Eldritch Horror Theatre

"Careful, this thing seems different now."

The sudden shift caught them off guard. As blood sprayed from Reginald, the observing Amira demonstrated remarkable composure in the face of danger—as well as her distinctly non-combat nature.

As she called out a warning, seemingly familiar patterns coalesced across her body before projecting onto Reginald.

The bleeding from the terrifying wound on his neck instantly slowed, and fine tendrils of new flesh already began to knit together.

It was the same healing ability she had displayed once before.

Her reaction was fast, but it was glaringly obvious that she lacked any offensive means.

Otherwise, she almost certainly would have dealt with the source of the corruption before treating his injuries.

Given Reginald's situation, pure healing alone wouldn't do much good.

"Ignore the wound for now. I've completely lost... all sensation in the covered area."

"Understood."

Amira wasted no time. An even more familiar pattern quickly took shape in her hands, sending a gentle, soothing ripple radiating outward.

Fu Qian recognized it instantly: it was the exact same psychological counseling technique he had received back in the confession booth.

As it turned out, the effect wasn't limited to humans.

When the soothing ripple washed over him, the spreading dark fluid on Reginald's body noticeably stagnated. Even the tearing at the back of his neck came to a halt.

Seizing the opening, the bright mark Reginald had coalesced moments ago flared back to life, finally igniting with the familiar radiance of the Lead Flame.

By the time the biting at his back resumed and he nearly collapsed from the loss of sensation, the metallic flames wreathing Reginald's body had already successfully stretched into the shape of a serpent.

The next moment, the fiery serpent reared its head and viciously bit down onto the filth clinging to his back.

Boom!

It was the familiar sting of the oriole behind, the familiar explosion. Erupting from an almost identical ball of fire, Reginald stumbled and crashed out of the blast radius.

His back was an absolute mess. The only silver lining was that the pungent, viscous fluid had shrunk significantly under the fiery impact.

However, he hadn't shaken it off completely. His entire right calf remained firmly encased in the substance.

Reginald didn't panic. His situation was far better than a moment ago, and with a field medic present, trading injuries was an acceptable tactical cost.

"Ah—!"

Yet, just as he was preparing to unleash another strike of Longevity Equal to Heaven and Earth, the medic's miserable shriek pierced his ears.

He turned toward the sound, only to see a well-dressed middle-aged woman clinging desperately to Amira's back, wrapping her arms and legs tightly around her.

The woman wasn't tearing at Amira's neck with her teeth. What triggered Amira's agonized scream were the steel-needle-like black hairs erupting from every inch of the attacker's body.

Resembling a bristling bear-hunting suit, the black hairs possessed terrifying penetrating power. They skewered Amira's palms, shoulders, neck, and even her chest, leaving her riddled with holes in the blink of an eye.

This attacker was originally just another face in the crowd of onlookers.

Their earlier assessment had been spot on—there was far more than one compromised person here. The mutation distorting the woman was clearly the result of some specialized corruption.

After erupting without a sound, the woman had chosen her target perfectly, launching a sneak attack directly on the healer.

The situation grew desperate once more.

Witnessing this horrific sight, Reginald hesitated for a split second, unsure if he should continue targeting his own leg.

Fortunately, his dilemma was resolved an instant later. A flaming Broadsword swept through the air with unstoppable momentum, smoothly cleaving the bristling woman into two perfect halves.

It was Simon—the hunter had returned!

Seeing this powerful ally drop from the sky, Reginald was overjoyed.

The pattern coalesced from the Lead Flame along Simon's Broadsword seemed to have shifted into a new form.

Drenched in her attacker's blood, a terrified Amira braced herself, but the expected fiery explosion never came.

It seemed this new pattern imbued the Broadsword with pure, unadulterated sharpness.

The moment this realization surfaced in their minds, Simon proved it again.

After letting the lady go first, he spun around with immense fluidity and swung his blade once more.

Reginald's right calf, right along the knee, was cleanly severed in an instant.

"Heal him."

Barking the order at Amira, Simon didn't even spare a glance at the stumbling Reginald. Instead, he raised his blade and took aim at the severed right leg.

In the blink of an eye, the severed limb was swallowed by the rapidly reactivating fluid.

The strange fluid converged at the cut, slowly pulling and weaving itself together to form a completely new limb.

Within seconds, the newly formed foot planted itself firmly on the ground once more.

And attached to that limb was a silhouette that bore a terrifying resemblance to Reginald.

The moment the fluid double fully materialized, Reginald—who had just been caught by Amira—suddenly went rigid, mirroring its exact posture.

"Excellency Reginald?"

Realizing something was deeply wrong, Amira immediately unleashed her healing arts again. Yet, even as the bleeding from his severed stump stopped, Reginald remained completely unresponsive.

Her earlier instincts were right: this thing really was different now.

The true Reginald seemed to have been reduced to a mere puppet, forced to mirror the movements of his copy.

No sooner had that thought crossed her mind than Amira felt Reginald's body violently convulse.

Looking up, she saw exactly why: Simon had just cleaved the fluid-crafted body in half.

But the entity was far from vanquished. The two severed halves of the body merged back together in the blink of an eye.

The attack seemed to have agitated it. Densely packed, honeycomb-like pores rapidly surfaced across its form.

Its body swelled outward like rising dough, expanding to several times its original size in a flash.

Opposite the monstrosity, Simon didn't seize the opening to attack. Instead, he lowered his head, staring at the Broadsword in his hands with a wooden expression.

Following that last strike, thin tendrils of black fluid had latched onto the surface of his holy weapon. Even the fiery marks of the Lead Flame were being swallowed and eclipsed by the filth.

"Different" didn't even begin to cover it. This entity was unimaginably more terrifying than what they had faced earlier; it was as if the very source of the corruption had projected onto this vessel, making it unbelievably resilient.

Fully aware that he might not be able to destroy the monster before him, Simon still showed absolutely zero intention of retreating. He simply raised his desecrated Broadsword once more.

But what made their breath hitch in their throats was the sight of the towering giant opposite him mimicking his exact stance. A jagged, irregular replica of his sword even began to slowly form in its hand...

"Rats!"

Just as this suffocating scene pushed everyone to their limits, a thunderous roar suddenly erupted from above.

Before anyone could even look up, an impossibly burly figure crashed down from the sky.

With an earth-shattering stomp, the colossal entity slammed his foot directly into the black fluid form, crushing it against the ground and sending viscous slime splattering in every direction.

As the filthy splatter settled, under the stunned gazes of the crowd, the massive figure who had previously been seated upon the pulpit casually flicked a fingernail-sized scrap of filth onto the ground and gave a cold scoff.

"How dare you meet the gaze of this seat."

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