Super Righteous Player

"Huff..."

Having silently killed three men with three successive strikes, Annan finally relaxed, taking a long breath.

Just moments ago, a strong intuition had suddenly surged in his heart—if he swung a fourth time, he might have died.

Although he knew he theoretically wouldn't die from frost damage, the overpowering sense of heart palpitations made Annan discard the idea of striking a few more times.

For the first time, he felt his breath was so cold, like a wind blowing out of a freezer. His chest felt ice cold, and his right hand holding the sword was nearly numb from the freezing, as the extreme cold steadily spread from his wrist up his arm.

Then, the shoulders and wrists belatedly relayed an icy soreness.

That was immediately followed by an intense tingling that mingled with numbness swirling in his chest.

"Cough... Cough..."

Annan's body stiffened, and he coughed violently twice, his chest throbbing with pain.

Yet the agony mixed with soreness and tingling almost felt like undergoing a masochistic exercise. Contrary to experiencing unbearable pain, Annan felt a strong sense of pleasure welling up inside him.

It was only his own rationality that restrained him, reminding him, "You must rest for a while," which kept him from jumping up, gleefully enjoying himself while possibly vomiting blood...

Annan immediately stopped in place and started to breathe deeply to regulate his condition, trying to exhale all the cold air that had seeped into his lungs. Only after repeating this six or seven times did he feel some warmth return to his chest, and his limbs slowly started to warm up as well.

The pain didn't seem quite right.

Just to be safe, he still opened his status panel.

Within the dungeon, attributes, profession, and other such details seemed invisible. The only things Annan could see were his Health and Erosion levels:

Health: 70%

Erosion: 4%

"This Frost Sword Technique is a bit harmful to the body..."

Annan frowned slightly, instantly learning his lesson.

He knew all too well that the body he was using now wasn't Annan's, but John's.

John hadn't been injured before, but after using the Frost Sword Technique three times in succession, his health had suddenly dropped by thirty percent.

Previously, when he used the Frost Sword Technique, there seemed to be no cost at all...

He suddenly recalled a fragment of memory belonging to the "original" Annan—

Little Annan had only swung once or twice, yet he looked extremely exhausted. It didn't seem to be due to his youth and lack of strength, but rather similar to how Annan himself felt right now...

It appeared that the Frost Sword Technique had an inherent cooldown and that it could only be used twice in succession at most, otherwise it would burden the body.

"Truly a secret sword technique of the Duke's family..."

Annan sighed with satisfaction.

Typically, the more burdensome the skill to the user, the more powerful it should be.

Look no further than the lifelong nemesis of that "Guess I Play Anew," the legendary "Might Exchange One for One," who nearly achieved a successful exchange with his technique of mutual destruction.

Annan's identity was probably that of a direct descendant of the Winter Duke.

This was the son of a Grand Duke!

Although he didn't know how many children that noble lord had, he could at least consider himself one of the potential heirs to the duchy... He could look forward to a life of ease and luxury, living idly in the future...

Annan let out another large breath of cold air before straightening up and dragging the bodies of the three men he had silently assassinated into the house, one by one.

Just like those stealth assassination games he had played.

After killing someone, one must remember to hide the bodies. Otherwise, the killing is almost in vain.

Too bad there were none of those convenient containers here that could hold a great many bodies, like trash bins or closets...

So, after some thought, Annan stuffed all three bodies under the quilt, leaving only one nape of the neck and two faces snuggly together.

He specifically chose the side that wasn't frozen and looked relatively intact to leave exposed.

As long as no odd people entered the room, it should be quite proper. The bodies of these three should be able to remain hidden until the dungeon was over.

...But if he really encountered the sort who, upon seeing such a chilling scene, dared to enter the room for a closer look, or even excitedly lifted the quilt to inspect, then Annan would be out of options.

After all, psychology is a knowledge that only applies to humans...

Annan waited for a while longer and found that even though he no longer exhaled cold air and his pain had eased, the health value that had dropped did not naturally recover.

He clicked his tongue in disappointment.

So he couldn't heal by breathing...

Even though his injuries seemed to have recovered, his health value hadn't risen accordingly.

...Or was it that this internal injury was healing so quickly because he was in a "nightmare"?

Annan narrowed his eyes, remaining silent.

He didn't delay any longer. Seeing that his health value hadn't recovered, he walked straight out the door, ready to proceed with the next hunt.

Annan repeated this tactic of hiding first—then backstabbing upon encountering the enemy, cleanly killing all the guards who were either patrolling or resting below deck.

Including the initial three, a total of eleven people.

It sounded like a hefty task, but with no one receiving any alarms, and seemingly none of the guards being promoted, it only took Annan less than half an hour.

Although he couldn't be certain, not everyone he killed was a traitor...

