Just before dawn, when everyone was drowsy, Potteriman, the Left Cantor of the Death Poetry Society, arrived as agreed.
The hooded, cloaked man passed through Dale Lane like a ghost and came to the courtyard gate of 2 Kirk Street. He raised his head to look at the towering [Death Snake Banyan], wonder surfacing in his eyes.
A similar plant had once stood in Atobul, the former sacred ground of the Death Poetry Society.
Its presence had always been the hallmark of the society's sacred ground, as well as one of the society's most important symbols.
Many old-school members of the Death Poetry Society still reverently called it the Sacred Tree.
As for those bastards from the new school?
If not for those bastards, how could the sacred ground have been destroyed?
How could the Society President have been gravely wounded and forced into hiding? How could the entire Death Poetry Society have lost its foundation?
And the Sacred Tree...
It had been burned down, then uprooted.
Not a trace of life remained.
Potteriman's eyes held nostalgia for the past, his gaze brimming with hatred, but then his spirits lifted.
Things are different now!
Everything is different!
The arrival of the prophesied Death Saint will turn everything around. The Death Poetry Society will not only rebuild its sacred ground, but make the radiance of death shine brilliantly once more!
Looking at the [Death Snake Banyan] before him, even Potteriman, the Left Cantor of the Death Poetry Society, grew emotional.
All because of his old friend's prophecy!
Potteriman had not quite believed that prophecy at first.
But as time passed, one event after another told him it was true.
It was just that...
There had been a slight deviation earlier.
That was nothing.
Weren't all prophecies like that?
What mattered was