Eldritch Horror Theatre

Everything thrived, teeming with life.

Even in the dead of winter, the warm afternoon sun over the Academy remained soothing.

Though his field of vision was confined to a tiny radius, it didn't stop Fu Qian from marveling at the beauty of life.

After just a few steps, he could clearly tell he was approaching the Benevolent Curse Institute—the exact one he knew so well.

Fakes could never become real. The apocalypse would be conquered in the end.

That was right. After he put the mask back on, the gospel, the wailing, the darkness, the flaming claws... all of it had vanished without a trace, just like the wrath of Her Excellency the Mother of Gospel.

The fabricated history had cleanly reverted to falsehood.

It seemed finding Master Yuhun was ultimately easier for the Mother of Gospel than finding him, prompting her to make a swift choice.

He had no idea if this came with a price, but as the one reaping the benefits, Fu Qian still felt he had worked hard enough.

His leisurely attitude was so striking that when he meandered up to the gates of the Benevolent Curse Institute with the relaxed air of someone on a tea break, the staff on duty were clearly bewildered.

He couldn't blame them. His uniquely styled Armor was one thing, but right now, this academic titan was clutching a disposable paper cup in his right hand. His posture was so classically casual that one couldn't help but look for a small pastry in his other hand.

"Are you... planning to go inside, sir?"

After their efforts to make sense of the sight yielded nothing, the two gatekeepers finally remembered to confirm his intentions.

"Can I go in?"

The Miracle restricting his perception finally shattered completely at this point. Fu Qian smiled as he examined the two somewhat familiar Night Watchers, noting that this conversation felt a bit familiar too.

"You may come and go freely, sir."

As Night Watchers, they naturally wouldn't be afraid of an academic, but they still answered swiftly, their tone meticulous.

Oh? It surprisingly felt like he commanded an exalted status everywhere he went.

It was easy to guess that Yuan Fang and the others had given special instructions. Faced with an experience so remarkably similar to his time at the Sword Comprehension Institute, Professor Fu felt deeply gratified.

"No, I'm just taking a walk."

He immediately waved them off, indicating he was just out for a stroll, and even raised his paper cup to emphasize the point.

"Alright..."

The two Night Watchers were at a loss for words, simply nodding with stiff expressions.

...

He wasn't trying to keep a low profile; the projects on the Benevolent Curse Institute's side were mostly wrapped up, so there was genuinely no need to go in and bother them.

Besides, he really did need a moment to rest.

The sudden spike in his inner demon index wasn't just an empty warning.

His use of The World just now had certainly been an unorthodox move, forcing his opponent to voluntarily dismantle their meticulously laid traps—and likely incur a hefty price in the process.

But the price he had to pay for it was making itself known right now: the world was rejecting him.

For instance, even though everything seemed perfectly normal, the mid-afternoon sunlight shining down on him failed to provide a single trace of warmth.

Even in this temporary file before his eyes, his synchronization rate was dropping. It felt like a dream he could wake up from at any second.

If this situation progressed to its limit, he would simply be kicked out of this isolated zone completely.

And once materialism failed, the only thing waiting for the Academy would be complete idealism. It would follow in Akons's intended footsteps, becoming just another part of Master Yuhun's "pure self."

As for the people inside... judging by the reactions of the two Night Watchers just now, the rest of the Academy had continued to operate normally while he was constantly being tossed into temporary files.

Yet so far, he hadn't seen any massive disturbances, which meant the shift toward idealism remained largely unnoticed.

For an Academy whose vitality had already been severely damaged, an opponent like this was simply far too overpowered.

If he lost, everyone here would likely be left completely powerless to resist.

Of course, even if he was currently at a disadvantage, they were still a long way from that point.

He was just taking a brief break to stabilize his condition, ensuring he could remain a stubborn thorn in their side and eventually mount a counterattack.

As he walked, he could already clearly make out the cool, glazed roof of the Laboratory.

But Fu Qian didn't keep going. Instead, he sat down on a roadside bench, stretched lazily, and zoned out while staring at the leaves of a nearby snow tree.

Paired with the empty paper cup in his hand, he gave off the perfect vibe of an aloof loner lost in his own world.

"Is this seat taken?"

What a pity. As if they would ever just let him catch his breath.

The most vibrantly green snow tree leaf in his line of sight was plucked off by a hand the very next second.

And the culprit who so brazenly lacked public decency didn't flee the scene, but instead walked right up to him with the leaf in hand.

...

"It's free."

The bench was long enough for someone to lie down and sleep on. Fu Qian wasn't so lacking in basic decency as to hog the whole thing, so he immediately gestured for the newcomer to take a seat.

It was a face he had never seen before, and he couldn't sense any Transcendent Tier Rank from them at all.

Their appearance was astonishingly exquisite, their robes completely spotless.

The person who promptly sat down next to him had quite a distinctive look.

They were about his height. He couldn't discern their age, or even their gender—yet they simultaneously exuded the beauty of both.

"Professor Fu Qian?"

While Fu Qian was giving them this high mental appraisal, the newcomer twirled the leaf in their fingers and suddenly asked in an emotionless tone.

"That's me. And you are?"

Treating it as a chance encounter, Fu Qian fully displayed the easygoing amiability of an intellectual, nodding naturally.

"Melia."

"Alright, Yuhun."

...

"If you dislike that name, calling me Master might be a bit better."

The jump in logic between their exchange was rather stark. Faced with Fu Qian blatantly swapping out their name, the newcomer pondered for a moment before offering a new suggestion.

It really is you, huh.

"Alright, Master Melia."

Having successfully verified his suspicion, Fu Qian was in a stellar mood and naturally proved quite adept at readily accepting good advice.

"As you wish. Do you know why I'm here?"

Melia gave up on correcting his forms of address and pivoted to a new question.

"If you know, why wouldn't I?"

Trying to tell this stubborn opponent that he had it all wrong—that Fu Qian was actually an objective, independent third party rather than his inner demon—would clearly be a waste of breath.

So Fu Qian seamlessly leaned into their twisted two-in-one dynamic, smiling as he fired the question back.

Why else would you be here?

The very moment this person had sat down beside him, the gentle breeze from just a second ago vanished entirely.

Even though the leaves on the trees across the street were still swaying in the wind, Fu Qian couldn't feel it at all.

Kicking a man while he was down—Melia was clearly using this close-quarters contact to accelerate the area's rejection of Fu Qian.

"Do you know how I am able to be here?"

Unfazed by Fu Qian's answer, Melia pressed on.

"I do."

Fu Qian nodded again.

The logic was hardly complicated. As one side waned, the other waxed; in a place where materialism was being rejected, idealism would naturally run rampant.

On one hand, Fu Qian was being actively repelled. On the other, Master Yuhun had grown powerful enough to simply manifest someone out of thin air.

As for why he chose to manifest Melia?

It was painfully obvious. Even though he had failed to claim Akons, he had successfully digested the legacy of that higher entity.

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