"As expected..."
Indeed, no matter what, finding a way to leave oneself an escape route is always prudent—Athena thought so.
Although she was already a fugitive with nowhere to turn, her old habits still drove her to try to find a way out. However, it seemed that her choice wasn't so great this time—the black thorns entwined on the blue flame pattern clearly were shackles planted by the "new boss."
Moreover, she was completely unable to summon any magic power, her soul being bound by heavier chains within this puppet body.
In comparison, even William seemed to be almost suspected of "favoring prisoners"—
Of course, Athena suspected that the reason that guy favored her was just to lead to the next part, as one would feel when facing such exaggeratedly powerful opponents—you always get the sense that everything is within their grasp—fortunately, she left that eyeball outside; there was evidently still hope.
The woman suppressed all the surging emotions within her, scanning her dim stone chamber, rough, simple, and featureless, like a randomly carved underground stone cave. In the silence, it seemed as though only her faint breathing remained.
Yet, there was still a feeling of being watched...
She didn't panic; she merely adjusted her posture slightly, sat up straighter, though the action brought a pervasive sense of weakness. Then Athena spoke, her voice somewhat hollow in the sealed stone room—
"Sir, how long do you intend to stand there?"
The stone chamber plunged into dead silence again after her words fell, until Athena herself began to doubt whether it was her imagination. Suddenly, from the seemingly solid rough rock wall on one side, a familiar figure in a black robe emerged.
The Prophet.
On the subterranean altar of the Eagle's Nest, he set a trap but was countered by William and ultimately dissipated into black mist—Victor Rookwood—if Athena recalled correctly, that was how William addressed him.
The man walked very slowly, his steps had a peculiar stiffness, and the heavy black robe dragging on the rough floor didn't make a sound.
He walked directly to a place about three paces from where Athena was sitting, then stopped.
Then, he raised a pair of withered, pale hands and slowly took off the hood over his head.
Beneath the hood was an even more weathered face, with a scraggly auburn beard almost covering the lower half of his face. His skin was rough, with marks of wind and frost erosion, and deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. But most striking were those eyes—
They had no whites or irises, but rather a cloudy light gray, like two dusty glass balls embedded there.
Looking at the face before her, Athena felt a strange, intense sense of discordance.
The features of this face combined without issue, yet the woman couldn't shake off the feeling that the person in front of her resembled a poorly drawn, unfinished portrait, with a medium devoid of blood, flesh, or bones beneath the skin.
She even had the sensation that with a strong enough wind or just a firm blink, this face would crumble and shatter like a sandcastle.
And then vanish.
"Pallas Athena."
The voice came from the other side, deep and hoarse, like the rasping of sandpaper.
Athena narrowed her eyes slightly, meeting those dull gray glass orbs, "Long time no see?" She countered, her tone devoid of emotion, more like a probing confirmation—confirming if he still "remembered" her.
However, he didn't answer her question, nor did he offer any response. That discordant face merely shook its head in an exceedingly stiff manner, the motion so slight it was barely perceptible.
"Come with me."
After saying this, the man turned directly and walked towards the dimly lit archway behind him, seemingly confident Athena would follow.
At first, Athena remained unmoving on the stone platform—
Until his figure nearly disappeared behind the door did she slowly stand up, supporting herself against the edge of the stone platform, carrying her somewhat stiff body, and followed him into the dark archway.
Behind the door was a narrow downward-sloping tunnel, also carved out, with faintly glowing stones embedded sparsely along the walls, casting dim light enough to illuminate a few steps ahead. The air grew even more damp and chill, carrying a strong earthy smell and the scent of decaying plant roots.
The tunnel began to wind gently and descend unconsciously, as if it had no end.
In the silence, only the soft footsteps of the two of them and Athena's suppressed breathing echoed.
"Do you... still remember me?"
Having walked a long while, Athena finally could not hold back and probed with a question.
"Of course, and your friend—she's dead, isn't she?"
The man didn't look back, his deep and hoarse voice came from the front of the tunnel, and this response slightly reassured Athena—luckily the people who "rescued" her were not some creatures utterly incapable of verbal communication.
"...Who are you guys, exactly?"
Having pondered carefully, Athena decided to be straightforward, perhaps the other party would just—
"A group of errors that should not have appeared here."
—bluntly state it?
Huh?
"What do you mean?"
Seeing the other party seemed not intent on hiding anything, Athena quickly continued to inquire, and the man also didn't hesitate, speaking directly, "Time, is something entirely uncontrollable in this world. We, are merely 'errors' that inadvertently got involved due to someone recklessly altering time and thus had to persist in the world in this manner."
"Someone? Do you mean..."
"Alright, go in."
It was only then that Athena noticed the two of them seemed to have reached the end of the passage. Ahead, on a rough stone door with no carvings, the man clasped his hands in front of him, standing to one side of the door. He nodded, indicating Athena should enter by herself.
"But..."
"Please."
"..."
The woman furrowed her brow. Her talent for reading faces made clear that she wasn't going to get any more answers, so she took a deep breath and pushed open the stone door before her—behind it was a similarly crudely carved stone chamber, almost indistinguishable from the one she was just in.
However, in addition to the stone platform in the center of the room, there was also a bookshelf wall reaching to the ceiling.
And standing in front of the bookshelf wall was a person—
A woman.
With chestnut brown hair and the same gray-white eyes devoid of irises, she appeared to be a very ordinary woman, except for that... wound?
Athena wasn't sure how to describe it—the green crack almost filled the woman's entire chest cavity.
"Hello."
Upon seeing Athena enter, the woman turned around, closing the book in her hands, her pale lips curving slightly, "This should be our first meeting, allow me to introduce myself—my name is Isadora Morgana."