Eldritch Horror Theatre

Dark green yet scorching hot, the raindrop resembled thick magma, rippling like smoke as it struck the ground.

He had just mentioned the lack of movement, and a response followed immediately. For a moment, Fu Qian deeply appreciated the audience's support.

It had to be said that this commotion easily brought to mind the door they had breached earlier.

The same hue, the same restlessness. His excellency Damon Moore might have appeared low-key, but it turned out he favored a covertly flamboyant style.

Exactly. Who else could have caused such a stir? No matter how you looked at it, this was the swiftly severed Damon Moore.

Furthermore, although the authorities of The Prisoners all felt somewhat dark and gloomy, his excellency Damon Moore's was surprisingly the most prominent.

That drop of fiery rain not only splashed everywhere the moment it landed, but it also continuously let out "screams."

Agony, hatred, chaos... It seemed every derogatory term could be used to describe it.

At that moment, the disturbance alone seemed capable of inducing mental pollution.

Since it was rain, how could there be only a single drop?

He could clearly see that the Small Chapel, despite its domed roof, failed entirely to act as an obstacle.

Smoldering raindrops appeared out of thin air and fell as if from another dimension, evenly blanketing every corner of the chapel. Not even the Stone Sculpture of the First Dark Moon was spared.

Far different from the wash of ordinary rain, the drops shattered upon the surface and instantly transformed into sparks, leaving scorch marks behind.

Even the stone ignited. The holes left by the raindrops expanded, continuously spreading outward.

The stone sculpture actually possessed decent resistance; the rest of the chapel fared much worse.

Fu Qian watched helplessly as a void instantly appeared in the stone slab beneath his feet.

And the mental pollution generated during this burning process magnified exponentially.

Even someone with a tolerance as strong as his could feel a slight Mental Shock.

Moreover, he could clearly see that the void beneath his feet was truly "empty."

What was revealed after the burning was not earth or stone, but a fog-like void.

It was as if this Small Chapel had always been a rootless place drifting in the air.

...

His excellency Damon Moore was extremely angry, and the consequences were severe.

In an instant, the place was riddled with holes, as if this shelter would collapse and vanish in the very next second.

At that moment, Fu Qian seemed to feel the fury originating from this power, and he even deeply understood it.

The anger was justified. No matter how fragile the Alliance was, being decisively stabbed in the back still felt awful.

The Witch had already mentioned just a moment ago that The Prisoners had silently set up layers of barriers targeting this Secluded Sanctuary of the Dark Moon.

Having suffered a loss earlier, they were striving to ensure the two of them would never return.

Considering the special "parasitic" state, decisively severing Damon Moore, the host, to avoid leaving any loopholes was not entirely an unexpected move.

The victim's current predicament was like a researcher who had been bitten by a zombie, only to be directly locked inside the Laboratory with it.

Under such circumstances, what was so strange about lashing out to vent anger on former teammates?

Indeed, Damon Moore's fury was directed at The Prisoners, not the two of them. This was the conclusion Fu Qian drew.

One particularly intuitive reason for this was that the rain was actively avoiding him and the Witch.

Not only did they not need to deliberately dodge, but they could also see that the area immediately surrounding him and the Witch was the only relatively intact spot left in the entire chapel.

As for why he was doing this?

It was simple. How would one save oneself when locked inside a zombie cage?

His excellency Damon Moore's action was by no means just venting his emotions; it was a signal telling the two of them to make a move.

Destroying this Small Chapel was akin to directly opening the experiment's Security Door and releasing the zombies back into the wild.

The best outcome for him would be for both sides to fight it out, allowing him to reap the benefits of the chaos and wait for an opportunity.

The attitudes of either side didn't even matter in this process. Even if the "zombies" didn't want to move, their shelter was gone. The next step was falling into the Nightmare, and if they didn't do something, they would definitely be forced into a passive state.

And the heavily fortified Prisoners couldn't possibly bet on the "zombies" staying put.

All in all, as he and the Witch smashed through with irresistible force, the corrupted excellency Damon Moore was decisively abandoned.

Without hesitation, the victim chose to flip the table, thereby breaking The Prisoners' setup of silently reaping the benefits.

After all, honestly speaking, continuing down the normal path left no hope for his situation.

Even if he and the Witch were successfully trapped here, and Damon Moore wasn't beaten to death in the process, the probability of him seizing the chance to escape later was vanishingly small. The true beneficiaries would undoubtedly be chosen from the four outside.

Comradery in times of adversity was certainly precious, but seeing one's brothers succeed was far more agonizing.

Therefore, as the Small Chapel collapsed, one could even see doors faintly appearing within the illusory fog.

Red, silver, black, orange... A single glance found them remarkably familiar. They belonged precisely to the other four prisoners.

Even with just the presence of a single door, it still made one subconsciously feel that they could walk through it to have a nice chat with the person behind it.

Given their intertwined interests, there was no way they could ever sever ties so cleanly.

At that moment, Fu Qian shook his head inwardly.

Not only had his excellency Damon Moore released the zombies, but it looked like he was even opening the doors to his former colleagues' offices.

"Found it."

Right then, the Witch suddenly spoke up, seemingly having already reaped some rewards.

...

Oh?

It was clearly just the beginning, yet the Pope already had results?

Even his excellency Damon Moore seemed taken aback by this efficiency; the fiery rain slowed down a fraction.

However, looking closely, one would realize that the Witch hadn't even cast a single glance at those doors.

Instead, the Stone Sculpture of the First Dark Moon right in front of them, which was already riddled with holes, suddenly bloomed with a soul-stirring radiance.

And from within the radiance, a tiny object manifested out of the void.

This... Little Nelgria?

Fu Qian saw it clearly. Suspended in midair, as if existing at an infinite distance, was a Small Doll sitting on a Chair.

Its attire and posture were ninety percent identical to the Witch's, and its facial features were extremely delicate.

The biggest difference lay in the fact that, unlike the Witch's yet-to-be-fully-recovered body, two long wings hung down from its back.

At the same time, there was an additional blood-red Ribbon on its hat.

It had to be said that making ample preparations was never a bad thing. While he had been busy confirming the situation after entering, the Witch clearly hadn't been idle either.

"Found it" didn't mean she had discovered a target to eliminate. No matter how much convenience his excellency Damon Moore provided, the Witch actually paid him no mind.

She had been doing one thing this whole time: attempting to forcefully break through the blockade using a certain Anchor Point left in that apocalypse beforehand.

It was just like the Blood Handprint she had manifested when he asked her for help in the past.

As for the despised excellency Damon Moore?

Honestly, Fu Qian believed in his desire for revenge, but he also believed that The Prisoners wouldn't be unprepared for it.

Not only had Damon Moore been decisively severed, but this act of retaliation might also very well have been part of The Prisoners' design.

"Well done."

Facing the Witch who was looking over, Fu Qian offered praise while proactively reaching out his hand.

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