Eldritch Horror Theatre

The Sin Seeker had just made its imposing entrance, only to be shattered in a single strike?

Even Patrick looked slightly bewildered by this result.

He examined his own hand and glanced at the wreckage in the water, looking thoughtful.

Even with its neck snapped, the armor remained completely hollow. There was no trace of flesh or blood inside.

A moment later, a cluster of flames spilled from the severed opening and rapidly engulfed the rest of the armor.

The same thing happened to the deformed head resting in the distance.

Being submerged in water did nothing to hinder the blaze. Both pieces were swiftly reduced to ash, leaving no trace behind.

So it really was empty?

Fu Qian stood a short distance away, taking the entire scene in.

As it turned out, the entity existed in a rather unique state.

Of course, as Fu Qian observed the aftermath, he knew someone else was watching him.

"Once he kills me, he won't let you off either."

Seeing Fu Qian look up, Lynn rattled the words off at breakneck speed.

Trapped in a dead end, desperation had finally taken hold of him.

"If we join forces and take him down, we still have a chance. Otherwise, you'll end up exactly like me!"

"Look at you, trying to borrow someone else's strength again."

But to Lynn's shock, Fu Qian still acted as though he hadn't the slightest fear of death. He even let out a thoroughly disappointed sigh.

"Given what you've been through, I thought you'd be a mature prisoner by now."

Fu Qian shook his head as he spoke.

"Show some pride!"

Pride my fucking ass!

Lynn, who had been attempting his intricate strategic maneuvering, nearly choked on his own rage.

Truth be told, his original plan had never actually involved teaming up to kill Patrick.

As long as Fu Qian stepped in, it would buy Lynn the perfect opportunity to slip away.

He just hadn't expected the man to remain completely unmoved.

With his chances of survival rapidly slipping away, the smile on Fu Qian's face looked absolutely detestable.

Unfortunately, before Lynn could actually voice his curses, he was forced to swallow them back down.

Patrick had already locked onto him again.

"I have to admit, this is even easier than I imagined. So easy, in fact, that it's getting a little boring."

Having clearly overheard their little conspiracy, Patrick stared down at Lynn with a savage grin.

"Let's hope you can give me a pleasant surprise."

...

Faced with such a terrifying foe, Lynn swallowed hard. A look of absolute resolve finally surfaced in his eyes, and a faint killing intent began to radiate from his body.

He was a Mid-Tier Transcendent, after all. A cornered beast was never to be underestimated.

Yet amidst that grim, tension-filled atmosphere, the man didn't say a word. He simply dove headfirst into the water.

After all those exaggerated facial expressions, his ultimate choice was still: the wind is tight, pull back.

Naturally, the Butcher wasn't about to let him go. Barking out a vicious laugh, he leaped high into the air and stomped fiercely down onto the surface of the water.

A massive wave rolled outward, mingled with splatters of crimson.

Dozens of crisscrossing gashes had appeared on Patrick's right leg, leaving the flesh looking like shredded fish skin.

In the distance, Lynn popped his head up, having already reached the opposite bank.

His dive into the water had been a feint; he had secretly laid a trap beneath the surface beforehand.

It seemed his plan had gone off without a hitch, successfully dealing a dirty blow to Patrick.

The Butcher's mangled leg hung in tatters. As it soaked in the water, it instantly dyed the surrounding pool a deep, bloody red.

Lynn, who had retreated to the edge, didn't stick around to admire his handiwork. He had no intention of pressing his advantage either. Instead, he vaulted onto the shore and sprinted away like a madman.

It was glaringly obvious that his core strategy was still just running for his life.

The trap he'd laid was merely a tool to buy himself the best possible head start.

Unfortunately for him, the wounded Patrick didn't hesitate for a single second.

The very next instant, the Butcher slammed his good foot down. Using the explosive recoil, he launched himself into the air once more, carving a streak of dark crimson light across the sky.

At the same time, he whipped a blood-colored hook chain from his grasp.

The space ahead violently distorted.

Shrouded in blood and fire, the trembling chain tore through several invisible snares and plunged straight toward Lynn's back.

Realizing that escape was impossible, Lynn finally turned around in despair.

But before he could even mount a defense, the sheer force of the incoming gale warped his facial features.

"We can talk—"

A devastatingly heavy punch silenced Lynn instantly, engulfing half of his body in flames.

Simultaneously, a deep gash was sliced across Patrick's left cheek, exposing the bloody gums underneath.

Thud!

A split second later, Lynn's body hit the ground like a heavy sack, sending a shower of blood and fire flying in all directions.

Patrick's strength was absolutely overwhelming, and with his brutal, blow-for-blow fighting style, the damage he inflicted was vastly superior.

However, Lynn wasn't about to just sit there and die. The moment he hit the dirt, he subconsciously rolled away.

The very last thing he saw in this world was a blood-drenched leg stomping violently downward.

With a sickening crunch, a spray of red and white burst outward. Lynn's head was completely crushed.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Even then, Patrick didn't stop. He unleashed a frantic, relentless barrage of heavy stomps on the corpse.

The sheer force behind each kick was as explosive as a mortar shell.

He only stopped, fully satisfied, once Lynn's body was reduced to a lifeless paste of mangled flesh.

Haa!

Patrick let out a long breath, tilting his head back to gaze at the sky with a look of pure intoxication.

Having claimed this kill, the dark crimson aura surged across his body, his Sin Fire burning even brighter than before.

That frantic burst of violence had torn the wounds covering his body even wider. Combined with the charred black scars left by the Sin Fire, he looked utterly demonic.

After a long while, the Butcher slowly turned around, meeting Fu Qian's gaze.

"You aren't running?"

It was obvious that he hadn't expected Fu Qian to actually stand there and enjoy the show without taking a single step back.

Regardless of his motives, however, the fact that he hadn't fled was a wonderful thing.

Cowards like Lynn, who refused to fight head-on, simply weren't fun enough to kill.

"No rush,"

Fu Qian replied, shaking his head. His eyes never left the Butcher.

"Mind if I ask—have you ever seen the statue of the Goddess of Sins?"

"...I have. What about it?"

The bizarre question caught Patrick slightly off guard, but he quickly let out a sinister, cackling laugh.

"But you've never prayed for purification, have you?"

Fu Qian sought to confirm the information he had pieced together earlier.

"Why would I?"

The Butcher contorted his face into an exaggerated expression as he slowly advanced, exuding a suffocating aura of pressure.

"I'm not like them. I don't need redemption from some nameless goddess."

"Understood. Thank you very much!"

Fu Qian nodded and offered his thanks with perfect politeness.

"Good. Now, Q&A time is over."

The Butcher cracked his knuckles.

"It's a shame. You didn't run when you had the chance, and now you never will."

"I really was planning to leave,"

Fu Qian said, his expression completely nonchalant.

"But I've always loved a good show."

Hmm?

Patrick frowned in confusion, then suddenly snapped his head toward the distance.

The rhythmic clang of striking metal echoed through the air. A figure wielding a silver-white Greatsword was marching toward them with heavy, deliberate strides.

Just as it had not too long ago.

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