Eldritch Horror Theatre

Even a bad student might guess the right answer.

It was obvious by now that the assassin's stories about a Colosseum and "them" were fabricated just so he could experience a more intense dramatic twist.

But that room full of graffiti and the Eyeball Carpet still demanded an explanation.

It was true that his deep integration with the Other Shore allowed him to manipulate many things freely, but as established earlier, everyone had their limits.

In Fu Qian's view, Brother Zhao Ran's impoverished imagination was hardly enough to construct such a scene; in all likelihood, he was merely its discoverer.

In that case, who was the original author?

What was the deal with the Losers Alliance carved into the wall?

And why did the graffiti move?

To Fu Qian, these initial questions were still worth answering.

Unlike Old Man Feng and his group, who had only wandered around in circles, another group trapped in here had done far more.

Their legacy was discovered by Zhao Ran, and there was a considerable chance that the technique for deep integration with the Other Shore had come from them as well.

"Only one can be considered alive, but there really is a group of 'them.'"

Gratifyingly, the Pope's reliability was demonstrated once again.

She waved her hand as she spoke. The pool of blood suddenly boiled, surprisingly disgorging a human body.

...

The assassin.

To Fu Qian, the man was not difficult to recognize at all. The figure struggling as if drowning in the River Styx was precisely his recently eliminated scientific research partner, Zhao Ran.

His mental state had clearly deteriorated even further; he thrashed left and right in sheer madness.

Yet no matter how hard he tried, he remained covered by thick blood and filth, unable to struggle out of the mire.

Alas, do not blame this seat for being ruthless. The moment you stepped onto this path of scientific research, you should have known that every step would be bloody and cruel, with no chance of turning back.

Even a single slow step would lead to being cruelly abandoned, stripping away any lifelong hope of ever reaching the position of an academic leader.

"This is the living one?"

Sighing inwardly, Fu Qian casually verified.

"Yes. Although the Other Shore is indeed a dead thing, there are still some active traces inside. This one probably just integrated, so he remains relatively intact."

"Of course, as this place collapses, he will inevitably suffer the same fate."

The Witch nodded, ruthlessly forecasting Zhao Ran's destiny.

"It's fine. He was always proud of this earlier."

Fu Qian completely understood the man's broad-mindedness, indicating that this was no big deal.

"Additionally, I can only manifest him, not dominate his will. You won't be able to ask him anything."

The Witch's bad news continued.

"It doesn't matter. His contribution is already complete, and he wouldn't have been able to offer any valuable insights anyway... What about the remaining group?"

Fu Qian merely signaled that it wasn't an issue and turned his attention to the incomplete "them"—and they truly were quite incomplete.

The Witch didn't say anything more. Beneath the moonlight, the pool of blood churned again, roiling up a dense, tightly packed mass.

Whatever appeared this time could hardly be considered humanoid.

They looked like wax figures that had been baking in the sun all day before someone had blindly grabbed a handful out of the muck.

Aside from struggling similarly to Brother Zhao Ran—albeit on a much smaller scale—most lacked even the arms to struggle with.

The most intact wriggling trace among them could barely be recognized as a human skull, and even it was missing a chunk.

"They must have been integrated with this place for too long. Their personal wills have almost completely drained away, leaving behind a mere sliver of obsession at most."

As they observed, the Witch pointed out that communicating with this group was entirely impossible.

"But they couldn't have entered this state at the same time, right?"

Nodding slightly without much regret, Fu Qian checked.

"It seems so, but it's probably been quite a long time for all of them."

The Witch confirmed his suspicion.

"Understood. Now I need you to help me find something."

Although he had apparently guessed correctly and found his prize, it felt rather useless. "They" were now nothing more than an insignificant echo.

But Fu Qian still signaled that it was fine, then made a gesture.

"A roll of Parchment, or a cup made of Gold."

...

Honestly, either request sounded a bit outrageous.

Even as half a master of the Other Shore, facing these vast Ruins, searching for such items was akin to finding a needle in the ocean.

But for the dignified Dark Moon Pope, what does finding a needle in the ocean matter?

"Sorry. There is indeed some Gold, but there don't seem to be any cups."

Her face carrying doubt but lacking the slightest hesitation, the Witch actually offered a discovery after a brief moment of thought.

She reached a hand directly into the rift. When she pulled it back, she was holding a yellowed roll of something.

"Thanks for the hard work."

Not forgetting to express his thanks, Fu Qian casually accepted the visibly aged object.

It had clearly been snatched by the Witch from somewhere inside, so much so that faint cracks could be seen across its surface.

To prevent the antique from instantly crumbling, Fu Qian unrolled it with considerable care.

"No, there are cups."

As the Parchment slowly unrolled, Fu Qian gestured at it, indicating that the Witch had actually found both.

"They really are cups."

The Witch showed no displeasure at being corrected, leaning her head over to inspect the item seriously.

She noted that the rather small piece of Parchment was actually densely packed with drawn patterns, the most striking of which were dozens of goblets.

The rest were marks that differed slightly in their details but overall bore an uncanny resemblance to the four-armed patterns they had seen along the way.

One could even trace their step-by-step evolution, until they were completely identical by the end.

These marks also covered the surfaces of those cups.

"Do you know who these people were?"

With such a development, how could the Witch not draw connections? The next moment, she asked out of curiosity.

"I have a rough idea. I even know what organization they belonged to."

Fu Qian sighed softly, as if he could feel the heavy history of the item, and gestured above his head.

"The Holy Grail Cult. A research organization in the outside world that drills holes in heads, vainly attempting to pry into the mysteries of a Deity."

"They craft Holy Grails out of Gold, carve symbols of power onto them, and ultimately seal divinity inside to use for themselves."

When stating that name, Fu Qian recalled more than just one old acquaintance.

Mister Luo, Yuel, the Sage, Collins, Claudio...

"Unfortunately, it's obvious that when the true mysteries of a Deity are placed right before their eyes, it all becomes an incomprehensible nightmare."

"People vanished one by one, and the cult declined by the day, yet they couldn't find the reason. They couldn't even think to look for a reason, because they couldn't perceive that people were disappearing."

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!