Joseph frowned, realizing things were not so simple.
He might not have noticed at first, but thinking it over carefully, wasn't this prophecy a little too pointed?
It had the peculiar beauty of shooting an arrow first, then painting the target around it.
And why did it have a whiff of Indian mythology? If Joseph remembered correctly, Indian mythology pretty much followed a standard formula.
Anyone who watched Indian dramas knew that when a character practiced asceticism, he was probably planning to beat up Indra.
As everyone knew, the Indian asceticism process went: asceticism-blessing-beat up Indra. First, an ascetic practiced austerities and moved Shiva, who bestowed a blessing upon him. The ascetic then made a wish, something full of loopholes like this one, before a god found a loophole and killed him.
And Kakyoin's...
[He shall not die indoors or outdoors. He shall not die by day or by night. He shall not die in the sky or on the earth. He shall not die in the past, present, or future. He shall not perish at the hands of any being created by the Lord. Neither weapons nor bare fists can harm him. Neither humans, beasts, nor heavenly gods can kill him.]...
"Is this the power of fate?"
Joseph opened his mouth, then stopped, his expression twisting. It was terribly immoral, but his sense of humor was fighting his conscience.
He thought he already understood Kakyoin's ability...
"From a certain perspective, yes. But in practice, it isn't as restrictive as you might imagine."
Flicking his hand, Don Quixote looked as though he was struggling to keep a straight face too.
At the same time, he shot a disappointed glance at Jean Pierre Polnareff and the other two, who still looked utterly bewildered.
Why did these three seem so