Super Righteous Player
Chapter 427 - 424: Annan Turning the Tables_1

Chapter 427: Chapter 424: Annan Turning the Tables_1

"You may have all of my memories to the point where you can fabricate nightmares of such a degree... but you clearly lack a brain,"

Annan leaned on the wall behind him and spoke slowly, "If you had the same wisdom as me, you wouldn’t have left so many holes."

Of course, there was no response to Annan’s words.

But that didn’t matter.

After coming out of this nightmare, he had completely understood Denton’s logic.

The reason Denton could survive in his own nightmares... was probably that Salvatore underestimated the power of a Gold-rank Transcendent and used Denton’s brain as curse-material, incorporating it into the pills.

After being stained, the soul had essentially transcended the limits of "humanity."

That was a bona fide non-human.

After all, it was only Denton’s spine and soul that were taken—although his soul was also captured, his brain remained intact.

And thus, this curse-material had been used by Salvatore as the main ingredient for the Dream-Entering Secret Medicine.

Salvatore must not have expected... that even without a soul, even if the brain was pulped and possibly even boiled and filtered, there would still be fragments of Denton’s will left in the final pills.

But fortunately, they were just fragments.

Perhaps because it lacked a soul—Denton’s actions were very mechanical.

In other words, he did not understand the art of feinting reality with illusions.

All his actions had clear objectives.

He lured Annan into the fabricated "Nightmare: Wolf’s Kiss" with the purpose of making Annan undergo the Wolf’s Kiss ritual.

Originally holding the Reversed Heart of Winter, Annan had been deprived of all negative emotions; if his positive emotions were also stripped away in the nightmare by the Wolf’s Kiss ritual... what would be left of him?

——Nothing but an empty shell.

At that point, the fragments of Denton’s will could take advantage, occupy a corner of Annan’s soul, and once again possess a thinking body, as well as a Transcendent soul capable of casting spells.

"But you are completely unaware of just how good my memory is—you also can’t read my mind in this space. Since you’ve lost the ability to cast spells, you can only gather information from what I say,"

Annan’s lips curved into a slight smile as he said calmly, "Otherwise, you wouldn’t have missed the fact—

"The paintings I recognize are far more than those I’ve spoken aloud.

"——So, I’ve already noticed your little tricks."

Yes, little tricks.

Before Annan first leaped here, he had already recognized the paintings on this wall.

There were eight paintings on the wall, two from Kafney, one from Kafney’s dad, two from the old baker, one from Eleven, one from Jiu’er.

And another one was a black pupil.

Yes, black—not grey.

But when Annan’s gaze shifted to that painting, it silently turned grey.

Or rather, it became another painting.

However, that only made Annan slightly suspicious.

After all, it was possible for him to remember wrong...

But when Annan left the nightmare, he found that Eleven’s mouth and Jiu’er’s ears, which he had not spoken of, had vanished from the wall.

"That is to say, you have some level of authority and can control my nightmare. The false nightmare you created must also be of the same level of technique.

"But the part you can control is very small—you’re conserving your power or you’re worried I’ll see through it. So your strategy is... to send the nightmare you’ve pre-adjusted directly to me.

"I found it strange before. Why were the two burning paintings so far from me? If I hadn’t moved, I shouldn’t have been able to see paintings that far away.

"The answer is simple—because it doesn’t matter which painting I look at. My nightmare was arranged by you in the order you wanted."

Annan calmly answered.

"In the first nightmare, you hinted to me through your own fear fragment that ’Denton is indeed dead,’ trying to make me give up my [Vigilance];

"Then you told me that being rational will leave me stuck and standing still, in order to make me cast aside [Rationality] and walk undoubtingly deeper into the hallway—all to make me accept the Wolf’s Kiss ritual."

But at that time, Denton had already failed.

Annan was too rational and calm.

Therefore, he noticed the loopholes in the false nightmare.

However, Denton didn’t give up after that—

"Then, you threw me into a dead end that could only be cleared with [External Force]. You must have calculated my action patterns... all for making me use ’David’s’ power, to make me remember this strength.

"In the previous two fear fragments, you kept me from remembering this strength with rapid-paced nightmares, to prevent the Wolf’s Kiss ritual from being affected by extraneous factors... So, the question is, why do you now want me to use it?"

Annan said calmly, "Because you want me to use ’David’ in this world... don’t you. Or, to be more precise, you hope that when we confront each other, I’d switch my body for ’David’."

"If this is a trap, then in the next three fragments of fear, you will emphasize this concept to me—you’ll specifically choose nightmares that ’cannot be cleared without transforming’ to make me form an instinctive thinking. The purpose is for me to subconsciously use this ability when I confront you. I don’t know the specific reason, but it must be related to your means of turning the tables."

"You yourself have no soul, therefore cannot enter the nightmares. Just like mechanical creations cannot dream... so you cannot possibly be in the fragments of fear. You must be right here."

"Why is that eye in the sky my own? What exactly am I looking at? What am I searching for?"

The answer was already clear.

The eye in the sky, it signified Annan’s "self-perception."

What it was searching for was Denton.

Though it may sound odd... the shattered stone ship under the pre-dawn night sky should be Annan’s inner world.

And Denton is the "virus" program of this world.

That eye was searching... not for Annan, but for Denton.

—Then let’s proceed with the process.

Annan, motionless, leaned against the wall and sighed:

"I’ve already said so much... Are you going to continue?"

Annan’s voice fell, and there was no response.

"...Or is it that you don’t even have a physical form until the next three mini instances are over?

"Isn’t that just too pitiful?"

Annan unabashedly mocked.

Denton still did not appear before Annan.

"Alright then, let’s proceed with the process."

Annan just tilted his head back and lazily said, "I’m injured. I don’t feel like running away.

"If you want me to enter a nightmare, go and bring the painting yourself—move by yourself, got it?"

After a brief delay.

The painting in front of Annan, which belonged to Kafney’s mouth, suddenly changed into someone else’s mouth.

In the moment of eye contact, shrieks, roars, and cries sounded around again—

"—Shut up!"

Annan’s cool voice fell.

At the moment his voice fell, the noisy sounds suddenly quieted down.

In an extremely quiet atmosphere, Annan once again fell into a new nightmare—

He realized his left hand and right foot were handcuffed to a surgery table... A small saw lay next to his right hand, and above him, a massive spinning saw was slowly descending closer.

He fully understood what this scene was and what he had to do next.

But looking at it, Annan showed not the slightest panic.

Recalling the previous scene, the corners of his mouth curled slightly.

Just as expected...

His guess was right.

"Although this is a nightmare... it is, after all, my own dream."

Unlike the previous nightmares.

This time, Annan entered his own dream.

Denton was able to alter his nightmare, probably for this reason—if it were someone else’s nightmare, he might not have been able to alter it at all.

After all, he is the true Dream Stealer.

When it comes to manipulating dreams... even with lost Wisdom, unable to cast spells, and acting solely on instinct, he is undoubtedly world-class.

Annan respected his technique.

"But this... after all, is my own world."

Annan slowly closed his eyes.

His body instantly swelled, turning into a hard marble statue.

"Mr. David" needed only two fists to punch the shackles connecting his wrists straight off the surgery table.

Yes, it wasn’t the shackles that broke.

—It was the surgery table he had broken.