Eldritch Horror Theatre

A very good approach, but this night hunter—let us call him the White-Faced Man—was ultimately still too weak.

Though his imposing aura and ferocious bladework were striking, he was at most on the same level as Old Man Li He when the latter advanced mid-battle at Ehm Palace.

Compared to the boons carried by the other Natives, he still lacked the distinct presence of a higher entity.

In the current situation, simply put, he lacked any high-Rank means of destruction.

Even if Fu Qian stood perfectly still and let him hack away, the opponent would still have to expend considerable effort to completely obliterate his lifeforce.

And Fu Qian definitely had no intention of doing something so boring.

As for why he had not just grabbed the previous strike?

Simple. Given how the two Hilarias were clinging to his body, the strike had successfully caught Hilaria II as she sprawled across his chest, instantly obliterating her soul with a single cut.

The direct result was that without her combined effort, the intoxicating intensity of that "release" plummeted instantly, trailing off into a downward slope just like the crying sounds.

All in all, if Doctor Dorian intended to use this as his trump card, he needed to try a little harder.

Especially since the White-Faced Man did not seem to follow orders very well, having immediately butchered a pawn with his first swing.

But that was fine. Fu Qian chose to put his faith in the doctor; he surely had other methods.

Speaking of which, if both Hilarias died, could the "treatment" still be completed? And if so, how?

Would he need to return to the Church to figure it out himself? Or would they resurrect if he waited a while?

"Seeing as Your Excellency is dressed quite decently, you should know that casually interrupting others is impolite."

An astonishing surge of force transmitted through his hand. Unfortunately, pondering technical issues did not stop Fu Qian from tightening his grip, firmly locking the Long Blade in place.

"Now, let us continue. Its name is Mercy, and it specializes in granting release."

It was obvious the opponent highly valued the Fracture Cleaver and refused to give it up easily, temporarily throwing the situation into a stalemate.

This was when the disadvantage of a long weapon became apparent. The distance between them was simply too great; unless one had long-range attacks or stretchable arms, throwing a punch was completely out of reach.

But that was fine. The opponent lacked long-range attacks, but he had them.

Even as he spoke, Fu Qian raised his left hand and aimed Mercy at his opponent once more.

Bang—

The next moment, he pulled the trigger. Golden fire sprayed from the barrel, identical to before.

'Time to step it up, Doctor.'

...

Pfft!

For a moment, Fu Qian even wondered if white ash would splatter outward.

The White-Faced Man's obsession with his weapon was truly extraordinary. Despite being at such a disadvantage in combat, he still refused to let go, only attempting to dodge at the very last second.

Unfortunately, Fu Qian had not been aiming for his head, but rather the hand holding the weapon.

One must excel at forcing the opponent to make a choice.

Between dropping his weapon and getting shot, the White-Faced Man had undeniably made a difficult choice, taking a solid bullet directly to the shoulder as a result.

Bang, bang, bang—

Fu Qian showed no mercy either, emptying the rest of the cylinder and forcing his opponent to make three more consecutive choices.

The only pity was that, despite being specially crafted by the Night Watchers, their physical stopping power was ultimately limited. In the end, they only shredded the opponent's unique coat, exposing the equally pallid body beneath.

Urghhhh—

Fortunately, since they were enchanted bullets, physical power was not everything.

The blooming golden flames did not set any clothing alight. However, almost exactly as Fu Qian holstered the empty revolver, something seemed to ignite within those wildly feral eyes.

A completely mindless roar tore from the White-Faced Man's throat.

Although the sound alone made it obvious that verbal communication was no longer an option, it was at least comforting to see that this roar finally brought about a change.

Beneath the bullet-torn clothes, a long, slender bulge rapidly formed across his pallid skin.

Segment by segment, it initially looked a bit like a snake.

But Fu Qian instantly dismissed that thought, thinking instead of something else entirely—a spine.

Though the size was a bit small, the shape was unmistakably a closer match.

The subsequent changes proved his theory correct. Soon, dense clusters of bulging protrusions began to surface, and it was easy to tell that more than one of them bore the distinct outline of a skull.

Chaotic, crowded, and equally miniature in size, they looked like a mass grave piled atop a giant's body.

Surging rapidly, the protrusions even spread all the way onto the Long Blade, instantly transforming it into a true Butcher's Cleaver.

...

'See, motivation actually works. His combat power is definitely climbing.'

Gripping the blade, Fu Qian was undoubtedly the first to bear the brunt of it.

Given the sudden, explosive increase in the weapon's bulk, it abruptly became much harder for him to maintain his grip.

Of course, Fu Qian knew perfectly well that this was only surface deep; the White-Faced Man's new trick was absolutely not just a weapon transformation.

In that moment, he could clearly feel something entirely new welling up from within the man.

Not only had the White-Faced Man's Rank climbed once again, but if he took a hit from that blade now, the consequences would likely be far more severe.

And this change was obviously tied to Dorian.

The golden fire he had channeled into the bullets had still managed to affect the White-Faced Man slightly.

And that slight instability was clearly not something Dorian, who had placed high hopes in his creation, wanted to see. Thus, he had used some unknown method to reinforce him.

Not bad, but—crack!

Driven by a maddening surge of power, the Butcher's Cleaver was slowly scraping free from his grip. Yet for a brief moment, the weapon seemed to tremble.

Unfortunately, this did absolutely nothing to alter its fate. Accompanied by a sound that resembled an endless, agonizing wail, the blade was forcibly snapped off at the one-third mark.

Chastisement from a sage was not just meant for people; it was also highly effective at breaking things.

Clang!

As grey powder drifted from his fingers, Fu Qian casually tossed the now unrecognizable broken blade at his opponent's feet.

Still not enough.

At this point, the White-Faced Man might have become an opponent whose every strike demanded serious attention, but he still had not displayed anything truly spectacular.

He remained nothing more than a phantom of this dreamscape. His degree of Transcendence could not even compare to Sarah and the others.

Dorian needed to work harder, and he was running out of time.

Because Fu Qian had already spent quite some time out in the night. If he dragged this out any longer, he would have to leave.

It appeared he was indeed trying. Gripping his broken blade, the White-Faced Man froze for only a split second before abruptly reversing his grip and plunging the weapon deep into his own stomach.

Accompanying this act of self-mutilation, Fu Qian could clearly sense yet another profound shift taking place. It was something even more—huh?

While Fu Qian was waiting in eager anticipation, he watched as grey powder began to drift down from that pallid face, rapidly spreading across the man's entire body in the blink of an eye.

In less than a breath's time, both man and blade had vanished without a trace.

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