Super Righteous Player
Chapter 219 - 217: Person in the Mirror_1

Chapter 219: Chapter 217: Person in the Mirror_1

Things were somewhat as the players had anticipated, yet there was also a difference...

Annan hadn’t tried to flip the airborne Rotting Father upside down, with its head pointing towards the ground, to slam It into the earth from the sky—this would be meaningless to the Rotting Father.

The Rotting Father had escaped from certain death before, so Annan couldn’t bet It wouldn’t be able to revive using the same method this time.

Besides, Annan remained doubtful about how much of an effect this level of attack could have on a great being infinitely close to divinity...

The Rotting Father also didn’t feel much tension about this.

Even though Annan’s sudden negative energy shock was somewhat unexpected to It—It hadn’t made corresponding countermeasures before. But this didn’t cause any particularly meaningful damage to It, apart from the unbearable intense pain... after all, gods are immune to instant death damage.

But It had to truly consider what kind of Cycle transformation to use to get out of this situation...

However, It wasn’t worried about Annan continuing to send It flying upwards.

This world’s sky... isn’t that high.

If Annan continued to fly upwards, he would soon exceed the barrier’s height of the Noah Kingdom and be exposed to the Mist—then, it would be the Rotting Father who would need to figure out how to catch Annan, not let him escape.

Once Annan’s Philosopher’s Stone’s effect ended, and he was exposed to the Mist, he would quickly die out of control.

Whereas It, as a deity, could survive a considerable amount of time in the Mist.

—Just like dragging someone out of the safe zone in a game.

The Rotting Father didn’t need to kill Annan, and could directly pick up the Pages of Truth that dropped from him. And this was an attack initiated by Annan himself... Whether it was the Silver Baron or Old Grandmother who came knocking, the Rotting Father would have an excuse.

Without evidence, they wouldn’t dare to directly make a move on the Rotting Father and break the agreement.

With the sacred mission of conserving strength and maintaining the barrier, the True Gods don’t have too much freedom. The twelve True Gods, almost the oldest and at least from before the First Cycle, while far stronger than the younger generations of False Gods, don’t possess the same freedom to act without regard.

After all, the False Gods are not obliged to sustain the barrier. Much like those who are not preoccupied with work and studies, their battle power on the internet appears significantly stronger.

Therefore, facing Annan’s sudden attack, the Rotting Father made no resistance, nor did It try to break away.

Whether Annan pushed It forward—thereby killing people several streets over, or upwards, until leaving the barrier or Annan himself stopped casting the Spell, the Rotting Father wouldn’t actively try to escape.

Unless Annan directly pushed It towards the ground, the Rotting Father would consider whether to risk using self-alchemy again...

—But Annan, too, had guessed the Rotting Father’s thought process.

As the Rotting Father was almost effortlessly pushed upwards by Annan, Annan had already guessed Its purpose.

So, Annan’s plan had already changed—

Annan learned the binding technique he had seen from Kafney.

He somewhat clumsily controlled the numerous silver-gray tendrils of light that emerged from his body, slowly winding around the Rotting Father.

Annan wasn’t skilled in grappling, nor did he understand joint locks. He also couldn’t be sure about how to truly immobilize the Rotting Father’s limbs...

—But there is a saying that "brute force can bring astonishing results."

Annan wrapped all the tendrils that came from his body, without holding back, around the Rotting Father. He focused on completely binding each of Its fingers, while two tendrils stuffed and blocked Its mouth.

This was not to restrain the Rotting Father’s movement.

It was so that now, after Annan had lost his precise sense of distance, he could use the touch transmitted through these tendrils of light to pinpoint the Rotting Father’s exact location and Its slightest movements—

Annan canceled the maintenance of "Thoughts as Rain".

Even so, the fine rain in the sky didn’t stop immediately... it kept falling sporadically, only Annan had lost that sensing ability.

But this didn’t matter.

He had already confirmed the exact position of the Rotting Father through those tendrils.

What followed was—

A streak of silver-gray light flashed in the depths of Annan’s eyes.

And behind the Rotting Father, a thick Wall of Stagnation appeared silently.

The Rotting Father plunged deeply into the interior of the Wall of Stagnation.

Its upward flight speed was drastically reduced in an instant.

Yet the pulse-like, grey light flow that spread outwards in waves from Annan kept propelling the Rotting Father upwards.

The two of them hung in the air in this bizarre pose.

It was as if time stood still—

"—Fuck, it’s not Lillian Hua, it’s a stand-in messenger!"

"—Did I lag out?"

"—Yes, you lagged out."

"—They might be going ora ora in a world we can’t see..."

"—Let me add one thing, I think tentacle Annan is handsomer than hedgehog Annan."

"—Nonsense, it’s the hedgehog Annan who’s the handsome one!"

"—Are lightsabers handsome? Wouldn’t thirty-plus lightsabers be like a Jedi plus?"

"—This is clearly the awakening of the sword bone origin story..."

Annan couldn’t maintain this for too long.

As the Rotting Father was sunk deep in the Wall of Stagnation, Its fingers locked by Annan’s tendrils, just moving took an enormous effort... coupled with the ceaseless negative energy storm that gradually caused Its flesh to crack and break, It started to grow increasingly agitated.

