Eldritch Horror Theatre

'Is this what releases the Divine Blood Curse?'

Examining the spoils in his hand, Fu Qian mused.

He made this judgment partly because the item's Rank was conspicuously high, and partly because the chaotic smear of oil paint on its surface radiated a deeply uncomfortable aura, even from a glance under these circumstances.

"Excellent and virtuous. Since Lu Mou sent you on your way, I shall bear your karma."

Pressing his palms together, Fu Qian stowed the Talisman away with satisfaction. He then slipped a banknote from his pocket and left it on the table to cover their afternoon tea.

With that done, he secured his mask, picked up the Head Cage, and pushed out the door just before the Night Watchers could arrive.

Taking on Marco's appearance moments earlier hadn't been driven by some twisted sense of humor.

From the looks of it, the task he faced this time was pushing the absolute limit.

And as everyone knew, pursuing the absolute limit required flawless execution in every single detail.

Without a doubt, Marco's face was perfectly suited for the job.

...

'Hmph, what a bunch of bumpkins! Is it really that strange for a retired old man to stroll down the street carrying a cage?'

Strolling away from the Cafe, Fu Qian quickly drew the scrutinizing gazes of countless passersby.

More than a few transcendents were among them.

The mask could be excused, but the Head Cage he carried was absurdly ostentatious.

Fu Qian paid them no mind. Tossing them a disdainful glance, he strolled on with effortless grace.

Ultimately, the impending carnival proved useful; the public's tolerance for seemingly deranged fashion choices had noticeably spiked.

Meanwhile, the Pope-Bestowed Mask perfectly concealed his unique aura.

With these two factors working in his favor, he moved through the streets completely unhindered.

It wasn't long before Fu Qian arrived near his next destination.

Surveying the Old Theological College in the distance, Fu Qian's right hand began to shift rapidly, morphing into a long beak lined with razor-sharp teeth.

Standing here now was Demigod Lu—a member of the mysterious organization from the Archipelago, a pioneer of human evolution, the mastermind behind countless incidents, the enigmatic partner of the Night Watchers, and the guiding light of the Rebirth Club.

He had resurfaced in the distant city of Dunis, and no one knew his true goal.

Hiding the mutation beneath his loose sleeve, Fu Qian hoisted the Head Cage in his left hand and slipped toward the Old Theological College like a phantom.

Ariel was not in the room this time.

It made sense. Unless Fu Qian personally triggered the man's operational keywords, Ariel would never risk exposure by coming here unnecessarily.

Fu Qian took a seat and spent a long while admiring the manuscript drafts scattered about. Finally, a dutiful Night Watcher arrived.

It was no wonder the operative had been complaining earlier; working a shift from the afternoon straight through to the dead of night was indeed inhumane.

Looking at Trench Coat Guy's familiar face, Fu Qian shook his head with a heartfelt sigh.

He didn't believe in coincidences.

The psychological suggestions implanted in the man likely compelled him to periodically patrol the area and check for anomalies.

Right now, Trench Coat Guy's sharp gaze swept across the room. His eyes suddenly narrowed, as if detecting something amiss.

Yet, when he took a closer look, he found nothing in the corner except for a few scattered manuscript drafts. The strange silhouette he thought he saw was gone.

Frowning slightly, Trench Coat Guy felt a lingering sense of wrongness. He stepped forward to investigate, but in the very next instant, he inexplicably abandoned the idea. He simply turned on his heel and walked back out the way he came.

'That ought to do it.'

Tucked away in the corner, Fu Qian nodded in satisfaction as the starlight faded from his fingertips.

The reason Trench Coat Guy had turned a blind eye to him was simple: the moment he stepped through the door, the Lucid Dream had activated.

As the Dream Dominator, Fu Qian had deliberately allowed the man a single glimpse before cloaking himself. He then embedded the rule for ending the dream directly into the operative's mind: leave the room.

Everything went perfectly. Trench Coat Guy abandoned his search and didn't bother calling for backup.

However, Fu Qian was certain that Ariel, the mastermind controlling the board, would soon hear the report: a bizarrely dressed figure had broken into the beast-transformation disease patients' Club.

Combine that with the complete disappearance of their high-tier cannon fodder, Camus, and their impending reaction would undoubtedly be something to look forward to.

...

By the time he walked out of the Old Theological College, Fu Qian's hand had already returned to normal, and he seamlessly shifted back into vacation mode.

He strolled leisurely through the streets, picking up a walking cane along the way and even purchasing an elegant black top hat.

He finally arrived in front of the Opera House next to the Phoenix Palace, cane in one hand, Iron Cage in the other.

Based on his previous failure, he knew his best window to strike was the exact moment Clamor summoned Hamadus onto the stage—right before Ariel could twist its perception.

But if things played out normally, it meant he would have to strike even faster than Cassandra.

He would have to casually butcher a God right in front of Crow Feather, Wehle, and Ariel.

That scenario was an absolute bloodbath waiting to happen. He had to deal with the situation proactively.

Factoring in their division of labor, Ariel definitely wouldn't leave the docks, but the same couldn't be said for Wehle and Crow Feather.

After all, there were three Horn locations. With Camus entirely out of the picture and the enigmatic Rebirth Club eyeing them like a tiger watching its prey, reallocating their manpower was the most natural choice in the world.

Even if they were reluctant, Fu Qian was certain that Ariel—a man who cared only about the mission's success—would force their hands.

And every tiny shift on the board pushed his chances of success just a little bit higher.

...

He had arrived much earlier than he had in the previous loop. The performance hadn't even begun.

Not long after Fu Qian took his seat, two familiar auras walked down the aisle side by side and sat just a short distance away.

Showing impeccable manners, Fu Qian didn't disturb the sisters, Veil and Lotte. He simply sat there and patiently listened to the mythological play all over again.

When Lotte finally stood up and told her sister she was heading to the washroom, Fu Qian silently followed.

"Hello, Lotte."

As Veil's rebellious younger sister emerged from the washroom, Fu Qian stepped into her path to greet her.

"You are..."

The slightly distracted Lotte jolted in surprise. She hadn't expected anyone to recognize her here.

Furthermore, Fu Qian's absurdly ostentatious outfit instantly put her on high alert.

"My surname was once Lu."

Fu Qian recited the classic line, his gaze drifting intentionally—or perhaps unintentionally—toward his right hand.

"You're—"

Just like last time, Lotte's memory sparked instantly, and she recognized the strangely familiar voice.

Almost instantly, she took a subconscious step back and cast a frantic glance toward the theater hall.

"Don't worry, I bear absolutely no ill will. And I'm certainly not here to invite you to rejoin The Club."

Fu Qian chuckled gently, gesturing for her to relax.

"In fact, I've brought you a well-intentioned warning. And... a gift."

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