A month had passed, and the prophetic oil painting had changed greatly from when Bryan first saw it. If what he had viewed before was an inferior work created by an artist’s whim, then now it had indubitably become a masterpiece created under the hands of a skilled painter, a work to be marveled.
The boy and girl in the painting, who were previously nearly indistinguishable, were now depicted with realistic vividness, and the surrounding buildings had all sharpened in clarity.
This was good news. It symbolized that the date of fulfillment of the foretold prophecy was ticking close, and the variables surrounding the event were lessening. Soon, the boy from the Ascarts and the girl from the Xeclydes would fall into danger.
However, Bryan had another view regarding this matter. He had learned a lesson from his previous failure with prophecy.
“This painting doesn’t depict their death, which means that the conclusion is uncertain.”
Bryan muttered coldly as the crease between his brows deepened.
Truthfully, he wasn’t too optimistic about the prophecy. Sitting at the opposite end of a long table, an enigmatic figure known as the Collector chuckled upon hearing those words.
“You’re right. Still, if the painting has been completed to this degree, they won’t be able to escape the ill fate that awaits them.”
“Who’s the one making a move?”
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“The Mythril Priory. Of course, there could be other powers behind them too. They proposed a collaboration with us, but I declined.”
For the first time, Bryan spoke with a hint of doubt. He looked at the silhouette hidden in the darkness before him, hoping to peer into the man’s true intentions. Seeing this, the Collector explained.
“They don’t stand a good chance. They are going for the Ascarts and Xeclydes together. Houses with long lineages are a variable, and dealing with one is already a huge hassle. The risks from dealing with two simultaneously are too great.
“Still, to express our stance, I dispatched a precious staff of ours to assist them. It’ll at least correct some of the imperfections in their plans and raise the chances of success.”
“What about this painting?”
“I have shown it to them. They don’t think that it’s an omen of failure. There are those amongst them who don’t believe in our prophecies, and some think that it’s an opportunity. I’d imagine that the streets of the Holy Capital depicted in this painting are currently filled with their men.”
The tone of the Collector grew lighter and more joyous the further he spoke, perhaps carrying a hint of mockery too. Bryan listened to the news about the collusions
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