Eldritch Horror Theatre

Inside the Black Box within the Head Physician's Office.

The voltage fluctuated, causing the overhead light to flicker, but it did nothing to deter the man working beneath it.

The Harbinger's stiff fingers gripped the pen so forcefully that the nib bent into a precarious curve—a nerve-wracking sight.

Lines of text resembling sheer gibberish continuously spilled onto the page.

[Today is the 61st. Judgment will arrive in twenty minutes. 135 will return to zero.]

The dates had progressed all the way to the 61st, the Thirteenth Day Judgment Day.

The Harbinger's writing seemed to confirm this; in fact, this sentence was the least like gibberish on the entire page.

But this was hardly good news. An extreme threat was now laid bare before them, leaving no room for evasion.

135 would return to zero?

And in the line about the 61st, the most glaring detail was that final clause.

Because the number 135 had been derived exactly from the progression of 177 all the way down to the 60th.

Yes, this was his SAN Value.

He had previously lamented that his predecessors probably couldn't have handled such a toll, especially since it had dropped dangerously close to double digits at one point.

If he hadn't just digested the Entwined Umbilical Cord, even his own reserves would be running low.

As it turned out, it didn't matter how much he had left. Once the judgment arrived, this stat would drop straight to zero?

Wasn't that price a bit too steep? So the one being judged wasn't this Demon Mountain, but rather himself, the human fiend?

The Warehouse screwed me over!

In that moment, Fu Qian once again experienced the true meaning of deadweight allies.

Although he had been curious about what would happen to his current state if his SAN Value hit zero, finding out this way would be an entirely passive experiment—something a true professional would never accept.

The crux of the issue was the Warehouse. It was one thing for the entity assigning the task to fail to warn him of the risks, but earlier, it had almost seemed to be covering them up.

What did it mean by, "This is a special mission; Containment must be successfully executed until the SAN Value reaches zero"?

Anyone with basic logic would assume it meant they had to keep trying no matter how many times they failed, fighting on until the task was complete.

No matter how you looked at it, it implied there would be chances to start over.

But in reality, his SAN Value would drop to zero the moment the mission failed?

Fortunately, as a professional who loved gathering intelligence, he always upheld the principle of treating every run like his last.

Otherwise, blindly stepping into this trap would have resulted in catastrophic losses.

"Congratulations, you've proven yourself."

Of course, there were still silver linings. For instance, the Harbinger had finally used the SAN Value as a catalyst to deduce a fragment of information regarding the judgment.

It even confirmed the fact that prophecies could only be made twenty minutes in advance.

Without hesitating, Fu Qian offered his congratulations.

...

"How could this be..."

Unfortunately, the man in question hadn't learned to look on the bright side.

At Fu Qian's congratulations, the Harbinger flinched as if he'd been electrocuted.

Snap!

Before Fu Qian could even respond, the expensive pen finally gave way under the pressure, snapping clean in two.

Yet, completely ignoring the ink staining his hands, the Harbinger stared fixedly at the notebook's contents, looking as if he couldn't believe he had written those words.

"Isn't it obvious? You proved yourself. I now believe you are a master of prophecy."

Fu Qian didn't want to downplay the man's achievement. He offered his official recognition while looking over at the text with a sigh.

"And it seems you were right. The essence of this place truly is abstract and chaotic."

But this was simply too chaotic...

No one spoke in that moment, but Fu Qian felt as if he could hear a powerless sigh.

Even out of the corner of his eye, the faint glimmer of life in Servis's eyes had completely dissipated.

Being backstabbed by a nominal ally didn't matter, and personally admitting that an opponent had won was a trivial issue.

Clearly, compared to failing to treat a patient, Servis was facing a far more absurd predicament.

The True Word Notebook—something Servis firmly believed in, something absolutely correct—was currently displaying an irrefutably profane side.

It was like a noble, pure, and Inviolable Saintess lifting the hem of her white skirt, only to reveal traces of things that should absolutely never be there.

The world was nothing like what it was supposed to be...

"What exactly are you..."

