Eldritch Horror Theatre

Velon truly hadn't seen it.

Because the sufferer had already been granted salvation and ascended to the Other Shore.

Honestly, this was a somewhat unexpected situation for Fu Qian.

The Witch had mentioned that once the Burial Scroll was opened, he would become the Existence Core for the concept of the Other Shore.

But on the one hand, drawing an analogy with Misanthropy, he knew that being the Existence Core was one thing; it didn't automatically mean he was in control.

On the other hand, it had already been tested with the Witch, and nothing too strange had occurred.

Yet upon this second use, not only did the artificial perception remain effective, but he also gained something extra related to the Other Shore's attribute.

There had actually been an intermediate process. At first, Fu Qian confirmed that his body felt no different than it had the first time.

However, when self-examining through the perspective of his inner demon, he discovered he could pull off some special operations.

More accurately, it felt as if he were draping the Skin of the Angel of Comfort over himself.

As long as he willed it, he could slip away into the Other Shore at any moment.

As for why such a change had happened, Fu Qian figured the inner demon—combined with the indescribable—was the indispensable factor.

From this unique vantage point, time, space, and concepts... everything became abstracted, making them easier to extract and refine.

Just like when Master Yuhun searched for the Abandoned Prison.

In short, Fu Qian, who never liked rejecting new things, quietly pushed this change forward.

And right now, he was absolutely certain that with just a single thought, he could truly sever himself from the world.

As for the guy whose head had been tragically blown open, the situation was even simpler—Fu Qian had actually forced this thought onto him.

The medium was the Mercy in his hand. He had to admit, the gun's name was incredibly fitting.

From his own perspective, the sufferer still sat there, the top of his skull blasted open into a wild "eye."

But in reality, his nature was already akin to the Academy Exploration Team that had entered the Other Shore back then; his very existence had been directly extracted from the audience's cognition.

"Why did you shoot..."

Velon's reaction proved the point.

After a long silence, he stared at the gun in Fu Qian's hand, seemingly finally realizing what had just happened.

"To treat... us?"

But before Fu Qian could answer, Velon found his own justification, his face twisting somewhat savagely.

"Aren't you all fine? Why treat you?"

Unfortunately, even so, Fu Qian still didn't let him off the hook, retorting with a faint, mocking smile.

...

Of course, he wasn't just using that sufferer as a test subject.

He had promised to help earlier, and to Fu Qian, this was merely a small, conveniently collected reward.

Didn't they notice that the moment the victim entered the Other Shore, he had immediately quieted down?

That shot just now seemed horrifying, but the control had actually been incredibly precise; it merely lifted the skull.

Even for a Psychic Type not known for physical fortitude, he wouldn't drop dead that quickly.

The reason he was no longer struggling like before was actually quite simple—he had been forcibly disconnected from the network.

The isolation of the Other Shore was proven once again.

Even this influence originating from the indescribable was still forcibly severed.

One point to emphasize here was that after establishing the connection, Fu Qian hadn't forgotten to confirm the question he'd raised earlier: just who was the author of the script?

After all, it was truly hard to imagine that figures like Master Yuhun or Impermanence, having achieved Transcendence, would sit around with nothing better to do than play third-rate scriptwriter.

The final conclusion was that the scripts in this brain dance state could almost be compared to a living creature, surviving on instinct while simultaneously providing feedback based on the stimuli it received.

And what imbued it with this vitality was precisely the indescribable Heavenly Dao.

This meant that even Fu Qian couldn't easily cancel it directly.

It was akin to being able to change the script's content, but not being able to directly cancel the performance altogether.

If he were to force it, the actors' mental states would likely be hard to guarantee.

And the poor bastard right in front of him was already miserable enough.

In short, to a certain extent, this could indeed be viewed as a way of conversing with a higher power, or with the universe itself.

And these brain dance patients were like the legendary Chosen Ones who possessed the root of wisdom.

Of course, one of those roots of wisdom had just been blown off by his gun. Heh, heh, heh...

"Why?"

Laughing maniacally in his heart, Fu Qian's face remained impassive. He stared at Velon and asked again, giving him no chance to deflect the earlier question.

...

Cutting the sufferer from the network still wasn't his final goal.

For Fu Qian, doing this tested whether the Other Shore's brute-force approach would work; on the other hand, he was anticipating a chain reaction.

Back in Baerluk, Old Man Nate had already set the precedent.

With one person missing from the script, the overall state of the brain dance would become unstable, to the point where the Warehouse had to send him in to put out the fire.

What about now?

This wasn't just an actor calling in sick; the script directly failed to match the headcount.

What kind of impact would an effect comparable to memetic erasure bring?

"We... might need some additional confirmation..."

It was a bit too aggressive after all. Old Man Velon was momentarily speechless, leaving Professor Yang beside him to step up with difficulty.

"Is that so? Then it seems I brought the right tool—but do you really want my help confirming it?"

Fu Qian nodded. The Mercy in his hand swayed back and forth, seemingly picking out a forehead, before he abruptly changed the subject.

...

It seemed it had begun. Sure enough, there were limits to flexible adjustments.

The air was quiet, but in that moment, the expressions on the two old men's faces felt incredibly full of Clamor.

Unease, anxiety, anger... all sorts of faintly discernible negative emotions were rapidly intertwining.

It built up until it seemed they could no longer bear it, on the verge of total collapse the very next second... only to suddenly freeze right there, losing all vitality.

The legendary "shattering softly"?

Very good. Quite efficient.

If they had been any slower, he would have had to consider directly releasing their souls himself.

Feeling the deathly silence, Fu Qian nevertheless praised it inwardly.

Because of his connection to the inner demon, he knew clearly that beneath the peace lay surging undercurrents.

The stage had collapsed, and the actors had been stripped bare.

This Antimemetic power from the Angel of Comfort was like poison to the brain dance, triggering a chain collapse in the blink of an eye.

The remaining owners of these roots of wisdom had finally fallen at Professor Fu's hands.

Hmph, this is what happens when you cross my Apocalypse.

"I've checked. You guys are fine."

The villainous, exterminating laughter only echoed in his heart. In that moment, Fu Qian nodded, no longer forcing an answer, and delivered an optimistic diagnosis.

"Him too."

At the same time, he swung the muzzle, pointing it at the bloody, mangled head beside them.

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