The Rotting Father simply used the Wall of Stagnation as a support against Its back, grabbed hold of Annan’s tendrils of light, and began to turn Its wrist with a slow but resolute speed, attempting to drag Annan towards Itself.

It was finally truly injured!

That was undoubtedly a thrilling fact for Annan.

But before Annan got dragged too close, he smelled the blood oozing from the Rotting Father, bringing with it a vehement scent of citrus mixed with lemon.

This fragrance made the Rotting Father, before Annan’s eyes, suddenly slow down.

—No, it wasn’t an illusion.

This scent indeed greatly amplified Annan’s sensory abilities... as soon as Annan opened his panel, he saw his perception attribute skyrocketing at a terrifying speed of one point per second.

But soon Annan realized something was amiss.

The world before his eyes became slower and even began to come to a halt gradually.

Eventually, the entire world in front of Annan fell into an almost complete standstill. He could feel his existence with utter clarity, but even moving a single finger became extremely difficult for Annan—he had to exert all his strength and continuously apply force to make this incredibly sluggish action coherent. Otherwise, the thought in his mind to "lift his finger" would exist only for a moment before dissipating into nothing.

...What is this?

Is it the experience of Gold or a superhuman drug?

Annan’s thoughts became very clear and unusually active.

But in front of him, the entire world was completely still...

—Is this the life-saving trump card of the rotting husband?

Annan finally realized the combat philosophy of the rotting husband.

It was almost completely opposite to that of the Skeleton Lord.

He didn’t believe in the deterrent power of "fear," "restraint," or "despair"... Instead, he controlled people with the desires in their hearts.

He tempted mortals with true eternity and rebirth, not with the threat of death; he made people tired and let them relax with a fragrant scent, not with making them dizzy with a foul stench; he used warm and ambiguous touches and caresses to cover people’s senses, not with intense pain.

Even though he could do all these, the rotting husband preferred to go along with people’s inherent desires...

Like this kind of ability—to accelerate thoughts.

Too much of a good thing.

It can still become poison.

After Annan had figured everything out, the outside world still hadn’t changed at all.

He could only rely on his last bit of willpower—by a long, sustained effort of mental control, he laboriously canceled his light tentacles, light sword, and "Repulsion of the Living."

Maintaining the Wall of Stagnation, Annan fell freely and extremely slowly, endlessly slowly, in the prolonged and unending world.

And Annan just stared wide-eyed at the rotting husband.

He traced the appearance of the rotting husband over and over in his mind, committing it to memory.

Then Annan analyzed all the decisions he had made since coming to this world several times in his head.

After that—

Annan immersed his will completely within himself, feeling the power of the Truth Rank, and how the elements burned and burst forth from the soul...

Annan had no idea how much time had passed.

But when he suddenly awoke, it felt as if he had experienced an extremely lengthy dream.

As Annan’s consciousness groggily came to, he heard the Silver Baron’s loud yet not at all piercing, cheerful voice.

"...You lost, rotting husband. The God of Mirrors and Clocks has been born, stop now."

"But our contract still must be fulfilled, for I didn’t stop you just now, so your believers are mine now—you aren’t thinking of reneging, are you?"

"...Of course not."

The somewhat deep voice of the rotting husband rang out.

Annan opened his eyes, finding that his vision, hearing, touch, and perception of time had all returned to normal.

It must be Silver Baron’s healing.

By this time, the Silver Baron was cradling Annan in his arms—while the rotting husband stood before Them.

The rotting husband also stared intently at Annan, as if memorizing him.

Annan glanced back ungraciously.

—I remember you too, dead eunuch.

Although Annan couldn’t feel restlessness, loneliness, or fear, and therefore didn’t go completely insane in that world... that eternally stagnant world was still vivid in his memory.

Since Annan’s arrival in this world—the rotting husband was truly the first to make Annan feel pain.

He also made Annan calm down once again...

Realizing that not being able to feel negative emotions or experience pain didn’t mean he could act recklessly... the first mentor.

As the last loud cry of a newborn echoed.

The "mirror" image of the rotting husband suddenly became still, crumbling and dissolving entirely.

Because the Seat of the "Mirror" would no longer be empty after today—

The past, aged mortal Michelangelo Buonarroti,

The present, newly born god Michel Notre Dame.

Even if He had not been born yet, He knew what was happening outside.

So, the first thing He did after seizing power was to revoke the rotting husband’s privileges to use the mirror and kicked Him back.

The Silver Baron set Annan down.

Countless silver threads extended from His cuff, instantly weaving a silver-white robe for Annan, who had reverted to his original form, and, blocking the view from behind, personally dressed Annan.

"You did well, Annan."

The Silver Baron, a bit worried but very proud, patted his head and squatted down to whisper, "I will come to talk to you later..."

With that, the Silver Baron turned back, looking towards the mansion.

"To my newly born colleague—"

He called out with a loud and joyous voice, "Our God of Mirrors and Clocks!"

"—What should this world call You?"

After a very brief pause.

An odd voice, like that of an old man and yet like a baby, resonated from within the room:

"Mirrored One," He said, "from now on, I shall be known as ’Mirrored One.’"