Eldritch Horror Theatre

Stepping out to crush that fluid humanoid certainly wasn't about its insolence.

Others might have missed it, but Fu Qian's eyesight was sharp enough to gauge the situation perfectly.

Bloated as the thing was, it still came up just a tiny bit short of his own height.

The claim that it had looked him in the eye was nothing but a trumped-up charge.

Stay true to the initial resolve to achieve the final outcome.

After his recent string of actions confirmed his partners' sincerity and investment, Fu Qian set a clear project goal: play along with the test and maximize the search for traces of the Dark Moon.

Finding the Dark Moon would, to some extent, prove the theories about Laerdin and the Mist correct.

It also represented the most pessimistic possibility regarding the Pope.

He could practically confirm the Celestial Sphere Cult had locked him in this nightmare for this exact purpose, but even Amira and her two companions clearly had no idea about their specific methods.

The more unnecessary people in the know, the higher the chance of introducing interference to the test.

Faced with this, Fu Qian chose to observe and deduce on his own.

Take Harriet, for instance, or that fluid humanoid just now.

The former's condition was clearly much worse than when he last saw her. As for that bizarre fluid, its rapidly climbing oppressive pressure after being provoked into erupting was also highly unusual.

This nightmare meticulously set up by the cult really was like the aforementioned Hotbed. It had an excellent nurturing effect on "pollution," potentially even drawing out its very source.

In that case, theoretically speaking, remaining in the Burning Frost State all this time should have drawn out more traces of the Dark Moon—yet it hadn't.

Up until a moment ago, Fu Qian hadn't observed so much as a hint of such an anomaly.

In response, he chose to dial up his physical exertion and directly confront another source of pollution.

Right in front of a sensitive detector, at that.

All to maximize the probability of his own "exposure."

...

Clearly, Fu Qian's question had baffled more than just one spectator.

"I'm not sure what standard you use to measure yourself."

Amidst the collective confusion, the hunter Simon fell silent for a moment before finally responding.

"But from what I can see, your condition is very stable, your mental state included."

To think he could still manage sarcasm. It seemed brother Simon hadn't lost all his humanity just yet.

While happy for the man, Fu Qian also sighed inwardly.

So even in this situation, this highly susceptible individual still hadn't noticed anything off about him?

Was his guess wrong? Did the Dark Moon not exist in this world?

"Thanks."

Without jumping to conclusions, Fu Qian politely offered his thanks. A moment later, he looked around.

"My earlier invitation still stands. You're welcome to come to my Church anytime... and that goes for the rest of you, too."

With that, ignoring the crowd's reaction, Fu Qian walked through the main doors and took his seat at the pulpit once more.

...

The brief exchange left Amira and the others utterly baffled.

That mad Dark Moon Apostle's words and actions were completely unpredictable; they couldn't figure out what he was trying to achieve.

But one thing was certain: the power contained within that massive body defied common sense.

Looking at the deep pit left by his stomp, Reginald—now down to one leg—leaned against a nearby pillar for balance and finally wiped some of the mud off his body.

"What do we do now? The people here seem to be in unstable states."

As he spoke, he sized up their surroundings.

Following the recent display of violence, the people in the Plaza—who had initially dissolved into chaos—hadn't continued fleeing.

Many of them were actually studying the wide-open doors of the Church, looking thoughtful.

It was obvious his parting invitation had been meant for them as well.

"It feels like another mutation could happen at any moment."

While treating both her own and Reginald's injuries, Amira agreed with him, taking an even more pessimistic stance.

"We're both in bad shape. If what just happened occurs again, I'm afraid we won't be able to handle it... Should we really hide inside?"

"What would be the point?"

Having clearly already considered her suggestion, Reginald cast a glance behind him.

"Although we can't disconnect on our own, since we've confirmed this is a dream, death will most likely wake us up."

"Not to mention that in a little while, it might be even more dangerous inside than out."

By this, Reginald was referring to the surrounding spectators.

His meaning was obvious: these people might make the same choice, leaving the Small Chapel even more crowded than the outside.

"Then should we use the last of our strength to check on the situation over there?"

Without denying Reginald's point, Amira thought for a moment and pointed at the shadows on the horizon.

Compared to earlier, they seemed to have drawn even closer.

"...That does seem like a more meaningful option. The problem is, while I can heal your injuries, I can't make your leg grow back. How about I take you into the Church first, and then His Excellency Simon and I go check it out?"

...

Though he didn't speak, Reginald's face showed obvious resistance.

It was easy to tell that he was highly unwilling to face the person inside the Small Chapel alone.

"No need."

Simon, who had been silent this entire time, suddenly interjected.

"They're here."

They were here?

While Amira and Reginald were completely baffled by this statement, Simon showed no intention of explaining. Ignoring the anomaly on his arm, he looked up into the distance.

Crash—

The next moment, a surging sound carrying a peculiar rhythm echoed across the Plaza.

That was...

The moment the sound reached her ears, Amira instantly realized what Simon meant and turned to follow his gaze.

They were really here?

The scene that met her eyes made her breath catch.

She could see it very clearly now. The shadows on the horizon were indeed the thick Mist surrounding the Small Town.

And at this very moment, it was surging forward in layers like a rising tide, submerging row after row of buildings in the blink of an eye.

A moment later, it slowly receded, just like an ocean wave.

Then it surged forward again, submerging even more...

"What is that?"

Amidst the shocking scene, a cry of alarm rang out from the crowd.

As they looked in the direction that person was pointing, the sentiment quickly sparked and spread.

As the thick Mist receded like an ebbing tide once more, a massive clam-like object on a nearby roof gaped open, revealing one red tentacle after another extending from the gap.

"Over there too!"

While they were still reeling from the sight, fresh screams rang out.

Soon, the people in the Plaza realized that wherever the thick Mist washed over, it truly acted like a sea tide, leaving behind numerous bizarre creations in its wake.

Most of them looked like grotesque amalgamations of various organisms, while some even bore the characteristics of non-living things.

"Discarded pieces."

Meeting Amira and Reginald's questioning gazes, the hunter Simon gave a slight nod, confirming the nature of the things.

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