Chapter 451: Epic

"Sing, Goddess!"

"Sing of the anger of Achilles, son of Peleus!"

"His rage brought this disaster,"

"Bringing endless suffering to the Achaeans,"

"Sending the heroic souls of warriors to the underworld..."

In the southeast of the Peloponnese Peninsula, in the Boeotia region, in the magnificent stone palace of Thebes, an old blind man held a tattered harp and sang an ancient long poem in his not-so-beautiful voice.

A banquet was being held in the hall, and the King of Thebes and his children were celebrating the recent victory in the war against the city of Attica.

The long table was filled with delicacies from all over the Mediterranean coast, and servants held pottery jars filled with wine, constantly filling the wine glasses of the richly dressed nobles and priests of the gods.

The banquet had been going on for most of the day, and everyone was already drunk. People let out vulgar laughter, each behaving dissolutely, noisy and restless.

In the hall, a young man in black suddenly rose from the table, gently pushed away two girls who were dazed and drunk, and slowly came to the blind singer.

Looking at the latter's chapped lips, he handed over a glass of wine, "Old man, have a drink to moisten your throat."

The harp music stopped, and the old man's hollow eyes still faced forward, "Thank you, kind sir."

He reached out, groped for the glass of wine, and took a few careful sips, "Ah, Dionysus, great God of Wine, thank you for your gift. This is nectar that only gods can enjoy."

"It's just a glass of wine made from grapes," Murphy smiled. "I like your long poem very much. Did you create these yourself?"

"Of course not, my lord," the old man said humbly. "Most of my poems were learned from my teacher; I just added and modified some of them. And these poems were also learned by the teacher from the teacher's teacher. Some of the chapters have been circulating for hundreds of years."

"I see. I have heard your name, Homer. They say you have traveled all over Greece, and some say you once sang for the gods on Mount Olympus. They say your eyes went blind because you looked directly at the gods. Is that so?"

Homer smiled gently and opened those turbid and lifeless eyes, "My eyes were blind from birth, sir. They say that only because I have sung some ballads that mentioned the feasts on Mount Olympus."

"... Hephaestus ladled out sweet nectar from the mixing vat, filling the wine cups of the heavenly gods one by one from left to right. The happy heavenly gods saw him busy in the court and couldn't help but laugh heartily. They happily enjoyed the feast until the sun went down. They all ate a satisfying portion, listening to the wonderful seven-stringed lyre played by Apollo and the wonderful singing of the talented Muses..."

"The heavenly kingdom of the gods, that is a blessed place where god-children, kings, and heroes are invited to go. How would they invite an old and blind singer like me?"

"They will," Murphy said. "Poetry and legends are the foundation of their survival. I will give you a new long poem. If you can adapt it and spread it, there will surely be a seat for you at the banquet on Mount Olympus."

Saying this, Murphy pointed his finger at the old man's forehead, transmitting an opera into his mind.

In an instant, Homer saw a long river running through the entire European continent, saw the shining magic gold under the riverbed, saw the nymph guarding the gold, saw the dwarf of Nibelungen becoming the king of the world by relying on the ring cast from gold.

Then, the Valhalla temple rose in the clouds, the Valkyrie Brünnhilde rode between heaven and earth, he saw the hero Siegfried kill the dragon, bathe in dragon blood, saw him wake the sleeping Valkyrie, and fall in love with her, using the Nibelungen ring as a token.

Then, the grand tragedy began. The invincible hero finally died in a conspiracy. Accompanied by the tragic funeral march, the grief-stricken Valkyrie walked into the fire.

"The meaning of the ring is far beyond the ending of Valhalla, far beyond the reputation of the gods. Let me, this happy person, tell you, the ring proved Siegfried's love to me! You go to the gods and tell them about my ring. I will never give up love, they will never be able to take my love away, even if the brilliance and magnificence of Valhalla become ruins!"

After the Valkyrie's tragic declaration, the fire began to sweep across heaven and earth, burning the gods' residence, Valhalla, into ruins. The Twilight of the Gods had arrived.

Homer trembled all over, shocked to tears by the incomparable epic.

"Sir, who, who are you exactly..." Homer asked in fear.

Whether it was the magnificent epic or the means by which the other party transmitted it into his mind, it was all so incredible, and the ending of the story where the gods were burned to ashes by mortals also made him tremble with fear.

However, there was no answer.

That person seemed to have left.

The noise of the banquet suddenly surged up again, making Homer realize that the voice of the person who spoke to him just now was clearly very soft, but it could be heard clearly by him in this noisy environment, which had already demonstrated the other party's extraordinary nature.

Perhaps, that was a god.

Who would that be?

An incarnation of the Muse?

Or a messenger of Apollo?

The magnificent movement echoing in his mind, even Apollo would probably find it difficult to create.

If it was a god, what was his purpose?

Giving himself a story where the gods were destroyed by mortals, what exactly did he want to do?

But, after a long silence, Homer stood up.

No matter who the other party was, no matter what the other party's purpose was.

Such a magnificent movement, such a magnificent epic, if he couldn't let it spread, if he let it vanish in time, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

More than ten years later, when Murphy appeared in the city of Thebes again, he didn't hear an epic similar to "The Nibelungen Ring" being sung.

He visited for a few days and finally found a niche tomb in a cemetery next to a dilapidated temple.

It is said that this is the burial place of Homer.

A relief was carved on the niche with rough brushwork, depicting an old man holding a harp playing among the gods.

Murphy placed a jar of wine in front of the niche, "At least you got your wish, old man."

Just then, a bright radiance flashed behind Murphy, and then a burly and handsome man appeared there. He held a long bow, wore a crown woven from various branches on his head, his upper body was exposed, and he carried a quiver. The radiance as fierce as sunlight overflowed from behind his head, obscuring his face so it couldn't be seen clearly.

"The great Homer, who sang for the gods, is buried here. The gods took away his voice, but they could not cover up the great things he brought to the world. That unspeakable long poem will eventually make him immortal."

The man said.

Saying this, the radiance behind his head dissipated a lot, revealing an extraordinarily handsome face, and he said in a beautiful voice that sounded like singing, "I am Apollo, a friend from a foreign land. I have finally waited for you."

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 452 =====