Eldritch Horror Theatre

This was the unpredictability of fate. Sometimes, listening to advice didn't actually guarantee a full belly.

He could only be thankful the police officers had taken cover in another house.

The crushing mass surged forward, crashing into Simon in an instant—right against his Broadsword blazing with Lead Flames.

Clearly, Simon hadn't been caught completely off guard. His methods were as ruthless as ever.

Even if those ruthless methods had already failed twice before.

Squelch!

Fortunately, they didn't fail this time.

The moment Simon's blade bit into the unstoppable attacker, thick, almost purple liquid erupted like a breached dam, practically showering the building behind him.

This was yet another unpredictable twist of fate. The intact building across the street hadn't been chosen as the entity's spawning point, but it still couldn't escape the fallout.

Though he had successfully halted his opponent's crushing momentum, Simon paid a heavy price.

Like a baseball struck with full force, his body tumbled through the air and crashed violently into a dark brown wooden wall.

Significantly cruder than the architecture of Laerdin, the structure shuddered, instantly teetering on the verge of collapse.

But that didn't mean his opponent had fared any better.

Against the Broadsword blazing with Lead Flames, the sphere—easily as tall as two men—had given way like paper. A horrifying, meter-long gash had been cleaved into its side.

Within that gaping wound, distinct shapes could faintly be made out—fingers, knees, spines, and even strands of hair.

Fu Qian wasn't overly surprised by this, having already inspected the patterns on the sphere's surface moments ago.

Though there was a slight resemblance, they were fundamentally different from a Star Law.

Those patterns were actually the contours of tangled bodies, contorted into postures no normal human could ever achieve.

The entire sphere resembled a massive blood sausage stuffed with corpses—and not all of them human.

Fu Qian clearly spotted a long, curved horn among the gore.

The horn was even straining outward alongside numerous other limbs.

Though the sphere had skidded to a halt, a horrifying mass of appendages writhed and thrashed along the length of the gruesome wound.

However, this desperate thirst for freedom met a catastrophic end in the very next instant.

The Broadsword hadn't just left a physical gash. Tiny traces of Lead Flame had clung to the layers of flesh, creeping and spreading until they converged into a distinct Lead Flame Pattern.

Boom!

Amidst a deafening explosion, a burst of metallic-hued flame detonated from the wound, reducing everything it touched to ash.

Now I know what the Lead Flame Pattern on Simon's blade is actually for.

Driving the flames directly into an opponent's body before detonating them—that's genuinely brutal.

Even as Fu Qian marveled at this, the giant sphere violently convulsed, completely losing control over its form.

More purple blood sprayed into the air as dozens—if not hundreds—of limbs writhed and flailed from the center, truly manifesting a blooming flower of flesh and blood.

"Transformation?"

Fu Qian wasn't the only one standing by and admiring this blossoming spectacle.

The rapid shifts over the past few seconds had been overwhelming. It was only as Amira slowly regained her bearings that she seemed to register Fu Qian's commentary.

"Didn't that attack method feel familiar?"

Fu Qian maintained the demeanor of a patient, gently guiding shepherd.

"A discarded piece!"

Amira didn't disappoint. With just a little prompting, she immediately grasped his meaning.

"How is that possible? Is that what those things actually look like? And how do they have physical bodies now? They can actually be hurt—is it because they left the fog?"

Realizing something, Amira's eyes flickered wildly.

"Or because they entered the Nightmare? It depends on which aspect you think is the key factor," Fu Qian said.

He didn't deny her theory; he simply offered another possibility.

In a fully manifested Nightmare, the sudden appearance of strange monsters was to be expected.

His deduction that it might be a discarded piece stemmed partly from their two previous encounters within the fog.

Though the entities had been invisible back then, his perception had still managed to roughly outline their bizarre shapes.

Deep down, their fundamental style perfectly matched the monstrous thing in front of them now.

Furthermore, there was another clue: as they neared the Small Town, the second half of their journey had been unexpectedly peaceful.

Assuming it wasn't just pure luck, could something have caused that peace? For example, what if the attackers waiting in the fog had been lured away by something else?

Once he accepted that premise, it simultaneously explained two things: the discarded pieces had been lured away by the Nightmare, and drawing them in was one of the Nightmare's primary purposes.

But that raised a brand new question: why was The Order drawing the discarded pieces into the Nightmare?

Fu Qian faintly sensed that the answer to this mystery would very likely also explain why he was being escorted here in the first place.

...

"Let's put those thoughts on hold for now and deal with this thing together."

Standing to the side, Reginald had heard every word of their conversation, but he showed zero interest in indulging their curiosity. He coldly reminded them.

"That thing is clearly attacking all targets indiscriminately."

He wasn't wrong.

The blooming flower of flesh and blood was clearly far from destroyed.

The vast majority of its limbs were flailing like deformed tentacles, wildly lashing out at everything around them.

In the blink of an eye, it had already demolished another building and was rapidly bearing down on the three of them.

Confirming this, Amira instantly accepted Reginald's advice. Radiant light flared across her body, and she shot a quick glance at Fu Qian.

Although his mental state was somewhat concerning, nobody could ignore the sheer ferocity he had displayed earlier.

He had effortlessly obliterated two targets while they were still enveloped by the dense fog.

By comparison, the monster in front of them looked far more fragile. If he was willing to make a move—wait, it seemed he wasn't.

Catching a fleeting glimpse of him, she noticed the burly man standing there in a completely leisurely posture. He clearly had absolutely no intention of lifting a finger.

This was despite him actually standing right at the front, to the point where several thrashing "tentacles" were already inching toward his feet.

The next moment, under the dumbfounded stares of Amira and Reginald, those very writhing limbs suddenly froze. After a brief pause, they recoiled frantically, as if they had just brushed against something utterly terrifying.

Not bad. It has a strong will to live.

Squeezing out a domineering, icy snort, Fu Qian shifted his gaze back toward the shattered wooden wall.

Boom!

Silver-Clad Broadsword swinging with thunderous momentum, His Excellency Simon surged back into the fray. Returning at a speed that rivaled how fast he'd been launched away, he brutally cleaved into the target once again.

An indescribable wail echoed through the air. Within the ensuing explosion, severed limbs and shattered appendages were blasted in every direction.

Before Amira and Reginald could even launch an attack, the target collapsed into its final death throes.

Truly worthy of the hunter sent to assassinate me.

Under the target's frantic counterattacks, His Excellency Simon had clearly suffered a few injuries of his own. Yet, completely ignoring his wounds, he turned his head and locked eyes with Fu Qian.

Amidst his silent praise, Fu Qian looked the man up and down. A moment later, seemingly noticing something, he spoke with palpable concern.

"Is His Excellency Simon feeling a bit unwell?"

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