Ruger looked toward the Prophecy Wizard, Miss Mona. She returned a faint smile—or perhaps that smile had never left her face.
The Bearers' theory was that the world was going to die anyway, so before it did, the members of the Supreme Council might as well join forces and reshape it. They would turn the still-vibrant underground realm directly into a dying thing, making it into the most comfortable and convenient burden to bear. If the world truly was doomed, then from their perspective, this really was a way to save it. If the world's death truly could not be avoided, they would surely curse the Supreme Council for being indecisive.
From their perspective, everything was understandable. In their eyes, the Supreme Council were the madmen preventing them from saving the world.
Ruger and the big fellow beside him were simply the Supreme Council's new generation of little hunting dogs. Just as that True Spirit Council had called them vicious dogs, the True Spirit Council presumably had its own set of theories as well.
Ruger raised a brow.
He still held great respect for the mad Nine-Ring wizard behind the Bearers. Though the claims were somewhat shocking, a Nine-Ring wizard must have had his own judgment. It was hardly as simple as a few insignificant One-Ring wizards like them could discuss.
But beyond that respect, this Nine-Ring wizard's so-called slumber was probably the result of being beaten up by certain people in the Supreme Council.
Looking at it from another angle, this madness might have received a certain degree of approval. Otherwise, Bearers from the wizard's faction would not still be active here.
However, that person had also mentioned reaching beyond Nine-Ring.
There was probably a wonderful little waste-recycling step in the plan: using the ruined world to strengthen themselves