Eldritch Horror Theatre

The value of his earlier assessment was still rising. Just what kind of major figure could pull something like this off?

That literally blossoming smile was right in front of him. Jean herself seemed completely unaware of it, simply staring straight down at him from her towering height.

Fu Qian didn't fret over this minor predicament. Instead, he marveled at the situation on a much grander scale.

He had just praised this place for its rare normality, yet in the blink of an eye, the supernatural metrics were already off the charts. The Frost-Cold Halo radiating from Jean was proof enough.

Furthermore, this didn't look like a simple case of her transforming under stress. It felt much more like the old saying: the one at fault was the world itself.

The tightly drawn curtains, the sudden disappearance of everyone else, the separated milk in his glass, and the dark red stains covering the floor that Jean completely ignored...

All of these signs indicated one of two things: either he was under a severe mental influence, or he had completely detached from the world he was in just moments ago.

It was as if he had accidentally tripped a switch and plummeted into another layer of reality—an Inner World?

While the concept sounded a bit dramatic, it fit his current situation perfectly.

The quiet yet lived-in space he had occupied moments ago was merely the outermost surface. One careless step and he would fall straight into a pit—a snake pit, at that.

Everything within his line of sight could only be described as a heightened cult-horror scene.

Though that still wasn't the reason behind Fu Qian's awe.

The most crucial point was that even with this sudden eruption of supernatural forces, he himself hadn't experienced a single change.

Fu Qian was absolutely certain that he was still confined to a Mortal Body at this moment. In fact, the side of his body closest to Jean was rapidly going numb from the freezing chill.

He had witnessed far too many horrific scenes; the one playing out before him barely even registered.

And considering this was a mission labeled as Number 1, Fu Qian had never really expected to enjoy any peaceful years.

To some extent, the shift happening right in front of him could be considered a reward for his own proactive meddling.

He had spotted something suspicious, verified his theories, and applied a little pressure. That calculated gamble had paid off beautifully, revealing the other side of this world.

All of that was true.

However, the fact that the power of the King of the Abandoned Prison still failed to manifest even under these conditions was more than a little terrifying.

...

Setting traps and laying down rules to maximize every possible advantage on one's home turf.

It didn't surprise Fu Qian in the slightest that his mission target would resort to such tactics.

Yet, at the end of the day, these advantages required a foundational power source to support them. If they didn't, the entity could have just instantly dropped its opponent's Health Bar to zero.

Based on his observations over the past several days, this foundational support relied not only on a being's personal power Rank and authority, but also on how deeply they committed to entering the game as a piece.

Take the Corrupted Sword Heart from his early days at the Academy, for instance. During their final game, it had established a rule: if the two of them made physical contact, he would instantly lose if he felt any fear.

But for that rule to actually work, the entity itself had to be bound by the flip side of the condition: if he didn't feel fear, then it would lose instead.

True binding power could only be enforced when the rulemaker was subject to their own rules.

Yet here he was, plunged into an Inner World saturated with supernatural forces, and his power as the King of the Abandoned Prison hadn't been unsealed in the slightest.

Could the system really apply such a massive double standard against a mechanically rebooted ancient higher entity?

This was starting to feel a lot like a dimensional strike.

Even if this wasn't an Inner World, but merely a mental attack like deep hypnosis, the core principle remained exactly the same.

It made him truly wonder just what kind of power was holding all of this up.

Still, he had to look on the bright side. He might be trapped in a deadly situation, but his Health Bar hadn't instantly zeroed out, had it?

Since the Warehouse had issued this as a mission, the current scenario had to be the result of a balanced clash between both forces.

"I didn't see anything, but I heard it."

Making a fair assessment of the situation and fully acknowledging its severity didn't stop Fu Qian from maintaining his polite demeanor.

The breakfast shop uniform was still a little too vibrant. Its bright red accents were so stark they were glaring even in the dim light, giving Jean the terrifying aura of a female ghost ready to lunge at any moment.

"Additionally, there seems to be a bit of a problem with my glass of milk."

Even so, after politely answering her, Fu Qian didn't show the slightest intention of fleeing the danger zone. Instead, he simply pointed at the glass in front of him and politely continued to voice his complaint.

Indeed, as the chill invaded, the milk in the glass before him had completely solidified. Coupled with the mottled stains on the outside of the cup, it looked incredibly unappetizing.

Anyone would consider this a completely reasonable complaint.

Yet at that exact moment, the biting cold suddenly surged.

...

"What's wrong with it?"

The last trace of a smile vanished from her face. Jean's deathly pale face locked onto him, her eyes practically motionless, to the point that Fu Qian felt he could almost see the hairline fractures on her corneas.

Only after staring at him like this for a moment did she finally shift her gaze to the food he was complaining about.

But as the employee receiving the complaint, Jean ultimately fell back on human nature, showing a deep reluctance to admit fault.

"It isn't cold enough. I suspect you gave me a glass left over from the previous customer."

The customer's complaint, however, remained firm. Speaking in a gentle tone, Fu Qian lied through his teeth without batting an eye.

Hmm...

Jean finally leaned over and picked up the glass in front of him.

Just that simple movement brought her hand slightly closer, and her five fingers seemed to radiate Frigid Ice True Qi, making Fu Qian feel as if the blood in his chest had stopped flowing.

Crack—

She held it up to her face, inspecting it closely for a mere two seconds before a crisp shattering sound rang out.

The glass shards fell from Jean's fingertips to the floor, leaving nothing but a solid block of ice in her hand.

"Very cold."

Acting as if she hadn't noticed a thing, Jean actually offered the block of ice back to him.

Although she had softly spoken only those two words, she looked exactly like she had reached the absolute limit of her patience with an unreasonable customer.

"Besides, it's still so dark out right now. Where would an earlier customer even come from?"

Before Fu Qian could say anything, she had already given another reason and reached out to pull the curtains open.

...

It was indeed very dark.

The atmosphere inside the breakfast shop wasn't simply because the cloth curtains were blocking out the light—they were even blocking out the wind.

He looked over at the massive window beside them. Not only was it covered in the same stains as the floor inside, but over half of its glass had long since shattered.

Looking out from this angle, everything outside was a hazy blur, like a polar night in the fog. Through the broken pane in the window, the darkness almost seemed like a tangible object, drifting inside with the breeze.

So it really was the world that was at fault?

Judging by the look of it, even if he luckily managed to escape this place, he would most likely face a similarly dangerous scene.

Fu Qian, who was never one for blind optimism anyway, found this scene to be well within his expectations. For now, it simply served as a minor verification.

What caught his attention was another point—the table was quite long, and from this position, Jean actually shouldn't have been able to reach the curtain.

Indeed, even though her hand had made the motion and the curtain had really been pulled open, there hadn't actually been any physical contact between the two at any point.

Between the Frost-Cold Halo, crushing the glass cup, and telekinetically pulling open the curtain, it was obvious that within the domain of this breakfast shop, the woman before him was essentially a master of both physical and magical attacks.

Avoiding being frozen to pieces by her while simultaneously turning tail to run probably wouldn't be so easy—but why should he run?

Fu Qian reached into his coat, pulled out a handgun, and placed it on the table.

"It really isn't cold enough."

And with his other hand, he took that block of ice and held it, his expression unchanged.

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