Eldritch Horror Theatre

The destruction of the world was just around the corner.

And not even in the ordinary sense.

Upon completing his first comprehensive test of Three Faces, Fu Qian sensed a previously unnoticed synergy between this unexpected harvest and his own style.

It was pure madness. Fundamental concepts like the Law of Transcendent Conservation were simply reduced to dust.

Spit out a breath in annoyance, and the world's transcendent index would tick up a point, spontaneously generating a mass of pollution with no known means of degradation.

As for this synergy, it naturally didn't mean he had any interest in treating the world like a public spittoon. Fu Qian still vividly remembered the reward from a previous mission.

Finger Pulp. It directly activated the aura-type Crimson Storm, scrambling bloodline concepts at the transcendent level to spawn instability and mutation.

Not only were their color schemes similar, but their effects were undeniably cut from the same cloth.

It was easy to picture the scene: running around with Crimson Storm active and casually spitting out a breath whenever the mood struck.

Marveling inwardly, Fu Qian casually tossed the lampstand aside and activated Finger Pulp for real.

...

'I am the will of heaven! Today, this seat shall defy the heavens themselves!'

Shrouded in crimson with the storm raging around him, Fu Qian transformed in the blink of an eye into a descending demon king. He even plastered on a look of utter arrogance while cackling maniacally in his mind.

As he had noted earlier, the color palettes were practically identical, and their respective effects were equally staggering.

He felt that with a bit more practice, he wouldn't even need to investigate whether a doomsday had occurred in the past—he could just manufacture one on the spot.

Even at this scale, it was already exerting immense pressure on his surroundings.

Not that it was affecting the stunned receptionist nearby.

The effects of Finger Pulp were clearly stated: it affected all intelligent creatures caught within it, other than himself.

In other words, apart from himself—the Source of Chaos—he normally needed at least two targets for it to take effect. Relying on this method to play the progenitor of a new race was a no-go.

Thus, despite being dangerously close and bearing the brunt of the aura, Brother Receptionist was perfectly fine, simply because the area was just too empty.

The "pressure" he sensed was actually acting upon the environment itself.

When he spat out that first breath, the lingering shockwaves of destruction had continued to spread, making the entire research facility tremble.

That hadn't been an illusion; his second breath had only worsened the situation.

As for the aura he had just activated, even without any actual victims yet, it still managed to make things worse.

For a moment, even though he had only destroyed a specific section and the research building as a whole remained relatively sturdy, it still gave off a precarious, crumbling vibe.

"Things might get a bit more intense in a moment. You'd better head back in and hide."

As the primary culprit behind all this, Fu Qian kindly pointed behind him, warning the thoroughly stupefied receptionist.

This...

The man's initial surge of hot-blooded bravery had cooled. Staring at the terrifying scene of destruction, he clearly grasped the sheer weight of the word "intense."

So much so that, in the grand scheme of things, taking the cleanup personnel's advice seemed like a very good idea...

Excellent—

Watching the receptionist actually scurry back into the storeroom to hide, Fu Qian highly appreciated his will to live.

Bang!

He then raised his right hand and fired another shot.

The gun's range wasn't far, but it was enough, because that terrifying pair of wings had already returned and was right in front of him.

This time, the projectile wasn't dodged. Instead, the moment it drew near, it instantly vaporized, as if the entity before him was Inviolable.

...

To think it actually came back. Was this a higher entity's desire to survive?

Facing this imposing sight, Fu Qian felt nothing but gratification. It all but confirmed a certain theory of his—Etched Intellect.

His current state was very likely still abnormal.

During his previous experience in the Ash Sea, he had undeniably lost a massive amount of SAN Value. However, he had also picked up a small bit of experience: one could still lose SAN Value while under the effects of Etched Intellect, and the state wouldn't instantly dispel because of it.

Because of this alone, even while lamenting his constant workplace injuries, Fu Qian couldn't rule out the possibility that the scene before him wasn't real.

On the contrary, ever since he had entered, quite a few things had been suspicious.

For instance, as he had specifically wondered earlier, had the Academy Exploration Team been lucky enough to receive a similar reception back in the day?

The existential state of this place was truly bizarre—so much so that finding a living, breathing researcher inside somehow didn't seem entirely unacceptable.

But if a whole team had indeed entered this exact location back then, only to face near-total annihilation, could this place really have remained so tidy without a single trace left behind?

Secondly, despite the receptionist's attentive and enthusiastic attitude, the surroundings were simply too desolate. Aside from the man, he hadn't seen a single other person along the way.

Finally, he couldn't forget why he had been afflicted by Etched Intellect in the first place.

The reason he had consumed that unique mass of Divine Flesh was to give himself more room to maneuver during the Ash Sea expedition.

Now that he had theoretically arrived at its birthplace, wasn't it perfectly normal to experience some kind of reaction?

In short, it was exactly because of these considerations that he had reacted the way he did when faced with an attack that drained his SAN Value.

He hadn't struck the pose of the Source of Chaos for nothing.

Doing so was actually for one specific purpose, one he had already noted—to exert pressure on his surroundings.

Etched Intellect wasn't entirely stable. It could end prematurely if he performed intense actions; he had deduced this rule previously.

Therefore, his actions were bound to generate some impact.

However, the goal of this impact wasn't to dispel Etched Intellect. Otherwise, he wouldn't have opted for a relatively mild aura like Finger Pulp. He would have used Resplendent Tyrant instead.

His true, core objective was to precisely transmit the chilling aura of this space's impending collapse to that runaway Angel.

...

Even if this wasn't real, if the image of a higher entity was reproduced through special means, would the entity itself sense it?

The behavior of the Blasphemy Monarch and the others back at Silver Mist Manor seemed to have already answered that question.

Even as a mere phantom summoned by the Lantern, the Blasphemy Monarch had raced against time, desperately trying to secure as many chips as possible for his eventual return.

Then, if he was truly in the Etched Intellect state right now, didn't that provide an operational window for His Excellency the Fallen Angel?

If Etched Intellect ended, wouldn't this brief window of opportunity close along with it?

If an entity like that was dead set on running away, chasing it down would be incredibly troublesome.

Unless he could make it realize that it absolutely had to stop him, forcing it to bite the bullet and come back.

That was why, starting from his continuous breaths, everything he did had been an ongoing probe and a blatant threat directed at the scenario before him.

Missing his shots or being out of range didn't matter in the slightest. His target was never the entity itself.

Instead, he trusted that with a higher entity's sharp instincts, it would quickly realize that running was pointless.

"Hello there."

Fu Qian called out in greeting to the entity across from him.

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