Eldritch Horror Theatre

The Remote Control for the Cat Collar?

Yuan Shan's reasoning was easy enough to follow. As her teacher, Old Man Henry truly cared for her. He had given her several excellent items besides the Meria Flower Ball.

But the specific effects she described inevitably led Fu Qian to some strange associations.

The device itself was highly unusual. It didn't seem designed for a student's self-defense, but rather to let that student monitor his condition at all times.

It brought to mind that night in the Sacred Night Capital. After their clash, the once-majestic Old Man Henry had quite literally transformed into a cat, sunbathing beneath a windowsill the next time they met.

Seeing that scene back then, Fu Qian had guessed that Henry—fully aware of his nature as a servant of two masters—had handed over a vital weakness to his student, allowing Yuan Shan to restrict him during certain critical moments.

And compared to that, the item Yuan Shan had just mentioned felt overwhelmingly familiar.

Of course, given how vital the item was, Fu Qian certainly wouldn't be so rude as to ask to see it if she didn't offer it herself.

"So you want me to help figure out what might have gone wrong with the Old Man?"

She had prioritized asking him over immediately rushing off to the Sacred Night Capital. Should Chief Yuan's trust be considered heartwarming, or was his own image simply so deeply tied to these bizarre occurrences that he was the first person she thought of?

"Or to see if you knew of anything happening recently," she added.

Evidently, it was mostly the latter. Yuan Shan nodded, looking rather lost as she explained that she just wanted to see if Professor Fu had caught wind of any bad news.

...

"As for recent events, there really have been quite a few."

Chief Yuan's words inevitably sparked a flood of memories. Fu Qian let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of those eventful days.

But considering how anxious the inquirer was, if he actually started listing them off one by one, she would probably drag him out and behead him before he finished his first sentence.

"For instance, that name your teacher forbade you from asking about—Meria. Recently, there have been plenty of signs indicating that it has deep ties to the Academy."

As a result, Fu Qian's response was rather uninhibited, directly tossing out an element that was strongly tied to Henry.

"Oh? You think my teacher's condition might be related to this?"

Sure enough, Yuan Shan's eyes lit up. She perked up instantly, even pulling a sphere composed of petal-like blades from her person as she spoke.

"Not exactly. I'm mostly just interested in finding him to ask for his expertise on the subject."

Fu Qian took the Meria Flower Ball and idly toyed with it, though his answer to Yuan Shan's question remained highly conservative.

"So, when exactly did you realize that the device had lost its connection?"

Before Yuan Shan could offer her thoughts, he pressed on.

"An hour and a half ago."

Yuan Shan didn't drop the ball; her answer was precise.

That fast...?

Lost in thought, Fu Qian produced a black-and-red Ring a moment later. It was the Tyrant's Mechanical Fist.

It really was about the same timeframe—right when the scenario in the Ash Sea had begun.

...

It seemed Excellency Blazing Rainbow was truly keeping a close eye on the crystallization as well.

He tried never to believe in unprovoked coincidences, especially not in a bizarre world governed by transcendent powers.

As far as Fu Qian was concerned, Old Man Henry undoubtedly possessed a few core attributes.

The most prominent among them was his status as Blazing Rainbow's Covenanter.

He was a dignified Tier 2, after all, and retired at that. It was hard to imagine what could possibly give him trouble.

So, the moment Yuan Shan voiced her concerns, Fu Qian immediately thought of the entity backing him.

Whether he had cleverly maintained a balance or not, the Old Man clearly couldn't shake Blazing Rainbow's influence.

And theoretically, the timeframe Yuan Shan provided lined up perfectly with the exact moment he had pushed the door open to touch the "truth" of the world.

Blazing Rainbow had been highly anticipating that as well. Had certain reactions during that moment not only alarmed the Red Moon, but also triggered something on the Old Man's end?

Linking it all together made it quite easy to arrive at a certain conclusion.

But for this theory to hold water, there was one unavoidable detail: why, after so many years, had Blazing Rainbow still not completely unraveled the crystal curse or the truth of the "apocalypse"?

Especially when He had at least the Academy's exploration team from back then serving as cannon fodder.

...

Feeling good about oneself and respecting an opponent weren't mutually exclusive. One should never treat others like fools.

To Fu Qian, that Excellency—whose hands were soaked in the blood of countless predecessors—was far more than merely ruthless.

An Ancient Higher Being who had safely survived until now, standing in perfect condition at the absolute pinnacle of transcendent power—how could such a figure focus on a single subject for a thousand years and still fail to reach a definitive conclusion?

It simply didn't make sense without a proper explanation.

Though the real issue was that it actually wasn't hard for him to find a reasonable explanation: Blazing Rainbow didn't possess his unique constitution.

Exactly. Between mechanically remade Deities, pure crystal constructs, and even anchoring the apocalypse... As an established powerhouse, Blazing Rainbow most likely kept a respectful distance from crystallization.

Just like those other higher entities he had seen who hadn't been completely crystallized, He was likely among those who had preserved themselves the best.

It even aligned perfectly with Blazing Rainbow's modus operandi: unless absolutely necessary, never expose oneself even a fraction more than needed.

But was it possible that this exact trait was what kept Him from touching the truth?

Only by becoming a crystal could one draw close to the crystal.

His Excellency the Fool's grand endeavor might have still met its destruction nineteen years ago, but there was still the ever-diligent Warehouse.

Operating on its own special principles, it had presented the entire world with one ultimate question: had the apocalypse actually arrived or not?

And this question, which should have been incredibly simple for the higher entities, had seemingly caused them considerable grief.

Take Excellency Rom, who had deep ties to the Inverted Lake—didn't he come across as overly optimistic on this very subject?

It was precisely this that led to the suspicion that a certain principle existed: only those whose essence drew close to the apocalypse could see the truth.

In other words, it wasn't until the exact moment the Gods were completely crystallized that they could confirm everything they had seen before was merely an illusion.

Honestly, the exact mechanics might still be murky, but it appeared to be highly sophisticated. It was hard to believe it was the Warehouse's design. Was it a legacy left behind by His Excellency the Fool?

Regardless, once this was accepted as fact, the scheming and infighting among the numerous higher entities suddenly made sense.

And the reason this was the real issue was because, working backward from this logic, the probability of his own constitution being unique—and by extension, genuinely being the apocalypse's Anchor Point—had just shot up yet again.

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