Eldritch Horror Theatre

The heavy sword had an edge.

This third murder weapon—generously offered up to spare him the trouble of choosing—was undoubtedly the thickest and heaviest in the armory.

However, just because it looked capable of bludgeoning someone to death didn't mean it was blunt.

Quite the opposite. Its snow-white edge exuded a biting chill. Paired with the exceptionally broad, thick blade, it created a menacing contrast that instinctively made people averse to touching it.

In short, it perfectly embodied utilitarianism—everything existed for the principle of highly efficient elimination.

A Fei's demeanor suggested he had convinced himself with a similar rationale.

He didn't even seem to mind that this weapon was a massive restriction on his style, where speed overcomes all.

Or perhaps he just felt that continuing to use his old weapon, which had accidentally injured a friend, would be bad luck?

The exchange happened smoothly. Fu Qian took the Rapier from A Fei, toyed with it for a moment, and hung it on an empty tentacle.

A strange hue even coated its surface, making the entire blade look as though it had been dipped in poison.

Normally speaking, for A Fei—who had just achieved the unity of man and sword—this blade should definitely have been the more comfortable choice going forward.

"Which way?"

Unfortunately, the person in question had no intention of explaining himself.

Gripping the astonishingly heavy Greatsword, A Fei didn't even swing it around to get used to the weight before asking about their next destination.

That divinity-level strike he had just executed, along with the feat of slaying an unimaginable opponent, hadn't brought him the slightest ripple of emotion.

Or rather, it hadn't made him any more "lucid."

Between the traces of the star curse, the colors seeping into his flesh and blood, and his burned limbs—the human traits on A Fei's body were already exceedingly faint.

Coupled with a mental state that showed zero improvement, he truly felt like a tool in human form.

Was this the legendary alienation of humans through labor? It seemed the true essence of a salary was indeed compensation for mental distress.

Even though the scene before him was stunningly surreal, it didn't stop Fu Qian from making sociological connections, deeply agreeing with what he had learned in the past.

"Down below."

Of course, sympathizing with someone's plight and continuing to exploit them were not mutually exclusive.

Having already planned their next route, Fu Qian didn't hesitate for a single second before directly giving the instruction.

...

As the second stop of their trip, the Sun Apostle's Laboratory didn't seem to hold anything worth exploring at first glance.

Although, much like the apostle's own person, the place was overall tidier than other areas.

But as everyone knew, overly pristine research facilities only existed in movies and television.

As an insider, Fu Qian could even smell the distinct vibe of someone ready to discard this research like a worn-out shoe, much like textbooks right after the college entrance exams.

It could only be said that perhaps the Etched Intellect exaggerated things a bit, but after two consecutive encounters, it felt like this Sun Apostle wasn't exactly innocent in true history either. They belonged to the defeatist faction among researchers, lacking any promising scientific achievements.

Not to mention, the shockwave caused by their final demise had ravaged the surrounding area.

As for where "down below" referred to?

Fu Qian reckoned that if the Sun Apostle could still hear him, they definitely wouldn't have such a question.

In this place, the word almost exclusively referred to one location—the Back Room.

The crash site, the SAN Value shredder, the heresy containment area—how could they not take a closer look at such an important place?

Without making things difficult for A Fei, Fu Qian recalled its previous location and took the lead.

Clang—

And the human tool was indeed dutiful and responsible. Without raising any questions, he dragged his crippled body and heavy weapon, following right behind.

...

Was this lingering dread?

Although A Fei wasn't literally dragging the Greatsword all the way; his body was heavily crippled, so he used it as a makeshift crutch to some extent.

But the sound of that heavy object striking the ground was still far too conspicuous in the silence. It was hard to imagine that any potential lurkers nearby wouldn't hear it.

Yet despite such a high-profile broadcast of their whereabouts, no other small fry jumped out to block their path along the way.

Fu Qian's understanding of this was that it was similar in nature to a legendary triumphant return to one's hometown: the audience's resentment and their fear of looking existed simultaneously.

After all, even the Burlap Doll knew how to seek advantage and avoid harm, and the Sun Apostle—who had grown significantly stronger after going dark—had just been forcibly slain.

"The door is open."

This silence lasted until they reached the floor further down. At a certain moment, A Fei's footsteps hesitated, as if he had suddenly woken up for a brief second, and he spoke while looking to the side.

"It is."

Fu Qian nodded, quite understanding why he would have such a reaction.

Anomalous phenomena always drew attention. Along the way, numerous rooms were either tightly shut or completely collapsed; yet this specific door was fully intact and wide open. Anyone would sense that this was far from simple.

For Fu Qian, this sense of complexity was doubled because he knew who this place belonged to: the Person Behind the Door, the one he had interacted with the most within the Depth 2 Etched Intellect, yet who had never once shown their face.

And this time, they had actually become the only one to leave their door open. He had to admit, there was quite a bit of dark humor to it.

...

Of course, he had intentionally passed by.

Memorizing the structure of this place wasn't just talk. As early as when he was planning his route, Fu Qian strongly felt he could drop by to see this old friend.

After all, compared to the Sun Apostle, even though the Person Behind the Door's overall performance had been rather unremarkable, they were ultimately more active and revealed more information, which was convenient for comparisons.

Even the previous path to the Back Room had passed by this place first.

Unfortunately, that guide had already vanished without a trace.

Yes, not only was the door open, but there wasn't even anyone inside.

Even though he had come here once again, he still hadn't seen the true face of that old friend.

"Not bad, this is more like a Laboratory..."

Amidst his sigh, Fu Qian had already stepped behind the door, sizing up the place while expressing his approval.

If the door hadn't been open, he might not have actually needed to stop.

Now, this bizarre empty city stratagem made it worth a look.

And just as his praise implied, this place was far less tidy than the Sun Apostle's, to the point that it gave off a much stronger academic vibe.

The very next second, from a messy pile of miscellaneous items, Fu Qian spotted a black cover.

The lost notebook?

While it was normal for a Laboratory to have such recording tools, it still inevitably reminded him of the commission previously given by this place's owner.

So this time, even though the person was lost, the research results weren't?

Clicking his tongue in wonder, Fu Qian unceremoniously flipped it open to check the notebook's contents—huh?

He had thought only the Sun Apostle was unreliable. Who would have thought that a seemingly honest guy with Thick Eyebrows and big eyes like you would also just be pretending to work hard in here?

The notebook was very thick, and even the texture of its inner pages was excellent. Furthermore, a substantial portion of it had already been used.

However, as he flipped all the way through, Fu Qian—who had originally prepared to study the crystallized wisdom of his predecessors—found that from the first page to the very last, it was densely packed with the exact same sentence—

[The starting point is the ending point, and the ending point is the starting point.]

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