Eldritch Horror Theatre

"Did you plan this from the very beginning?"

In an instant, the momentum of offense and defense had changed. After a long silence, the Harbinger stared fixedly at the single sentence Fu Qian had written.

That depends on what exactly you mean. The concept of time parasitism has indeed been raised before.

Fu Qian mused to himself.

As an intruder experiencing things more directly, it would actually be a failure on his part not to think that way.

As for why he was so insistent on making the other party predict the contents of the judgment?

The core reason really was the curiosity he had mentioned earlier.

Up to this point, this task had been rather unique.

It involved not only a figure from the past like Lasik, but even the Abyss Notes.

Unfortunately, in his estimation, the chances of the Harbinger helping to clear up his confusion were slim.

This was a suppression by the underlying mechanics, having little to do with personal initiative.

Drawing on his past experiences in the Virtue Task, Fu Qian highly doubted the judgment would manifest as heavenly fire, a great flood, or holy light.

Even if it wasn't as abstract as an infinite loop on a videotape, he couldn't rule out the possibility that the entire Sanitarium world would meet its true end in some other bizarre fashion.

Because of this, even if his prophetic abilities were real, what the Harbinger needed to do was far more difficult than perceiving the anomaly in time.

So why make such a demand while knowing all of this?

Simple. In this current trio act, he was theoretically Servis's accomplice.

The entire goal was for the other party to fail the prediction.

"Actually, not that early."

Seeing that his words had taken effect, Fu Qian replied with a polite smile.

...

The answer was obvious. He truly couldn't see it.

The scene playing out before his eyes vividly illustrated what it meant for one side to wane while another waxed.

The light fading from the Harbinger's eyes appeared almost simultaneously in Servis's.

Losing this clash of logic essentially meant the complete negation of his very self.

To the Harbinger, even the end of the world wouldn't be more terrifying.

Under these circumstances, Fu Qian believed the man would try as hard as he could, and had even prepared himself for the task to fail because of it.

"What I see is far more abstract than you can imagine, and I can only look twenty minutes ahead..."

It seemed his curiosity would go unsatisfied after all.

After a long silence, the Harbinger finally spoke again, his words dripping with evasion.

By leveraging Judgment Day—a trump card practically conjured out of thin air—the situation had been instantly reversed.

Now, all he had to do was press his advantage to achieve his goal.

"Oh, how abstract?"

Fu Qian casually pressed the issue, doing exactly that.

"No distinction between surface and interior, symbols, colors, and numbers... everything jumbled together."

The Harbinger's response was appropriately abstract.

Numbers? Interesting.

Fu Qian listened intently, falling deep into thought for a moment.

"177?"

...

"What does that mean?"

The Harbinger looked utterly baffled.

"We've been talking for so long, and you haven't noticed this number on me?"

Fu Qian wore a profound expression, looking as though he were exposing the Harbinger's lies once more.

The number itself was real, of course—it was his current SAN Value.

Yes, if the world in this master's eyes truly was as abstract as he claimed...

Then as a task runner, what could possibly represent his core self better than his SAN Value?

The stakes might be high, but this task was far too unique. Fu Qian didn't mind putting this forward as a little test.

"It's extremely complicated. I need time to carefully sort and identify it all."

Unsurprisingly, the Harbinger was backed into a corner, struggling to come up with any more excuses.

"Then identify it. Tell me what happens to this number when Judgment Day arrives."

Refusing to let him off the hook, Fu Qian smiled and slid the notebook over to him.

"I need to take this one step at a time."

The Harbinger took it with a stony expression.

"Then take it one step at a time."

Fu Qian offered him no room to back out.

"...Fine."

Left with nowhere to retreat, the Harbinger picked up the pen once more—

[Today is the 56th, a day has 24 hours, Columnist Fu Qian is 20 years old, the sun's altitude angle is 77, totaling 177]

After staring fixedly at the fresh, blank page for a long time, the words the Harbinger wrote were truly a shock to the eyes.

...

Had he completely stopped speaking human language?

He looked like he could be chucked straight into an asylum without even needing a professional evaluation.

Fu Qian was undoubtedly the one analyzing the words the most intently, and the one sighing the most internally.

This bizarre train of logic was firmly in the realm of mixing spaghetti with concrete. No matter how you looked at it, it seemed he had applied far too much pressure and driven the man completely insane.

But here was the brilliant part—the words hadn't disappeared.

Yes. It had been ten seconds since the final stroke landed, yet that block of abstract text remained on the page.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Attending Physician's expression was remarkably vivid. Over those ten seconds, it shifted from shock, to joy, and finally to a blank stare—the exact look of someone witnessing something indescribable.

Because it truly was indescribable...

Seeing this, Fu Qian merely let out a long internal sigh. A certain theory of his was being confirmed.

Yes, the moment the Harbinger mentioned how mixed and abstract the world of his prophecy was, a specific scene had flashed through Fu Qian's mind—

Why had there been such a surreal projection in the Warehouse right before the task began? It had the distinct shape of a mountain, but it was constructed from a single coiled line, like a crude 3D print.

Was time truly the only thing that had lost its sacredness to become a parasite?

Yes and no. Everything in this place truly did resemble the world through the eyes of a psychiatric patient.

Countless elements were jumbled together, coagulating and sticking to one another. They interacted in incomprehensible ways, ultimately fabricating a surface-level illusion that at least looked coherent.

He still didn't know the root cause, but the True Word Notebook seemed to be acting as its operating core.

All in all, the Harbinger's approach might have been correct, but he still hadn't managed to glimpse any greater horrors.

But now, under Fu Qian's guidance, he seemed to be making some actual progress.

[Today is the 57th, in the 1 hour before sunset, Kleinfeld coughed 13 times, and 177 became 165]

He kept writing relentlessly, and as he did, a new trick emerged.

[SAN Value -12]

Right as the Harbinger wrote down that second sentence, a notification actually echoed in Fu Qian's ear.

...

Had his SAN Value actually dropped?

If a senior runner had taken this assignment, they probably wouldn't have been able to handle it.

Remaining perfectly composed on the outside, Fu Qian was thoroughly thrilled on the inside. In that moment, he was extremely satisfied with the loss.

The fact that it could even accomplish this further proved the power and chaos of the "indescribable."

To think that a random amalgamation of elements could actually alter a stat monitored by the Warehouse.

Furthermore, the loss wasn't just 12 points of his SAN Value. The countdown had also advanced by another day.

[Today is the 58th...]

The Harbinger kept writing, carrying the sheer momentum of someone charging straight toward Judgment Day.

[SAN Value -17]

His SAN Value continued to drop.

[Today is the 59th...]

[SAN Value +2]

It wasn't entirely bad news, however. He had even gained some back.

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