Eldritch Horror Theatre

Etched Intellect had ended, but he hadn't returned to any previous node in time. Instead, he had arrived in an unfamiliar place. It felt a bit like encountering a bug in a program.

Hoo—

Fu Qian raised his left hand and blew on it, as if cooling an overheated gun barrel.

Honestly, that wasn't an inaccurate comparison. That hand had just released three continuous breaths, and Three Faces was still recharging.

Unsurprisingly, his SAN Value hadn't recovered. Neither had any of his other tolls; his condition remained exactly as it had been in that final second.

So, had that earlier sequence been reality rather than the Etched Intellect state? Had he only just now entered Etched Intellect, explaining this completely unreasonable spatial jump?

The current signs increasingly seemed to hint that his earlier judgment had been wrong—but they only seemed to.

After all, he couldn't forget the clock on Tyrant's Mechanical Fist. How else could he explain time genuinely flowing backward?

He wasn't opposed to admitting he was wrong, but he needed concrete evidence to overturn his own theory.

Fu Qian finally shifted his gaze from himself to his surroundings.

Just because the environment didn't match up, why did it have to be a switch between reality and a fallacy?

Why couldn't it be a jump from one error straight into another?

Because he was so close to the source, all effects were amplified—meaning one instance of Etched Intellect could seamlessly chain into another. Under that hypothesis, didn't everything suddenly make sense?

The only downside was that it made his situation far bleaker.

...

It felt like falling into a ditch and being unable to crawl back out.

His previous experiences with Etched Intellect had been like brief bouts of disembodied delirium; eventually, he always snapped back to reality.

But the scenario he had just hypothesized was practically a set of linked iron chains.

Fallacy following fallacy, a thousand madnesses in an instant, with his physical toll carrying over between transitions like a persistent save file?

Setting aside the ultimate question of how to actually escape this loop, simply being caught in it was incredibly dangerous.

Between his mounting injuries and his depleting SAN Value, Fu Qian was honestly somewhat curious about what would happen if his SAN Value hit zero under these conditions.

After all, resolving the previous crisis had seemed effortless, but he had largely capitalized on the fact that His Excellency the Chief Judge's mind hadn't been functioning properly.

If he had to face several more opponents of that caliber, they would be extremely taxing to deal with, even if they didn't specifically target his SAN Value.

Beyond that, there was a far more subtle drawback—the Burial Scroll would likely remain permanently unusable.

Because real time was frozen at the exact moment he had pushed the door open, its twenty-four-hour cooldown would never expire.

In short, his excessive preparation had ironically spiked the difficulty of this little scientific expedition to staggering heights.

At the same time, his sheer efficiency meant the cooldown for his strongest state couldn't keep up. Now that was what he called professional.

If one wanted to be an academic pioneer, the ability to create problems where none existed was a vital prerequisite.

What kind of logic-defying harvest would this rare and bizarre predicament yield?

It was certainly something to look forward to.

With his enthusiasm rekindled, Fu Qian stepped up to a pair of adjacent doors.

Both led upward, but their destinations were clearly different.

"Where do you want to go?"

Just as Fu Qian was trying to mentally map out the possible terrain, a voice suddenly murmured into his ear.

...

That gave off a strong sense of deja vu reminiscent of the Warehouse.

He had already checked earlier; there were no living creatures in sight.

Yet this sudden voice was as clear as a whisper right beside his ear.

If the content hadn't been slightly off, he might have wondered if the Warehouse itself had grown more talkative.

Unfortunately, as a strict pragmatist, Fu Qian's immediate reaction was simply to pinpoint the source of the sound.

"To wherever I'm authorized to go."

A moment later, he leaned close to a specific spot on the wall and casually tossed out his reply.

There was no one standing there. There wasn't even a humanoid outline on the surface.

The only thing distinguishing it from the rest of the dark bluish-black wall was a faint tracing of silver lines.

But the voice had undoubtedly come from that exact spot.

It was best not to overcomplicate things. Rather than assuming the Warehouse had suddenly gotten excitable, Fu Qian was more inclined to believe he was looking at a Walkie-Talkie.

It might lack a normal physical structure, but this was the transcendent world, after all.

Furthermore, while the pattern was abstract, the silver lines on a dark background closely matched the aesthetic of the lampstand he had seen earlier.

Had the scene shifted, yet he was still inside that ancient research facility?

It was precisely this deduction that prompted his response.

No matter how far the situation had escalated, he had accepted this commission under the identity of a cleanup agent, and he hadn't forgotten his job description.

While searching for the Shadow, not only was he forbidden from entering locked doors, but he also had to ask for permission before acting in areas with research personnel. Brother Receptionist had heavily emphasized that point.

"...Then you really ought to head out into The Lake."

His principled approach immediately paid off. After a brief silence, the other end of the Walkie-Talkie actually replied, pointing out that Fu Qian was looking in the wrong place.

...

Who said he was in the wrong place? This place was absolutely perfect.

It was a simple response, but it carried an enormous amount of information.

First, it genuinely was a Transcendent Intercom. This meant his current situation was akin to an uninvited guest suddenly barging in and being questioned by the observant Natives.

Suddenly, everything flowed quite smoothly.

Second, the mention of "out into The Lake" perfectly matched his previously accepted commission.

The fact that they said this implied two things. First, he was in the right location; this really was still the interior of the ancient research facility.

Second, the timeline matched. Not only was the research facility still fully operational, but they were also actively recruiting for the cleanup of the Shadow.

In summary, it seemed he could completely maintain his previous persona.

"Unfortunately, I just found something even more alarming in here."

Facing the Walkie-Talkie, Fu Qian shook his head in disagreement.

"I've dealt with it for now, but I get the feeling the situation here is far more severe than anyone imagined. A comprehensive internal sweep is absolutely necessary."

This wasn't nonsense in the slightest. Fu Qian was merely staying in character while recounting his recent experiences.

Of course, to avoid sounding arrogant, he modestly omitted just how severe the situation had actually been.

"Is that so... Why didn't we sense anything?"

Perhaps because the conversation was proceeding a little too normally amidst the increasingly grotesque atmosphere, the other end of the Walkie-Talkie remained silent for much longer this time.

"Didn't I just say? Because I dealt with it."

Fu Qian replied as naturally as ever, even pulling out his previously selected short gun to check its ammunition.

"...Please take the door on the left."

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