Not praying for ten strings

The Night Has Come, and kermesinus moon ascends in the sky.
Hoarse whispers flow at the street corners, and brass steam machines spew out bloody mist.
Your brain is singing a hymn, eyes are chanting a melody.
Skin cracks, and flesh buds swell.
Amidst the Mist, the wall of flesh that has devoured thousands of corpses wails endlessly—
"Weep not, our players don't bite, they just want to play with you."
Annan, the lone strategist, the top player, the savior of the mist-covered continent, the leader of the Thirteen Saints, the friend of the Twelve True Gods, the king of pioneers, "the Just", the Gatekeeper of the Fourth Calamity, the uncrowned deity, advised kindly.

Super Righteous Player

"I never expected you to be the imperial tutor!"


Annan's gaze shifted towards Victor, suddenly taking on a strange expression.


...It turned out that when he had taken care of the young Annan, his role could indeed be considered professional and relevant.


He seemed to understand why the emperor and his great-grandmother explicitly ordered Victor "to live on."


Rather than saying it was due to the burden of a curse or the repayment of sins, it might be more accurate to say... that indeed, there were people who wanted him to survive.


More precisely, it seemed... it was to have him watch over the whole world or, in particular, to guard the Duchy of Winter.


Annan couldn't help but ask, "I looked into your history before... and it could be said that it was controversial."


Victor sighed, as if reminiscing about the past.


With his fingers interlaced, his hair covered in frost and snow, quietly hung down.


Chapter 409: The So-Called "The Rhetorician