Eldritch Horror Theatre

After just half a second of admiring himself, Fu Qian turned his attention to the items he had taken from the skeleton's hands.

He didn't have much time. Under the searing heat of the oil lamp, he could lose his mobility at any moment and be left waiting for death.

It was a pitch-black, circular iron disc about the size of a watch face, which looked incredibly old.

It was entirely flat and thin, making it unlikely to hold anything hidden inside.

As Fu Qian toyed with the iron disc, he suddenly remembered something.

He turned back and propped up the skeleton's head. This time, he forced the jaw open and reached inside.

Earlier, when the skeleton screamed, he thought he had seen something inside.

After a moment of groping around, he pinched something between two fingers and pulled it out.

It was a heavy, perfectly round sphere.

With his search complete, Fu Qian held an item in each hand, examining his findings.

First was the stone he had pulled from the throat.

Roughly the size of a thumb, its oval surface was covered in dark red veins. Dozens of spikes of varying lengths protruded from the twisting patterns.

If it weren't so obviously made of stone, he might have mistaken it for a mutated tonsil.

As for the iron disc in his right hand, one side was entirely blank. Rubbing away the grime from the other side revealed a strange pattern drawn in crude, simple lines.

Aside from these two objects, there seemed to be nothing else of use in the cell.

Could these be used to dispel the colorless state? It took a bit of imagination.

Fu Qian looked back at the skeleton, trying to visualize its final moments.

Judging by the posture, it seemed the person had held the spiked ball in their mouth while staring at the iron disc.

But what was the point of that?

Fu Qian thought for a moment before tightening his grip on the spiked ball. The spikes immediately pierced the skin of his palm.

Under the lamplight, the fluid oozing from his palm was almost completely transparent.

Could this be the so-called color loss?

Remembering his task objective, Fu Qian glanced down at his own body.

His flesh and blood seemed to be slowly turning transparent, to the point where he could faintly see the bones beneath his skin.

If this kept up, he would probably soon share the same fate as the owner of the iron disc.

At the same time, the sharp pain from his palm flared, abruptly clearing his mind.

'This thing...'

Fu Qian tried scratching his arm with a fingernail.

The translucent skin split open, but he felt absolutely nothing.

'So in the colorless state, both sensation and rationality are supposed to fade away together?'

'And this stone inflicts pain, helping to anchor my rationality?'

Fu Qian exhaled, having formed a rough guess about the object's purpose.

It seemed the deceased prisoner had been using it to stay lucid.

'And the iron disc?'

Fu Qian thought for a second, then simply shoved the skeleton aside.

He sat down in its previous spot and, following his theory, assumed the exact same posture.

He gripped the stone in one hand, held the patterned side of the iron disc facing him with the other, and focused all his attention onto it.

Almost instantly, Fu Qian felt the pattern in his vision begin to move.

At the same time, something within him seemed to awaken, and waves of silent howling flooded his consciousness.

The sensation of his life constantly slipping away began to slow.

For the first time since he had arrived, he felt his own heartbeat.

An unknown amount of time passed before Fu Qian slowly opened his eyes.

The feeling of his life draining away had completely stopped.

Letting out a long breath, Fu Qian glanced at the skeleton beside him.

This prisoner clearly knew how to combat the color loss and had even paved a path to survive, but unfortunately failed in the end.

[Current task updated]

[Find a Way to Escape the Prison]

A new task prompt appeared, confirming that the previous objective had been completed.

'Find a Way to Escape the Prison...'

Fu Qian immediately thought of the jailer. When the creature came in to refill the lamp oil, it would undoubtedly be the perfect opportunity.

The problem was that the jailer was incredibly massive, capable of lifting the lampshade with a single hand. Its sheer strength was obviously far beyond that of an ordinary person.

Taking it down in his current state would be incredibly difficult.

For the next stretch of time, Fu Qian sat completely motionless, focusing his undivided attention on the iron disc.

Soon, a healthy flush slowly returned to his skin. He could vividly feel his physical strength growing, and the eerie glow emanating from his body gradually dimmed.

He lost track of time again until a sudden itch crept over his arms. Rings of fine, circular scales had begun to sprout across his skin.

It was a horrifying sight, but Fu Qian had no intention of stopping.

No matter what, every bit of returning strength increased his odds of escape.

'A few side effects don't matter.'

He continued this process until his body finally stopped changing, at which point he ceased his focus.

Feeling the surging strength in his body, he felt almost entirely reborn.

Going by previous standards, he was at least roughly around Tier 7 or Tier 8.

Fu Qian silently assessed his condition.

It was hard to determine the time inside the sealed space, but less than a day had likely passed.

Fu Qian was quite satisfied with this efficiency. However, just as he tried to stand, his body pitched to the side, and he collapsed.

'What is going on?'

'I clearly tried to stand up, so why did my hand move instead?'

'Motor nerve disorder?' Fu Qian recalled a skill called Body Pathway Derangement.

'Is this a side effect of that?'

'If that really is the case—'

His mind raced as he adjusted his movements, slowly adapting to the new bodily order.

For example, he used the mental command of lifting his head to control his legs.

However, just as he finally began to adapt, the disorienting feeling vanished completely.

The sudden contrast nearly sent him tumbling again.

'Coming without a shadow and leaving without a trace... This is quite a nasty trick.'

'Is it going to act up every so often?'

Pondering this, Fu Qian waited in silence.

Sure enough, it didn't take long for the chaotic feeling to strike again.

Prepared for it this time, he first tried to apply what he had just learned.

However, it became apparent that the chaotic effects were completely random. His previous workaround was already useless.

'What a hassle!'

Despite his inward complaints, Fu Qian didn't hesitate to keep experimenting.

If this condition was going to persist, he had to get used to it.

Finally, after cycling through the disorder more than ten times, Fu Qian gradually adapted to the periodic chaotic shocks, reducing the time it took to regain his mobility to under a minute.

As long as it didn't strike in the middle of a fight, he should be fine.

Fu Qian glanced at the oil lamp in the center of the cell; there was very little oil left.

The jailer would be coming in soon. Given his current condition, it was worth a shot.

Fu Qian silently adjusted his body, preparing for his upcoming move.

...

Clank!

At the sound of the door opening, Fu Qian was already back in the corner, seated just as he had been before.

To avoid exposing his condition, he kept his face buried and covered as much of his exposed skin as possible.

The heavily bundled jailer appeared once more, drifting straight into the room.

The creature didn't seem to have the slightest instinct to check on its prisoner's condition. It simply lifted the lampshade and began adding lamp oil.

Fu Qian slowly shifted into its blind spot.

Just as he was about to strike, the nerve disorder instantly seized his body, nearly sending him tumbling again.

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