Chapter 224 Prophecy
Where there are many docks, there are many sailors, and where there are many sailors, there are many brothels and taverns. Once those bachelors who have been drifting on the sea for months set foot on land again, they will be dizzy and their wallets will be emptied by alcohol and prostitutes.
The stench of alcohol, sweat, and a tangy, salty fish-like aroma, as if it had been soaked in three days and three nights of torrential rain and then left to dry in the sun for ten days, permeated the medium-sized, mixed-race tavern. The drunkards paid no mind to all this; their murky, fermenting brains were preoccupied with the glass of clear yellow liquid before them.
"Some of them are pirates."
Ole and Marcyline were sent off to do other work. The professor's voice was completely drowned out by the cheerful tunes of the band and the wild laughter and curses of the people around him, but there seemed to be no one around him.
The people sitting in the corner exchanged malicious glances. Although the thin figure sitting alone in the corner was wearing a cloak, hiding his head and tail, an experienced veteran could tell from his exposed wrists and jaw that he was at least a fat sheep from a wealthy family.
As usual, with a few cryptic hand gestures, several dark figures quietly left the tavern, preparing to ambush outside the door. Just as one of them was about to approach and chat with him, a hand suddenly appeared on his shoulder, pulling him back and making him stumble.
"No, no, no, my friend, first come, first served~"
The newcomer's voice sounded drunken, as if he had taken a sip of wine. The guy whose plan was ruined was about to turn around and curse, but he was instantly silenced when he saw a face smeared with colorful paint.
Nova glanced at the glass of wine that suddenly appeared on his table, raised his head slightly, and stared coldly at the extremely familiar guy leaning on the table beside him.
The other person was dressed strangely, covered in colorful rags, holding a lyre with broken strings in his arms, his face was painted with exaggerated makeup with oil paint, and he wore a three-cornered hat with a large feather on his head.
Like a clown in a circus, or a minstrel.
"Hello, sweetheart." The bard-dressed stranger took off his hat and bowed dramatically. "I'm so lucky today. It must be fate that has brought me to such a beautiful woman like you."
"Would you be so kind as to allow me to buy you a drink?" the man winked at him playfully. "Or would you be so kind as to tell me your name?"
Nova: “…”
He quickly reached to his side with his hand hanging under the table and pressed down someone's restless fingertips.
“…You know me, but I don’t know you.”
The professor narrowed his eyes slightly. He was sure that there was no such colorful creature in his memory - why did the other party deliberately use overly intimate words?
"I actually regret not meeting you sooner." The bard continued to smile, his tone expertly flirting. "But who can blame us for hitting it off right away? If you don't like the name 'sweetheart,' there are also 'babe,' 'darling,' 'little bird...' Isn't it a little cold here?"
It was hard for him to blurt out those messed up names under the cold gaze of those smoky gray eyes.
"Hi? Sweetheart?"
The bard felt as though this person wasn't reacting to his deliberate performance, like a cold spectator. He simply sat down beside the person and deliberately leaned forward, trying to get closer. "If you don't tell me your name, I'll just keep calling you sweet—oh, don't be impulsive, don't be impulsive."
The bard slowly raised his arm to signal harmlessness. Hidden beneath his cloak, a gleaming silver pistol rested firmly against his abdomen, angled slightly upwards to ensure a single bullet would penetrate his heart.
With a click, the black-haired young man loaded the gun expressionlessly.
"Stand up." His voice remained calm. "If you make any noise, I'll shoot. If you make any unnecessary movement, I'll shoot. If you look away from my eyes, I'll shoot."
“…”
"Now turn around and walk out of the tavern with your back to me until I tell you to stop." The muzzle of the gun pressed against his abdomen harder, stabbing him painfully: "Five, four, three, two..."
This is a completely contradictory order! The bard wanted to yell in grievance, if I turned my back to you, how could I stare into those charming yet terrifying gray eyes?
But under the threat of gunpoint, he obediently shut his mouth and followed the latest orders to walk out of the tavern until he entered an empty corner.
"Now start answering the questions. The first question is your name." The professor continued to threaten calmly: "Five, four--"
"Magnus," the bard seemed much more honest, but he still couldn't help talking nonsense: "The great Captain Magnus greets you, my dear sweet——"
The word "sweetheart" got stuck in his throat because another person appeared in front of him silently. While Magnus was stunned with his mouth open, he glanced at him without any emotion, then leaned slightly towards the black-haired young man.
