Super Righteous Player
Chapter 419 - 416 Winter’s Guardian_1

Chapter 419: Chapter 416 Winter’s Guardian_1

This sophisticated battle technique...

If Annan, when he had just crossed over...or rather, when he had just awakened his memories, had been able to grasp it, then let alone some robbers or private soldiers.

Annan could have taken on ten single-handedly without issue.

He didn’t even realize that the Frost Sword Technique could actually adhere to and drag an opponent’s weapon—he still couldn’t see clearly, just how Dmitry’s technique, which resembled Esmeralda’s style of ice forming under the feet, was executed.

First and foremost, it must be made clear, Dmitry was not a Transcendent.

That is to say...this was entirely within the realm of "technique," just like the Frost Sword Technique. It was not the application of Transcendent powers.

And this swordplay and kicking were smooth and exceptional.

Annan could assert that even an ordinary silver-tier Transcendent...if not particularly adept at combat, would probably lose to Dmitry in close-quarters combat.

It was even merely a one-handed sword.

And it was a one-handed sword used without a balance hand, without wielding a crossbow or a shield, just with the hand tucked into the pocket.

Suddenly, Annan realized he had been observing his younger self and Dmitry for an unusually long time.

Annan’s heart suddenly tightened, and he asked the old man in a casual, low voice:

"—Is that person the Winter Duke?"

"That is Prince Dmitry."

The old man answered calmly, without emotion: "The one beside him is Prince Annan."

"May I..."

"—No."

Before Annan could finish speaking, the old man coldly refused: "If you survive the Wolf Kiss ceremony, you will naturally be introduced to the princes."

Upon hearing the old man’s voice, Dmitry turned his head back.

His pure black hair fell to his waist—though there was a subtle difference from when he was in Noah, as Dmitry now had his hair braided.

However, he was just as clean as always, without a speck of dirt or dust. That perpetual furrowed brow and serious expression were exactly as Annan remembered.

He glanced at the wolfen Annan of the present without saying much or asking for her name.

He just turned his head back to look at the old man.

"Is this the one who crossed the blizzard?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

The old man nodded his head.

He didn’t bow to Dmitry, didn’t use any honorifics or greetings, but simply answered calmly: "If there’s nothing else, I’d like to take her for the ’Wolf Kiss’ now."

"Go ahead."

Dmitry’s brow was tightly knit, and he nodded slightly.

The young Annan beside him also looked over calmly, and Annan looked right back.

For a moment, their eyes met.

For some reason, Annan felt a chilling sensation in the pit of his stomach, even though it was "himself" he was looking at.

Annan held his breath.

The seemingly weak body before him unexpectedly radiated a divine presence.

This was a gaze reminiscent of the divine...indifferent and lucid.

Others probably would not take notice...they might even think it was the "attentive, quietly listening" look of a well-behaved child.

This was something only Annan himself could perceive.

It was not a gaze he had ever possessed.

And it certainly was not a demeanor that Annan would have.

—In that instant, Annan fully realized this.

Even if he was someone who inherited memories from Earth...the self from before and after the loss of memory was truly two completely different people.

The influence of the Winter Heart on personality was simply too profound.

They might share the same knowledge and essentially the same soul.

But the Winter Heart, whether inverted or not, really could determine his pattern of actions.

If the current Annan was like a fearless "hero," then the Annan from the previous cycle was like a heartless "demon lord."

That was a gaze that cared nothing for life, power, or the world.

Annan had no doubt that such a self...might indeed destroy the world.

...Is this the me that received the Winter Heart?

Not as an oblivious child inheriting this gift, this responsibility, but rather allowing a soul born with knowledge to feel its positive emotions gradually freezing over...

Annan was still somewhat stunned when he felt someone press down on his shoulder.

She came to her senses and followed the old man into the building.

"—Bella."

The aged, indifferent voice that came to her ears brought her fully back to reality:

"...The fate of the Winter clan is already heavy enough, don’t let them remember the name of the dead, and don’t let them converse with the dead.

"We are Guardians. We must protect not only their bodies but also their spirits. From birth, they cannot feel any of the world’s joys, hopes, courage, love... as if their souls have been chewed upon by the Frost Beast from the moment they’re born.

"Do you understand this pain?"

"...I don’t understand, teacher."

Annan was silent for a while but answered honestly.

