Eldritch Horror Theatre

"Dark Branch Fallen Hand." An interesting name.

Judging by the final evaluation, it even carried a certain moral ambiguity, blurring the line between good and evil.

By the time the task evaluation ended, Fu Qian had found his footing.

Leaving via a successful mission completion rather than having to kill himself was a pleasant surprise.

At the very least, it saved him a point of SAN Value.

Even if his overall expenditure during this mission was far more extreme.

To maximize the effect during the final reverse-trace, he had activated Pseudo-God Incarnation one last time. That alone had cost him forty points.

Honestly, if Brother Proxy had just held out for a few more seconds, the outcome would have been entirely different.

A pity. He just couldn't manage that final grit of his teeth.

...

The good news: his final strategy had proven effective.

Upon exiting the mission, the blood loss effect—previously magnified by the power of the Nightmare—had been reset by the Warehouse, returning his bleeding to a normal rate.

That bought him a little more time on his countdown.

The bad news: exactly as he'd feared, the Warehouse hadn't replenished his lost blood.

It only bought him a very short extension.

The even worse news: while it had healed his physical trauma, it hadn't restored his lost "self."

Namely, his missing left arm and his split-open skull.

Fu Qian was absolutely certain his head was no longer round, and he was currently seeing the world through only one eye.

[Name: Bronze Fishbone Hook]

Gazing at his single arm with his single eye, he thumbed over the special reward from this trip.

[Type: Ring]

[Effect: An unholy hook forged from brass, its surface stained with filth.

Its already crude appearance was violently warped and twisted when it was torn free. Not only has it lost any semblance of aesthetic appeal, but the wearer must also be careful not to be impaled by it when equipping it.

Upon activation, fires a slow-swimming fish. Any creature struck by it will slowly be transformed into a part of the fish, starting from the wound.

Because it was once a link within the rules of reality, its shattered state is all the more profane.

Can only be activated once every seven days.]

[Note: At the moment the hook is bitten, was it the fish that was fooled, or the man who answered the call?]

Bronze Ring Fish?

Studying the special reward in his hand, he effortlessly recognized it. It was the exact same model as the one on the fish he had eaten.

In fact, it was somehow even uglier. Just as the description stated, strands of grime—nearly identical in color to the filth on the Proxy—coated almost the entire band.

At a glance, it looked like something dredged out of a fetid sewer.

But the effect was rather interesting. That sensation of growing onto the fish's body had certainly left a lasting impression.

And the exaggerated one-week cooldown gave it an undeniable flair.

Without hesitating, Fu Qian slipped it on one-handed.

His five fingers instantly became far more ostentatious.

Right before he had eaten the fish, he had quickly transferred all his Rings—which were normally concealed within his flesh—moving them all onto this single remaining hand.

Coupled with the fact that several of them looked like cheap flea-market knockoffs, the tacky nouveau-riche aesthetic was cranked to the absolute max.

Having done that, Fu Qian inspected his body once more. Confirming that he was covered in scars and missing vital parts, he finally looked up at the sky in satisfaction.

There had been a lot of bad news, but there was one piece of incredibly good news: the connection he had finally managed to clarify hadn't been severed by the mission's completion.

If anything, it was even clearer.

Partly, perhaps, because he had returned to reality. And partly, perhaps, because the eyeball he had tossed over was acting as a sort of beacon.

The moment he saw that Other Shore of the Stars, Fu Qian knew it was an existence similar to the Half-Step Moon.

An ancient creation of the Deity Tier. Extremely dangerous.

But it had one advantage: in places like that, the physical concept of distance was often blurred.

This was wonderfully convenient for his next move, because the little time he had left probably wasn't enough to support a long journey.

[SAN Value -10]

Activating Pseudo-God Incarnation once more, Fu Qian forcibly elevated his Rank and focused his entire mind on the connection.

He held on until darkness and Frostfire once again flooded his vision and will.

He took a step forward.

...

Truly exquisite.

Incredibly miraculous yet entirely natural. By the time Fu Qian's foot touched down, he was already standing amid a sea of blooming flowers.

Flowers blooming beneath the Far End of the Stars.

