find it.

Even if the person looking for him is his mother Hera, the result cannot be changed.

Also, losing the sun wasn't such a big deal for the gods.

For them, the sun is not indispensable, the sun god is.

It doesn't matter if the sun god loses the sun, as long as the sun does not fall into the hands of other gods.

Moreover, without the sun, there is still the moon, isn't it?

In the third year of Long Night No. 20, mortals no longer believed that the sun would rise again, so Apollo, the sun god, lost his divine power. His sister, Artemis, the moon god, took his place and became the new right-hand man of God King Zeus.

Since then, no mortal still remembers that the moon god was once named Selene.

What the moon represents has only one name since then—Artemis.

Selene, that's just a common, tongue-in-cheek goddess name in the realm of the dead.

Since then, Leto, the goddess of nurturing, also gave up her plan to find the craftsman Hephaestus.

Because she still has the moon and her daughter.

But what is left of the old mortals?

Is it a good memory?No, it's fire.

In the increasingly dark night, under the increasingly full moon, only fire is the only trustworthy light.

Only fire can help mortals in the deep darkness face the unknown fear.

However, only the light of the flame is not enough.

The god of fire never answers, he doesn't mind mortals using fire, but he doesn't give more for their prayers.

Facing him, no matter how clever a wise man is, it is useless.

It is useless to be devout, useless to curse, useless to praise, and useless to slander. He will not take back His gift just because he is slandered, nor will he give more grace just because he is praised.

It was as if, at the end of the flame, there had never been such a god in charge of the flame.

But mortal sages know this is impossible.

For all things in the world, as long as you look for them with your heart, look through the preserved ancient books, and listen to the epic poems chanted in the wilderness, you can always find their corresponding gods.

So the wise men can be sure that the god of fire has always been there.It's just that he refuses to communicate, refuses to contact, and even directly stays away from the mundane world.

That's why you feel hopeless.

That is a god that mortals can't find a weakness in. He has neither sorrow nor joy, neither asks nor grants, and even gives mortals the illusion that something so commonplace like flames is nothing special.

However, the flame is always there!

Wise men face it as they face the darkness of the long night.

Perpetual existence, extremely ordinary and extremely mysterious.

In the world, the Anser priest of the Anser Church is such a wise man.

With an aging figure, he is leaning on a cane that is aging like him.

The godless eyes stared at the flames enshrined in the temple, but his thoughts went nowhere.

It has fallen, even the Anser Church, which once worshiped the sun, has also fallen.

Those who were free and their free will were lost, in the eyes and memory of the priests of Anser.

Priest Anser, he still remembers that he will not decline, and death is far away from him.

But as time passed, his name was lost along with the Anser Church.

All that remains is an empty shell called the Priest of Anser.

His body has never declined, but he is like an old man who has lost all pursuits.

Death accompanies him, but it cannot take him away, it can only make him older.

In the flames, the old man sighed.

He walked around, touching the nearly weathered walls of the temple.

This place was once a paradise for the unbelievers.

The price was him—walking with God!
But in such an era where the gods walk, belief is orthodox and reality, and unbelief is only heresy and ideal.

And there is a battle between ideals and reality.

Anser Church has fallen, and the winner is self-evident.

but.

Ideals are always there.

The aged priests of Ansir heard that farther west in the land, there were heroes trying to find the lost sun.

Heroes are mortal half-gods, some strong and some weak.

Priest Anser knew that the hero who searched in the direction of the sun was doomed to be in vain.

Because he is weak and abandoned.

Those powerful heroes may once have such naive ideas, but at a certain point in their life, this idea is lost.

Because they not only have the blood of mortals, but also the blood of powerful gods.

The old Anser priest didn't realize that the hero was stupid, he just hadn't really grown up and faced the reality of this world.

That's why he couldn't find his way.

Just like... the old self.

The aged Anser priest fumbled for a piece of yellow paper from his chest, lit it in the flames and threw it on the ground.

A female voice suddenly sounded from the smoke rising from the burning yellow paper: "You can't succeed, Hemera, the goddess of day, will not respond to you."

Priest Anser smiled kindly: "I know, I have seen the future in the haze of fire."

He suddenly realized that the voice was a little strange: "You are not 'knowledge', who are you?"

There was a moment of silence over there: "I am the daughter of 'knowledge', Pila."

"I'm here to tell you that we're not going to respond to you anymore, it's wrong."

Priest Anser smiled: "Thank you." He said.

He knocked over the brazier that enshrined the flame in the temple, and he slowly stepped into the flame and set himself on fire.

In the distorted firelight, Priest Anser's expression was serene, and he whispered softly: "Hemera, the goddess of the day, I offer my eternal life to you, and pray that you will bring light to the world."

So, it was dawn.

However, it only lit up for a moment, as if it was responding to the appeal of an unknown mortal.

Amidst the flames, the aged Anser priest lowered his head.

He whispered softly: "Follow the rules of all things, and praise the night."

He was reduced to ashes.

In the temple, the smoke of the yellow paper never cleared, and the girl's crisp voice came from over there.

"Mother, Hemera didn't take his tribute, why did he still die?"

Another mature female voice: "Because he thinks he's dead."

"But he is just a mortal. Can mortals violate the eternal life bestowed by Goddess Hera?"

"Stupid child, of course mortals can't. But at the last moment of his life, he was no longer mortal. For thousands of years, he was the closest mortal to Hephaestus's gift of immortality, but it's a pity..."

Rough male voice: "It's nothing to regret, it's all his own choice."

(End of this chapter)