As Annan finished speaking,
the card marked with the number "seven" suddenly shattered into azure blue light dust.
"Correct answer..."
This was not the answer given by the Rotting Man.
Instead, Annan, gazing at the Rotting Man, said leisurely, "Right?"
The Rotting Man was silent for a while before repeating in a deep voice, "Correct answer.
"Choose your attack points."
"You’re scared."
Annan, although physically bound to the throne, seed to rule over the place.
He stared at the Rotting Man, a cruel smile playing on his lips, "You are indeed scared.
"—This ti, I’ll just cut you ten tis."
As he spoke, Annan flipped over the card marked with the number "ten."
The crimson light flow once again entered the Blade of Oblivion, infusing into the Rotting Man’s body.
The Rotting Man’s body burst open with several bloody wounds.
Ten different execution pains were introduced into the Rotting Man’s body.
He disregarded his dignity completely, emitting a piercing scream.
It wasn’t the cut of a sharp blade through skin and flesh.
Instead, the blade spun as it pierced through his body. The flesh it passed through was directly shredded, and blood oozed out, accumulating in the deep holes, streaming throughout the body through the minced tissue.
Annan recognized this dagger.
This bizarrely shaped dagger was not ant for "cutting" as a tool or weapon. It was too thin and fragile for a drill or blade, easily breaking.
Because from the beginning, it wasn’t used to attack a "resisting target" but for a "ritual" sacrifice.
There is a ritual in the "Cup" domain called "For the mories to Be Forgotten."
Simply put, it involves cutting a hole in oneself with this knife, and once the wound heals, using the sa knife to kill a lamb or calf. In this way, one can completely forget the mories from when the "wound was made" to when it "healed."
This is essentially a blood sacrifice ritual, thus it has the characteristics of the "Cup" domain; it is also related to forgetting, hence, it can be used to invoke Divine Arts of the domain of Silence.
The "deep holes" that appeared on the body can be seen as "caverns for burying mories," channels through which secrets flow into the third layer of history. mories buried in this way, if unknown to anyone but the ritualist, are directly erased from the world.
And as this deford dagger attacked the Rotting Man,
due to its nature as a "Ceremonial Knife" and the content of this wager being designated by the Rotting Man, the scene before them satisfied another ritual’s requirents.
—This could also be seen as a "Divine Blood Sacrifice."
Deities could offer their divine blood voluntarily, using it to strip away part of their divine traits. Whether creating an "Emissary" or sanctifying an object to turn it into a divine item like "Heart-Piercing Line of the Bone Lord," this ritual was required.
Since the Rotting Man used characteristics above the first history to penetrate directly into this nightmare... If it was possible to slay the Rotting Man of this ti period directly in this nightmare, then the real Rotting Man could be killed as well.
But this younger version of Annan, not even a Transcendent, lacked the Philosopher’s Stone and couldn’t employ a player’s battle tactics. It was completely impossible to kill the Rotting Man in the nightmare.
Nevertheless, even if he couldn’t kill him, Annan would make the Rotting Man pay a higher price.
Just forgetting so things was aningless to soone as shaless as the Rotting Man; enduring thousands and tens of thousands of cuts was nothing to him, given the tortures he had endured in his youth.
Annan planned to use the scene of the "Rotting Man voluntarily bleeding" to constitute a Divine Blood Ritual... and directly seize power from the Rotting Man.
It wasn’t theft—it was robbery.
"How do you feel?"
Looking at the Rotting Man who had just finished screaming, Annan sat on the throne, his gaze cold, the corners of his mouth pleasantly upturned, "Are you starting to regret it?"
"I’ve already... played four cards."
After panting for a while, the Rotting Man said in a low voice, "There are eleven more."
"The more it progresses, the more thrilling it becos."
The voice of the corrupt husband was sowhat hoarse.
His clothes were completely soaked with blood.
Above, one could even vaguely see a mist of damp blood floating, a strong, chaotic fragrance filling the entire space, making the air unusually sticky.
At that mont, the corrupt husband seed to have a certain illusion.
As if the black-haired young boy bound to the throne was not the powerless and young Annan Winter from his nightmares... but the white-robed king who had completely trampled his dignity in the past.
...The first chose twelve, the second seven.
Do you also intend to exactly replicate Kafney’s choices?
—How could that be possible?
Human hearts are unpredictable.
Even if one could sowhat guess, how could one trace the thoughts without using transcendent powers?
The so-called "Wisdom" could never reach that realm.
"Don’t forget... you have already played two big cards."
Gone was the leisurely expression on the corrupt husband’s face; he looked intently at Annan, "Perhaps, one of the cards Kafney chose was played by you..."
But the corrupt husband had not anticipated that Annan was not panicked at all.
"I indeed hadn’t expected that."
Annan, on the contrary, sighed, "You can’t stay calm.
"Shouldn’t such crucial information be revealed only towards the last one or two cards? The ga is only two-fifths complete, yet you hastily played your hand..."
Annan calmly looked at the corrupt husband, "Are you scared?"
A blazing brilliance burned in his eyes.
As if he was the deity—and the corrupt husband crawling at his feet was like a sinner about to be executed.
"So, do you want to guess what number I will choose next?"
Annan casually said, "It might alleviate your fear."
"...Go ahead and choose."
The corrupt husband’s face was grim, "There’s not much ti left."
"No rush."
Annan smiled, "Do you think I’ll run out of ti?
"I can even see through past and future... could I possibly not see the present?
"Listen well, corrupt husband. You have no idea how laughable the tricks you’re playing are in my eyes.
"After Kafney chose ’twelve’ and ’seven’, you would tell her a secret that would ostensibly help her differentiate truth from falsehood more easily; definitely one true and one false—the true secret ant to make her realize she got one number wrong, a tactic to put psychological pressure on her.
"The entire layout was actually a foundation for the ’secret indistinguishable between truth and falsehood’ that would follow, ant to confuse her.
"In other words, it was to make Kafney develop a ntal inertia... making her think ’the secrets you tell are valuable’ and start paying attention unwittingly to what you really said."
Annan laughed silently, "But she wouldn’t expect—that the ’clear and valuable information’ so far had no significance at all. Because from the very beginning, you had no motive to give her ’valuable information’.
"—It was a trap from the start.
"And from the third card, you gradually bared your fangs.
"After choosing two cards, Kafney would take less cautious actions next. And the number of the first card is the guardian moon of the grandmother, and the number of the second card is the seven luminaries of light... both cards directly relate to .
"Based on my understanding of Kafney, before she perceives the crisis, she would not actively escape from her ntal inertia. A win and a loss for her are not only not a disadvantage but an advantage—because only then could she clearly understand ’what correct and incorrect information actually looks like’.
"—Therefore, her third card would still continue choosing a number related to ."
Annan said with a smirk, "Am I right?"
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