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

This mechanical hand, devoid of any semblance of flesh and blood structure, had somehow obtained life from thin air.  


It was not some purely mechanical structure like a clockwork puppet... or rather a "hand puppet." It could move on its own, not because of the gears and springs, nor was it due to the remote control by spells, and it wasn't even because Yawen had inserted a Simulated Soul.  


Rather, it was simply... In the instant that Yawen had "completed" it, it had acquired a new life of its own. Though it was still a bit immature, like a newborn child pure and blank as paper, it had indeed come to exist in this world.  


Chapter 120 Because I am the Girl Living in the Painting