Countless commandment patterns—the very same ones he had seen on The Order, the Blood Clan, and even Ill Omen—manifested the concept of laws in a state of unparalleled, luxuriant bloom.

Every arc and curl looked like a perfect work of art, forged by the union of knowledge and thousands of years of time.

At the same time, they were a single, cohesive entity.

Despite how overwhelmingly complex they appeared, Fu Qian realized this fact the instant he saw them.

Nested, interlocking, and spinning like a piece of flawlessly precise machinery, they were the very embodiment of "perfection."

And the power driving this perfection was the dancing Frostfire within it.

The Witch, Nelgria.

The source of this Frostfire was all too easy to pinpoint.

Fu Qian knew perfectly well that the target of his escort mission was deep within the vortex, and this fire was born entirely from her.

Had she been dragged here to be burned as firewood... or had she simply been defined as the charcoal itself?

Beyond sensing the identity of the connection's source, Fu Qian could also perceive a certain underlying essence.

The Witch hadn't been trapped in some cage. She had been defined.

Through its own operation, the Law had imposed the concept of "fuel" onto her, and perhaps even onto him.

Was this the ultimate display of the Law's power?

Had the reappearance of the bygone Stars and the Law a month ago been driven by the burning of the Witch?

And once she realized she couldn't escape this fate, had she left one final boon for the Outland Knight, released the sheltered denizens of the Painting World, found her way here, and ultimately fallen into slumber?

If that was true, with the Mother's blood used for painting and the daughter designated as fuel, being the "Daughter of Filth" really was a tough lot in life.

Of course, she probably couldn't sleep much longer. He could clearly see that, compared to when he was in the mission, the freezing Frostfire had already dimmed significantly.

His previous judgment had been correct. She didn't have much time left.

This was his only chance to act as her escort, even though it looked like he didn't stand a chance.

Every Law Pattern was a manifestation of the most fundamental power of the Law, utterly indestructible.

What Jacques had used to trap him back then was nothing more than a mere projection of these.

Riiiip!

Amid his sighs, the fresh jacket Fu Qian had just changed into was once again torn to shreds by his expanding physique.

Resplendent Tyrant, reawakened.

Naturally, Fu Qian wasn't optimistic enough to think he could destroy the world with this alone.

Thud!

A heavy metal Head Cage was yanked from his wound and tossed to the ground.

Next came a transparent bow...

A damaged metal Handbell...

A Silver-White Pistol...

Having unequipped all his bulky items and stretched his flesh to its absolute limit, Fu Qian gave a long stretch and released every restraint on his body.

Amid a spray of blood and gore, his already-broken body instantly distorted beyond recognition. He retained almost no human features whatsoever, forming a stark contrast with the pristine Law before him.

It was indeed an incredibly precise masterpiece. But common sense dictated that you really shouldn't let a lawless drunkard into a room where precision instruments were stored.

The next moment, Fu Qian locked onto an item in his sole remaining left eye—an item he hadn't yet had a chance to use.

With a single blink, this brutally mangled body would plummet into a Deity-defying hangover.

Given the situation, out of all the trump cards he had left, this seemed to be the only one with any chance of being effective—even if it was just a chance.

But wasn't that exactly where the fun lay?

Fu Qian blinked.

...

Someone was humming.

In the darkness, that was the first piece of information Fu Qian received.

The second piece of information was that something was gently patting his body in time with the melody.

Using the sensation of those pats to trace a path to an organ that could vaguely be called an eye, Fu Qian slowly opened it toward the source of the sound.

The humming came to an abrupt halt.

A pale, bewitching face loomed over him, gazing down at him in total silence.

According to the feedback from his senses, his current form wasn't much better than a worm's.

Yet the owner of that familiar face still held him carefully in her arms, cradling him as if he were a fragile infant.

The gentle pats had been landing on his back, though they had naturally stopped by now.

This scene, suspended as if time itself had frozen, dragged on for quite a while.

At some point, Fu Qian felt a pressure on his back as his head was unexpectedly held even closer.

That previously emotionless face suddenly sparked to life. Leaning over in a nursing posture, she let out a soft giggle.

"Do you love Mother?"

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