But in the end, it was just a replica, merely an illusory dream, an event from one day prior. In the true course of history, the betrayers might have already succeeded in killing their master and absconded with the wealth and secret treasures belonging to Tan Juan.

If one can't discern who the betrayers are, then it might as well kill them all.

By this time, Annan had realized that something was clearly amiss—

He noticed a detail that he had not paid attention to in the previous loop.

Why hadn't he seen a single servant, or even a female worker doing menial tasks, on this ship?

This was clearly unreasonable. Tan Juan was only thirteen or fourteen years old this year. Even if he was sent to govern a remote town, it was impossible for him to not have any servants.

That wouldn't be decent at all... And they had brought an old wizard with them. Who would take care of his daily needs?

To claim the ship couldn't carry that many servants, or that the servants were on another ship, was obviously nonsense. Annan had seen many empty rooms that were clearly meant for the servants— spaces where several people would cram together, still showing clear signs of habitation, a few coats, and even half a glass of undrunk fresh water.

Similarly, not a soul was to be found inside.

Were they all on deck? In the captain's cabin?

That was unlikely...

So after clearing out all the patrolling guards, Annan started to search the rooms carefully.

Finally, in a room that seemed to be used for storing household garbage, from which a foul odor emanated from outside the door, Annan found them.

—In the form of corpses.

"...What is this?"

Annan furrowed his brow, feeling a bit surprised at his own calmness, unaccompanied by disgust or fear.

He shook his head and scrutinized them carefully.

These ordinary people dressed as servants were all tied up with ropes, hanging upside down and bled to death. From the traces, it could be roughly inferred they were captured before being killed.

The blood on the floor had cooled but hadn't completely dried, suggesting the incident occurred not too long ago. The reason no smell of blood seeped outside was because fresh filth had been plastered over the door gap and the outer doorknob, isolating it with a stronger odor.

But inside the room, it appeared to have been cleaned beforehand, without a trace of filth.

There were only semi-dried bloodstains and deliberately made footprints in the blood. Those footprints were densely packed, as if someone had circled the middle of the room several times.

Upon close examination, Annan finally found a detail at the center of the loop-like footprints:

In the exact middle of the room, where the bloodstains were thickest, lay a tongue. Judging by its length and thickness, it seemed, possibly, likely to be... a cow's tongue?

Annan cautiously approached, avoiding the bloodstains.

Without daring to touch anything, he could only look from afar. After a long while, he noticed a strange symbol embroidered in black thread or something of the sort on the cow's tongue. And underneath the cow's tongue, there lay a very small mirror.

"...Eh?"

Suddenly, Annan paused.

He recalled the events from last loop when Claus had killed him—

Once he saw Claus, he immediately launched an all-out sneak attack. And Claus, just looking at him with his mouth shut, Annan was suddenly hit by his own attack.

It wasn't like a rebound... Because Annan's height didn't match Claus's, and the blow that hit Claus's chest would have landed on Annan's abdomen if it had rebounded back to him.

It was more like a kind of mapping...

Then, as Claus's guard didn't know that Annan wouldn't die from frost damage, and seeing that he didn't die instantly like the others, he mocked Annan's mediocre Frost Sword Technique.

In that moment, Annan briefly saw another black symbol within Claus's mouth, symmetrical to the rune in front of him.

—Or rather, like a reflection in a mirror.

The mirror did not reflect the symbol on the cow's tongue.

Because the symbol on the cow's tongue was facing up, while the mirror was placed below it... This meant that the mirrored symbol on the cow's tongue was hidden in the "other side" of the mirror, unseen and nonexistent.

If the mirror image did exist, it should be identical to the symbol seen in Claus's mouth!

Annan felt a shiver run down his spine.

He deduced where Claus's bizarre ability might come from...

...Perhaps, this was the origin of Claus's ability to reflect his own attacks back at him!

Annan drew his longsword. But after thinking it over, he carefully sheathed it again.

This was the only weapon handy for him...

He then took out the exquisitely designed long dagger that belonged to Tan Juan from his chest.

"I haven't practiced throwing knives either..."

Muttering to himself, Annan nevertheless took his position outside the perimeter of the bloodstains.

He didn't know how to disrupt the ritual but figured it best not to involve himself—He also dared not to disturb those footprints. Anyway, he needed to either throw the cow's tongue out, smash the mirror, or thread the cow's tongue and mirror together... He'd have to try each in turn.

If that didn't work, he would go out and search the corpses again. He'd find the weapons of those betrayers and smash each one.

For a distance of less than three meters, even if tossing hoops, he should hit one.

After a long while of wielding the dagger, Annan finally threw it.

Very luckily... or rather, the dagger itself performed admirably, sparing Annan any additional effort—the first throw Annan made successfully skewered the cow's tongue and the mirror together.

While splitting the symbol on the cow's tongue in half, the peculiar mirror was also shattered!