Hearing Vladimir’s words, Annan narrowed his eyes.
He remained silent for a while but then suddenly revealed a modest and gentle smile.
"I have no other ans left, ah..."
His face showed not fear but also no tension.
Instead, he breathed a sigh of relief and dissolved his light transformation, reverting to a human form.
"―Really, is that so?"
Annan displayed a teasing smile, even loosening his grip on the Third Siren significantly.
Watching Annan’s reaction, Vladimir felt a sudden thump in his heart.
He knew that Annan was not the sort of person to bluff aninglessly just to drag out ti. There must have been sothing he had overlooked.
Vladimir rapidly went through the entire plan in his mind, confirming that he should have missed nothing. He vaguely sensed that sothing was not quite right... but couldn’t for the life of him realize what the problem was.
"You wish to force to use the Third Siren."
Annan said leisurely, "Considering that you know the abilities of the Third Siren, and even ntioned the na ’Mad Heart,’ it ans your information didn’t co from Winter.
―Because the Third Sirens in the hands of the Dukes of Winter never had this ability."
And most crucially.
The real na of this ability is actually "Mad Blood." Despite being very similar, the na is still slightly wrong.
Vladimir mispronounced its na without hesitation, which ans he most likely did not know of the Third Siren directly, but he had heard so information from soone else.
"If I’m not mistaken, you must have found so clues in an Elven ruin.
The ’Mad Heart’s’ mind-control ability can be used three tis, but after the third use, the White Queen will be unsealed due to the diminishing sealing power. Only after resealing the White Queen can the uses be replenished."
The first part of this statent ca from Chiron’s information. The latter sentence was Annan’s own guess... though he believed it to be correct.
Because the ability of Mad Blood is too useful, the Elven Emperor couldn’t possibly have never used it.
And indeed, during the disintegration of the Empire, the White Queen had appeared, albeit fleetingly.
Not long ago, when Annan got the Third Siren, the uses of [Mad Blood] had been replenished.
"In other words, the forr Elven Emperor must have used this ability to control soone―such a handy skill wouldn’t be left unused. If that’s the case, so elves must have researched how to counter this ability... you might have obtained the technique to rebound this ability, or perhaps not.
"Then there are only two possibilities."
Annan said leisurely, "Either you have acquired a power that can counteract the [Third Siren] and hope to rewrite my sanity with my own power.
"Or, you don’t know how to counter the Third Siren at all. But you don’t want to use this ability, so you bluff, hoping to seal my capability."
As he spoke, Annan squinted like a cat suddenly bowing his head and bit down sharply on Vladimir’s hand.
Vladimir’s hand was imdiately bitten and started to bleed.
But Vladimir did not attack Annan because of the pain.
He silently withdrew his hand, staring deeply at the fresh wound on his hand as if pondering sothing, without uttering a word.
"Of course, the two choices you’ve given —I will pick neither."
Annan calmly said, "You keep saying that you’ve sussed out fate and learned the ’original trajectory of destiny,’ but you still overlooked so things. Or perhaps, you’ve never considered such a possibility to begin with."
He clenched the Third Siren.
"A playwright of tragedies... huh?"
Vladimir murmured.
Annan chuckled lightly, "Exactly—this was always a murder, also a conspiracy. In any case, it’s the domain of the playwright of tragedies; it’s impossible for you to overlook such an obvious point.
"So, there’s only one possibility.
"—The playwright of tragedies is assisting you. Or rather, you think he is assisting you... or to say, ’one of the playwrights of tragedies’ is helping you."
"One of the..."
Vladimir repeated the term.
"Sophocles―it’s you, isn’t it."
Annan said calmly, "Why does Vladimir ntion so many deities, but you alone were omitted?
"It’s likely because his actions are being directed by you, right?"
"Oh my, you’ve misunderstood there."
A voice brimming with malevolence, deep and resonant, spoke: "How could you call it directing..."
Although the voice differed, one could still discern from it... Sophocles and the "lampus" Annan had seen in the mirror were indeed the sa person.
Sophocles’ right hand rested on Vladimir’s right shoulder. Just like that, without any warning, he appeared silently.
He didn’t present himself as lampus did, with neatly slicked-back hair, wearing a suit-like black formal attire.
Instead, he wore a white toga with purplish embellishnts that was very similar to Professor Grey’s clothes. His hand, big as a basketball player’s, casually pinched a booklet. His hair was also ssy and loose, emphasizing a state of natural disarray.
Different from the state of lampus, because the toga revealed more of his body, his well-defined muscles were visible.
His whole being looked as if a perfect sculpture had co to life.
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