"Maybe I should hire a craftsman to take a look at it?" Wesley said, seriously considering the Loom of Fate.
As a "Sprinting Warrior" who had been intercepted by Morin and ended up becoming a Templar instead of an assassin, Wesley naturally held no reverence for the Assassin Brotherhood's so-called sacred relic.
"This is a sacred artifact! It cannot be wrong!" Fox shot him an angry glare.
"Then how do you explain these conflicting prophecies?" Wesley looked helpless. He didn't dare argue too hard with his wife.
It was confusing, but there was one undeniable fact.
Fox's actress in this Assassin world was Angelina Jolie. Meanwhile, in another world Morin had visited, someone with the same name was an old man played by Morgan Freeman in Batman-the one who helped manage his company.
Yes.
That guy again.
Truly haunted.
"The prophecy itself is not wrong," Fox said firmly. "The only thing that can be wrong is us. We simply don't understand it."
"This thing is indeed very hard to get wrong," a voice said calmly.
"Who's there?!"
Wesley and Fox raised their guns at the same time, aiming at the source of the voice.
"Relax," Morin said. "Little Wesley. Long time no see."
"Mr. Morin?" Wesley froze. "Why are you here? Weren't you planning to destroy the Continental Hotel? And what do you mean 'long time no see'? Didn't we just meet a few days ago?"
"For you, yes," Morin replied casually. "For me, it's been a very long time. Long enough that I almost forgot what I originally planned to do."
He shrugged.
Wesley and Fox exchanged looks.
To them, Morin's words were just like the Loom's prophecies. Every word made sense on its own, but together, they meant nothing.
"Just think of it as me taking a vacation and coming back," Morin said with a smile. "We can talk about the rest later. Did the Loom produce any new prophecies?"
"It's a very strange one," Wesley said quickly.
"It's not strange," Fox corrected. "We just don't understand it."
"Isn't that what strange means..." Wesley muttered.
Fox shot him a sharp look, and he immediately shut up.
A henpecked husband.
Still, Morin thought, this version of Wesley was already far more normal than the pitiful "cuckold" persona he had before awakening his assassin bloodline.
"Let me see," Morin said, walking toward the Loom of Fate.
"Here-and here," Wesley said, quickly handing over the two cloth strips with the woven markings.
Morin stared at them.
"Are you messing with me?" he said flatly. "Just give me your translations. I'm not an assassin."
"Oh. Right." Wesley hurriedly passed him the notebook instead. "The interval between these two prophecies was very short, but the contents seem contradictory."
"The prophecy is correct," Morin said, flipping through it. "To be precise, this has already happened."
He handed the notebook back and looked up at the Loom.
With his current strength, his perception of the Loom was completely different from before. Every component was ordinary. No exotic materials. No visible anomalies.
Yet when assembled together, the entire structure subtly resonated with the temporal laws of this world.
Perfectly.
It was precisely because of this synchronization that it could deliver such precise prophecies.
From a certain perspective...
Calling it a divine artifact wasn't an exaggeration at all.