Eldritch Horror Theatre

[Identity verification complete. Today's work begins.]

Fascinating as it was, after resolving the stone lion issue with the help of the Warehouse, Fu Qian didn't waste energy dwelling on it.

There were simply too many possibilities. With the limited information currently at his disposal, jumping to conclusions was meaningless.

Early the next morning, he entered the Warehouse as usual.

But this time, for the first time ever, he found the Warehouse completely quiet.

There had been a lot of unusual occurrences lately. Did this mean he could slack off for a day?

Or maybe he could just clock in and leave?

Fu Qian clicked his tongue, glancing over at the spot where the stone lion had shattered yesterday.

By now, there wasn't a single trace left on the ground. Even the stone dust had vanished.

Just as Fu Qian was pondering the best way to slack off, that familiar voice rang out.

[Name: Disorder, Code: 1-019]

[Today's work content updated: Enter the 1-019 Containment Scenario and complete Containment again.]

So it was just running a bit late?

And it really knew how to drop a surprise. He had just prepared to slack off, and it threw a Grade 1 item straight at him?

Fu Qian stared straight ahead as a patch of thin mist slowly materialized, and the sensation of his soul being extracted washed over him.

[Entering 1-019 Containment Scenario...]

[...4%...6%...10%...18%...34%...66%...100%. Containment Scenario load complete.]

[Current SAN Value: 131. Current inspiration: 36.]

That was it?

The voice in his ears came to an abrupt halt, prompting Fu Qian to frown.

This wasn't right. The information was way too sparse!

Leaving out background information was one thing, but shouldn't there at least be a mission objective?

Thinking back to the difficulty of previous Grade 1 tasks, an ominous premonition washed over him.

The scenery shifted before his eyes, and his five senses returned.

Opening his eyes, Fu Qian found himself in a dim room.

The room was small, less than twenty square meters, and looked extremely old.

He was currently sitting in one of its corners, resting on a hard stone slab.

To his right stood a heavy-looking metal door.

The other three directions were completely walled off by dull gray stone, without a single window in sight.

Could this mission be a prison break?

That was Fu Qian's first reaction.

Simply because the room's layout was far too classic—no matter how he looked at it, this was a jail cell.

He immediately glanced down at himself. At least he wasn't bound by Handcuffs or shackles.

However... a moment later, Fu Qian made an unexpected discovery.

His exposed arms and hands bore an unusually ghastly pallor. Looking at them, they almost seemed inhuman.

This was...

Fu Qian was bewildered. This paleness, like he was dusted with fluorescent powder, had pretty much stepped outside the bounds of humanity. Was he already dead?

A thought struck him, and he rubbed his fingers together while aiming at the ground.

The Air Bullet did not appear.

Just as he thought!

Along with failing to provide a mission objective just now, there hadn't been a skill selection prompt either.

This proved that his skills were currently disabled. In other words, he was no different from an ordinary person right now.

No, it was even worse than that.

Fu Qian threw a punch, finding his strength and speed utterly mediocre. He probably couldn't even match an average person.

This Grade 1 item was truly sinister!

It had been a long time since he'd experienced this feeling of being a level-one scrub.

Both the walls and the floor looked extremely sturdy. Under these circumstances, breaking out with brute force was practically impossible.

Fu Qian carefully surveyed his surroundings and spotted a massive black oil lamp resting in the center of the room.

The lamp had a quaint, antique design. It was encased in a giant, yellowed glass cover faintly stained with spots of blood.

Right now, it emitted a dim, sallow glow, the light so weak it seemed on the verge of dying out.

Yet, it remained the sole source of light in the entire room.

As he studied it, a sound echoed from the doorway, and the iron door slowly slid to the side.

An instant later, a figure with a highly exaggerated appearance stepped into view outside the door.

The person was exceptionally tall. Not only was he draped entirely in a black robe, but he also wore an iron-black mask.

In one hand, he gripped a bizarre weapon tipped with wicked barbs; in the other, he carried a brass pitcher.

A prison guard? This getup was a bit too eccentric!

Without making a single sound, this individual practically glided into the room.

Completely ignoring Fu Qian, the guard turned his back and reached out to lift the heavy glass lampshade.

Next, he hoisted the brass pitcher and slowly poured out a trickle of pale green oil.

The oil lamp brightened at a speed visible to the naked eye.

At that very moment, Fu Qian felt his skin grow even paler.

He waited until the guard left before finally standing up and taking two steps forward.

Almost instantly, he felt the heat draining from his body at an accelerated rate, while a wave of haziness washed over his consciousness.

There was something wrong with the lamp!

Fu Qian immediately realized this and swiftly retreated to the corner.

The thing seemed to be accelerating his death.

No wonder he had woken up crouching in the corner—he must have been hiding from it.

[Current task updated: Find a way to end the colorless state.]

Just then, the prompt chimed in his ears.

End the colorless state?

Fu Qian glanced down at himself. It had to be referring to his current condition.

The explicit emphasis on the word "current" meant there would definitely be follow-up objectives.

Unlike before, where he was handed a final goal straight out of the gate, this felt more like a guided quest chain.

No matter. He would just take it one step at a time.

Fu Qian wasn't too bothered by it. Having a goal was better than not having one.

The lamp's effect had noticeably intensified after being refueled. Even here in the corner, the sensation of heat draining away lingered.

The lamp's casing was incredibly tough. Given his current state, smashing it with his bare hands was next to impossible.

Fu Qian scanned the room before hugging the wall and darting straight for another corner of the cell.

The room was essentially empty, containing almost nothing.

Aside from himself, the only conspicuous thing was a skeleton sitting in another corner, arms wrapped around its knees.

The skeleton had clearly been dead for a long time, its bones already showing signs of weathering.

Fu Qian crouched down, examining it from top to bottom.

It had something in its hands!

He quickly noticed the skeleton's hands were tightly clasped together, clutching something between its jagged finger bones.

Wasting no time, Fu Qian reached out and tried to pry the fingers apart.

Aaaah!!!

Right then, a heart-wrenching shriek tore out from the skeleton's skull.

A sudden, agonizing scream in a gloomy enclosed space.

This classic horror movie trope was an endlessly effective tool for cheap jump scares.

However, the scream came to an abrupt halt halfway through, as Fu Qian firmly clamped his hand around the skeleton's jaw.

Too bad I'm not who I used to be!

Fu Qian marveled silently.

It wasn't that he hadn't been startled at all. It was just that ever since he'd become a humanoid weapon, his way of dealing with threats leaned more and more toward attacking rather than fleeing.

Even in his current weakened state, that grab was practically instinctual.

Could this be the legendary heart of a powerhouse?

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