Super Righteous Player
Chapter 412 - 409: The Secret of The Seventh Daylight_1

Chapter 412: Chapter 409: The Secret of The Seventh Daylight_1

"...So that’s how it is."

Annan murmured softly.

His gaze met with Henry VIII’s, his pure blue eyes as clear as jade and as reflective as a mirror, watching Annan with that seemingly indifferent, falsely gentle smile.

Or perhaps, Henry VIII was just impartially observing everything that was unfolding before him.

Even as his eyes met with Henry VIII’s, Annan still felt... Henry VIII was not really looking at him.

...It was like the way Kafney first looked at Annan.

It was as if she didn’t see "Annan" but rather a painting named "Annan," or something behind Annan...

Kafney’s extraordinarily spiritual vision might be directly inherited from Henry VIII.

And Henry VIII’s ability to "know everything" might have arisen from this kind of spiritual vision.

At this point,

The answer was quite clear.

Why was Henry VIII so indifferent to his own children yet so eager towards Annan? He did not care about his life or death, nor about the survival of the kingdom, so why did he seek to curry favor with Annan?

He was not afraid of his grandmother.

It was because he was interested in Annan himself.

—Annan and Henry VIII were two people who were similar yet opposite.

Just as if they were reflections inside and outside a mirror.

The unflipped heart of winter and the child born with knowledge... both deprived of "love" from their parents from a young age, both sole heirs to their kingdoms, they ended up walking completely different paths.

"...You might have wanted to talk to my big brother before,"

After a long silence, Annan spoke in a low voice, "I can’t give you the answer you’re looking for now."

After all, his heart of winter had been reversed.

And his memories from before had been completely erased.

Perhaps the former Annan... before losing his memories, might have reached some kind of resonance with Henry VIII. But the person he was now had completely changed from who he was years ago.

Without the memories of that period, the personality that relied on those memories to form did not exist.

It was strange, really.

It wasn’t Annan’s style to lay everything out on the table.

He should have responded to Henry VIII’s overtures, trying to gain some favor and extricate some benefits.

But for some reason, only in front of Henry VIII, only when this subject came up... Annan did not want to lie.

His instinct compelled him to confront this subject head-on, to take Henry VIII seriously—just as Henry VIII took Annan seriously.

However, faced with Annan’s response, Henry VIII just nodded gently.

"—I understand. I know what you mean,

"Whether you remember the past or not is not important... That would no longer be the ’mirror image’ related to me."

"...Mirror image?"

This peculiar word made Annan pause.

He knew Henry VIII was neither a Transcendent nor a Ritualist.

He might understand some mystical knowledge but wouldn’t delve too deeply—some knowledge in itself could oppress the soul, and a soul that had not stepped onto the path of transcendence could go mad merely by becoming aware of it.

But this word seemed completely irrelevant to the current subject.

Unless...

"Your guess is correct."

Henry VIII nodded, speaking in a calm and authoritative voice, "Not long ago, Pope Benjamin paid me a visit."

He spoke as if he were a Soul Reaping Wizard skilled in mind-reading spells, accurately voicing the thoughts on Annan’s mind.

But Annan could not feel any traces of a spell.

And moreover... Benjamin?

What did he have to do with this?

If it was about the mirror image... it must involve the "person in the mirror."

Annan furrowed his brow slightly, suddenly asking, "If you say I am a ’mirror image’ to you, and I am also a ’mirror image’ to someone else... could it be that I am the center of the ritual?"

"Yes."

Henry VIII confirmed.

"And you are merely a component of the ritual?"

Annan pressed on with his questions.

Seeing Annan perceive this much just from hearing "Benjamin," Henry VIII couldn’t help but smile with satisfaction.

He simply stated, "That’s natural, Your Majesty Annan.

"—’The gods are born from the realm of light, knowing themselves as light born in the mirror, falling into the void.’ ’The Light of The Seventh Daylight never falls upon the mortal world,’ ’without a mirror of equal weight transformed into a cocoon, the true light will not descend from the realm of light.’"

Henry VIII’s words carried a peculiar rhythm in them.

Annan felt his soul grow heavy merely upon hearing those words, as if a stubborn rock had been placed into a half-filled waterskin, causing the waterskin to become heavier while also causing the water level, named "consciousness," to rise until overflowing.

Now Annan was very familiar with...

—this mysterious "weight."

By fully accepting this weight, it meant Henry VIII, from then on, had imparted this arcane knowledge unto him.

But if it was the knowledge of light and mirrors...

Annan realized something.

"So, Your Majesty... if You know, if You could tell me." Annan furrowed his brow slightly and earnestly inquired, "What am ’I’?"

"You are the ’Book of the Celestial Chariot’."

Confronted with this nearly philosophical question, Henry VIII did not show any hesitation and answered, "The magnificent entity summoned by the ’Sublimation Ritual’, the final radiance seen by a Transcendent, the first radiance seen by a deity.

"You might be the Charioteer, or perhaps the Celestial Chariot itself, or maybe just one ray of light. But what you are does not depend on the past, but on the future."

—Sure enough.

Just like his granddaughter Kafney... Henry VIII was a rambling fellow. From this perspective, Kafney was indeed the only one who perfectly inherited Henry VIII’s talents.

Moreover, Henry VIII’s spiritual vision was even keener than Kafney’s.

What Kafney saw was the essence of Annan’s soul—the presence with a true image that he saw from Salvatore’s mirror.

But what Henry VIII saw was neither people nor anything in particular, but a concept.

He could even see Annan’s Book of the Celestial Chariot.

However, "Incubating Light"?

...Was he trying to help me?

But that would be meaningless to Henry VIII.

Or rather, to him, all of this should be meaningless...

—Was it because Benjamin had said something to him?

Annan fell silent for a moment at this thought.

He then turned to ask, "Your Majesty, do You require anything else of me?"

"Yes."

Henry VIII nodded and immediately became solemn.

With a resolute tone that allowed no objection, quite unlike his previous affable demeanor, he declared, "Remember, you must attend my funeral. And you need to come as the ’Duke of Winter’... You can tell Nolan.

"I will die four days from now, and my funeral will be next Sunday. It’s important, you must come."

"...Okay."

Annan did not ask for the reason, but simply nodded in agreement.

This surely would cause him many troubles. It would turn many people against him, it would expose Annan’s location, allowing his enemies to track his movements.

—But so what?

Annan knew that he indeed wanted to go.

So he would go.

Afterwards, Annan didn’t even say goodbye to the King, but silently took Kafney, still somewhat dazed and confused, and left.

Behind them, Henry VIII watched them quietly, with a gentle smile on his face.

As Kafney was being pulled by Annan and was about to leave through the gate, she turned back unconsciously.

Whether it was an illusion or not...

Kafney always felt that the smile of His Majesty the King was very similar to the one Annan had when she first met him years ago.

—But it was definitely not the same smile.

Suddenly, Kafney remembered that Annan once recited a poem to her, or perhaps to himself.

It was a poem written by a poet from Winter, which at the time Kafney had not understood at all.

But she had memorized the content securely.

The lines of the poem went like this:

"One day I will fall into the abyss.

"My body will be burned to ashes, my teeth will rot, my flesh will dissolve.

"—But before that, I will walk with the light."

...So that was it.

He wasn’t reciting it for himself, nor was he reciting it for her... but through her, reciting to the future Annan...

Kafney finally realized the decisive difference between Annan and Henry VIII.

In Henry VIII’s eyes, there was never any person.

But in the eyes of Annan, whether in the past or present, there were always others.

In Annan’s eyes, the light of hope always shone brightly.