Eldritch Horror Theatre

Cynthia's abnormal behavior obviously wasn't the result of a Split Attack or some overbearing aura.

As an upgraded killing move, Fu Qian's Visceral Attack carried terrifying power, but its most crucial effect was far more profound: anything conceptually linked to the target suffered the exact same damage.

A single strike straight to the soul.

That was exactly why he had chosen it to end this.

"You're truly insane!"

Staring at Goya's mutilated corpse, Cynthia's voice pitched into an unnerving, terrified shriek.

"What is the point of this? Acting so recklessly—even if you get promoted to Doctor, you will never get The Company's exemption!"

Promoted to Doctor? Exemption?

Her words gave Fu Qian a brief pause before realization dawned on him.

Compared to other massive conglomerates, this organization operated a bit differently.

Its most glaring distinction was an incredibly strict hierarchy dictated entirely by a person's Transcendent Tier, unaffected by any other factors.

Each level carried a specific title, and "Doctor" likely corresponded to a specific rank within the Mid Tier.

Come to think of it, he had heard others address Cynthia by that title more than once. His usual mindset had simply made him take it for granted.

Preconceptions truly were a dangerous thing.

That was just a minor detail, however. Cynthia's threat rang completely hollow to Fu Qian.

For one thing, he had zero plans for a long-term career at the Anjing Company. And even if he did, if a Doctor's exemption wasn't enough, he could simply aim for a higher rank!

Furthermore, it was obvious that in her overwhelming shock, Cynthia hadn't even realized her own condition yet.

"Relax. How are you feeling?"

Fu Qian glanced at Goya's watch. With only half a minute left until eight o'clock, he decided to prompt her.

How am I feeling...

Cynthia certainly didn't think he actually cared about her well-being, but the prompt drew her attention inward. An instant later, she finally realized something was horribly wrong.

"What is this?"

An inexplicable, pervasive weakness washed over her, filling her voice with utter disbelief.

This sudden development clearly exceeded her understanding.

She really has no idea, does she?

Taking in her reaction, Fu Qian mused silently.

The fact that Cynthia had suffered simultaneous injury from the Visceral Attack proved one thing: a conceptual link existed between her and Goya.

Though he didn't know how it had been established, it was basically the only explanation.

It also explained why the task hadn't registered as complete—there was likely more than one Goya.

The man he had just killed was undoubtedly Goya in the sociological sense.

That explained why he hadn't acted like a mere body double.

Theoretically, he had found the true target and finished the mission the previous time.

The mission hadn't registered as a success because, at the moment of final judgment, the concept of Goya's existence had been blurred.

What an eye-opening trick!

The entity behind the Nether Steed appeared to be playing a very interesting game.

In Fu Qian's estimation, this wasn't some personal parlor trick of Goya's. It was far more likely orchestrated by the entity presiding over the covenant.

After all, the ironclad facts lay right in front of him: Goya was merely a Mid Tier player, right up to his dying breath.

If he had the power to pull off a conceptual manipulation like this, wouldn't he have just leveled up first?

"Time is almost up."

Before Cynthia could fully process her existential dread, Fu Qian appeared directly in front of her.

By the time she registered his movement, she was already airborne.

Fu Qian didn't kill her. Instead, he grabbed her by the collar and hurled her straight at the unmoving Nether Steed.

Crossing half the room in an instant, Cynthia's skull was inches away from slamming into the horse's head.

Now came the legendary test of priorities: save the mother, or save the child?

Between Cynthia and the Nether Steed, which one would shatter upon impact?

As the killer, Fu Qian watched intently.

A dull thud echoed through the room. Astonishingly, the massive Nether Steed crumpled upon impact and completely toppled over.

Compared to its imposing aura, it possessed absolutely none of the durability one would expect.

Cynthia, on the other hand, tumbled across the floor and slammed into the far wall. The statue had cushioned the blow, leaving her looking remarkably unharmed.

Hmph, so they chose to save the child? The TV tropes truly do not deceive me!

Fu Qian wore a look of utter disdain, feigning a deep sense of righteous indignation.

At the exact same time, his right arm violently morphed into a spear and thrust straight at Cynthia's head.

This follow-up strike wasn't just visually savage—its sheer speed and power far eclipsed the blow that had obliterated Goya.

Given Cynthia's level of strength, dodging it was ninety-nine percent impossible.

An instant later, Fu Qian witnessed that remaining one percent in action.

Cynthia, already disoriented from the heavy throw, suddenly seized up. Perhaps suffering a severe internal injury, her body convulsed violently as she spewed a mouthful of blood, painting half the wall red.

It looked absolutely miserable, but that violent jerk shifted her head slightly from its original position.

Fu Qian's strike grazed past her skull, tearing open a gash so deep the bone gleamed beneath.

Yet, despite everything, she survived the blow.

What a lucky girl. It all looked so perfectly natural, like a miracle pulled off purely by maxing out her luck stat.

Fu Qian marveled inwardly. He didn't bother launching a second strike. Instead, he snapped his fingers and activated Transcendence.

He had gleaned all the information he needed, and there were only a few seconds left on the clock anyway.

...

"How are you feeling?"

When the bespectacled doctor appeared before him once again, Fu Qian's perspective on the entire scenario had drastically shifted.

Is this truly the worst-case scenario beyond my imagination?

Staring at the minimalist, professional laboratory, Fu Qian mused internally.

His final throw had ostensibly been a crude test to see which was harder: Cynthia's skull or the horse head. But his previous experiences had already taught him that an object acting as a symbol for a covenant never feared physical destruction.

So the Nether Steed toppling and crumpling hadn't surprised him in the slightest.

The only reason he had launched that brutal follow-up strike while Cynthia lay on the ground was to engineer a scene of absolute despair.

From start to finish, Cynthia had appeared to be the single most normal person in the room. Yet, when he ripped out Goya's organs, she had suffered bizarre, linked damage.

Fu Qian had been betting on a theory: that if his guess was correct, Cynthia was also bound to the covenant, just hidden far more deeply.

After witnessing the devastation of his Visceral Attack, the entity behind the covenant likely hadn't dared to gamble on her surviving a Split Attack, choosing instead to intervene and protect her.

The outcome proved it. Driven to despair, Cynthia had miraculously "lucked" her way out of death once again.

Naturally, the mechanics of her survival looked perfectly reasonable. He couldn't pick a single flaw in it.

But surviving his follow-up strike at all? That in itself was the greatest impossibility.

Cynthia was definitely not normal!

"Not so good."

Shaking his head at the doctor's inquiry, Fu Qian opted for the exact same answer he had given the first time.

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