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

Isaac's words sent a tremor through Annan.


He even began to reflect—having walked this path of transcendence for so long, had he also changed compared to when he first started?


Annan sifted through all his memories since he came to this world.


If a comparison were to be made, the Annan that had first set foot in Frostwater Harbor... the current Annan had indeed undergone considerable changes.


Back then, Annan had no ties to this world. No goals, no pursuits, and his actions were dictated solely by pleasure. There was no anger towards enemies, and naturally, no sympathy either.


Of course, he still didn't act as recklessly as "Black Annan".


Theoretically, Annan should have been in this world for fifteen years, but he only retained half a year of memories.


The previous "Annan" had spent over a decade in that profound and icy darkness. In the cold winter nights devoid of joy and pleasure, he brewed a deep darkness of wisdom.


Chapter 36: The Forgotten Fifth Day