Eldritch Horror Theatre

Half-Step Moon.

It hadn't actually been long since his last visit, but as the saying went, one should visit home often.

Nothing seemed to have changed, though.

A crimson radiance still shrouded everything, intensifying with his arrival, though the Red Moon made no sound at all.

Even the nearby armchair hadn't shifted a single inch.

Despite being battered and bruised, Fu Qian didn't go to sit in the Chair. He simply found a larger piece of rubble to perch on. As he sat down, he activated the Decree of Return once again.

The Crimson Lunar Radiance gently soothed him. This place—fundamentally illusory, yet so prone to making one feel suspended in the cosmos looking down on all living things—sank back into silence.

Unbothered by the desolation, Fu Qian maintained the posture of a thinker, looking as though he could sit there forever.

...

Fu Qian really was deep in thought, tallying up the gains and losses of his recent trip.

The first item on that list was undoubtedly his SAN Value.

Unsurprisingly, compared to the 29-point toll inflicted earlier by Brother Sanxun, he had lost an extra 5 points on top of it.

How he lost them wasn't hard to figure out—the disappearance of the laws had merely been an illusion woven by Patches. What about Brother Sanxun, then, who was practically one with those laws?

Fu Qian leaned toward the theory that he had simply entered an invisible state as well.

That meant if Brother Sanxun kept attacking him, those strikes would likely still land, just delayed for a while—much like his physical injuries.

And he was almost guaranteed to do exactly that.

After all, looking at that final scene, it definitely appeared as though he, the chief culprit, was using the Great Summoning Technique to stir up chaos.

He had to admit, Brother Patches really lived up to his reputation as a troll.

With that kind of "help," anyone a little less durable wouldn't have even known how they died.

Fortunately, the only reason he had thought to use the Lantern back then was to toss a high-level variable into their predicament. He had never expected it to be a free ticket out.

A projection was just a projection. It would most likely dissipate as soon as its time was up, so it was hard to imagine it having much drive to break the cage.

In fact, for many higher entities struggling to survive, keeping a projection permanently anchored under those restraints might not even be a bad thing.

Add in the fact that the summoned figure turned out to be the most unlikely candidate he could have guessed, and Fu Qian's immediate reaction had been to write it off as a prank.

That was why he had adopted the stance of a completely unflappable spectator.

Of course, Brother Patches' contributions couldn't be ignored.

He might have made the situation more perilous, but he had indeed provided a window for escape.

Though what the guy probably wanted to see was the bloody, limb-tearing spectacle of Fu Qian scrambling toward that window.

But by capitalizing on it, Fu Qian had successfully escaped without blowing his trump cards, maintaining his sorcerer persona right up to the bitter end.

As a result, the West Plain would likely return to peace as well.

...

The Record of True Transcription had been destroyed by his own hands. The tree that attained the Golden Body had chosen to isolate itself from the world. Sha Ming had reaped some benefits but lost a supreme treasure, the Huang Clan had suffered a devastating blow, and there was likely more than one bloody massacre within West Plain City that wouldn't stay hidden for much longer.

With things escalating to this point, no matter how grand the ambitions of whoever was behind the puppet, they would have to step back and clean up the mess.

Given everything they had done during this incident, they would most likely cover the whole thing up flawlessly.

Without even revisiting the old haunt, he could imagine the sheer survival pressure Sha Ming would be facing now.

And with himself—the mysterious wild card—missing in action and unable to apply pressure, the cover-up efforts likely wouldn't default to the most extreme methods.

From that perspective, even just for the sake of the West Plain locals, it was best if he didn't rush back.

On top of that, the fact that he could sync directly to the Half-Step Moon without wearing his mask proved that the Red Moon was once again flexing her divine status.

He just didn't know what would happen if he sat in that Chair right now.

"Heh..."

Fu Qian didn't test it. Instead, he focused on repairing his bodily trauma, casually manifesting a pair of shorts while he was at it.

Just as he was finishing up his patchwork, a string of soft laughter suddenly rang out.

He looked over to see a figure silently materialize in the Chair.

Bare feet crossed, a blood-red dress clung to her body like spider silk. Even from this close, her face remained completely obscured.

The Red Moon... Fu Qian was intimately familiar with this look.

Back during the Pseudo-God Ritual, in that sweet nightmare he had been plunged into, the Red Moon, calling herself Mother, had appeared looking exactly like this. She had even helped him mend his wounds.

Of course, that was a one-time thing. Outside of the dream, she had never manifested a human form, and she had been utterly silent for a while now.

Even after consuming Yasui Tokiyuki as a blood pack, it didn't seem to have improved her condition much.

"I took a long trip recently, and work has been piling up since I got back..."

Even though her face was hidden and she hadn't spoken since that initial chuckle, Fu Qian was absolutely certain the Red Moon was "looking" at him.

Meeting her gaze, the mostly-recovered Fu Qian stood up and walked right over to the armchair.

Plonking himself back down with perfect ease, he didn't use the opportunity to pry into ancient secrets. Instead, he just started chatting, casually venting about his work problems as if he didn't care whether the Red Moon replied or not.

"Fortunately, a few of my current projects are actually showing results..."

"Not only are the higher-ups satisfied, but some of the colleagues who used to complain about the work arrangements are fired up now, too..."

"But coming back, I realized quite a few people are itching to return home, so it doesn't look like I'll be catching a break anytime soon..."

...

"Good child..."

The Red Moon was clearly a fantastic listener. She hadn't shown a shred of impatience through his rambling, aimless complaints.

And after Fu Qian finished laying out his bright hopes for the future, she finally spoke up, leading straight in with praise.

Looks like it actually worked. This expedition really paid off.

Hearing her voice again after all this time left Fu Qian feeling deeply gratified.

It was obvious the Red Moon was in bad shape, and just looking at her, it was clear recovery wouldn't be easy.

But Fu Qian had never forgotten the sight he had witnessed the very first time he answered her summons.

Those jagged, claw-like ravines across the surface, as if a physical body had been forcibly mashed and molded into the shape of a moon.

Those same claws had even unfurled when she captured Yasui Tokiyuki.

At the time, he had judged that she was suffering from the exact same thing as Hamadus—some kind of curse that even a Deity couldn't resist was twisting her out of shape.

One of the major spoils of his recent expedition was the newly upgraded Decree of Return. Even before its evolution, it had already shown some seriously impressive dispelling capabilities.

As it turned out, it was now having a slight effect on the Red Moon's condition too—even if it was just a tiny bit.

Fu Qian didn't move as he made this silent assessment. He simply let the Red Moon—who had gone quiet again after that single phrase—gently trace her fingers across his face and up to his forehead.

They were just the soft pads of her fingers, but he had absolutely no doubt that they could crack his skull open again at a moment's notice.

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