"Your God of Misfortune mouth, good predictions fail but bad ones all come true." Durken complained while trying to divert attention to Negris, hoping to prevent others from gossiping about why he had been scratched on the face.
Negris replied irritably, "That's me making the most probable prediction based on existing conditions. If it comes true, it just means I predicted correctly. That's prowess, understand?"
"Huh, can the God of Misfortune's Mouth be explained this way? Why then are your good predictions always wrong?" Durken suddenly felt enlightened.
"Why are they wrong? Aren't you still standing here? You, a dead witch with a broken Life Box, would Ange have saved you if not for me?" Negris replied, annoyance clear in his voice.
"Makes sense." Durken pondered, suddenly feeling persuaded.
The Bronze Dragon, glancing sideways, nudged him with its elbow, and asked, "Why did those two female teachers scratch you?"
