Eldritch Horror Theatre

"Lies and fallacies bewilder those ensnared within, leaving them blind to their own ignorance, while the shepherd who guides the weak through the dark valley shall surely receive the blessing of the Dark Moon!"

Pointing toward the Church dome, as if reaching for the endless starry sky beyond, the burly figure at the pulpit delivered this commanding line.

Fu Qian knew perfectly well that while he had temporarily secured a decent environment to receive his guests, the things lying dormant beneath the impact wouldn't take long to resurface—and they would do so in ways that defied imagination.

After all, his gospel delivered a heavy shock, but it also brought enlightenment.

It didn't matter. By the time that happened, either the Nightmare would already be over, or The Order would seize the opportunity to reveal even more of their hand.

Their performance so far had been quite spirited, but it still wasn't enough.

He needed to push the pace.

...

Through the wide-open doors of the Small Chapel, Fu Qian gazed down at his audience.

Everyone had halted their previous actions, gazing up at him with awe-filled eyes.

He hoped this emotion would prove infectious enough to reach the audience watching outside.

"What is the Dark Moon?"

Following their initial convulsions, the numerous bodies overhead had rapidly contracted—like squids doused in boiling water—and plastered themselves tightly across every inch of the dome.

At a glance, it looked like a bizarre mural.

However, the sole audience member currently inside the Church was equally unable to appreciate this. Instead, she voiced her confusion over the sermon he had just delivered.

"A deep blue moon. Cold. Elegant."

His voice gentle, Fu Qian offered this concise answer.

"Then what relationship does He share with the Stars?"

The Old Lady was clearly listening intently. After a moment of thought, she raised a new question.

"Good question."

Fu Qian gave a slight nod.

"He is more beautiful than all of them."

...

Theoretically, this answer was not a perfect logical response, but it seemed to be more than enough for the Old Lady before him.

"Thank you."

After offering her earnest thanks, she asked no further questions. She simply lowered her head, resuming the same posture she had held outside, and began counting the peas in her palm one by one.

The affliction on her body really is best described as a contamination, Looking down at the scene from his high vantage point, Fu Qian mused to himself.

Indeed, compared to the police officers guarding the doors, this Old Lady wasn't quite so ordinary.

It was just that this trace of inhumanity ultimately manifested in her as almost pure, chaotic agony. There didn't seem to be a single benefit to it.

So far, excluding his own escort squad, the characters trapped within this Nightmare could be divided into two distinct categories: ordinary people and the contaminated.

According to Reginald, the bodies stuck to the ceiling included trainee members of The Order, but they clearly hadn't received the enlightenment of the Stars yet.

And aside from Harriet and the Old Lady currently inside the Church, there had clearly been more than one infected individual back in the Plaza they had passed through.

The ratio was simply a bit too high.

Harriet, in particular, had only just fallen into The Order's hands the night before.

Rather than believing she was just some background extra conjured up by the Nightmare's creator, Fu Qian leaned toward a different possibility: just like him, her physical body was truly here.

And if that was the case, one of the Nightmare's likely purposes became glaringly obvious—it was a Hotbed.

During the Night Patrol with Amira, The Order's stance on the Nightmare had been made perfectly clear.

Evil entities infected dreamwalkers, using them as vessels in an attempt to breach the barrier between dreams and reality.

Could the contaminated individuals in this place be exactly those kinds of seeds?

They were placed into this Hotbed to be cultivated together. As for their goal—they wanted to track down the source of the evil.

And in his specific case—they wanted to find the Dark Moon.

Fu Qian quickly pieced together a series of deductions.

If this was all true, then The Order's arrangements regarding him suddenly made perfect sense.

It started with the Hunters' sunrise inspection, followed by the discarded piece testing him on the road.

After those successive fruitless attempts, they had finally elevated the "Dark Moon" to an unprecedented level of importance, tossing him into this Hotbed in hopes of rooting out its traces.

Suits me just fine.

He could only say that under enough provocation, the people from The Order had cooperated perfectly with his guidance, finally pouring their ultimate resources into hunting down the Dark Moon and the Painting World.

However, this also raised two questions.

First, Reginald and his partner had already made a similar attempt earlier at the hospital treating boiling blood disease. Why did The Order feel the need to try again?

Second, why come all the way out into the Mist?

A dangerous operation like this would obviously be much safer inside Laerdin, where The Order had excellent control. Why run to a place like this, completely surrounded by discarded pieces?

At first glance, it didn't make much sense, but it wasn't completely illogical—as long as he broke out of his own egocentric bias.

What if this particular Nightmare hadn't actually been prepared for him in the first place?

Had they chosen this location because The Order's true target was the discarded pieces? Was he only sent here alongside a batch of similar subjects because his increasingly confusing behavior made him stand out?

Since this Nightmare was generated directly within the Mist, its effects were far more potent than the previous ones, making a second attempt entirely worthwhile.

It was merely a guess, but coupled with the information Amira had provided, it seemed that excellency Prout played a massively important role in this entire affair.

"Ah—!"

As he waited in silence, a new commotion finally broke out.

An ear-piercing shriek rang out from the crowd of onlookers outside.

The victim was a slightly balding middle-aged man, currently frantically slapping the side of his neck.

A viscous, gaping maw—looking as though it were formed from pooling asphalt—was tearing into his flesh. As the mouth churned, it revealed grotesque teeth shaped like finger bones.

Such teeth clearly weren't adept at rending flesh and blood, which was why the victim was still capable of screaming for the time being.

But he was clearly unable to shake it off. The maw's serpentine body extended downward, its end ultimately sinking into the base of his own spine, looking like a tail that had sprouted right out of him.

Amidst even more terrified screams sparked by this scene, the surrounding audience rapidly backed away, abandoning him beside the Plaza's only fountain.

Under immense agony, the man's body arched into a bizarre shape as he rolled frantically across the ground.

"Get out of the way!"

At this critical moment, a fierce roar ripped through the air, even drowning out the wails.

Along with it, another long serpent tore through the sky, gleaming like dancing metal as it spiraled in.

The instant they made contact, the victim's body was engulfed in a fireball of the same color.

And before the flames could even fully extinguish, three figures had already taken their positions beside the fountain.

Excellency Reginald, the one who had unleashed the strike, cast only a single glance at the remains on the ground. Showing no further interest in the outcome, he lifted his head and stared straight up at the Church.

What had he just been saying? Aside from coming in to listen to the gospel, this squad really didn't have many other options.

Just as he was about to call down a greeting, Fu Qian suddenly furrowed his brow and tilted his head to listen.

Was that... the sound of the tide?

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