"You actually believed that bastard Iglipsa's nonsense? He was nothing more than a scoundrel who used faith in truth to fool people."
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The gray-robed figure seated cross-legged on the right gave a cold snort. It was impossible to tell whether it was simple disdain or deeply concealed mockery.
"I dislike him just as much as you do."
The first gray-robed figure, leaning on a bone staff, spoke calmly. Dense mist surged along the edges of his robes with his steady breathing. "But you cannot deny the most fatal point—when it comes to peering into the river of fate, his prophecies had never been wrong."
"In truth, we should have noticed long ago..."
The gray-robed man with the bone staff paused, and a hint of age-worn heaviness entered his voice. "Before Iglipsa died, he left behind a final prophecy written in blood. And at precisely this juncture, the Black Wizard King sent out his only cherished descendant."
"On top of that, the waters of the Wisdom Pool have been growing increasingly murky and dry in recent days... All these signs point to one thing—chaos has already begun."
The gray-robed man lightly planted the bone-white staff as tall as a person into the muddy ground.
"Thud—" A dull tremor rippled through the mist. His tone was calm, yet filled with unquestionable certainty.
"We must prepare in advance. That is also the only reason I overrode all objections and insisted on fully opening the Three Towers this time."
The other two fell into a prolonged silence.
Mist condensed into droplets around them, silently dripping down the gray fabric.
Time slowly passed amid the dead silence. After an unknown amount of time, someone gave a soft snort, breaking the oppressive stillness. "So, what exactly did Iglipsa's prophecy say?"
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