Eldritch Horror Theatre

Things seemed to have taken a serious turn.

Fu Qian was never one for blind optimism. In fact, even before loosing that arrow, he had mentally prepared himself for the sheer difficulty of this journey.

To some extent, the scene unfolding before him proved exactly that.

If Laerdin was truly a Nightmare construct, then the state of the world beyond its borders was an unavoidable question.

As a seasoned manipulator of the Lucid Dream, it wasn't hard for him to form a few hypotheses.

Yet the sight before his eyes clearly fell far outside his past experience.

The Mist did not mark the edge of the world. Instead, it shrouded a completely different landscape—one ravaged by the cruel passage of time.

Compared to Laerdin, this world aligned far more closely with the Witch's descriptions. It looked like the true "reality."

After an entire day of interacting with them, it was obvious that Laerdin's Natives had absolutely no concept of the apocalyptic wasteland the Witch had spoken of.

From their perspective, the assumption made perfect sense.

But as previously established, if one were to set aside their own stance, withhold any immediate rebuttals, and tentatively accept this viewpoint...

A clear timeline easily fell into place within Fu Qian's mind—

The apocalyptic wasteland had existed, right within that brief instance of time pollution a month ago...

The discarded pieces inside the Mist had also been twisted and spawned from that very event...

Judging by the wear on the swords and guns, the people trapped within hadn't simply skipped a century in a single bound. Instead, much like a Nightmare, they had experienced the passage of time normally...

Then, the Witch was born from that pollution. She eventually found her way to the Painting World and imprisoned herself within it...

Even the Painting World couldn't withstand the ravages of time forever, eventually beginning to rot and decay...

An eighth ray of light appeared in the sky, marking the establishment of the Dark Moon Cult...

When he first established a connection with the Witch via the Blasphemous Embrace, the unique nature of the time pollution allowed the Painting World to anchor to an earlier point in time in another world—just like the mission back then...

Their second connection had also been their final conversation...

In theory, all of these events had taken place within a mere fraction of a second a month ago. Laerdin, meanwhile, had been shielded by some special protection, evading the pollution entirely...

Just as time was finally about to cross that node, and right before the Painting World met its ultimate end, the Witch found this anomalous place. Using a method akin to waking from a dream, she projected the people from the painting into this city...

However, born from the pollution, she had been unable to shake its influence, perishing just before that moment arrived. The fact that the painting drawn with her blood had lost all its power was proof enough...

Not only had the Witch erased all memories of herself from the minds of the people in the Painting World, she had even left a parting gift for him at the very last second...

He—a Templar Knight from another world—had become the only person who still remembered her and her name...

It was a relatively baseless hypothesis, built entirely on the assumption that both Laerdin and this mist-shrouded world were real.

It was also a pessimistic one. If true, it meant the Witch had long since perished, her existence nothing more than a momentary flash of light.

And unless the Warehouse sent him back in time by over a month, his late arrival meant that nothing he did now held any meaning.

Light flickered, and a chilling aura radiated outward.

Fu Qian abruptly halted his steps.

...

"What is it? Are you regretting your previous conclusion, Mr. Apostle?"

Given his previous performance, no one dared to ignore Fu Qian's actions anymore.

Staring at his sudden stop, Reginald couldn't hold his tongue after his initial surprise wore off.

"Your logic is still somewhat lacking. Normally, after expressing your agreement, the next step should be to prove your point."

Fu Qian still didn't turn back. Instead, he simply continued his previous train of thought.

It was bizarre, but true.

Denial and evasion never solved anything.

The moment that pessimistic hypothesis formed in his mind, Fu Qian had already figured out a way to verify it—

Since the Blasphemous Embrace could still establish a connection, the Dark Moon's power undoubtedly remained, regardless of the Witch's actual condition.

If this was truly the real world, then under the radiance of the Law of the Stars, he would definitely still be able to find traces of the Dark Moon.

Moving forward, he needed to urge the members of the Celestial Sphere Cult to put more effort into this task.

For example, by activating the Commandment Residue once again.

'My Dark Moon Gospel will surely shroud the earth.'

"Watch out."

Just as Reginald was still pondering the accusation regarding his logic, Simon's voice suddenly rang out.

The two civilian clerks, having been battered time and again, were clearly hypersensitive to any warnings of an enemy attack.

In perfect unison, the two of them instantly dove for cover, deploying every defensive measure at their disposal.

When they looked up, they were shocked to see that the Order Hunter had already made his move, swinging his Broadsword in a familiar stance.

This time, he wasn't sent flying. A heavy impact echoed through the air as he clearly deflected something.

'Another discarded piece actually showed up? These things really are impossible to guard against completely!'

But amidst their shared dismay, an even more shocking scene unfolded before Amira and Reginald.

The Dark Moon Apostle who had previously shattered an enemy with a single strike—the shepherd of lambs—was standing proudly in place, making absolutely no effort to dodge.

"The Dark Moon protects me."

A moment later, he even tilted his head back and spread his arms wide, acting as if the incoming attack was completely beneath his notice.

Riiip!

Clearly, despite his bold claims, the chilling aura surrounding him offered no actual shielding.

Amid the tearing sound, a long gash was sliced through the clothing over his ribs, missing his flesh by a mere hairsbreadth.

"Fear no intrusion, suffer no wounds."

Amidst his solemn declaration, his figure still showed zero intention of dodging. Instead, he began to stride forward, facing the enemy assault head-on.

...

"It's an attack similar to a thrown spear. The speed isn't very fast; we can handle it if we focus."

Deflecting another blow, Simon quickly shouted a warning.

"Don't stay in one place. Push forward and close in on its main body as quickly as possible."

'So that guy's actions were actually correct? We need to close the distance?'

Spurred by Simon's reminder, Amira and Reginald's first reaction was to look toward Fu Qian.

He had undoubtedly demonstrated his superhuman perception once again, and his reaction even seemed entirely logical now.

'The problem is, walking right into the fray with that arrogant swagger—if a spear hits you dead on, how exactly is the Dark Moon going to protect you?'

The very moment this doubt surfaced in their minds, another tearing sound echoed out.

They watched as a massive hole was punched right through the back of his clothing.

Yet, not a single drop of blood spilled out.

Astonishingly, a clean hole had opened up straight through the flesh beneath the torn fabric.

It was as if his flesh and blood had automatically parted to clear a path at the exact moment of impact, rendering the attack completely useless.

This...

Amidst their dumbfounded silence, a second hole tore open across his body, followed by a third...

Without missing a single step, the Dark Moon Apostle swept his right hand past his waist, grabbing hold of his Rusted Short Gun. Without a second thought, he pulled the trigger.

Click!

Naturally, since the gun hadn't been loaded, no gunpowder ignited.

Instead, a crystalline, snow-white Frost Spear shot out with a whistling gleam.

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