Eldritch Horror Theatre

A soft, rhythmic washing sound echoed simultaneously in the ear and the mind—sudden and strange.

The peculiar rhythm it carried held the deep, tranquil stillness of a dream.

Good, full of energy!

Of course, Fu Qian's personal assessment was another matter entirely.

It was hard to say whether this change stemmed from the instability he had caused in the Nightmare or an active acceleration by The Order, but it seemed something big was coming.

As for the logic of tidal sounds appearing here, Fu Qian thought nothing of it.

Who said this wasn't a seaside Small Town? Wasn't the Sea of Mist right there?

Although, even from his vantage point, the Mist outside the town was completely out of view.

...

"There's more!"

Clearly, the others hadn't yet managed to share in his amusement.

Though Reginald had instantly eliminated the target, the hunter Simon hadn't dropped his guard, instead calling out a cold warning.

The audience, still stunned by the shocking scene that had just played out, jumped in fright at his words.

Especially when they realized he was staring directly toward the back of the seating area.

"How could this happen?"

Amira was practically the only one still focused on the remains scattered across the floor.

Torn to pieces as it was, its horrific distortion remained impossible to hide.

Barely ten minutes had passed since everyone had left.

Not only had the number of people swelled so drastically, but an anomaly like this had actually occurred.

In all the Nightmares she had entered, she had never encountered such suffocating pressure.

...

"There's more than one source of corruption. I can feel it."

Simon explained, his tone as flat and emotionless as ever.

"Are more discarded pieces slipping in?"

Neither Amira nor Reginald doubted Simon's ability to sense corruption.

And precisely because of that, the news was all the more terrifying.

"No. Things like the one on the roof of the Church."

Simon's answer made it clear that the three of them had already exchanged information.

Harriet's kind?

Given that the scene inside the Church possessed a certain delirious aesthetic, Amira had almost subconsciously forced herself to look away from it.

However, Simon's answer instantly forced her to face reality.

"It's quieted down for now..."

Amira shot a glance at the figure on the pulpit, clearly struggling to understand the sudden shift.

"Only temporarily. It is still there."

Simon shook his head, motioning for her not to be optimistic.

"So... is Harriet like us?"

Amira fell silent for a moment before pivoting to a strange question.

"There is a certain probability. As far as I know, she hasn't been directly purged."

Simon seemed to understand exactly what she meant. He knew she was asking whether Harriet was a dreamwalker like them, rather than a mere phantom of the dream.

"...Then what about them?"

Amira nodded quietly, then gestured to the surrounding crowd with a glance.

"There is a certain probability."

Simon offered the exact same answer.

"So why did The Order do this?"

Amira didn't seem entirely surprised, though her expression betrayed a trace of lament.

"I don't know. But strictly speaking, the task The Order required of you is already done."

His answer was as blunt and practical as ever. Simon looked at Amira and Reginald.

"You two are entirely free to find a safe place and simply wait for the Nightmare to end."

"Since they orchestrated this, they must have made the corresponding preparations."

"What about you?"

Amira mused for a moment before asking.

Logically, her point was sound. Since The Order hadn't informed them in advance, it was hard to say whether any further action would actually mean anything.

Yet Simon's phrasing clearly separated the two of them from himself.

"I'm different. Doing this makes me feel better."

Sure enough, the hunter shook his head slightly, his expression unwavering.

It was an answer that easily brought to mind a certain someone's earlier comment: 'You seem a little uncomfortable.'

Staring into Simon's visibly abnormal eyes, Amira only felt the situation growing more chaotic by the second. Just as she opened her mouth to say more, the hunter abruptly jerked his head to the side, listening intently.

"What is it?"

The sudden movement, paired with the Broadsword he still hadn't sheathed, immediately put the two civil clerics on edge.

"The tide..."

After a moment's hesitation, the hunter's gaze swept past the audience and fixed upon the distant horizon.

Though the sky overhead was still bathed in bright morning light, a mountainous shadow was looming in the distance.

"What is that...?"

Following Simon's lead, almost everyone turned to look, murmurs of shock rippling through the crowd.

"Is the Mist closing in on the town?"

Reginald, having just slain his target, surveyed the area and shared his thought with a frown.

Because none of this was real, he wasn't particularly worried about the danger.

But the sheer visual impact of the scene unfolding before them was genuinely staggering.

Massive shadows encircled the entire Small Town, and one could practically feel them surging and creeping closer.

The Small Town was like a deep crater, and a massive volume of seawater was breaching its banks and pouring down into it.

Now, even Reginald could hear the sound Simon had mentioned.

A rhythmic washing noise, just like real ocean waves.

"It appears so."

Simon agreed with his assessment. As he spoke, he stepped forward, marching straight toward the distant shadows.

...

The hunter's sheer decisiveness made Reginald hesitate.

Simon clearly had no intention of inviting them along, and honestly, it was hard to see the point of exploring such a bizarre anomaly.

Yet staying here seemed equally pointless.

"Shall we go take a look as well?"

This time, it was Amira who spoke up first.

Ultimately, compared to the oppressive shadows in the distance, she found that the person resting back inside the Small Chapel was far more of a headache.

"All right."

Perhaps sharing her exact sentiments, Reginald agreed almost instantly.

Even as he spoke, his body suddenly went completely rigid, streaks of glowing light abruptly flaring across his skin.

Stunned by his unexpected eagerness, Amira quickly realized something was terribly wrong and scrambled backward.

Boiling steam was erupting from the fountain nearby, accompanied by a thick, foul stench.

What was violently spewing from it was no longer water, but a thick, dark-brown sludge.

A massive splatter of the fluid had drenched the lower half of Reginald's body, and it was rapidly spreading outward.

"That thing isn't dead yet!"

Reginald remained surprisingly calm, shouting a warning immediately.

Unbelievable as it was, they had clearly just seen this exact form.

Not only had the entity survived his devastating strike without being completely purified, it had actually used this method to ambush the one who harmed it.

And its ambush had worked. Reginald's reaction hadn't been slow, but the glowing patterns on his body had barely flared to life before the sludge smothered a portion of them.

The incomplete formations shattered before they could properly manifest. And on his back, a gaping maw similarly tore itself open, sinking its teeth viciously into his neck.

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