Eldritch Horror Theatre

Without a word, the heavy hitter simply outed himself.

That alone seemed to capture exactly how high-strung The Prisoners were, and underscored the sheer importance of strategic patience.

A ruthless man wastes no words. His earlier silent smile likely piled on far more pressure than directly accusing the other party of being a fake Persuader.

The ultimate result was that the elaborate setups, the atmospheric buildup, and the grand entrance orchestrated by that heavy hitter Inside the Door all shattered at the slightest touch.

This tied back to the previously mentioned "prisoner's dilemma". Trapped for far too long, everyone was seemingly working together to snatch a stepping stone for their prison break, resorting to absolutely any means necessary for that sliver of hope.

But there was one underlying premise regardless: even if everything went all according to plan, they still needed enough strength left to fight for a spot to climb out.

In a sense, the entity standing before them was already the ultimate manifestation of The Prisoners' courage.

Plotting against two High Tier targets at once, they couldn't possibly be so naive as to think they could pull it off without getting serious.

It was just a pity that, when put to the test, the quality of that courage still seemed a bit lacking.

Although the party in question didn't seem to agree, the voice of the Inner Persuader rang out again from somewhere down the corridor in the blink of an eye.

"The Tyrant is the Tyrant. Even in a dream like this, you remain as repulsive as ever."

He was undoubtedly emphasizing that he hadn't left yet, thereby framing his previous actions as a mere tease.

Even the ensuing remark carried plenty of theatrical flair, directly calling out the moniker of the King of the Abandoned Prison.

To be honest, it carried a bit of shock value at first, but upon further reflection, it wasn't strange at all.

Among the prisoners alone, there was His Excellency Arakiel and a Serpent of Destiny, who explicitly knew his identity as the King of the Abandoned Prison.

Given their current intertwined state—where they seemed ready to share bodily fluids—sharing a little information was nothing.

"He seems intent on playing hide-and-seek with us."

Although Fu Qian perfectly understood the Inner Persuader's statement, he ignored him and turned to speak to the Witch instead.

"Yes, he certainly hasn't left, but he is in an extremely peculiar state of transformation, stealth, and sheltering. Locking onto him won't be easy."

The Witch nodded; great minds think alike.

It was the most natural reaction imaginable. Unwilling to risk a direct confrontation, yet wanting to drag things out so they could be assimilated a little longer, what else could he do but run in circles and play guerrilla warfare?

It was entirely imaginable that the guy would coordinate with attacks from the Rust Mark to harass them every so often.

One might ask what the point of all this was—why not just ignore the fool and walk away?

A rather pragmatic line of thought, but it was precisely this option that made Fu Qian suspect the path ahead might no longer lead deeper into the dream.

Just like the old legend of fishing a coin out of a vat of boiling oil, they wouldn't let anyone reach the bottom before their hand was deep-fried.

"Tyrant?"

Having finished evaluating their brave little opponent, the Witch hadn't forgotten what she just heard. She was clearly deeply impressed by Fu Qian's moniker.

"Just an empty title. Nothing but the flattering praise of the townsfolk."

Fu Qian didn't deny it; he even offered a modest quip.

Clang! Clang!

As he spoke, he casually flicked away two lethal weapons that came thrusting at him.

But in the blink of an eye, the originally stagnant traces of the Rust Mark suddenly became active once more.

Even the attacking weapons no longer seemed masterless.

At a glance, he could faintly make out inhuman, sharp claws gripping them.

So you didn't miss the party after all, His Excellency Arakiel.

Fu Qian confirmed he wasn't seeing things—that was an insectoid body structure.

Even the next weapon that came chopping down at him looked exactly like the appendage of some creature.

...

"Their state is very peculiar. The boundaries of their power seem to be blurring. I wonder if it was triggered by our earlier actions."

The Witch looked like she mostly just found it all highly amusing.

Faced with Fu Qian's explanation about flattery, she seemed rather captivated by the idea, imagining the days when her Knight ran amok through his hometown, while casually commenting on the ongoing changes.

The attacks aimed at her were just as numerous, if not more so. Yet, even with the addition of the insectoid form, the strikes rapidly lost momentum before they could touch her body, leaving them completely unable to stain her with the Rust Mark.

"So, do you still want to offer your thanks?"

The Witch's words reaffirmed his own thoughts. The next moment, Fu Qian turned and asked the Persuader beside him.

The latter's expression could practically be described as tear-jerking.

Even on a purely human face, it would be hard to convey such a profound sense of brokenness.

The lower half of his face still seemed to retain the imposing aura from when he spoke in unison with the guy inside just moments ago.

His eyes, however, had long since lost focus, faintly bearing the look of shattering the void.

"Yeah..."

This desolation was so thick that he didn't even seem to have the strength left to intentionally ignore Fu Qian, responding completely subconsciously.

"Then let's keep going. Think about how to lead us to that other you."

Fu Qian ignored all that, gesturing toward the space behind the door and openly demanding that he make good on his promise.

"That... is not me."

Given the abstract nature of the demand, the Persuader's daze was forcibly cured, and he instinctively rushed to defend himself.

"So this one is 'you'?"

Sadly, this hard-won sliver of self-awareness was punctured by a single sentence from Fu Qian, scattering instantly.

...

I know the guy inside is impersonating you to make a flashy entrance.

But the 'you' talking to me right now—are you really the 'you' that you think you are?

Under The Prisoners' influence, there were suspected to be as many as five different 'selves'. There was no need for his mindset to be so inflexible.

Fu Qian's words weren't hard to grasp, and the Persuader seemed to understand immediately.

The consequence, however, was even deeper bewilderment. He looked on the verge of spiraling entirely into a vortex of nihilism.

"Don't worry. I won't accept his thanks, I'll just kill him directly."

There was no need to ask how he got so bewildered. When it came to using enlightenment to sow bewilderment, His Excellency the Tyrant never fell behind. He quickly continued.

Fu Qian knew very well that, given the state the Persuader was showing, even another death threat might not have much effect.

But that was fine. He could just threaten someone else with death—like the guy who had just bailed at the speed of light, someone Brother Persuader definitely had no warm feelings for.

"I can lead the way... but I'm not certain it's my own will doing it..."

Sure enough, that instantly struck a nerve. The Persuader immediately perked up a bit, even taking the initiative to point out a potential hidden danger.

"That doesn't matter—do you need any help?"

Fu Qian didn't mind in the slightest. The next moment, completely ignoring the Persuader's reaction, he turned to check with the Witch.

The latter was still standing quietly in place, holding the Book of Precepts and watching the Knight's actions. It had to be said, she was looking more and more like the Pope.

"Not for now."

Clearly having no objections to the Knight's arrangements, the Witch shook her head, signaling that she could still perfectly manage for now.

Almost the instant she stopped speaking, the snowy white of the veil—which had previously seemed to be faintly melting away—suddenly flared with blinding brilliance. Even the churning mist was rapidly failing to obscure it.

The moonlight was burning.

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