After hesitating for a long time, the Prince chose to approach, glancing back at the distant, faint outline of Laine.
It was said that wizards mastered all kinds of evil witchcraft, but their bodies were incredibly fragile.
Although Paris didn't know if this "fragility" was truly that weak, or if it merely seemed weak compared to those demigod heroes.
But the witch before his eyes didn't look robust no matter how you saw her.
As a direct descendant of a god, even if weak, Paris had his own skills.
Besides, who wouldn't be interested in his future achievements?
A long while later, by the water's edge.
With a conflicted heart, Paris arrived at the blue stone where Laine sat.
The young prince didn't hide his hesitation, even though he could feel the burning gaze on his back.
Investing in a king...it sounded reasonable enough, but he was still a bit apprehensive.
He had only intended to gain some benefits, but Paris never imagined he would be entangled in this himself.
Would he accept it...the prince thought about it, but was subconsciously resistant.
Even the Fates, who knew everything about Paris from his birth to all his unknown futures, didn't notice—they had made a serious mistake or subconsciously forgotten something.
That, as a handsome man, a lover of beauty more than power and wisdom, Paris was genuinely a face enthusiast.
Certain things Lachesis could do, Clotho could do, but as the eldest of the Fates, when Atropos did it herself, it invariably added plenty of trouble.
For while the throne was enticing and the legendary beauty equally so, when these were spoken by an ugly old woman, no matter how vivid the visions of the future were, Paris remained skeptical.
"...Mr. Paris, you seem confused?"
A pebble fell into the pool, creating a small splash.
Laine's words interrupted Paris's thoughts, awakening him from his dilemma, and the prince pondered briefly.
He touched the cold scissors that had appeared in his arms, recalling the rumors of the witch, and Paris finally nodded slowly.
"Yes, from that... lady, I learned some things."
"But I'm unsure if I should really believe them since she doesn't seem very kind."
"Then, Mr. Aiven, what is your creation?"
"Compared to her, I'm quite looking forward to your result."
"My result...it depends on what you want."
Smiling, Laine asked with a grin,
"Do you desire the kingdom's power, extraordinary wisdom, or captivating beauty that enchants all?"
Raising his head suddenly, Paris hadn't expected to hear such a response.
Earlier, on the miraculous thread, the prince seemed to see his past.
And when they were woven into fabric, the prince seemed to see his future.
He saw himself win the favor of beauties, enjoying the joys and pleasures of the mortal realm.
"—It's clear that compared to that lady's weaving skills, mine are somewhat superior."
"Perhaps this is precisely why she wanted you to kill me, to fill the ugly jealousy in her heart."
Without looking back, Laine threw another pebble into the pool and pointed to the pool in front of him.
"This is... part of my creation."
"Cut the fabric she gave you and throw it into the pool.
"Maybe you can see... what she didn't tell you."
The three deities of Mount Nysa, Clotho made the thread, Lachesis measured its length, but the ultimate result came from Atropos's shears cutting destiny.
So since the Fates didn't want to show Paris his originally destined end, they didn't use her scissors to cut it.
But Laine didn't want them to conceal it, so he gave the prince an opportunity to see.
As to why, despite walking among mortals with human nature, he was still involved in these deities' affairs—
"At the end of this epoch, these three Fates shouldn't remain in the mortal world."
"And this pair of scissors, must be held in advance..."
Throwing the third pebble into the pool, through a seam in Paris's clothing, Laine could faintly see the dark scissor shape.
He would meet each of the three Fates one by one.
But due to the unique authority of fate, he couldn't let his avatar decisively use strength to judge them.
Just like today, even with Atropos seemingly so "frail," Laine equally knew that as long as Chaos's destined fate still existed in the world, nothing apart from fate itself could truly harm her.
Even the other two Fates and their Divine Artifacts meant nothing to her in reality.
Fortunately, besides this, what could wound a Fate were theirselves.
Perhaps, this was a form of alternative balance.
PS: Staying up late reading novels is inadvisable; waking up the next day remains the same.