In the stone hall, there was an exceptional silence.
They had become deities.
This topic was so distant for each of them...
So distant that it felt almost unreal.
He keenly noticed a somewhat familiar term.
"Fragments of Truth... What are they?"
He asked Michelangelo.
For in Annan’s hands... he held two Fragments of Truth.
They were the cornerstone used to summon players.
"Fragments of Truth are manifestations of order. This is still too far for you,"
Michelangelo looked at Annan, answering in a gentle tone, "You can think of Fragments of Truth as ’vessels’ that are even more high-end than Gold.
"All transcendent powers of this world come from curses. So what about deities?
"—Yes, the same holds true for deities. But the vessels of deities are no longer material metals but the order of humanity... like the Tradition of ’elders before juniors, sovereigns before subjects,’ like the end of ’all things must die, all events must conclude.’ True Gods are such, and so are False Gods.
"To become a deity... means discarding all the old Curse Bindings recorded in the vessel, and obtaining a huge, unprecedented Curse Binding—a divine office. As long as the rules of this world do not change, this vessel will never break.
"And the name of this vessel... is the ’Book of Truth.’ Whenever the world gives birth to a new thing, a new rule, a corresponding Book of Truth will gradually manifest in the human realm.
"For example, after human society developed the rules of currency, trade, the Book of Truth belonging to the Silver Baron just began to appear; only after humans start wars will the Book of Truth belonging to the Red Knight come into being. And the Book of Truth at its birth is not complete... which is what I call ’Fragments of Truth.’
Michelangelo let out a sigh, "But it’s been over a hundred years, and no new Fragments of Truth have been born. There are quite a few old things like me, stuck at the Gold rank, waiting for new things to emerge in the world.
"...But I can’t wait any longer.
"My death prophecy was actually correct... Yes, I’ve foreseen it."
Having said this, Michelangelo looked at Annan with an expectant gaze, "How about you, David Gerald? Do you have any more brilliant deductions? I always feel like there’s something you haven’t said."
Annan let out a sigh.
Because he had cheated.
Apart from that uncle, Benjamin was the most suspicious. And the role Michelangelo played as ’Giralda’ has been trying to suggest to Annan that Benjamin was Michelangelo.
But Annan had known from the very beginning—Benjamin was certainly innocent.
He didn’t die here... but in the future.
However, Annan did have other things to say.
After a moment’s thought, he let out a sigh, "It’s quite simple, isn’t it?
"...You are a Gold-ranked grand wizard, and you have long been famous. Our resistance to curses has no way to withstand your power—just like Melvin, whom you killed.
"Who else at the silver rank could kill an ’Idol Wizard’ renowned for survival skills, effortlessly and without contact, without breaking the seal of the curse, without chanting, even preventing him from uttering a single last word?
"The answer has been pointed out from the very beginning—only the grand wizard at the Gold rank, Michelangelo himself, could do it.
"Only he could so easily kill a wizard at the silver rank."
Just like at the time when Gerald at the silver rank suppressed us, the bronze-ranked brothers.
Annan muttered internally.
Hearing this, Michelangelo let out a sigh.
He murmured, "If only I had someone as talented as you among my students..."
Then, addressing Annan again:
"My predictive abilities have already reached the limits of humanity. But your behavior, strangely, is not within my predictions. You should be like a ’fairy’ statue, but you did not follow my script...
"How should I... address you?"
Upon hearing this, Annan was silent for a while.
He blinked, suddenly realizing something.
The pleasure that had just been subdued surged up again.
—Clearly, Benjamin had guessed.
He might even have been the first to guess... When in the tea room at the beginning, Benjamin looked at Annan with a complicated expression, he might have realized that this was not the Gerald he knew. But he was not certain yet.
But having witnessed Annan’s clear line of reasoning, as well as that intense confidence shining like a beacon and the elegance and composure that followed,
But a stranger playing his role.
Annan suppressed the joy tugging at the corners of his mouth, and inquired earnestly, "I don’t quite understand what you mean."
"What the master means is,"
Benjamin looked at Annan, speaking with a somewhat complex expression, "Outside of this nightmare, what is your name?
"And how did Gerald die... Can you tell me?"
After Benjamin and Michelangelo’s words were spoken.
The entire nightmare began to shake, but the amplitude was not large, similar to a mild earthquake... Tea cups, chairs, and statues would occasionally shatter suddenly.
——So that’s how it is.
Is it not enough to merely realize it? Do I have to speak it out loud to confirm...
But the nightmare wouldn’t collapse, instead, there was a strange splintering...
After Annan confirmed the situation "when an NPC realizes they are in a nightmare," he shook his head gently.
"Gerald was killed by me,"
he answered calmly, "because he indiscriminately slaughtered innocents with the ’Boneblood Trigger of the Skeletal Noble.’ I defeated him with the help of another disciple of you, Master Benjamin."
"... It’s much as I thought."
Benjamin muttered to himself.
Annan inquired, "What?"
"No, it’s nothing..."
At this point, Benjamin suddenly paused.
As if he had realized something.
He looked at Annan again.
He asked word by word, "Then... what about me?
"I... Benjamin Foster, when did I die?"
Annan smiled slightly and answered calmly, "You were curse-killed by a guard captain named Claus from the Geraint family."
"The third prince, huh... I actually thought he wouldn’t be able to afford such a price."
"If you are willing to do me a favor..."
he answered without hesitation, "If Tan Juan is still alive, tell him for me — his elder brother secretly worshipped the Rotten Husband. If he has already passed... then tell the Geraint family’s first in line heir. As compensation, I will tell you a passphrase, which you can use to gain the trust of ’me’ within ’my nightmare.’"
At this point, Annan suddenly paused.
He suddenly recalled something...
By the way, where did Benjamin’s nightmare go?
Could it have been absorbed by Claus?
Does he have such an ability?
But Annan did not speak up; he just inquired inconspicuously, "What passphrase?"
"Evelyn Miller. The fox under the dining table. 15. The eighth soldier."
Benjamin uttered a string of seemingly meaningless words.
Then, he reminded Annan, "You can also set a passphrase, one only you know. To pass on messages to your successors after death... That is to say, to confirm yourself in a nightmare. And every time your memories are reviewed, remember to add a new key word."
Annan nodded, enlightened.
"It’s a pity I can’t take a genius like you as my disciple."
Michelangelo sighed and smiled, "But at least I can give you one more gift."
As he spoke, he patted the statue of "Giralda" behind him.
He spoke with a hint of regret, "This is my last sculpture... and I will give you the right to name it.
"What name would you like to give it?"
Annan looked at the statue’s pose.
In his mind, suddenly emerged the works of another world’s "Michelangelo."
He glanced at the soul-form of Michelangelo floating in the air.
He slowly said, "Let’s call it... [David]."
"To name it after Mr. Gerald as a tribute, huh... that’s fine."
Michelangelo smiled and patted the statue.
The next moment, apart from him and Annan,
everyone’s heads — exploded all at once, simultaneously.
Annan suddenly felt a strong suction coming from behind, attacking him.
He opened his mouth and spoke his last words.
The next moment, Annan’s body suddenly turned into flecks of light, whirled around the statue once, and disappeared.
In the nightmare world starting to collapse, Michelangelo furrowed his brows slightly, pondering in silence:
"Annan Winter? Ivan’s child, right?
"But Annan... wasn’t he supposed to die within five years?"