Eldritch Horror Theatre

Racking one's brains could not be taken more literally.

The sight was truly gruesome. Between the shattered skull and the ballooning gray matter, it forced a powerful sense of empathy on the observer, triggering involuntary phantom pain.

Yet at that moment, Fu Qian paid no mind to this minor side effect. Instead, he admired the pulsing folds of the brain, imagining the magnificent knowledge that might be surging within.

Now this was what you called brain matter—the organ displaying its vitality in a highly unorthodox form.

As for why The Thinker was doing this, Fu Qian actually found it quite understandable.

Manual overclocking. When an idea was just a hair's breadth from forming, more than one person had probably thought about reaching inside to give their brain a good squeeze to promote blood flow.

Although his current actions were far more complex than that, the core objective remained the same.

To forcibly break past his limits and recall an answer he should have remembered, but had simply forgotten.

The adage that thinking was physical labor received its most intuitive demonstration in this moment—as did possessing a will of steel.

Yet, in contrast to the rapidly tearing meninges, the cognitive center beneath displayed a resilience that surpassed carbon-based life.

No matter how it was deformed—stretched long or squashed short, pinched tight like a bud or forced open in full bloom—it showed not the slightest sign of bleeding.

All in all, the result of this calculation was highly anticipated.

As the theoretical culprit behind the scene playing out before him, Fu Qian felt absolutely no shame.

As mentioned earlier, these cage-like booths were all single rooms, and the sole seat was currently occupied by The Thinker.

Fu Qian did not mind. He leaned directly against the railing, quietly waiting for the results to blossom.

Of course, just like during his time at the Academy, he could consider providing a little logistical support.

His gaze fell on that overly classic Electric Chair design. Fu Qian took a shallow breath, then unleashed a Gospel Shockwave at practically its lowest power.

...

Who said you couldn't receive electrotherapy without being plugged in? Bioelectricity was still electricity, wasn't it?

From that perspective, what was wrong with calling a Gospel Shockwave that provided spiritual enlightenment a form of electrotherapy?

If anything, this was wireless charging.

Adapting to local customs. Since he was in an institute of higher learning, Fu Qian was even less willing to limit his imagination, quickly finding something within his capabilities to contribute.

The effect appeared to be instantaneous.

Even though it was a minimum-power Gospel Shockwave—and considering that even a dean had to lead by example, prompting him to specifically mute the external sound projection—the student, The Thinker, still underwent an instant transformation.

He froze in place, the brain in his palm squeezed into the shape of a bath sponge.

Had he reached an epiphany?

As a fellow intellectual worker, Professor Fu could deeply empathize with certain reactions.

Although he still looked to be in pain, if this were a failed overclocking attempt resulting in despairing surrender, he would never have entered such a state of total absorption. The more likely outcome would have been tearing the rest of his skull right off.

"Urgh—"

Seeming to live up to that high praise, a rather unpleasant sound—yet one radiating boundless joy—squeezed out of The Thinker's throat.

Paying absolutely no mind to the logistical support personnel nearby, he then made an extremely bizarre movement. Specifically, he stuck out his middle finger.

...

That was right, and he even aimed it directly toward Professor Fu.

The hand ravaging his brain maintained its grip, while his other, equally bloody hand performed a completely irrational maneuver, desperately reaching outward and pointing diagonally down at the floor.

Given human anatomy and his refusal to leave his seat, touching the floor was undoubtedly difficult. Therefore, high hopes were placed on his longest digit—the middle finger.

Unfortunately, even with this, there was still a clear gap, causing The Thinker's movements to grow visibly frantic—Crack!

There was no gap anymore.

Accompanied by a highly sickening noise, the shoulder of that arm collapsed downward, and the stench of blood grew even heavier.

Although his robes covered him tightly, it was easy to picture the gruesome scene of a joint being forcibly torn apart underneath.

"Heh—"

He was drifting further and further from a human form, yet The Thinker's voice revealed sheer delight.

And the tip of his middle finger finally touched the spot he had been striving to reach...

Was this the golden ratio?

Fu Qian followed his gaze and easily arrived at a conclusion.

It wasn't a baseless thought; The Thinker's middle fingertip was currently pressed against one of the Silver Fine Lines.

The exact same kind of line that had made up the Transcendent Intercom just now.

Just as he had seen along the way, those things were spread almost everywhere throughout the Scientific Research Institution. They could be seen on every level of this Tiered Lecture Hall, for instance.

The Thinker's target was evidently very clear: a specific spot on this line.

Even though it wasn't a position as distinct as the midpoint, Fu Qian could easily discern what was special about it.

Could it be something akin to an integrated circuit?

His imagination was thoroughly stimulated in that moment.

These dots and lines were clearly not ordinary decorations. It had already been proven that this seemingly unremarkable combination could actually facilitate long-distance communication.

Looking at it from this angle even provided a reason as to why they had come to such a dangerous place to conduct research and expended so much effort to build such an extravagant facility...

Could the venue itself be the core research tool?

Were these things like an abacus laid out on the ground for the researchers to tinker with and adjust, ultimately helping them calculate inconceivable knowledge?

The legendary arcanomathematicians? No wonder they harbored the ambition to calculate the beginning and the end.

And what was even more thrilling was that he seemed to be witnessing them attain the answer.

Crack—

Fu Qian did not speak, but a peculiar sound broke the silence nonetheless.

After pressing his middle finger there, The Thinker's movements did not stop in the slightest. Another finger attempted to connect to a separate point.

Unsurprisingly, this hand was torn completely open before his eyes the very next moment.

"Hehe—"

The Thinker's voice, however, grew increasingly intoxicated.

Amid those sounds of extreme satisfaction, the hand gripping his brain actually released its hold and lowered, reaching for a much farther target.

However, despite being in the same cage, the spot was simply too far away. It was no longer something that could be reached by just tearing his body a little more.

"Urghhh—"

Sure enough, his voice instantly plummeted to the abyss, his agony making it sound as if his chest were being ripped open.

Riiip!

His chest was fine this time. Instead, a structure completely alien to the human body emerged to help him break past his limits.

Resembling both a long tail and a ribbon, it violently tore its way right out of his flesh, stretching into a perfectly straight line to connect with one of the silver lines on the floor.

Tracing this appendage back to its source, Fu Qian found that it originated straight from the brain—which had swollen slightly compared to earlier due to the excessive kneading. The sight filled him with a sudden sense of familiarity.

Brain Jellyfish?

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