Indeed, she did not understand.

But she vaguely felt...this possibility.

"Of course, you wouldn’t understand."

The old man said indifferently, "But you will understand soon.

"Why would Winter’s Hand offer their loyalty to the Winter clan? It’s because we have tasted this bitter despair that we hold them in such high regard. If you haven’t experienced it, you’ll never understand."

With that, the old man opened another door in the corridor with his ring.

"Let’s go, the end is just there."

He declared finally, "Follow me, Bella."

Annan noticed that the corridor was pitch black and deep, with no lighting.

The old man stepped in first, entering the darkness.

Before being swallowed by the darkness, he looked back at Annan indifferently, signaling her to follow.

...Is it really at the end?

The more he warned, the more suspicious Annan became.

She remembered the old man had said... that the Wolf Kiss Ritual could be fatal.

This pitch-black corridor was just too suspicious.

Could it be that halfway through, a Frost Beast would suddenly attack them? And then a chase would ensue?

Annan was silent for a while but still stepped in.

But just after he entered,

The door behind suddenly closed with a creaking sound, making a dull bang.

The next moment, Annan suddenly felt that the world around him turned blood-red in the blink of an eye—

A feeling all too familiar.

But this time, I haven’t even sat down...

This thought had just surfaced in Annan’s mind.

He then heard intermittent shrieks, roars, and cries coming from all directions.

Like a TV with a poor signal, the surrounding world was noisy and shaking.

After a few moments, Annan felt dazed and realized he had fallen onto a very long corridor.

The corridor was an abnormally pure white... reminiscent of a young girl’s skin.

And below about one meter, it was like skin that had been scorched by fire, yellowed, blackened, twisted, blood-soaked, and one could even see dripping fat.

At the end of the corridor hung a large piece of pure red curtain, about four to five meters high. That too was impeccably clean, pure red, just like the walls of the corridor.

Now, Annan had become a middle-aged man dressed as a detective.

He wore a flat cap, and a pipe was clenched at the side of his mouth. In his right hand, he held a heavy cane reinforced with steel.

"...I see."

Annan squinted his eyes slightly, drawing on the pipe.

The thinking ability of this body was quite good; it must belong to a real detective.

It was a good opportunity to clear his thoughts.

—This time Annan didn’t trigger the mechanism by sitting down but by entering the corridor and falling into the corridor nightmare.

Does that mean the condition to fall into another person’s dream is for the surrounding environment to match the scene of the Nightmare Shard?

Previously, Annan had been pulled by the old man to sit at the front of the subway—Annan roughly fell into the nightmare the moment the subway doors closed.

At that time, the space in front of Annan was almost the same distance from the wall as in the "spa room."

Thus deducing, the length and thickness of this corridor should also resemble the real corridor of the Winter family—this was easy to verify. Once he left the nightmare, there were ways to confirm it, so he could note down this guess for the moment.

The previous spa room wasn’t very clear, but now seeing this corridor, Annan could almost conclude that it definitely wasn’t something from the "memory" of the deceased.

As expected.

They don’t have souls at all, so how could the dream realm pull the relevant information down?

This is merely their psychic imprint—an abstract deep-seated fear hidden within the curse, or stored in the brain.

Denton feared the spa... does that mean he was indeed once a patient with mental illness?

Was that after he became a Soul Reaping wizard?

Or before?

If these fragmented nightmare pieces truly represent the most dreaded things for the dead, then it wouldn’t be strange for anything to appear here. Because these are fundamentally illogical, the true "nightmares."

"What will it be this time?"

Annan exhaled a ring of smoke, murmuring softly, "A fire? A demon? Or what else?"

Fortunately, unlike the last shard... the starting place didn’t have any immediate danger.

He finally checked his status.

Health 100%, very good.

A dagger, a handgun, six bullets.

No Mana Pool, not a wizard class. Loose muscles, no sign of having practiced the Frost Sword Technique.

Is he a Hunter?

Or a prowler?

Regardless of those, Annan didn’t have those skills anyhow.

—All he knew was that he had three silver coins in his pocket.

"Huh."

Annan’s lips curved up slightly, without hesitation, he gripped one of the silver coins.

"A tribute to the silver coin, Silver Baron."

He kissed the silver coin, whispering softly, "Protect me—"

So Annan no longer hesitated, lifted his head, and walked forward.