Chapter 367 Seeing
The face was covered in layers of oil paint, so that the texture of the skin underneath was cracked, and it was terrifying when it suddenly appeared in the darkness.
The other party had evidently noticed him, their bright red lips curling into an exaggerated grin. The next second, the Monis, still locked in their bickering, heard a high, emotional voice, cutting through their argument like an aria: "Thank fate for allowing me to meet you here, Your Excellency!"
Roland Mooney was silent for a moment, then couldn't help but ask sarcastically, "...What is this? A parrot in the process of molting?"
The newcomer slowly emerged from the darkness. He was covered in colorful rags, holding a broken lyre in his arms, and wearing a three-cornered hat with a feather on his head. Only his face was painted pale, and his eyes, cheeks, and lips were covered with oil paint, making him look unrecognizable.
Magnus, the great prophet of the future.
At this moment, the guy dressed as a down-and-out bard completely ignored Roland's rude remarks. The exaggerated curve of his lips remained unchanged, and his pair of acid-green eyes, which flickered like will-o'-the-wisp in the darkness, stared fixedly in the professor's direction, without a trace of smile in them.
Roland felt a little annoyed at being ignored. He looked around at his brothers and sisters and raised his voice slightly, "Who brought this guy here? Are they planning to have this clown perform acrobatics in front of their father to cheer him up? That's truly a rare and precious act of filial piety."
"Little brother Roland, you'd better show some respect to Lord Magnus," Lesia Moni reminded him unhappily, her tone tinged with the pride of having mastered a secret weapon. "Lord Magnus is a master I've spent a lot of effort to invite. He might be able to cure father's 'rot disease.'"
She deliberately emphasized the word "expert" and looked provocatively at the mysterious man who was wearing a cloak, never showing his face, and never saying a word.
Roland chuckled briefly and dismissively, sizing Lesia up and down. Though he hadn't spoken a word, Lesia's chest heaved with anger. But she quickly regained her composure and boasted, "This lord has previously broken the curse left behind by the 'gods.' Whoever is behind this rampant curse, I'm sure Lord Magnus will soon make some progress."
professor:"……"
Strictly speaking, the curse of the goddess of fate was only delayed by the weavers' best efforts. If we really want to talk about who broke the curse, it must be the god of resistance and change beside him, even if it came at the cost of the owl's life.
The black-haired young man raised his eyebrows slightly and looked at Magnus - great, is this guy using everything that Owl encountered to patch things up and use it on himself to commit fraud?
The great prophet didn't seem to have the slightest embarrassment of running into the real target while trying to deceive people. His eyes were fixed on him, so much so that Roland Mony couldn't help but look over suspiciously, moving between the two of them.
"You... know each other?"
He had originally thought the greeting was directed at Lord Octavius. It seemed normal for two mysterious and unusual individuals to know each other—but now it seemed that the other party's target was... an ordinary person? An insignificant assistant?
"Ah, of course." Under the professor's warning gaze and the slightly cold gaze of a certain god, Magnus smiled with an ambiguous smile and replied ambiguously: "He is my only king, and he has me completely captivated. I once followed him with utmost fervor, crossing the mountains of corpses and seas of blood of his followers, and traversing the fog of lies and sincerity... But my king was so cruel, abandoning me alone to the loom of time and the echoes of fate..."
Roland: “…”
He didn't quite understand what he was saying, but that didn't stop him from looking at the expressionless black-haired young man beside him with a strange look in his eyes. He wondered if there was something wrong with his eyes. Could it be that this ordinary young man possessed some extraordinary charm? No matter how he looked at him, he looked just like a boring, ordinary person?
The professor looked at the man coldly.
To him, the amount of information revealed in these words seemed a bit too much, and the priestess gloated over her teacher's betrayal - first, the great prophet Magnus knew the tyrant in his previous life and worked for him, whether sincerely or through coercion and inducement; secondly, under the tyrant's deliberate planning, Magnus in this life was able to retain some of his memories of his previous life, or he was gradually "seeing" the memories of his previous life, or "making a prophecy."
But why Magnus? The professor's mind raced. What made him so special? Intelligent, powerful, skilled in disguise and deception, a fellow "follower" of Fate, yet he kept to himself, isolated from the other "weavers." After several attempts, he deliberately sent the owl that had incurred Fate's curse to Azuka...
