The wind in the alley swept up sand and dust, fluttering the hem of Ian's robe.
The old man—or rather, Nakht—still clutched that so-called "Fragment of the Eye of Ra" tightly, the last trace of stubbornness glimmering in his clouded eyes.
"You said... all of this was a dream?"
"Sun God Ra's revelation... was fake?" Nakht's voice was as hoarse as sandpaper scraping together. The old man's already hunched figure looked even more twisted now. He staggered back unsteadily, his steps chaotic, as though he were walking on cotton. Both hands clung tightly to that so-called "Fragment of the Eye of Ra."
His lips trembled faintly, his eyes filled with shock and confusion.
Ian did not answer immediately.
He watched the old man's trembling fingers. The blue shard of glass gave off a faint glow in the dim light, like some shoddy magical prop.
The Young Wizard slowly nodded, his voice low but clear.
"That is not a real Divine Decree, Mr. Nakht. Someone wove a dream and made you believe you were 'the chosen one,' then used you."
The moment those words left his mouth—
The old man stumbled back several steps in a row.
"A dream... just a dream someone wove for me? The work of a wizard?" he muttered, his voice hoarse and fractured as his expression changed again and again.
"That wasn't a Divine Decree? Ra himself did not descend?" His face suddenly twisted, first in shock, then fury, and finally in a dazed emptiness bordering on collapse.
His lips quivered as if he wanted to refute it, yet he could find no evidence to do so. He recalled those nights, when Ra had appeared in his dreams, his majestic voice telling him that he was the chosen guardian... But if even the god had been