Eldritch Horror Theatre

A behemoth born between heaven and earth—how could it willingly remain subservient for long?

The radiance spraying from its fins wasn't just for show; it was a unique sort of poison.

An ordinary member of the Transcendent Tier would have suffered terribly from just a single drop, let alone dozens of times that amount hitting all at once.

Although it had practically no effect on Fu Qian, he could still appreciate the spirit of rebellion.

Unfortunately, he didn't even have to intervene this time. The impending attack failed to launch.

Crack!

In that moment, the closest ferocious fin suddenly snapped like a dead branch.

Although the fin was merely a minor embellishment compared to the rebel's sheer bulk, given the beast's exaggerated scale, its splash sounded like a falling tree—and then, an entire forest.

Amid a cacophony of snapping sounds, every single fin aimed his way plummeted into the water.

The "recoil" alone was enough to cause the fin not only to snap off, but to shatter inch by inch from the tip.

Then came a giant claw swinging his way.

Before the strike could even gather speed, the thick bone plates and scales covering it disintegrated inch by inch in the exact same fashion, flying outward.

It truly was like casting a mayfly between heaven and earth.

Facing this scene, Fu Qian did not even bother to dodge; he simply watched with an inward sigh.

What happened was actually quite simple: this ferocious behemoth had reached the end of its fleeting "life."

The creations within the Ash Sea, whether they appeared mighty or weak, were nothing more than passing shadows in a brief ebb and flow.

In the blink of an eye, they would vanish like bubbles. He had just happened to witness the process firsthand this time.

The process was even somewhat quiet.

The annihilation clearly proceeded from every conceivable angle at once; in the blink of an eye, it had all crumbled to dust.

That claw strike had been its final action. After that, without even a parting roar, the colossal body completely collapsed.

It literally melted upon hitting the water; the massive limbs left no remains behind, dissolving directly into the pale grayness.

As for Fu Qian, who was subsequently left completely exposed, the numerous blood threads extending from his feet had originally been rooted deep inside the giant beast.

Now that his host had abruptly vanished and left them dangling in the open, they bore a strong resemblance to a hydroponic plant.

Naturally, this didn't delay Fu Qian in the slightest. With a light leap, he landed on an abruptly appearing shadow.

...

Time was precious, and right now, it was more precious than ever.

His forcefully commandeered mount returning to the ether might have been abrupt, but it wasn't incomprehensible. After all, nature was just cruel like that.

However, Fu Qian was not about to dismiss the extra scenery that had just materialized nearby as a new creation of the Ash Sea.

A coincidence of that magnitude would be too absurd. It was far more likely the result of his perception being restored by the Burial Scroll.

Admittedly, this external sensory system was quite passive; it required the opposing party to observe him first before he could gaze back at them.

Yet the expanse before him looked like nothing but shattered, dead matter, which seemed somewhat illogical.

But if he viewed the Ash Sea as a single entity, did the constant distortion it exerted on him count as a form of observation?

This was exactly why he had been looking forward to the Burial Scroll's effect, and it appeared it had not disappointed him.

Besides, no matter what, an opportunity like this could not be wasted.

Fu Qian's feet, now returned to their normal state, propelled him into another leap, landing squarely at the feet of the Fallen Angel.

He had to admit, the sight was even more awe-inspiring from this angle.

It shared the same pale hue as the Spire, its proportions were even more staggering than the mount he had just lost, and it held a deeply philosophical, sacrificial pose. A master sculptor's magnum opus would be no better.

Even upon the sword-like Spire, one could see winding, blood-like thorns flowing from its wounds.

...

The style was genuinely a bit chaotic.

He had to admit, the deceptive nature of the ash was quite strong.

Given the uniform pale-gray hue, it was actually somewhat hard to tell from this angle whether it was a petrified corpse or a highly artistic structure.

But one thing was beyond doubt: it was indeed difficult to discern the original purpose of this chaotic pile of architectural ruins.

Towering and majestic, intricate and ornate, deep and oppressive... the mix of clashing styles was so severe that one had to wonder if it had originally been a single entity.

Regardless, the spot where the angel's corpse rested should be considered the core region.

Furthermore, the reference to an "angel" here was purely a habitual term based on the scarred remnants of wings on its back.

According to the enlightenment the Blasphemy Monarch had bestowed back then, the thing that had plummeted from the heavens into the Ash Sea was very likely a genuine higher entity, rather than a servant to the divine.

So could that vision have been true, even with these discrepancies?

As the imagery he had seen in Silver Mist Manor surfaced in his mind, Fu Qian thought of the origins of the Ash Sea.

As a highly renowned forbidden zone, it was naturally believed to have been born during That Long Night that ended the Mythological Era, just like the other regions.

Yet as to how it was actually born, even the materials Yuan Shan had provided made no mention of it.

One could argue the same was true for other regions—they were simply the remnants of a catastrophe mingled with supernatural chaos, with no need for special notation.

But one shouldn't forget this place's absurdly large area, its terrifying distortion effects, and the chaotic "Miracles" lingering within it.

Compared to most forbidden zones, it felt like it existed on an entirely different magnitude.

Was it truly formed from the burning of Deity Remains?

Had there been no opportunity to send it to the Bone Burial Ground, leaving no choice but to cremate it on the spot for a sea burial?

If that were true, exactly which Deity was it? Or which Deities?

And for what reason had it remained locked to this exact spot?

Furthermore, if everything within it was constantly shifting through transient cycles of birth and destruction, how had the spectacle he was currently seeing managed to endure until now?

Numerous questions flashed past as Fu Qian stepped into the landfill-like expanse of ruins.

The more chaotic the situation, the more crucial it was to maintain logical thinking.

Take his next course of action, for example. It seemed there was nothing to do but go with the flow and passively observe whatever he encountered, but in reality, he could still attempt a targeted search for certain things—like the head of the Fallen Angel.

Although people heavily emphasized fragmentary beauty these days, who could guarantee that the head hadn't existed originally?

It was common knowledge that a face was a highly specific concept. Even if this was just a personification of power, it might still help lock down the Fallen Angel's identity—oh?

While swiftly navigating the ruins, Fu Qian's ghostly figure abruptly skidded to a halt. He turned his head to stare at a collapsed stone beam nearby.

From this angle, it looked entirely empty, but one couldn't forget that he was currently in a state of passive perception.

There was something behind it watching him.

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