Eldritch Horror Theatre

At least it was worth the price of admission.

Toying with the Lucid Dream, whose appearance had grown deeper and more dazzling, Fu Qian finally saw its description just as he had hoped.

Though slightly obscure, judging by the newly added content, the item had clearly leveled up.

Its area of effect had expanded from defenseless ordinary people to genuine transcendents.

”Souls lacking sufficient strength cannot break free even if they realize they are in a dream”—this line made it feel exactly like some sort of special mental cage.

He could consider using it in the future specifically to target low-rank transcendents.

As for the empty cup—Fu Qian contentedly slid the Ring back onto his finger and looked at the completely hollow Golden Cup.

Surprisingly, after its trait was extracted, this thing didn’t crumble to ash. Instead, it stubbornly remained intact within the Warehouse.

After thinking it over, the only possible explanation for this was likely related to the special patterns etched on it.

The Holy Grail Cult truly wasn’t simple, which was undoubtedly good news.Fu Qian slowly placed the cup back down.

On one hand, this proved that the patterns themselves possessed special mystical properties.

By now, he recalled that while trapped inside the Angel of Comfort, he had seen a bizarre, counterclockwise-spinning pattern more than once.

Comparing the two, they gave off a somewhat similar feeling. That was probably why he had found it seemingly familiar earlier.

On the other hand, Fu Qian had already decided on this cup’s final resting place—he couldn’t bear to feed its trait to the Starry Sky Prism, but feeding it the physical cup itself was fine, even if it was solid gold.

The Holy Grail Cult was undeniably an interesting organization. If the Starry Sky Prism could extract some useful information from it, then following in the footsteps of this ancient organization—just like he had with Mister Luo and Yul—would surely be a fun endeavor.

Someone might ask, why not just feed it right now? Why put it back and wait for later?

That was because Fu Qian had just realized a problem: it had been over twenty-four hours since he last clocked out of work.

Yet upon returning to the Warehouse this time, there was actually no containment breach alarm!

This was truly a rare situation. Had the system changed its tune—

[Identity verification complete. Today’s work begins.]

The very second that thought crossed his mind, the notification chimed abruptly.

[Warning: Containment breach.]

Speak of the devil?

Whatever he thought of immediately happened. Fu Qian didn’t utter a sound, standing there calmly.

[Name: Blazar. Codename: 1-005.]

[Today’s work assignment updated: Enter the Containment Scenario of 1-005 and complete re-containment.]

Hiss!

Listening to the specific details of the prompt echoing in his ears, Fu Qian drew in a sharp breath.

Another item starting with a 1? This week’s workload was nothing but high-end assignments!

And to think he actually assumed he could slack off just a moment ago.

Sure enough, the sudden ups and downs of life were far too thrilling!

[Entering 1-005 Containment Scenario...]

[...5%... 15%... 40%... 65%—]

As his five senses gradually blurred, Fu Qian silently calculated that since he hadn’t been allowed to equip his gear or skills this time, it was highly likely another task that restricted his abilities. But to his surprise, just as the loading progressed past the halfway mark, it completely stopped.

What was going on? Things were getting more and more bizarre!

[Welcome, welcome.]

Fu Qian twitched his fingers, wondering if he would be trapped to death in this bizarre state. In the next moment, the prompt suddenly resumed, though its voice had deepened significantly.

Following that brief twofold repetition, Fu Qian’s senses returned to his body, and his vision brightened instantly.

Where was this?

Realizing the freeze-up was over and the task was continuing, Fu Qian immediately observed his surroundings.

Surprisingly, there were no twisted or bloody scenes, nor any visible monsters. There wasn’t even a second person in sight.

He was sitting in a chair at a light wood-grain desk, which held a stack of things that looked like documents.

Fu Qian reached out and flipped through them, confirming he saw several strings of mathematical formulas.

It seemed to be a high school curriculum. So, was this a school? Some teacher’s office?

Fu Qian quickly made his judgment.

No—some female teacher’s.

Catching sight of an ornate makeup mirror beside the documents, Fu Qian mentally added that detail.

Of course, it was just a probability estimate.

If one stubbornly argued that this makeup mirror, coupled with the size 38 high heels under the desk, both belonged to a male teacher, it wasn’t entirely impossible.

While observing all this, Fu Qian also checked his own condition, realizing he was indeed currently in a mortal state.

[Current task updated: Leave the office within five minutes.]

Right then, the task prompt appeared briskly.

Such detailed task guidance? Also, wasn’t this task a bit too easy?

Fu Qian looked up toward the door.

The office door was right there. Not only did it look completely unlocked, but given how flimsy it was, an ordinary person could definitely kick it open with a single kick. He couldn’t imagine any possibility of it trapping him inside.

Fu Qian pondered for a moment and didn’t immediately leave in accordance with the prompt. Instead, he pulled open the desk drawers one by one, working from bottom to top.

Five minutes was a long time; he might as well gather some information first.

No matter how he looked at it, this task was bizarre. Fu Qian wasn’t going to let any opportunity to obtain information slip by.

The desk drawers were pulled open one by one. Inside were basically just common items—ink, a utility knife, a compact makeup bag, and the like. Everything was clear at a glance.

Fu Qian didn’t give up. With unceasing speed, he continued pulling open the remaining drawers.

[Locked. Requires a key to open.]

Yet just as his search reached the top left drawer, a voice suddenly popped into his ear.

WTF!

In that instant, Fu Qian drew in another sharp breath.

This prompt... this task was even more bizarre than he had imagined!

Although he had received prompts in the past, they had always fallen within the scope of task guidance.

This kind of instant-feedback prompt was an absolute first for him.

Anyone who played video games wouldn’t find this type of message unfamiliar; they had seen it far too many times.

Based on his experience, if an area explicitly told him a key was needed to open it, that basically meant an impenetrable system barrier had been applied. Brute-forcing it would be completely impossible.

And if he wanted to retrieve what was inside, aside from finding the key, the only other possibility was trying to pick it with a hairpin.

But the problem was, he wasn’t playing a game right now.

So what exactly had gone wrong?

For a brief moment, it felt as if the fourth wall had been broken.

A brain in a vat? The Matrix? Hypnosis?

Fu Qian looked toward the office door once more. This flimsy wooden door suddenly exuded an imposing aura.

What if, when he pulled the doorknob later, a prompt suddenly popped up—[A vicious, malevolent aura is prowling outside. Are you sure you want to open it?]

When that time came, should he open it, or not?