Eldritch Horror Theatre

"We're here."

Before long, the Covetous Heart Chariot slammed to a halt.

Ballard threw the door open immediately, his expression cold as he hustled him out.

Perhaps he too had felt the awkwardness of the journey; he had driven at top speed the entire way, as if eager to reach their destination in an instant.

"It doesn't look like anyone followed us. Aren't you worried I might just run off once I step out?"

In no rush at all, Fu Qian asked with keen interest.

Stoss's move had been truly ruthless. Even now, the flames clinging to his body showed no signs of fading, and the agony remained just as intense.

But as a professional, Fu Qian kept his smile utterly flawless.

"Besides, are you sure we've actually arrived?"

At a glance, it was an astonishingly ordinary apartment building—the kind where a unit wouldn't exceed ninety square meters.

"I trust his judgment."

Ballard seemed to have little interest in discussing Fu Qian's question. He took a deep breath, pointed upward, and made an inviting gesture.

"He wants you to go up alone. Room 802."

"Much obliged."

Seeing Ballard so straightforward, Fu Qian felt his curiosity about this Prophet grow even stronger.

After thanking Ballard, he stepped out of the vehicle and walked into the rather cramped lobby.

It was a pity his clothes and cash had all burned to ashes; otherwise, he would have loved to casually toss the man a tip.

...

After all that strategizing within the command tent, he was finally going to meet this mysterious figure!

Fu Qian mused to himself as the somewhat noisy elevator rapidly ascended.

Compared to being hauled back to the Base by Ballard, this was undeniably a far better turn of events.

He had the distinct feeling that this person knew a great deal more about the flames.

And if it hadn't been for his string of maneuvers earlier, the Prophet likely wouldn't have had any interest in talking to him—let alone bypassing a report to have him brought directly here.

The complicated expressions on the faces of Akasha and the others were likely related to this as well.

The Prophet's unusual response had made his own fabricated nonsense sound even more intimidating.

Aside from that, his interaction with the Hunting Squad had been incredibly rewarding. At the very least, he now possessed a certain understanding of the flame's essential nature.

Amidst his musings, the elevator doors opened, revealing a dimly lit Corridor before him.

Fu Qian did not hesitate. He quickly found Room 802.

After knocking politely, he gave the door an experimental push. It wasn't locked and swung open at his touch.

...

A sofa, a closet, a carpet. Behind the door lay a strikingly classic scene of everyday life, save for the fact that the lights were off.

Further ahead, the balcony was entirely taken up by an elegantly shaped Deck Chair.

A pot-bellied figure with black hair and black eyes lay squinting on it, with a clothes-drying pole resting across him.

This look...

For Fu Qian, the visual impact of the scene before him was even more absurd than a horde of demons and monsters.

From the very beginning, the tone of this mission seemed to have veered wildly off course.

However, since you are here, make yourself at ease. Fu Qian closed the door behind him, walked over to the sofa, and sat down.

He even devoted his full effort to controlling the armor on his body, ensuring the flames wouldn't escape and scorch the furniture.

"You're here. Welcome, welcome!"

The Prophet appeared quite approachable. Instead of striking a pose and ignoring his guest, he immediately sat up, scratched his messy hair, and greeted Fu Qian.

Fu Qian was absolutely certain that the man seemed to breathe a sigh of relief the moment he saw his face.

"How should I address you? Or should I just call you Prophet?"

"No need to be so formal. Just call me Yuan Fang."

The latter waved his hand, his demeanor more laid-back than imagined. But that name...

Yuan Fang, the Prophet?

There was entirely too much to unpack there, but after everything he had experienced so far, Fu Qian actually didn't find it all that strange.

"Alright, Yuan Fang. So, how do you think I should be addressed?"

After returning the greeting, Fu Qian asked meaningfully.

"That doesn't matter. But to keep things consistent with the others, I'll just call you Clown."

Yuan Fang's tone was incredibly natural, yet the sheer amount of information he just revealed was staggering.

First, he was capable of observing Fu Qian remotely through Ballard and the rest—or at the very least, he could hear what was being said.

Second, he was skeptical of Fu Qian's cover story, yet he believed that Fu Qian's true identity didn't matter.

"Anyway, I'm very grateful for your cooperation. I was truly looking forward to this meeting."

"Understood. So, what made you so sure I wouldn't take the chance to run away?"

Fu Qian nodded, then casually asked another question.

"Since you didn't leave the bar, you weren't going to leave just now, either."

Worthy of the title of Prophet, Yuan Fang's words carried a Zen-like depth.

"Anyway, Mr. Clown, could you tell me your impressions of this place?"

Without much small talk, Yuan Fang asked directly the next moment.

"Chaotic, yet operating on a set of rules all its own."

Since the other party was being so direct, Fu Qian honestly shared his observations.

"It seems noisy everywhere, but all that chaos is lined up in a very specific way. It's like dust falling from the sky, somehow settling into the shape of a carpet."

"That's quite an interesting metaphor."

Yuan Fang listened intently and finally nodded in all seriousness.

"Your feeling is correct. Everything in here is indeed just a pile of dust."

"Everyone?"

"Everyone. Including me."

Yuan Fang's demeanor was remarkably frank and open.

"No matter how magnificent or powerful you are, as long as you are trapped in here with nothing left but a fate of decay, you are dust."

"Let me think... Are you implying that there is absolutely no way for anyone in here to escape?"

Fu Qian looked thoughtful.

"Yes. Embers might give off a little brilliance as they burn, but no amount of brilliance is enough to turn you back into a tree."

Yuan Fang sighed, pointing at Fu Qian's face.

"Of course, what's on you isn't even brilliance. It's the power of pure destruction."

"So that's why you breathed a sigh of relief earlier? You were worried that what I had on me was actually 'fire'?"

Fu Qian wore a look of dawning comprehension.

"That's only part of it. Mainly, I didn't want you passing the wrong idea on to the others."

Yuan Fang did not deny it.

"Even dust has the right to enjoy peace. False hope is a very dangerous thing."

"If what you described were actually effective, have you thought about what this world would turn into?"

"Fair enough."

"Of course, the most important reason for this meeting is that I'd like to ask you for a favor."

Looking at Fu Qian, Yuan Fang's tone turned entirely serious.

"Why must it be my help? You should have plenty of manpower."

Fu Qian felt a pang of curiosity.

"You are different from them. I cannot observe your fate, and what needs to be done this time requires a bit of uncertainty."

"Tell me. What exactly needs to be done?"

Since the other man was being so sincere, Fu Qian didn't beat around the bush either.

"It's very simple. Help eliminate those outsiders."

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