"Sir, the 'tails' are all taken care of."
Ignoring the gun at his waist, the bard took a step forward, gazing lovingly at the dazzling face, his hands cupped over his chest. "I'm so lucky today! It must be fate that allowed me to meet someone as outstanding as you—Ah!"
Without hesitation, he hit the man on the back of the head with the butt of the gun. While the other party was squatting on the ground with his head in his hands in pain, the black-haired young man aimed the gun at the bard's head again.
"Second question, who sent you?"
"Fate." Magnus gasped in pain and answered fluently, "It was the will of the goddess of fate, Lamodo, that brought me to meet you—"
"Bang."
With the unhesitating sound of a gunshot, the bullet passed by the tip of his ear, and even his hat flew off, causing a large area of his hair to become charred and curly. The expression on the bard's face suddenly became stiff.
What the hell? He looked like he wanted to rant. According to the intelligence, this guy was just a university professor not long ago. Why was he such a good shot and so brutal?!
"Your wanted warrant must be worth a fortune, Captain Magnus," the professor said thoughtfully. "A notorious free pirate, swindler, and information dealer."
Free pirates don't have fixed ships or groups; they join any pirate ship at random. These pirates are either the lowest-ranking pirates who can't make it and are despised by everyone, or they are strong and solitary.
He was not idle during this trip and read a lot of random tabloids.
"My pleasure?" Magnus winked at them smugly. "But honey, now that you know who I am, I'll charge you for any more questions you ask me."
The professor stared at him for a moment, then with a flick of his finger he easily put away his gun. He turned and walked away, leaving Magnus standing there, staring.
"Wait, wait! Don't be like this!" He chased after her anxiously: "My fee is not expensive at all. Considering that you are a beauty and the one next to you is an even more stunning beauty, I am willing to give you a 5% discount-"
He ran very fast and instinctively reached out to grab the corner of the black-haired young man's clothes, but was suddenly strangled by the throat by an invisible force.
Only after the two figures completely disappeared from view did Magnus suddenly begin to gasp for air. He clutched his chest and, amid the unconscious movements and strange looks of those around him, collapsed to his knees, wheezing and coughing violently, yet chuckling softly.
"Almost, almost got killed..."
——What beautiful yet terrifying blue eyes, like the treacherous sea surface before a storm, beneath which is a turbulent undercurrent that mortals can never touch.
The bard finally stood up, took drunken steps, turned around and disappeared into the crowd, leaving behind only a faint sigh.
“Oh my God…”
On the other side, the Savior frowned slightly, looking like he wanted to throw away the gun that had touched the psychopath instead of letting it stay in the holster on his enemy's waist.
Nova raised his head, glanced at the guy who seemed to be suffering from mysophobia, and asked in Natalin, "Do you know him?"
"...Magnus, the Great Prophet." Azuka came back to his senses and rubbed his brow wearily. "The first and only Great Prophet since the fall of the Goddess of Fate."
The professor raised an eyebrow in suspicion.
Through the brief contact, he realized that this guy was very clever, using frivolity and embarrassment to cover up his true intentions. He couldn't help but wonder if the identity of this "great prophet" was also a fraud, a big lie.
After all, the goddess of fate is dead, and her followers should not be able to make predictions.
"We had a few limited encounters with him in our past lives." Azuka's eyelashes trembled slightly. It seemed that he had once harbored the same suspicions as the tyrant did now. "I can't be sure if he is truly the Great Prophet or just a clever con man."
"This man... is mad, and all his predictions have come true. For example, the defeat and victory in the war, the fate of the king and queen... and your death." The savior's blue eyes reflected the figure before him. "But this is something that can be judged with a comprehensive understanding of the situation. I believe you can do it too."
His voice gradually grew softer. “But not long after your death, he disappeared, leaving behind only a prophecy that no one could decipher.”
Azuka repeated clearly: "All fates return to the abyss."
The professor waited for a long time, and finally raised his eyebrows in suspicion: "...Gone?"
He had never encountered this world's "prophecies." Out of respect for the unknown, the scholar was willing to reserve his opinion for now. However, this so-called "prophecy," combined with the information he had gathered, didn't seem to contain much new—or else the savior would have informed him long ago.
“No more.”
Azuka looked at the vivid look of dissatisfaction on his old enemy's face, and a gentle smile suddenly flashed in his eyes.
"It seems like a deliberate message for someone." The black-haired young man tutted his tongue and commented bluntly, "But I hate this kind of mysterious riddler."
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
