Eldritch Horror Theatre

Brother Apostle actually has a realistic art style? No wonder he was so confident just now.

It wasn't just anything that had surprised Fu Qian. Since dragon-related projects were a key research focus at the Apocalypse Branch, he had dabbled in them to some extent.

Although these Transcendent Tier creatures each possessed their own divine traits, they generally followed a basic structure.

Their wing count might vary, and their claws could be long or short, but their torsos were at least somewhat streamlined. Fundamentally, they were akin to flying beasts.

Yet, on one hand, the behemoth before him possessed extremely classic wings and claws—nearly identical to those he had seen during the Night of Regicide.

On the other hand, these limbs were pieced together in an incredibly rigid, unnatural manner.

Specifically, it looked like a disassembled model missing its core. Someone had simply found a random humanoid torso and jammed all the remaining pieces into it.

Its twin wings and four limbs were fully intact, but the moment it stood up, it gave the subconscious impression that it probably couldn't fly.

...

Although the body formed by the gathering blood-red mist was still somewhat blurry, it seemed to confirm a lingering suspicion Fu Qian held.

The assassination back then had ultimately succeeded, and the perpetrators seemed to have harbored an exceptional hatred for the Tyrant.

So much so that not only were his fists severed, but even his remaining incomplete parts had been cruelly dealt with.

For instance, his torso had been used as a base by one of the assassins—the Dragon King—resulting in this dragon-man appearance.

As for why they had to do this... forced by circumstance?

Fu Qian quickly thought of a classic reason.

Why else would a perfectly good Deity's body be dismantled like a plastic model kit? Especially under such complex and dangerous circumstances.

Is it possible someone helped the Dragon King take it apart?

...

It seems the Tyrant was quite ruthless himself.

Once he found the right train of thought, imagining the scenario became easy.

Combined with his past on-site experiences, Fu Qian could effortlessly picture the scene: the brave Dragon King leaping out for a head-on confrontation, only to be violently torn apart by the King of the Abandoned Prison.

This aligned perfectly with his judgment at the time. The Dragon King must have suffered heavy damage in actual history as well; otherwise, the illusion of the scene might not have held up when Fu Qian ripped out its kidney, given the massive conflict with reality.

Furthermore, the trauma inflicted by the Tyrant—a symbol of Calamity—likely wasn't something that could be fixed with mere patchwork.

In the end, as the Dragon King desperately wanted to continue its life as a higher entity, its teammates came up with an idea: use the Body of the Tyrant as a foundation to somehow preserve its form.

But the fix was incredibly forced. It was still compelled to cower in this place in a state bordering on true death.

And with the curse on its body remaining incurable, this place also became the source of the Crimson Frenzy.

Did the First Generation Dark Moon do this?

Imagining such a hellish concept, Fu Qian immediately thought of a certain old acquaintance.

Throughout his occult studies thus far, this Mother of the Witch undoubtedly held her ground as one of the most mysterious figures.

Judging by her track record, her methods clearly operated under the principle that all taboos are lifted. It wouldn't be surprising in the least if she came up with such an idea—in fact, it might not even be hellish enough.

The possibility he had just pondered was merely a more conventional line of thought.

To Fu Qian, it was easy to imagine an even darker version, one where the starting point wasn't necessarily about saving a life.

Isn't it a bit too coincidental?

The Dragon King was torn apart by the Tyrant, leaving only a pile of parts.

Meanwhile, the Tyrant was dismembered by a group of people, and his torso just happened to be available for Turning Waste into Treasure.

Rather than believing the group did this simply to save the Dragon King, Fu Qian leaned toward the idea that Dark Moon and the others weren't exactly the "never leave a man behind" types.

Could this also have been a method of dismemberment and desecration?

Chopping off all his parts wasn't enough; they also had to use the dying Dragon King to inflict the "ultimate insult" in this manner.

Why would the Dragon King be so obedient, partaking in something that harmed others without benefiting itself?

Life would find a way; there was no need for it to be obedient.

As long as someone backstabbed their teammate at the right moment and directly destroyed the heavily injured Dragon King's body, they probably wouldn't even need to force the Tyrant's torso onto it—the Dragon King would have to take it.

Under such circumstances, the Dragon King's monstrous resentment was even easier to understand.

...

Is this the overarching scheme of higher entities? The more I put myself in their shoes, the more I feel the heavy weight of history.

Some elements were hard to excuse as anything but malicious speculation, but in Fu Qian's eyes, the logic flowed smoothly.

The resulting effectiveness was simply too good.

For higher entities who theoretically wouldn't die easily, a millennium had passed. Not only was the Tyrant nearly annihilated, but even the Dragon King was practically dead.

Even judging by its earlier reaction, the Crimson Frenzy—which was clearly a curse by nature—had somehow become indispensable to the Dragon King.

The curse brought agony, but this agony had already become a core component of its being, one that it couldn't afford to lose.

All in all, just thinking about it was heartbreaking.

If someone had actively guided things toward this outcome, the mastermind had indeed been far too ruthless.

"You want it? Honestly, it doesn't matter to me."

Not only did he sigh deeply in his heart over the Dragon King's fate, but at that moment, Fu Qian even reached out a hand, gesturing for the other party to come and take it.

Roar—

Unfortunately, the Dragon King wasn't very appreciative. Releasing another frenzied roar, its wings stretched to their absolute limits.

For a moment, even the Blood Lake beneath its feet was drawn upward, surging madly toward it until it wrapped around its entire body.

...

It's going all out. As expected, a millennium of resentment is nothing to scoff at.

Seeing the Dragon King rapidly transition from a soul form into a rotting state, Fu Qian, as the first to bear the brunt of its rage, still didn't forget to find an excuse for its actions.

Besides, he truly wasn't innocent either. Even if he wasn't the Tyrant from back then, logically speaking, he still had a personal grudge with this guy—over that cup of Metallic Bird Blood.

Whether the operation had succeeded or not, it seemed the earlier Phoenix really was the Dragon King's doing.

It was a veteran higher entity after all. Perhaps this was a contingency plan prepared for extreme circumstances?

Or maybe a self-rescue attempt after being afflicted?

It was just a pity that it had suffered too much damage; the outcome didn't look very promising.

And then, on a certain day many years later, a shameless scoundrel had barged in and completely snuffed out that little flicker of hope.

In short, as long as it recognized him, punishing him for multiple crimes at once meant no reaction from the Dragon King could be considered an overreaction.

And this posture clearly showed it was rallying its remaining strength, preparing to fight without regard for the consequences.

He could see that on the body rapidly filling with blood and filth, the Crimson Frenzy wasn't just spreading from the inside out.

Even the Scarlet Angels he had seen before were continuously struggling to break free from within it.

But none of this was what Fu Qian truly cared about; his attention was focused more on the churning Blood Lake.

A considerable number of nematodes had already gathered in this area, and looking at it now, massive swarms were following suit, attaching themselves to that body.

At a glance, he could even spot quite a few of the special individuals he had once suspected of serving an alarm function.

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