Eldritch Horror Theatre

God of Clamor Hamadus. Was his mission this time really to slay a god?

And to think he had actually become fellow Daoists with the Origin Council.

He had to admit, it was truly... thrilling!

"Hunt Hamadus?"

Unlike Fu Qian's silent musings, Marco's reaction was visibly far more intense.

"I know of the God of Clamor, but isn't that just a myth?"

His face was grim. Subconsciously, he resisted the very idea of god-slaying.

"An actual living deity?"

"Living, though he might as well be dead."

"Many myths exist for a reason."

"But even in the legends, Hamadus was never a particularly powerful deity. He didn't have many followers early on, and naturally, he has even fewer now. The Clamor Festival, originally established through faith in him, has been reduced to nothing more than an ugly carnival."

"But he does exist. We only confirmed this recently."

"It's just that for a very long time now, Hamadus has been in a deep slumber. This leaves his state highly unstable; you could even say he is half-mad."

"Of course, if that weren't the case, we wouldn't have entertained the thought of hunting him."

"In short, in his newly awakened state, Hamadus wields roughly the Combat Power of the Divine Emissary Level—perhaps even less."

Marco clearly wasn't buying Wehle's careful explanation.

"Don't worry, I haven't finished."

Wehle waved a hand, gesturing for him to be patient.

"First, hunting a deity is not what you imagine. We have already devised a strategy for this."

"Second, neither you nor Camus will need to fight him head-on."

"Tomorrow night, as part of the Clamor Festival's fixed annual tradition, the highly respected Count Valentin of Dunis will visit the Lighthouse at The Port in person. From the top, he will blow an ancient Horn, symbolizing the call to the God of Clamor."

"Two identical Horns will also be located at Cross Square and the Phoenix Palace Clock Tower."

Wehle opened his left hand as he spoke. Resting in his palm were two thin, grayish-black flakes. They looked like crudely polished stones, their surfaces covered in a chaotic pattern of intersecting arcs.

"Once the Horns sound in sequence from all three locations, the Clamor Festival will officially begin."

"And what you two need to do is find a chance to activate these at those two locations the moment the Horns blow."

"What about you?"

Marco clearly hadn't expected his task to be this. He hesitated briefly before asking.

"I will be beside the Count."

Wehle gave him a look, his face expressionless.

"So... what exactly do these do?"

Marco's breath hitched, and he quickly changed the subject.

"These are specially made Talismans."

Wehle rubbed the two flakes in his hand.

"Once activated, they will amplify ordinary sounds into mental shockwaves. The revelers, who have been preparing for this for a long time, will experience an emotional resonance they could never have imagined—a resonance at the Transcendent Tier!"

"This will cover the entire Cross District and Port District, eventually scaling up to hundreds of thousands of people. In that tide of sound, bordering on true faith, if we are lucky, we might just see the real Hamadus."

"After doing this, you don't need to stick around. Just leave immediately."

"If possible, once you shake off the Night Watchers, you can come over to The Port and wait for a chance to assist."

In every aspect, Wehle's arrangement was perfectly reasonable. There was nothing to nitpick.

"As for how the two locations are distributed, you can decide for yourselves."

Decide for themselves.

The moment Wehle finished speaking, Marco turned his gaze to Fu Qian.

"I'm not familiar with Dunis, so I'll just take whatever is left."

Fu Qian scoffed almost without hesitation, stating it flatly.

...

Fu Qian's deeply disdainful tone clearly flared Marco's temper once again.

With two locations to choose from, he had indeed harbored thoughts of snatching his preferred one first. He hadn't expected the other man to just let him pick.

The problem was that he clearly didn't believe Fu Qian would be so kind, which made him hesitate instead.

"I've gotten older these past few years, so I don't really like going out as much as I used to."

Seeing the situation, Wehle spoke up again, continuing on his own.

"Personally, I'm more familiar with the Phoenix Palace. After all, Dunis's best Opera House is right next to it."

"Most of the people who go there are old folks like me. So if you act there, besides the Night Watchers who are guaranteed to be present, you might also have to deal with some of their bodyguards. Of course, that shouldn't be a problem for either of you."

"As for Cross Square, the terrain there is open and easy to escape from, but the crowd will be more complex. Young people prefer to go there, so under the same circumstances, there might be more Night Watchers on hand."

"I'll go to Cross Square."

Almost the moment Wehle finished his introduction, Marco hesitated no longer. He snatched a Talisman directly from Wehle's hand.

"Relatively speaking, I'm obviously better suited for where the young people are."

He shot Fu Qian a provocative glare as he spoke.

"Really? Whether you're young or not aside, are you sure you're suited to go where 'people' are?"

Fu Qian didn't even blink. He deliberately placed heavy emphasis on the word 'people'.

That kind of kindergarten-level taunt meant nothing to him—it was only asking for humiliation.

Crack!

Given the dimensional gap in their levels of mockery, Marco's defenses shattered once more. With a single slap, he smashed the table beside him to pieces.

"Alright. Strictly speaking, none of us count as pure 'people'."

Wehle stepped in immediately to stop the farce from escalating.

The words of someone in the Demigod Realm still carried weight. Looking at Fu Qian, who hadn't even shifted in his seat, Marco felt furious, but he ultimately refrained from lashing out again.

"Then I'll go to the Phoenix Palace."

Fu Qian looked at Wehle's open palm, gave a slight nod, and accepted his task.

Yet, just as he reached out to take the Talisman, Wehle sucked in a sharp breath and abruptly clenched his hand shut.

"What happened to your hand?"

The moment he spoke, everyone, including Marco beside them, instantly went on high alert. All eyes locked onto Fu Qian's exposed right hand.

The faint patterns originally on his skin had now become vividly multicolored. Even the flesh beneath those patterns was no longer semi-transparent.

...

What else could it be? Wasn't it obvious?

Meeting Wehle's suspicious and uncertain gaze, Fu Qian opted to lower his voice and chuckle.

"My powers are becoming unstable. It seems that demigod is getting a bit impatient."

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