Super Righteous Player
Chapter 931 - 465: Innocence that Can Be Pardoned

Chapter 931: Chapter 465: Innocence that Can Be Pardoned

Philip’s existence was a tragedy from the very beginning.

From the moment he assumed the role of "The Rhetorician," his life had no meaning.

His eloquence wasn’t needed for the curses to be ultimately abolished; his meticulous plotting wasn’t necessary for the first Noah to establish the kingdom.

There was no need for him to protect the fourth historiography, as the Power of the Chariot hadn’t been born yet; nor was there a need for him to take the role of the Power of the Chariot, for the Power of the Chariot had already come into being.

No person, no deity believed Philip’s conspiracies would succeed. The gods were not wary of him; in fact, one might even say they were tolerant.

Whether it was the Silver Baron or the Drama Writers, Vladimir or Nicholas, they all arranged their plans and deceptions with Philip’s death as a prerequisite.

Or it could be said, Philip indeed played the lead role in a certain tragedy.

But that tragedy... was his very own life.

No expectations, no gains. From the very beginning, there was no meaning... no joy, nor hatred. For the effort he exerted was in vain.

The world didn’t lack a man like him.

He was like someone exhausting himself, sweating profusely trying to push a train. Whether or not he pushed it, the train would still move when it was supposed to.

"From the very beginning, Philip was entrenched in this tragedy—the tragedy of his own life."

The Drama Writer declared, "He didn’t offend anyone, nor did he commit any wrongs—his aspirations were simply too great. Compared to what he intended to do, his capabilities were severely lacking.

"He was fairly intelligent, but not intelligent enough to reverse the major trends, not indispensable. Compared to his peers and predecessors, his ability was too meager.

"The Elven Emperor had indeed planned to abolish curses, merely taking an extra step to persuade the public; King Noah was a very clever man, he just wished to use the title ’The Rhetorician’ to enhance his persuasiveness.

"The fourth historiography could have been handed to King Noah’s household; they would not misuse it; and there was no need for him to step in as the backup Power of the Chariot—because you, Annan, were indeed capable of completing all tasks.

"He thought himself important and took on superfluous responsibilities. He no longer heeded advice from others, but continually added responsibilities that he couldn’t actually handle... Being swept away and crushed to dust by the greater and heavier ’tide of the era’ was something foreseeable."

Time spanned a thousand years.

The original purpose had long been forgotten.

Even his own past was forgotten.

Not knowing what to do, and unable to do anything.

Until the end, everyone seemed to be eagerly waiting, like awaiting the conclusion of a leader’s speech—his life, utterly meaningless.

The Drama Writer’s hands rose high and fell heavily, like conducting an orchestra.

He spoke in a deep, intoxicating voice: "Individual powerlessness is also beautiful. Confusion without pain or regret is equally worth grieving over. How can one say he was meaningless?

"Looking at his life itself, it was a lengthy tragedy—it might be better said that it was precisely because his entire long life could only hold such value.

"—His final curtain, that was the grand tragedy I had agreed upon with him."

The words of the Drama Writer had barely finished.

In front of Annan and Vladimir, a brilliant flash suddenly appeared.

Even though it was the first time seeing this vague light.

Annan recognized its essence immediately.

That was the unborn "Fourth Historiography"!

Not until Annan knew that Philip had truly died did the Fourth Historiography finally emerge.

But Annan did not rush to seize it.

Rather, he looked toward Vladimir, who seemed to become more ethereal.

"Your plan was indeed impressive, Vladimir,"

Annan looked at Vladimir, "But you just encountered me.

He finally declared, "I have seen through your tricks. Whether you choose to fight me to the death or flee to regroup, the outcome will be the same. What you hoped for will not come to pass, what you sought will not be reached.

"—You have already lost."

Though Vladimir’s combat capability was not slightly damaged.

He still would not be interfered with by the deities, nor had he been defeated by Annan. He still was a Gold rank Transcendent, bearing an exalted false identity that even Annan had not unraveled the nature of.

But he had utterly failed.

He had been planning for four years, exhausting all his energy and paying a huge price, but ultimately fell at the last hurdle.

Annan had spotted and dismantled his schemes mercilessly from top to bottom.

— just like a high-rise building exploded and collapsing vertically.

No matter what strength he still possessed, it had become meaningless.

Because even if he defeated Annan and became the Power of the Chariot, it would be pointless.

Unlike Nicholas II, who urgently needed the Power of the Chariot to carry out his "Divine Dictatorship" plan, Vladimir scorned the Power of the Chariot.

From the root, he was uninterested in "Putting all his efforts to help others."

Even his subordinates, his followers, Vladimir did not regard them as human beings.

To him, this world only had himself, enemies, tools... and the dregs that didn’t deserve to be enemies or tools.

An extreme egoist.

Although both were mirrors, he and Nicholas were completely different people.

"... don’t you have your own dreams?"

Vladimir finally couldn’t help it, speaking for the first time, "Is your dream to destroy the dreams of others?"

"That is a treatment only heroes and warriors can have."

Annan smiled, "I am far from deserving it.

"I lack the awareness to struggle in the mud, live an ordinary life with my head hung low, and yet be the first to lift my head and extend my hand when someone needs help.

"I am just a madman who acts without considering the consequences— I just happen to be on the right side because this side feels more joyful to me.

"You’re right—I don’t really have any dreams. But I know, whether it is you, Nicholas, the Transcendent, or the Dream Stealer...I don’t want to see any of you succeed.

"That kind of future is not the future I like; that kind of world is also not the world I love."

Annan resolutely raised the "Forgiveness of the Bone Picker" in his hand again.

He pointed it at Vladimir.

"Even though I still don’t know what I truly want to do—thanks to you all, you have shown me a direction. Making me want to become your enemy can save this world and prevent it from falling into wickedness... For that, I thank you."

"... I understand."

Vladimir spoke solemnly, "I no longer have any future to speak of. My future is dark, and I see no light in any direction...

"But I will never hand over victory.

"Just as you said. You do not have any dreams, you simply find me disagreeable—so now my enmity with you is not driven by any ideals or plans.

"There’s no benefit to it, nor can it change anything. I am simply going to kill you."

Vladimir revealed a cold smile, "In any case, I refuse to help you.

"I am indeed a villain. But that’s not bad. I gladly accept all consequences, but I will never repent.

"A villain should walk to the end in the posture that belongs to a villain—"

Behind him, his exalted false body, catalyzed by this realization, began to spread and grow again.

"Even an absolver can’t absolve my sins."

Winter Reverser Vladimir lifted his head calmly, looking at Annan, "You no longer have any power. I hate disgraceful scuffling. For a meaningless struggle, fighting like beasts tearing at each other... It’s extremely ugly.

"So, I take a step back. We both use our strongest strike and directly attack each other’s body, how about that?

"No running away, no dodging, no defending... This is the only way you can truly kill me, Your Majesty the Chariot. Otherwise, I’ll run away."

"And that’s also the only way you can indeed kill me before the Silver Baron comes back, right?"

Annan took a deep breath, "Fine, I’ll take that bet.

"Let’s see whose life is tougher, whose luck is better."

The fourth historica was still being generated and had not yet solidified into reality.

Meanwhile, the Tragic Playwright watched the two, eyes widened, holding his breath.