"Ah, sweetheart, please don't look at me like that!" Just as the professor's brows were frowning more and more, Magnus suddenly groaned exaggeratedly - the black-haired young man, whose thoughts were suddenly interrupted, couldn't help but glare at him sinisterly. As a result, the guy suddenly covered his chest with one hand, covered his eyes with the other hand, staggered back a few steps, as if he had been shot, and the strong desire to perform in his body was almost overflowing.
"Your gaze will kill me soon," the bard pleaded sadly, but his acid green eyes stared at him through his fingers: "I beg you, please don't look at me with those charming eyes anymore, otherwise I will really die for you!"
No one noticed the cold sweat on his back.
He will really die. The God of Struggle and Change beside the Mad King had a calm look in his eyes - he was already calmly and carefully searching for the fatal blow on his body.
This young New God seemed much calmer and more reserved than the savior he'd "seen," yet also more cold and resolute. Magnus wasn't sure if this made him more dangerous, but thankfully, the damned gods, at least this God of resistance and change had some sense before deciding to act. And some beings—like the one beside him—kept him human, even heroic, and kept him connected to the world.
The "Mad King" he "saw" was truly, absolutely, terrifying.
...He even felt a little sorry for himself in his previous life, a poor unfortunate creature who unfortunately fell into the hands of the Mad King. From a reckless, swindling and cheerful liar, he transformed himself into a "great prophet". Not only did he have to live in fear and worry for others, but in the end he also dragged Magnus of this life to shoulder the burden of saving the world, and even made his lies come true. It really made him see "fate".
——Who the hell wants to see the damn fate? Anyway, Magnus didn't want to. He wanted to get drunk, stumble and fall on the deck, under the starry sky, on the sea, drifting freely with the ocean current, teasing the passing sailors and sea beasts, and cheating the jewelry and hearts of the noble ladies along the coast.
Thinking of this, a hint of sadness and anger appeared in Magnus' eyes, which earned him a wary, psychotic glance.
Magnus: "..."
Oh, okay, okay, he adjusted the feathers on his hat with his fingers angrily. The great Captain Magnus would not bother with these guys who did not understand his good intentions.
After all, they didn't trust each other. Ever since his power grew stronger and he'd witnessed enough "fates," Magnus was constantly wary of the prophesied Mad King, sometimes mad, sometimes sane, and always unfathomable, who might relapse, lose control of himself, and once again cause the world to restart or be destroyed. The Mad King himself now believed Magnus to be a lunatic with ill intentions and ulterior motives.
...Pfft, the Mad King thinks he is a madman hahahahaha!
Isn't this the biggest joke fate has ever played?!
Under the strange gazes of the crowd, the "molting parrot" burst into laughter once more, looking as if he had taken a hallucinogenic drug concocted by an old alien woman who claimed to be psychic. He laughed so hard that he fell backwards and forwards, rags flying everywhere, and the shrill sound echoed eerily in the empty and luxurious hall. Tears seemed to be seeping out from under the paint.
Roland Mony frowned in disgust. He now began to feel that the taciturn, cold and arrogant Lord Octavius was much friendlier and more reliable than this madman.
"Enough!" Roland waved his hand as if to shoo away a fly. "Lecia Moni, take care of the 'experts' you brought with you! Lord Octavius, and your... assistant, please follow me. The dinner is about to begin, and this farce is truly inappropriate."
The banquet hall was even more magnificent than the front hall of the manor. The long dining table was covered with a snow-white tablecloth, and was filled with silver knives and forks, candlesticks, and a variety of delicacies served on golden plates.
Roland Mony was indeed the highest-ranking person among these heirs. He naturally occupied the host seat at the top of the long table. "Octavius" and his assistant were invited to the distinguished guest seats near the main seat. Obviously, Magnus's mischief made Roland feel some concerns about this "assistant".
Ethan was casually stuffed into an inconspicuous corner at the end of the long table, while Magnus was dragged by Lesia Moni and sat diagonally opposite the professor and others.
Roland Mony had quickly changed into a more gorgeous and clean outfit. He tried to dominate the conversation at the dinner table. Those attempts to direct it towards "Octavius" and the "assistant" beside him were all coldly rejected by the savior.
The professor had no interest in these boring exchanges. Now that he had arrived at Duskstar Manor, whether or not the group could guess their identities wouldn't affect his subsequent plans. A large part of his attention was focused on Magnus, while a small part was trying to find any coffee on the table—even if it was just a coffee dessert.
...He had a premonition that tonight would not be peaceful.
At this moment, the tightly closed door of the banquet hall was suddenly pushed open without any warning, and an indescribable smell wafted over before the creaking sound of the door.
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