Super Righteous Player-Chapter 1156 - 205: Green-robed Saint

The door that had imprisoned Annan for over three weeks finally creaked open at this moment.

Annan watched the thick, blood-red moonlight filter through the self-opening door.

For a moment, Annan felt as if he was experiencing a sense of otherworldliness.

And in the next moment, the main quest panel that had been delayed for almost a month finally popped up before Annan:

[Main Quest: Choice]

[Reduce the number of Purifiers to "one"]

[Meet █████]

[Until dawn]

"...Do I have to wait until dawn?"

Annan muttered softly, walking out through the door.

He didn’t pay much attention to or analyze this main quest.

Since he already knew that this nightmare itself harbored malice towards him... there might also be some kind of trap hidden in this main quest.

At least that’s what Annan thought now.

—He decided to explore this nightmare first.

If he encountered any crucial information that forced him to reevaluate his main quest... then, by that time, Annan would surely not drown clinging to his old mindset.

Perhaps it was because he had been imprisoned for too long. The moment Annan left this "prison," he instead felt a hint of discomfort.

How should one describe that feeling...

It was like staying in a stuffy room with a broken air conditioner for a long time, where the body had already adapted to the hot and humid sensation. When stepping out at night, being touched by the slightly warm natural breeze, one could feel a trace of coolness seeping in, and even experience a strange tactile sensation on the skin’s surface.

...Annan immediately made a judgment.

If he wasn’t mistaken, this world did actually exist. It was just that time was completely still before Annan left this "initial room."

So even though Annan had been there for a long, long time, Annan, who had already reached his youth, had not grown a beard. Even his clothes remained clean and unwrinkled, and his hair was not at all disheveled.

After all, even if Annan had acquired the body of Gold, it was impossible to stop normal healthy "growth functions" like growing a beard. Just as Ingrid also couldn’t stop herself from conceiving.

To eradicate such degree of "instinct," one must use a ritual to perform targeted pruning.

Unless one completely ceases to be human.

It was only after leaving the house that Annan realized... his location was not in the wilderness.

But in the midst of a bustling city.

—Or rather, Annan judged from the surrounding debris that it should have originally been a bustling city.

Only to see, in the depth of the night, an absolute silence prevailed.

Only the blood-red moon that seemed to drip blood stared at Annan, with a black star accompanying the blood moon, hanging high in the night sky.

Annan looked up.

He saw that dark-red, blood-red moon that looked like an eyeball cut by a small knife and bleeding.

Just making eye contact with that blood moon made Annan feel a strange, uncontrollable obsession.

In a trance, Annan seemed to see a mark engraved deep within the blood moon. It looked like a cluster of entwining, coiling, Twisted, flickering yellow tentacles.

When Annan came to his senses again, he seemed to hear a deep song coming from the depths of the air.

—It seemed to be a song in French. Judging from the rhythm and length, Annan thought it was some kind of opera.

This song was flowing at the street corner, as if the song had grown legs and could move.

He looked in the direction of the song.

But the deep red fog obscured Annan’s vision and also blocked his perception attributes.

There seemed to be figures moving stealthily on the street. However, Annan couldn’t be sure if they were really human.

He could clearly see one figure after another passing through the increasingly dense blood fog. But the incongruity was, Annan didn’t hear their footsteps, instead, he heard a sticky, moist sound.

That sound even made Annan think of lubricant smeared on the skin.

Despite such unease, the familiar architectural style around him still gave Annan a strange sense of nostalgia—

Instinctively, he walked towards the direction from which the song came.

As Annan gradually walked in that direction, he seemed to lose himself in the blood fog, his sense of direction gradually failing... and the song also gradually grew louder, becoming clearer.

But strangely, Annan was not harmed by the blood fog.

Instead, a peculiar craving gradually emerged from the depths of his heart.

It was not hunger, nor was it thirst.

It was something from the depths of his soul...

"...Huh?"

He didn’t know how long he had walked when he suddenly lifted his head and uttered a soft "huh".

Because the building in front of him, he actually recognized it!

He finally understood why he had felt an uncanny sense of familiarity.

It wasn’t that Annan had traveled or lived here before... but because he had played Assassin’s Creed.

—The building in front of him was none other than Notre Dame de Paris!

"...No wonder I felt these streets were so familiar."

Annan murmured quietly.

Is this Earth?

But it doesn’t quite seem so.

Upon harboring a certain conjecture—that all worlds are actually some mirrored version of Earth—Annan couldn’t be sure if this dream corresponded to a certain era in France.

One thing was clear to Annan, something was undeniably amiss.

That was the fact that the interior of Notre Dame de Paris was far too dark and far too silent.

The streets were full of silhouettes, and although no voices had been heard, it obviously wasn’t late night. During this hour, Notre Dame de Paris shouldn’t be shrouded in darkness.

Or to put it another way—even if this place had closed, the doors should be shut, not gaping open into darkness like this.

Just as Annan was pondering at the doorway,

he saw a leather ball slowly bouncing out from the inside, quietly coming to a stop in front of him.

Annan silently picked up the ball.

His perception, suppressed by the blood fog, could still confirm at this proximity that this was indeed a leather ball... and not something hiding explosives.

...Is this an invitation for me to enter?

Pondering, Annan decided to walk inside.

There was indeed no one inside Notre Dame de Paris, but the blood fog had completely dispersed allowing Annan a clearer view.

Among a clutter of tightly shut doors, Annan saw the same yellow Twisted marks he had glimpsed in his hallucinations, painted on a door.

Annan felt these marks were somehow familiar but they seemed to stem from knowledge too ancient, and he couldn’t quite recall it at that moment.

He walked into the room.

He heard the source of the singing.

It came from a tape recorder—strangely, now inside, Annan could hear the distinct scratchiness typical of damaged sound quality, whereas outside, it had seemed like someone was walking and singing in the streets.

A sleeve reached out, shutting off the tape recorder with a palm.

It was a man... draped in a green robe glittering with a hazy glow. Probably a man.

He—or It—constantly emitted a divine glow, and Annan could instantly perceive an overwhelming sense of holiness, making him alert and courteous.

"I do not intend to linger here..."

As Annan spoke, he moved closer and politely inquired, "Please tell me, how can I leave this place?"

The person opposite didn’t answer Annan’s question.

Shadows obscured most of his face, leaving only two emerald-like eyes without pupils visible.

These eyes reminded Annan of his "Angel’s Left Eye."

Coincidentally, Annan’s left eye was also the same.

And embedded in the center of His forehead was an extremely beautiful emerald that shone brightly like a third eye.

The man simply pointed a finger to a seat in front of him, indicating for Annan to sit down.

Annan easily understood the gesture and did not resist.

For some reason.

Annan just felt that the other party wouldn’t harm him...