Cycle of Destiny

Chapter 65 The Incomprehensible Holy Magician

The goddess paused for a moment, seemingly sorting through those long-forgotten memories.

"If Cavill's transformation was unexpected, then Odel's subsequent actions were completely beyond my comprehension, and even... defied common sense."

Harry held his breath, knowing that an even deeper mystery was about to be revealed.

"Orion, that land where he lost everything, a place that bore endless shame and sorrow. No one could have imagined that he would choose to establish a magic academy there. He rooted the academy on the ruins of his own destiny."

Harry's eyes widened slightly, and his eyebrows almost came together.

"And Cavill, whom he once wished he could kill with his own hands, was personally recommended by him to the high position of magic deacon after the academy was built. Even more ironic—"

She paused, making sure Harry heard the most impactful point: "The wizard who first discovered the mutated orchid in the Dark Forest, indirectly pushing him into the abyss... even became the first headmaster of your magic academy."

Harry was completely stunned. This wasn't just forgiveness or forgiving; it was... a complete reversal of right and wrong.

How could a person so calmly reuse those who caused his tragedy, and even place them in such important positions?

How cold, or rather, how detached from personal emotions, does this require?

He tried hard to recall what his "teacher" Odell looked like, but found his memory so vague, only a white impression: white robe, white hair, beard, and even eyebrows. His face was calm, a calmness that was almost benevolent and tolerant.

Before this, Harry only knew that he was the founder of the academy and a holy mage at the pinnacle of power.

He never imagined, nor dared to believe, that behind that calm face lay such a dramatic, tragic, and absurd life story.

The contrast between this extreme tranquility and that extreme past made him feel somewhat breathless.

What kind of influence did Alexander exert on Odell?

Seeing the undisguised shock on Harry's face, the goddess took a deep breath, smiled, and changed the subject.

"Actually, I've been thinking about a question," her voice softened, carrying a hint of persuasion, "why must magicians and sorcerers be enemies? The bloody hatred between the church and magicians in the past is a heavy burden of history. But it shouldn't forever obscure the present sky and block the path to the future."

Her gaze fell on Harry's face, questioning him: "Celestial sorcerers, magicians, and those court magicians who serve the royal family... essentially, they are all different paths in the pursuit of understanding the world and wielding power. Is it truly impossible for them to coexist harmoniously? Do you think so, Harry?"

A surge of intense anger welled up inside Harry, almost making him blurt it out.

That's easy for you to say!

Those "past hatreds" were almost entirely memories of the church's one-sided persecution and hunting of magicians.

Throughout the long years, have magicians ever had the ability to actively fight back? They have never been anything more than lambs to the slaughter, struggling to survive in fear.

Now, with just a casual remark from her, she expects magicians to forget their blood and tears and embrace "harmony"?

But at the same time, a strong sense of vigilance gripped him.

Within the church, hostility towards magicians is an almost ironclad and absolutely correct rule. A goddess, especially one known for her piety and influence, would never easily utter such "heresy" words of reconciliation.

She said this with only one purpose—to gain my favor and lower my guard.

This idea startled Harry!

It seems that what this goddess wants him to do next is extremely important to her, so important that she is willing to temporarily set aside her faction's position and say such words that are almost "betraying" the foundation of her own faction as a prelude.

Harry's mind was in turmoil, but he quickly put on an expression of agreement.

He met the goddess's gaze and responded in a sincere tone:

"Of course, Goddess. I have always believed that endless hatred and hostility do no good for anyone. If a path to peaceful coexistence can be found, that is of course what everyone hopes to see."

Upon hearing this answer, the goddess's face showed satisfaction. She nodded, as if she and Harry had reached an important consensus.

"I'm glad you think that way." Her tone became more intimate. "Back to Alexander. Later I realized that all the affirmations he made about Cavill in his letter had actually come true. Coupled with Cavill's subsequent performance in 'The Blood Invasion'... I understand that Alexander is no ordinary person; he carries considerable weight."

She paused slightly, as if weighing the weight of her next words.

"Afterwards, he came to me personally to thank me for what happened to Cavill. It was during that meeting... that he made an extremely terrible prophecy. And he gave me a promise."

She's here. Harry's mind was highly focused, and his body unconsciously leaned forward again. He understood that the long buildup was over, and the goddess's true purpose in coming to see him was finally about to be revealed.

The goddess suddenly stopped speaking and did not continue. She reached out and gently shook the silver bell on the table.

Veronica entered in response, her demeanor as respectful as ever.

Surprisingly, this time the goddess said, "Give me another glass of wine."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. It was a clear sign—the conversation that was about to begin was destined to be heavy, difficult, and even dangerous, requiring alcohol to help calm him down or mask his emotions.

Harry also ordered a glass of wine. Veronica served them two glasses of white wine and then left.

"I'm in so much pain," the goddess suddenly said.

She curled up slightly in the large armchair, as if some force that had been supporting her had suddenly dissipated.

Her entire demeanor collapsed, and the mask of nobility and majesty on her face shattered instantly, revealing the unfathomable weariness and pain beneath.

Even her face seemed to have sunken a little, her eyes quickly reddened, and finally, tears silently slid down her cheeks.

She took out a black handkerchief, her hand trembling, and gently wiped the corner of her eye.

Harry was stunned by this sudden emotional breakdown. A goddess of such high status and seemingly eternal solemnity and composure had lost her composure so completely in his presence.

Harry was at a loss, but he knew that he couldn't just stay silent at this moment.

"Goddess..." His voice was extremely soft, filled with cautious concern, "May I ask... what happened? If... if there's anything I can do to help, please tell me."

"You're so kind, Harry." The goddess put away her handkerchief, looked up at him with tearful eyes, her voice hoarse from sobs, but her words were crystal clear, "This matter... only you can help me."

Clearly, she had laid the groundwork for the final step, just waiting for Harry to reach out and help her up.

Without any hesitation, Harry immediately paved the way for her in the most sincere tone:

"Please tell me what it is. Whatever it is, I will do my best to help you."

The goddess gazed intently at him, as if confirming the weight of his words. Then, she finally made up her mind, picked up her wine glass, and took a small sip, as if drawing courage from it.

"Thank you so much, Harry." Her voice was a little steadyer, but the deep pain still lingered. "Well then, I'll continue..."