Chapter 39 Nightmare: The Gallery

[Falling into a nightmare, the copy is being generated...]

[Detected that the current copy has a special property: replay]

[The copy is being regenerated...]

[The difficulty of the copy is twisted, and the number of entries is unlimited]

[Current purification rate is 38/350]

[The current total erosion of the team is 8%, the difficulty of the copy increases by 8%, and the probability of nightmare distortion increases by 8%]

[There are 6 save points in this dungeon, each death increases by 2% erosion]

[This copy does not provide the introduction of the plot, but there are decryption rewards]

[Dungeon Clearance Rewards: The first two floors - any optional occupation below the bronze rank (including the bronze rank) increases by 1 to 2; the last four floors - any optional occupation below the silver rank (including the bronze rank) increases by 1 to 4]

[Dungeon decryption reward: unknown]

【Loading completed】

The world in front of Annan was pitch black, and the data stream flowed down quickly.

At this moment, he suddenly felt a strong feeling of vomiting in his abdomen... This does not seem to be an illusion. For Annan, at least, he rarely feels delusions.

After the data flow completely faded away, a faint and illusory whisper suddenly sounded in his ear:

"Do not look back……"

It was an old man's voice: "Never look back..."

The voice came from behind Annan, very old and weak, but incomparably clear.

It was as if he was close behind him and whispered in his ear.

Before Annan opened his eyes, he opened his own panel with a thought.

In the dungeon, Annan can only see health and erosion, but this is enough...

When Annan entered Ben, what he heard about the total erosion of the team made him a little uneasy.

This is a single book, isn't it...

After Annan opened the panel, two solitary lines of numbers were displayed in front of him:

Health: 56%

Erosion: 8%

... Sure enough, he has died twice without knowing it.

"I really don't have any memory at all..."

Annan frowned slightly.

It's a bit of a hassle. Death cannot inherit memory... which means that mistakes are entirely possible to repeat.

If someone else was here, he might panic because of this endless cycle of death.

However, although Annan felt a little troublesome, he was not afraid.

If you want to ask why...

It's that he knows himself very well. To use a rather strange metaphor...like the audience.

His perception of himself is like the audience's perception of a character in a TV series, movie, or animation. Because he is clear about everything that happened in the past, but he is detached from it, so he can know why his feelings exist and what influences his decisions are based on.

Even without inherited memory. But as long as the action taken in the first two weeks is still "Annan", then he has the confidence to decipher the information he left to himself——

Annan opened his eyes.

What appeared in front of him was a long gallery with brilliant lights. The hallway is wide enough to accommodate ten people walking side by side, without any decoration on the sides.

There are crystal-clear chandeliers on the ceiling, through which the burning candles light up the entire hallway. Only at the end of the corridor, the open door was dark.

He looked down at himself and couldn't determine his identity from his clothes. It can only be roughly determined that the age of this body is male, in his thirties, his hands are clean without calluses, the clothes are simple and clean, but the materials are quite comfortable, and there should be at least no financial pressure.

"Gallery... Is 'I' a painter?"

Annan speculated.

No hints, no plot introduction.

"Let me think about..."

He murmured in a low voice.

Annan noticed that his abdomen was slowly leaching blood.

In terms of pain, this should have been stabbed with a dagger not long ago. Judging from the location, it does not rule out the possibility of visceral damage.

"Ah, I'm hurt. I'm bleeding."

He said calmly with an expressionless face.

When he looked down to check his injuries, he accidentally discovered by observing his shadow that the fire in this room was extremely stable.

There is absolutely no disturbing light and shade of light and shade caused by the faint quivering of the candle as it passes through the air.

Annan narrowed his eyes slightly, and walked inside immediately without rushing.

He recalled the Raiders given to him by Reverend Lewis.

Reverend Lewis wrote a lot over and over, just in case. But Annan can basically sum it up in three sentences:

First, don't focus on any painting, but don't close your eyes either.

Second, all fork in the road, go to the side with the picture.

Third, no matter what happens, never look back.

According to Reverend Lewis, as long as Annan strictly abides by the above guidelines, he should be able to leave safely.

...then here comes the question.

Why did Annan die here twice?

"According to my habit, the first time I downloaded a copy..."

Annan muttered: "I will definitely follow the strategy completely."

He knew in advance that death in this dungeon would lead to memory loss, so all his actions for the week must be "standard behaviors" that would provide reference for his later self.

The question is... how did he do it the second time?

When did he die both times?

"...It's interesting."

The corner of Annan's mouth rose slightly.

When the crisis came, he clearly felt the excitement and excitement from the bottom of his heart.

He didn't look at any of the paintings, just walked slowly forward.

It's not that he doesn't want to go fast, but because the wound in his abdomen has been dragging him. And when Annan wanted to forcefully walk fast, his health would suddenly decline.

"Is the movement speed limited..."

Annan murmured in a low voice.

If he were to design this level...

He will definitely set up a chase that forces the player character to trot and move. Overwhelm the player with the dual fear of a quick drop of health and a crisis behind you.

He narrowed his eyes slightly and walked to the end of the corridor.

Annan controls the range of his steps and uses his own steps, not his eyes, to measure the length.

"...exactly one hundred meters."

After he pushed open the door at the end of the corridor, he found that there was an L-shaped corner in front of him, and the end of the corner turned to the right.

This short corner is very dark, no lighting can be seen, and it is very narrow, less than three meters in width and short in length.

But at the end of the corner, there is a faint light, as if attracting Annan to pass here quickly.

Everything is dark here, Annan can only be sure that there are still many picture frames hanging on both sides. Almost every painting is a portrait.

He scanned the corner of his eye and determined that the people on these frames were watching him.

"Twenty meters this time."

He muttered in a low voice.

When Annan walked around the first corner, he still didn't find anything special. On the other side of the corner is a narrow space of less than ten meters. It houses a display case for collectibles on the left and a hanger on the right.

But neither in the display case nor on the hanger, was anything. Everything is empty...as if being swept over by the player.

And there is a door at the end of this narrow space. The door is a reddish brown and looks a bit shabby, but otherwise nothing special.

Annan smiled slightly and opened the door calmly.

Then, he saw the familiar, long and brightly lit gallery.

It was as if he had returned to the starting point.

"...Ha. Hahahaha!"

But looking at this weird and horrifying scene, Annan couldn't help laughing.

After he finished smiling, he walked into the gallery with a smile and closed the door behind him.

"PT... I'm familiar with this one."

Annan murmured in a low voice.

The corners of his mouth raised strangely.