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

"But the premise of all this is," Victor said, "Prince Philip is truly dead."


And if Philip were feigning death, then the situation would be completely different.


Whether Philip was truly dead or feigning death, his political career was already dead—the public would never accept a person "who had died once" to lead them, which is even less acceptable than accepting a puppet king.


Because they could not even confirm if this person "is the king or an imposter."


Ordinary people would not be aware of Spells and Great Calamity Curios.


They would be even less aware of how backwards the civilization of the people of Aesirland was before the Elves arrived on the continent... They could only vaguely know that "this continent was once ruled by the Elves."


But they certainly would not know that it was after the collapse of the great barrier and the fall of the imperial city that today's five great nations came into existence.


Chapter 413: Am I Beheaded?