"...I’ll talk to her."
Moran was silent for a while and replied.
Seeing Moran who was not frivolous, Atalanta showed a bright smile and felt relieved.
She grew up in the jungle with wild animals since she was a child.
In terms of ethics, Atalanta is obviously not as conservative as the other won. She naturally believes that the able should do more work.
Like Moran, such an able person.
It’s just a little tiring, it doesn’t matter.
She, as a wife, doesn’t care, why should Moran care?
"Alas, being handso is also a kind of trouble..."
Moran said with a slightly lancholy expression.
Once again, the won rolled their eyes.
Although they do not deny that Moran is indeed handso and unrestrained, but it is annoying to take advantage and act like a good boy.
"You think you’re a big deal just because I said you were plump." (Implies soone is getting arrogant or ahead of themselves after a minor complint or remark.)
Seemingly noticing his wife’s strange look,
"Ahem... I just rembered... I need to go supervise the ceremony... Don’t save dinner for !"
Moran coughed awkwardly a few tis.
Then, he made a hasty retreat before the storm arrived. Running away might be shaful... but it’s effective!
"He ntioned Greece back then... Could he be referring to ancient Greece...?"
Marie looked completely lost.
During her ti serving Moran at Buckingham Palace, she had beco aware of so strange things.
Listening to Moran and Atalanta’s conversation now,
She felt that Moran was more than just the King of Britain; it was as if he had existed before Britain was even founded.
If that were the case, what kind of being would their king be?
Thinking about this made Marie’s head spin.
No matter what experiences the King had in the past, her loyalty and love would not change in the slightest.
Most importantly, the island of Britain chose him.
That was reason enough for Olga Marie to trust him.
Hearing this conversation didn’t add to her confusion; instead, it made her feel that Moran was unfathomable.
This sense of mystery was captivating.
Once again, Moran’s charm in Marie’s eyes increased.
Snowfield, northern Great Canyon.
Gilgash summoned Vimana from his treasury, sitting high on his throne, observing the battle below.
It was the contest between Hippolyta and Alcides.
In a flash of lightning, arrows shattered the earth.
"Answer ! Why did you target that child just now!"
Hippolyta dodged Alcides’s attacks while
questioning the Avenger.
"...Clowns, dance to your heart’s content beneath my throne."
Gilgash was fully invested in the Holy Grail War, not underestimating it in the slightest.
He brought Tiné along every ti he went to battle,
to prevent anyone from sneaking into his base.
Having been repeatedly outsmarted by Moran, Gilgash was now exaggeratedly cautious.
To avoid the farce of his treasury being locked up,
Gilgash took out treasures from the Gate of Babylon in advance and instructed Tiné to store them in a place only she knew.
As his Master, he gifted Tiné four high-grade treasures to protect her life from threats.
He even took out a spare key from the treasury
to prevent any major problems from occurring later.
It must be said that, thanks to the training from his brother Moran, Gilgash had beco overly cautious.
When he got serious, he made sure everything was watertight.
Refusing to be caught off guard again.
"I’ve heard that you are indeed ruthless in battle, even plundering enemy cities and using any ans necessary to sche against others to achieve your goals. However, those actions are all for the sake of great ambitions and do not tarnish the na of a hero.
You fight for your beliefs, not for pleasure!
Even if the opponent is a child cursed to bring disaster, you would never aim your arrows at them so frivolously!"
Hippolyta stared intently at Alcides.
Her beautiful eyes seed to want to see through the Avenger.
"No, more than anyone else, you should be the one who cannot tolerate this happening!
Answer ! Where has the glorious na of the God of Glory, which even the vast fields of our holand Therm? feared and revered, gone!?"
Anger flashed in Hippolyta’s eyes.
More than anger, there was incomprehension in her eyes...
Once, as the Queen of the Amazons, she t Heracles when he was undertaking the Twelve Labors.
As in the myths,
due to the sches of the gods, the Amazons fought against Heracles.
Even though Hippolyta realized the situation was not right, she could not change her stance in the face of her aroused people.
If it hadn’t been for Moran personally intervening,
using his status as the ruler of a country and the nas of several goddesses to suppress the matter,
Heracles and the Amazons would have truly beco irreconcilable enemies.
Both sides were friends to Moran.
Moran could not watch his friends kill each other because of soone else’s sches.
Heracles cleared himself of any wrongdoing in this matter.
The Amazons had been instigated by the goddess Hera.
As compensation, Hippolyta handed over her War God’s Military Sash to Heracles to help him complete his trials.
—It was also because of this matter
that Hippolyta owed Moran a great favor.
She still rembered that night.
Her cheeks flushed, she hesitated in her boudoir, and finally succumbed to the bitterness of her identity as the ruler of a country.
With a stiff smile, she watched the man leave.
The feelings she had were not sothing that could be explained in a few words. Hippolyta was still lanting it even now.
It was also during this incident
that she learned that Heracles was a noble hero.
Even in the face of such unreasonable and rude treatnt, he could restrain himself from killing the Amazons.
Although Moran was a factor in it,
the fact was the fact.
Then, the scene returns to the present.
Faced with Hippolyta’s angry question, unable to bear the fall of the once dazzling hero, the Avenger’s response was—
"Shut up!"
Alcides roared.
In an instant, it was as if even space had frozen.
Like wriggling soft creatures, red and black gri stirred on the Avenger’s body.
Turbid and chaotic emotions overlapped and erupted,
as if to say that everyone present would be entangled by resentnt and suffer curses even after death.
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