After a moment, Servis slowly raised their head, looking at Fu Qian as if staring at a manifested demon that had come here solely to spread despair.

"A Columnist. I believe you've both experienced my professionalism by now?"

Fu Qian straightened his bowtie with a warm, genial expression.

...

"You don't have much time left..."

Unfortunately, there was still no one who could relate.

Whether it was Servis or the Harbinger, their minds had been entirely consumed by whatever lay beneath the Saintess's skirt. Their sanity was teetering on the edge of collapse.

So much so that after a long silence, the two of them spoke almost simultaneously, reminding him that a portion of those twenty minutes had already passed.

"Indeed, I don't."

Fu Qian had naturally kept track of the time, and he was fully aware of why they were reminding him.

"So you can both understand why I must leave now?"

A moment later, he heeded their suggestion, bidding farewell to his two co-stars.

"Thank you..."

This time, only the Attending Physician spoke, offering gratitude rather than understanding.

As expected, fear was far more reliable than promises; there was no need to put too much moral pressure on everyone.

At first glance, this reaction seemed strange, but Fu Qian didn't find it jarring in the slightest. He merely sighed inwardly.

Who should he have helped to attain freedom?

From the beginning of this three-way dynamic, that had been the core question.

It was also a difficult choice. After all, human promises were far too fragile, liable to end in a backstab at any moment.

But why did he have to help either side? If he wanted to avoid being exploited, he could just render himself useless.

Just like at this very moment, the original conflict between doctor and patient was no longer important, meaning there was naturally no need for their tool to stick around.

It was just that in executing this strategy, he had used a bit too much force.

His method for resolving the doctor-patient conflict had been to drive both sides insane.

Right now, as the true Source of Chaos, the instinctual reaction for Servis and the Harbinger—provided they wanted to avoid witnessing anything more indescribable and hold on to their crumbling sanity—was to get as far away from him as possible.

Thus, not only would they refrain from physically stopping him, but they would also try their best to minimize the chances of his departure triggering the Well of Time on them.

The path to redemption truly relied on a dimensional strike.

"You're welcome."

Meeting those four pleading gazes, Fu Qian walked toward the door, not forgetting to offer a polite reply.

Sure enough, no one asked him to stay.

...

The weather wasn't bad, which implied that the judgment likely wouldn't take the form of natural disasters like floods.

He easily unlocked the heavy door. Unsurprisingly, no one was waiting for him outside.

However, when Fu Qian emerged from the first level of the Underground, the outside scene was somewhat bustling.

Even though the sun had just risen, quite a few people were already out for their morning activities. They greeted each other in twos and threes, perfectly embodying a slow-paced lifestyle.

It seemed Excellency Servis's ideology had been conveyed quite promptly.

Walking through this atmosphere, Fu Qian encountered no obstacles as he reached the main entrance of the Sanitarium.

From this vantage point, he could clearly see that absolutely no one was lying in ambush to prevent him from taking that final step.

Even the nearby guard booth was completely deserted.

Perfect timing, and he still had some time to spare.

Given the situation, Fu Qian didn't rush to leave. Instead, he walked straight into the guard booth, tightly shut the door and windows, and drew the canvas curtains.

"Are you there, Old Man Mosson?"

As the light dimmed, Fu Qian called out according to their agreed-upon method.

"...Did you find the part Lasik lost?"

Worthy of a professional, that familiar voice soon responded, cutting straight to the chase.

"You could say that."

Fu Qian casually relayed the information Servis had shared.

"Regarding the intruder, my son actually found another record. His name is... Bernard."

As it turned out, the Old Man hadn't just taken the money and run, though he hadn't given Fu Qian a choice in the matter either.

"He was also the first intruder on record. Lester once treated him."

...

Were they truly all birds of a feather? Had he driven his doctor mad as well?

He spent a minute listening to the recording. After confirming it wasn't just someone with the same name, Fu Qian recalled a certain figure with bird's-nest hair as he finally left the booth and crossed that boundary.

[Containment Conditions met. Number 1-013 Containment successful.]

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