Eldritch Horror Theatre

It wasn't even a case of old acquaintances meeting without recognizing each other?

One of life's great joys was when someone you had long admired could actually call out your infamous moniker.

His reaction might have been a little slow, but the fact that Excellency Rom could still recognize the Tyrant was a progression worth celebrating.

That joy, however, was seemingly unshared. The moment he recognized his counterpart, the crystalline spots across Rom's not-yet-fully-unfurled body began turning blood-red.

The rest of his body was fine, but such a change around his head unmistakably gave the impression of bloodshot eyes and an impending berserk state.

Triggered already?

Though Rom hadn't launched a direct attack, his appearance alone made it clear that catching up over old times would be difficult, Fu Qian mused with a sigh.

It was completely understandable, though.

Imagine some guy following you everywhere you went—someone you couldn't kill, couldn't outrun, and who existed solely to ruin your plans.

"It's fine, take your time and brainstorm."

After a bout of profound self-reflection, Fu Qian realized he really had gone a bit overboard. He waved a hand casually, gesturing for Rom not to rush and to patiently indulge in some Overthinking first.

At a time like this, saying something about being able to laugh away old grudges was naturally impossible, and Excellency Rom wouldn't believe it anyway.

Considering the entity seemed a little sluggish right now, giving Him more time to formulate a revenge plan was the only way Fu Qian could show a token of his sincerity.

His words and actions matched completely. In the next moment, Fu Qian truly paid Rom no more mind, turning his head to examine something else.

Another notebook?

...

He had to admit, notebooks had been a recurring element throughout this scientific expedition in the Ash Sea.

It was simply tossed on the platform—a leather-bound notebook with a pen even tucked inside.

It looked as if someone else had once stood here gazing out, just as he was, only to end up empty-handed and hurl away their record book in a fit of rage.

The scenario felt incredibly natural and seamless, though two points of suspicion remained.

First, it was slightly different from the previous notebooks he had found. This one had a red cover and was noticeably more exquisite and ornate.

Second, and more importantly, Fu Qian was certain the spot had been empty when he walked over; the notebook hadn't been there.

Therefore—

Fu Qian still casually picked it up. At the same time, a certain Ring named the "Mechanical Tyrant's Fist" appeared in his hand.

Just as he expected.

Observing the timer he had specially modified, Fu Qian confirmed that his guess was spot on.

Silently and without warning, time had somehow returned to its origin point—the exact moment he pushed the door open.

...

This just went to show that even in an illusory world, one shouldn't give up on searching for realism and logic.

The notebook appearing out of thin air had a reason. The Etched Intellect had seamlessly transitioned once again, and he had now arrived at Depth 4.

Only this time, the switch was so incredibly smooth that it was hard to notice.

Looking at it from this angle, did this count as a manifestation of gradual deepening?

His sense of self was becoming harder to anchor, and the elements involved were growing increasingly secretive and reclusive.

Like Excellency Rom, for instance.

All in all, it was still like sinking into a swamp—the more he struggled, the deeper he sank. A new path of confusion had begun.

Though when it came to getting lost, Professor Fu's attitude had always been quite different from most people's.

How did that saying go again?

Every crisis is an opportunity for crisis PR; the more detours you take, the more road you've traveled.

Putting the Ring away, Fu Qian opened the notebook with great anticipation—wait a minute, there seemed to be a problem with this numbering.

Right away, he made a new discovery.

It wasn't Depth 4, but Depth 5?

...

It had content, but not much.

Despite not being particularly thin, the notebook only had writing on a single page, which perfectly aligned with his earlier guess that there were no real observation results to report.

But looking closely, he realized this didn't resemble an observation report at all.

The text consisted of merely five lines. As for the specific content—

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

As Fu Qian's eyes swept over it, he instantly noticed a familiar phrase. It was the insight from Brother Lord of Intellect's earlier notes, and it was the sole content of the fourth line.

If that didn't explain things clearly enough, there was also the corresponding number preceding it: Act IV.

The other entries were labeled Act I, Act II, Act III, Act V...

As an academic researcher, Fu Qian was never a stickler for report formats.

But this terminology was undeniably far too unacademic. This wasn't the format for an observation report; was it a movie review format?

Was this a script's table of contents?

Almost instantaneously, Fu Qian began comparing the contents with the encounters he'd faced along the way, and even started to understand why this notebook's cover design was different.

Was this a summary of one Etched Intellect after another? Did they directly correspond to his current Depth Level, distilling the central theme of every act?

All he could say was that it triggered a strong sense of déjà vu, and it even helped corroborate his earlier judgment regarding the scene transitions.

Yet the reason he said there was a problem with the numbering was precisely because of this.

Counting down the whole way, even at this very moment, he should only be at Act IV. Unless—

Fu Qian's gaze fell on the first line.

[Not the place where stars fall, but where a False God falls]

...

Oh?

Not only was the style of expression similar, but the content also clearly referenced the impact site, revolving closely around the exact same theme.

But beyond this obvious analytical conclusion, for an academic who never forgot the spirit of scientific inquiry, it undoubtedly sparked further associations.

To Fu Qian, the title of this first act might have seemed a bit obscure, but upon closer thought, he realized it perfectly matched the harvest he had reaped from the Etched Intellect he experienced during his first visit, right when he activated the Burial Scroll.

Even the first Brain Jellyfish he encountered back then had mentioned something similar to a missing notebook.

As for the missing subject in that sentence, Fu Qian could instantly fill it in: the Source of Ash.

Under his guidance, that Brain Jellyfish had once brought up a conundrum it had encountered in its research, which was: "Are the falling points of the stars truly the Source of Ash?"

And if he substituted this subject into the latter half of the sentence, reading it through made perfect sense.

The impact site he eventually located contained absolutely nothing, save for a destructive force that caused this outsider's SAN Value to plummet madly.

And the title of "False God" was, theoretically speaking, genuinely the Transcendent form of this outsider.

Did this so-called 'falling' refer to the mad dropping of his SAN Value? Did it carry the connotation of "the outsider died in this cave"?

All in all, if he started counting from that very first occurrence, then currently being in Act V was absolutely correct.

Thanks to his fine spirit of exploration and summation, Fu Qian smoothly connected the dots, and his doubts seemed to have found an answer.

And that wasn't even the only harvest.

The constantly shifting Etched Intellect was defined here as different scenes within a script, organically integrated into a cohesive whole?

He seemed to have witnessed this sort of pattern before—on All Fools' Day, with those crazy teenage boys and girls.

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