The Righteous Player(s) C387– The Memory Fragments of Annan's First Life

Are upright deities the pillars of the world?

When Annan heard this statement, a chill surged up from his neck. A deep buzzing rang in his mind.

In that instance, many hallucinations afflicted Annan.

It was like hearing someone whispering words that he could not understand behind him, and the rustling voice in his ears was incessant;

It was like seeing a stranger looking at him silently in a dusty space, and a chill crept upon his heart;

Annan felt like he was in a space with all the surrounding folks smoking, filling the air with substantial smoke that he could not even open his eyes. Soon, he struggled to breathe due to his throat being overly dry and thus constantly coughing, “Cough, cough—”

What is this?

The Paper Princess and Alexander's figures in Annan's vision suddenly began to blur.

As Annan coughed, smoke and dust stirred up a haze. Its density was enough to obstruct the healthy air around him, painting his entire world gray.

Sure enough, Annan had already realized that he should have triggered a specific condition and then fell into a hallucination somewhere.

When the surrounding smoke cleared, Annan tried his best to peek into the fog.

A few fragments of memory flashed before his eyes.

A white-haired woman who looked somewhat similar to the Paper Princess, but was taller with a majestic face and a cold and stern temperament, appeared in front of Annan, “Annan. Anna.” **(Raw: “——安南。安娜。”)

She spoke in the dragon language. Her voice was low and complicated, “Is this the name you gave yourself? I shall allow it. I will speak for you to your father.”

Then, the second memory was: “Your luck is not bad.”

The blond little girl, playing with dice, appeared to be around twelve years old. She had smiling eyes like a crescent moon, “At least this year…”

“…next year? Well… the next year isn't for you.”

“I'm already at the Eighth Luminary, and you will be the Seventh Luminary.”

The sixteen-year-old boy in a white robe with white hair and fair skin had colorful rainbow lights in his eyes. He said with a gentle smile and a clear voice, “Divine Transporter, don't make us wait too long.”

“Frostborn.” The black-haired blacksmith with burly muscles and a naked upper body was covered with scars. Every scar was shining like lava. At first glance, he seemed to be a man who was not good with words.

He looked at the blueprint in his hand and frowned, “This is weird. A Frostborn is looking for something new. Can your heart still freeze?

“Fine. It's called an internal combustion engine, right? It's not utilizing the boiling heat but the intense heat of the explosion. I will remember that. That's a good idea. I'll give it a try.”

“Nice story. You call it — Hamlet, don't you.” The prideful old man with an aquiline nose and deep eyes put down the manuscript, tapped the armrest rhythmically with one hand, and looked over with a half-smile, “But, you didn't craft this. I can feel it. These stories don't belong to you.

“Don't repeat other people's stories, boy. You might as well tell me about your life in another world. That's your own story.”

“I can feel it.” The beautiful woman with long blood-colored hair on the ground and a thick crimson pope robe showed a gentle smile of compassion, magic, and motherhood. She held a blood-filled gold cup in both hands and placed it in front of her lower abdomen.

She knelt behind Annan, with Annan's head resting between her chest and staring straight at the blood in the Holy Grail in front of her belly. She lowered her eyes softly, touched the top of Annan's head with her warm chin and neck, and whispered in a dreamy voice, “What you long for is flawless light. You long for the fire of justice.

“You will have light as your blood and fire as your heart — the Pillar of the Divine Transporter.” Under the woman, the long hair and robes that touched the ground turned into dark red bloodstains. Behind her dragged a carpet of blood from the other side straight to this place.

“Is that your choice, Annan?” The youth girl had silver hair, purple eyes, and a gorgeous face. She seemed to be about eighteen years old, looking over at Annan with some anxiety, “The path of justice? You don't need to listen to the Cup-holding Lady.

“'The Heart of Justice' is the fussiest sacred bone. With all due respect, it certainly won't bat an eye on you. Why don't you try 'perseverance' or 'patience'?” The girl was sitting in the arms of a black-haired woman four or five years older than the girl. Notably, the woman's eyes were wrapped in a strip of black cloth. Her lips were tightly shut without uttering a word. She had the silver-haired girl sit on her lap and wrapped the girl in her arms.

But, Annan somehow felt that the woman was conveying something silently.

But just as Annan tried to listen, he suddenly realized that it was just a dream.

Immediately afterward, Annan vaguely heard something.

“Annan? Annan?” He heard the anxious cries of the Paper Princess.

He suddenly woke up from his dream.

At this time, Annan realized that he was resting on the table, and the Paper Princess was concerned and nervous. She hugged Annan's shoulders from behind and put a hand on Annan's forehead.

She felt Annan woke up at the first moment and was relieved, “What's wrong?”

The Paper Princess helped Annan sit up and asked, “You have triggered a ritual. I saw traces of the Silent Lady, so I didn't dare to interrupt.”

“That's the correct move…don't…interrupt…it…” Annan felt his voice becoming hoarse.

The more he spoke, the more he felt like voices refused to leave his mouth. Finally, he opened his mouth but could not say anything.

At this moment, the Paper Princess suddenly reacted. “Wait, I get it. Annan, calm down. Stop trying to speak.”

She comforted Annan a little, patted Annan's back while looking at Alexander, and asked, “Is there a glass container? I need it to be pure glass. Water glass and an ashtray are also fine. It's better to be bigger.”

“Ah…wait a minute.” Alexander nodded, turned around, and walked to the back.

With a ferocious face but offering a sense of security, this man quickly took out a fish tank with some water droplets remaining in it from the inner room.

No one knew where the fish in it went.

“Does it need to be wiped clean? Is this big enough?” He asked the Paper Princess.

The Paper Princess shook her head and looked at the fish tank with a bit of hesitation, “It's a little too big, but that's fine.”

She put the tank on the table and asked Annan to stand up. Then, he put her hands on the tank and put her wrists under the bask of sunlight.

“Remember not to speak. If I don't let you speak, so don't say a word.” After warning Annan, the Paper Princess made a light cut on Annan's slender wrist with her fingernails while whispering, “Silence befalls this urn… Forgetting blood returns to this urn.”

Blood gushed from Annan's wrist in an instant.

However, it was not crimson red blood, and it was not dark red either.

The viscous liquid was like a gray-black paste as thick as ink. As soon as it appeared, it was like escaping from the sun, flowing quickly over the skin and falling from the fingertips.

It did not leave the slightest trace on Annan's skin or even discolor his skin.

Looking at this thing, Annan instantly thought of the filling of black sesame dumplings and then thought of the ready-made black sesame paste.

“This is the 'Silent One's Ointment'.” The Paper Princess explained to the curious Annan, “It is also called 'the Forgetting Blood', and it is a high-level curse material.”

Chapter end