Super Righteous Player
Chapter 361 - 358: The Original Keeper of Secrets_1

Chapter 361: Chapter 358: The Original Keeper of Secrets_1

"...records and the God of Secrets?"

Annan was startled and asked in return, "Isn’t the Faceless Poet the god of funerals and records?"

The "Corpse Crow" previously summoned by Old Vasily was an emissary of the Faceless Poet. The influence required to summon the Corpse Crow was "the remnants of a silent funeral."

That being said, the Geraint family’s crest also seems to be a crow...

"This is a secret, Your Highness Annan,"

Nolan said with a smile.

"—In fact, ’funerals’ are not at all within the Faceless Poet’s domain of priesthood. Moreover, there is no God of Funerals in this world.

"You should know that ’funerals’ are ’ceremonies to bid farewell to the deceased,’ which are very close to the core domain of the bone-burying granny, and even the bone-burying church itself has funeral ceremonies.

"One who is not a subordinate god of the bone-burying granny cannot possibly be allowed to hold this truth... nor can it be obtained from the Book of Truth. Because ’funerals’ were born at the very beginning of civilization, which was not yet fully enlightened and had just grasped the custom of ’burying bones.’ The Faceless Poet, although very ancient, is not that old..."

"The Faceless Poet is considered the God of Funerals by heretics because He generates ’the remnants of a silent funeral.’ But in fact, the emphasis is not on ’funerals’ themselves, but on ’attendance’ and ’silence.’

"This ’silence’ is an expression of the domain of secrecy—the Faceless Poet is indeed the founder of the transcendent tradition of ’Secret Keepers’... It was for this that He became a god, and all His believers must keep this secret for Him."

So that’s how it is.

Annan understood.

The very existence of the truth "secrecy" itself is kept secret by the believers...

This is indeed a very excellent and enduring means of consolidating truth.

Much stronger than the Bone Lord’s strategy of having his believers betray others, or the Rotting Husband’s way of having them self-castrate and kill afterward.

But Annan quickly realized something was amiss.

"...Then why can you tell me about this?"

He was not a follower of the Faceless Poet.

To have answered with just a little questioning... Were they really keeping secrets?

Facing Annan’s question, Old Nolan calmly replied, "On the one hand, it’s because ’secrecy’ itself is a contradictory truth.

"In order to ’keep secrets’, one must come to know the secret; and the act of obtaining the secret contradicts with the previous secret keeper’s act of ’keeping secrets.’

"Therefore, secrecy lies in the act itself, not the result; the more people who know the secret and are willing to maintain silence for it, the stronger my Lord’s power becomes."

"...On the other hand, this is a command directly conveyed to me by the Faceless Poet, who instructed me to do my best to protect you."

Nolan said with a smile, answering gently, "So much of your concerns are actually unnecessary... Indeed, I had plans concerning Lady Kafney before. But our Geraint family will do our utmost to ensure your safety in the Royal Capital.

"—Of course, if you are willing to let us ’protect Lady Kafney in the same way we protect you’, we will also adhere to this command."

The old man promised so.

...What?

Why would the Faceless Poet do this?

Annan furrowed his brow in confusion.

He did not remember having any connection with the Faceless Poet.

In his memory, the only thing he had done related to the Faceless Poet seemed to be leading players in defeating His Corpse Crow...

Could that even be considered an acquaintance?

Isn’t that more like a bad karma?

Annan fell into deep thought.

"Caw! Caw!"

Just then, Annan heard the loud cawing of crows coming from outside the house.

It even penetrated the walls of the basement, reaching directly to Annan’s ears.

As he heard the cawing, Annan felt a strange vibration starting from his fingertips and quickly spreading under the skin of his arms.

It was like touching a buzzing machine. With a sour pain, a very clear warmth rapidly flowed through Annan’s body.

It was as if some invisible force was flowing through him, meticulously turning out and examining every muscle, bone, and vessel in his body.

By the time the force had traveled from Annan’s fingertips to the soles of his feet, it had turned into an extremely comfortable warmth that even made him feel slightly drowsy. It was like curling up and drying off by the stove after being soaked by the rain.

"You have received the Faceless Poet’s gift; before reaching 20 points, the training time required for strength, agility, and constitution obtained through exercise is reduced by 30%."

"You have received a new mark ’High-Level Influence: Crow’s Cawing’."

"If not removed in time, you will fall into a random nightmare with the keyword ’records’ (Difficulty: Distorted) in seven days."

Suddenly, Annan saw numerous black liquids flowing from outside to inside through the gap under the basement door.

The strange sense of oppression became clearer—

And Annan could finally confirm.

This was the same sensation he had when he first met Skeleton Gentleman... that extremely clear abnormal feeling when first coming into contact with a False God’s true form.

Strangely, he didn’t feel this nervous when meeting a True God.

As the liquid flowed into the room, it gathered together again. It coalesced into a humanoid shape at a visible rate, becoming more viscous.

"It’s... been... a while...," the black humanoid’s voice was thick and murky, as if multiple different voices were sounding at once, flickering on and off like a bad television signal.

...Strange.

Why does it feel a bit like Sister Vatore...?

Annan had such a thought cross his mind.

As they faced this strange black humanoid, Nolan, along with Eugene, rose from the couch and performed a courteous, silent bow with hand on chest.

About two seconds later, the black sludge successfully formed a humanoid figure.

She appeared quite small—around one meter forty-five, wearing no clothes, with hair like a black waterfall of silk behind her, wrapping around the entire body like a living creature, and sheathing her like a robe in motion, completely concealing her form.

The only decoration was a black crow mask hanging on her face.

"It’s been a long time, Annan!"

An oddly magical, young girl’s voice that was bright, sharp, but not particularly pleasant to hear announced, "I almost forgot what sort of body I should use to greet you!

"How did you come to Noah and not even notify me?"

"The Faceless Poet... huh." Annan whispered the name softly.

She was someone who could blatantly appear in the heavily guarded basement of the Geraint family without causing Nolan any alarm.

Seeing Nolan’s respectful expression, her identity was already clear.

However, the problem was...

Annan simply didn’t recognize her.

He had never even seen her before!

And yet the Faceless Poet was so familiar with him...

...Could it be that it was the past Annan who had formed a connection with this False God?