Eldritch Horror Theatre

Huh?

Fu Qian naturally kept his eyes fixed on Doctor Dorian's trump card the entire time—the new pawn in whom high hopes had been placed.

Yet even as the man went completely still, with swarms of bugs crawling in and out of his mouth and nose, no miraculous phenomena occurred.

His flesh and blood were quickly assimilated, swelling the tide of insects as it continued to spill recklessly in all directions.

He had been wrong earlier. Compared to Madam Sarah, this thing was far more suited for studying fluid dynamics.

Anyone chosen to be in the Church was no ordinary figure, it seemed.

Even the Felt Hat Man—whose desire to survive was so intense that an erratic shifting in faith meant absolutely nothing to him—actually possessed an extraordinary power of his own.

Without the protection of Excellency Akons, Cold Mountain Town truly felt like it was descending into a dance of demons.

While its physical form did not look particularly advanced, from a Transcendent perspective, Fu Qian saw clearly that this torrent he had unleashed represented a highly malignant flesh pollution.

Following the collapse of the long-haired man—suspected to be an outsider—the remaining two were rapidly locked onto as targets.

The tide of bugs had no intention of sparing anyone.

"Get the hell away!"

Faced with this direct threat, Bro Downcast finally broke his pessimistic facade. He leaped up, snatching a chair to smash the insects to pieces.

Splat—

He actually did manage to crush a few of them.

Perhaps due to being acknowledged by the Holy Sword, he had been imbued with a fraction of its power.

The instant the chair in Bro Downcast's hands struck the ground, both the chair and the surrounding bugs—along with the very floor beneath them—shattered into paste.

But he did not hold the true Holy Sword. The swarm's advance suffered only a negligible disruption before quickly surging forward once more.

In fact, it looked as if even wielding the Holy Sword would have been useless.

As if from the recoil of that single strike, both of his hands twisted into bone-aching deformities. Unable to grasp anything ever again, he could only rely on his legs to flee for his life.

"Please guide us!"

Just as the tide of bugs seemed poised to swell once more, a familiar, trembling voice rang out just in time. It was the Old Lady in the corner.

As the person farthest from the Statue of Akons in the entire Church, she undeniably had the best chance to escape.

However, she apparently had no intention of fleeing alone into the dark, even though she had already uncorked the potion in her hand.

The next moment, she tossed that faintly glowing Boon Symbol directly into the air.

...

This was a clear departure from its previous usage; in theory, the potion was merely meant to be a detection tool.

Under the candlelight, however, the meager amount of remaining liquid instantly atomized into a cloud of mist midair.

The mist seemed almost alive. It roiled in the air, rapidly locking onto its prey before surging toward the tide of bugs on the floor.

The elimination was as silent and imperceptible as nourishing rain, yet agonized wails seemed to echo in the air.

The moment they made contact, the swarm's movements grew sluggish. The mist seemed to condense continuously over the insects, rapidly draining them of color until they became as crystal-clear as water.

In the end, they could no longer even maintain their basic outlines. They dissolved completely into a lifeless puddle.

This Boon Potion had actually miraculously eradicated the pollution.

Bro Downcast fled to the Old Lady's side, panting heavily. The look in his eyes made two things clear: he was far less composed in the face of death than he let on, and he completely failed to comprehend how he had just been saved.

Fu Qian, however, understood it to a certain extent.

Before shouting out and tossing the potion, the Old Lady had been praying silently. Yet, it was not difficult to read her lips.

Fu Qian was highly confident that the final word she mouthed was a name.

Only, it was definitely not Akons. Judging by her mouth, it looked more like "Skonge."

Did such an entity change its name? Or had it simply been pronounced wrong this entire time?

Was the Old Lady the only one with a Boon Potion simply because she alone knew its true name?

Had the former object of their faith responded to her, and her alone, in that critical moment?

He had to admit, this place raised a multitude of fascinating questions.

"Thank you."

Of course, now was not the time to quietly study theology. Fu Qian gave the Old Lady a slight nod, immediately thanking her for her help.

While the swarm had not posed a fatal threat to him, he was undoubtedly its primary target. The Old Lady's intervention had certainly saved him some effort.

Without waiting for her response, Fu Qian turned around and walked away, stepping through the doorway he had already crossed more than once to enter the night.

...

Dorian's control over his pawns was clearly not absolute.

Even with the dance of demons inside the Church, he was visibly incapable of forcing everyone to swarm Fu Qian at once.

In fact, the trouble Fu Qian had faced since coming upstairs felt less threatening than dealing with Sarah alone.

Perhaps it had to do with the unique nature of the Dolls. In order to mirror the original individuals' abilities, they had to be granted a certain degree of autonomy.

As for why he had suddenly left the Church, it was certainly not because he believed Dorian was out of tricks, nor was he planning to repeat his previous tactic of waiting out the night in order to escape.

Since the doctor had prescribed a remedy, there had to be a point to it.

During this foray into the dream, Fu Qian had not held back in showcasing his lethal capabilities.

Based on his performance thus far, he was confident that Dorian fully understood one thing: if Fu Qian successfully broke out of this dream, the doctor's only fate would be death.

Under such circumstances, Fu Qian highly doubted the doctor would have the luxury to make pointless moves.

Take that extra suspected outsider, for example. There was no way he had been placed there just to pad the numbers.

In fact, the moment he saw that terrified expression, Fu Qian had a nagging suspicion about the newcomer's true purpose in this place—

Rip!

There was actually no sound; Fu Qian had simply supplied the sound effect in his head.

Because in that instant, something swept across his chest. It sliced cleanly through his flesh, splitting the heart he had only recently stuffed back into place cleanly in two.

Miraculously, however, all the sensations that should have accompanied the wound—including the agonizing pain—seemed to drain away alongside the spraying blood.

It was an even more surreal sensation than watching oneself be surgically cut open under local anesthesia.

As for who delivered this sensation, the answer was easy to guess: that unspeakable "It."

After multiple failed attempts to track it down, he finally had the privilege of meeting it face-to-face here.

And he had barely taken a few steps beyond the perimeter of the Church.

This stood in stark contrast to his previous excursion, where Sarah had shrieked and wailed the entire way, yet still failed to draw "It" out.

This had to be the true purpose of the fourth person's presence.

His intense fear and specific traits meant that the terrifying entity lurking in the dark could materialize without requiring Fu Qian's cooperation, thereby making it impossible for Fu Qian to remain outside.

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