Eldritch Horror Theatre

’An attendance card?’

Fu Qian naturally didn’t refuse. He reached out and took it, curious about this new acquisition.

He could hardly be blamed for the thought. The female gatekeeper’s tone had been incredibly evocative, and the object in his hand looked exactly like one.

Bright yellow, rectangular, and a thin, semi-transparent sliver.

It was only about half the size of his palm, and looking at it gave him a strong sense of déjà vu.

It lacked printed text or photos, featuring only a crisscrossing pattern of indentations.

Furthermore, these marks were internal; the surface still felt smooth and warm to the touch.

”It will guide you through the obscuring mist to the Great Court.”

As Fu Qian toyed with it, the male gatekeeper chimed in to explain, his tone solemn.

”So, how do I use it?”Fu Qian continued to express his curiosity.

”Hold it tight, and let it be fully drenched by the wound it creates.”

The man patiently continued his explanation.

”Like this?”

Before the words faded, Fu Qian was already putting the instructions into practice.

He didn’t bother asking how to create a wound. The one aspect of this card that made it least like office stationery was its razor-sharp edge.

For a normal person, a slightly forceful grip was all it took to open a wound.

”Very good. Hold it.”

Both gatekeepers seemed highly satisfied with his decisive action.

”I know it is excruciating, but trust me, it will soon transform into a pleasure you never imagined... the very thing you so desperately yearned for in your unknowable dreams...”

Unsparing with her praise, the female gatekeeper spoke in a rhythmic cadence, as if reciting a sacred text.

’The thing I desperately yearned for... a thirst for slaughter?’

Fu Qian didn’t mind the pain. In fact, he was genuinely analyzing the meaning behind her words.

Between the questions asked during the ”interview” and how they had just handled the eliminated candidates, he could sense that underlying theme.

Beneath the two gatekeepers’ solemn exteriors lay an urge that accumulated endlessly, demanding release with every passing second.

It was just a pity that, despite his own hands being steeped in blood, he couldn’t muster any interest in that kind of sadistic, torturous destruction.

The pain, however, was definitely real.

Fu Qian’s gaze fell on the card currently being drenched in his blood. The crisscrossing marks inside acted as a transcendent conduit, drawing the crimson hue into it even before the blood flowed over the surface.

As a result, even though it was an inanimate object, he could somehow feel the card shuddering in waves.

Indeed, the pain didn’t come from the bleeding wound, but from the murder weapon that had carved it.

...

’Could it be that the pressure I’m exerting is too great?’

The shuddering wasn’t just a figure of speech. In that moment, Fu Qian could genuinely sense that this distinctly extraordinary card might crumble to pieces at any second.

He couldn’t even blame it for being too fragile; after all, it was currently attempting to take him ”through the obscuring mist.”

It was worth remembering that even an entity as powerful as the Warehouse still faced immense pressure when synchronizing tasks for his current self, resulting in a patched-together state with missing pieces.

Of course, this was easy to fix.

Rather than placing the blame elsewhere, Fu Qian proactively sought the cause within himself and was already resolving it.

Naturally, he couldn’t let the thing actually shatter. If His Excellency Ariel, whom he was looking for, had already ”pierced the mist,” it meant that syncing at Tier 2 shouldn’t be much of an issue.

While pondering, Fu Qian utilized his newly acquired adjustment techniques, causing his own Rank to plummet at breakneck speed—sure enough.

A moment later, the card in his hand ceased its shuddering, and his rapid decline stopped alongside it, stabilizing right around the Tier 2 level.

In a sense, this was even more resilient than the Record of Recollection he’d had before.

Fu Qian silently gave it a positive review.

Judging from the feedback just now, tweaking his Rank slightly higher shouldn’t pose a significant problem either.

Its carrying capacity was higher than the Record of Recollection, which had locked him strictly at Tier 2.

This was both good news and bad news. The good news was that he wouldn’t have to worry about severe power restrictions during his actions past the mist.

As for the bad news... while he wasn’t sure of the exact circumstances, the probability of running into experts inside was clearly much higher—

Amidst his silent critique, the scene before his eyes abruptly blurred, and the two gatekeepers vanished from sight.

”Seek an audience with the Solitary King...”

Only their final, harmonious chorus echoed in the air.

...

’Solitary King?’

Although it was brief and a bit abstract, he had to admit that this parting sentence provided incredibly meaningful information.

’Is that actually the name of the Containment Object this time?’

Fu Qian naturally recalled the mission briefing, as well as the striking bloody phantom within the Warehouse.

’So is it truly some sort of ”King”? After all, they specifically used the phrase ”seek an audience.”’

Furthermore, from this perspective, things did line up.

If even the outer interviewers harbored such a bloodthirsty urge, the entity they were going to petition would undoubtedly be vastly more macabre.

Even his mission strategy seemed to clarify in an instant. Brother Ariel had specifically come here in disguise; could it be that he was also here to seek an audience?

’If that’s the case, doesn’t that mean I just need to resort to waiting by the stump for a hare near the Solitary King, and Ariel will deliver himself right to my doorstep?’

Though this brought up the next issue: where exactly was he supposed to go for this audience with the Solitary King?

Fu Qian looked up and surveyed his surroundings, recalling the routes he had explored earlier.

Indeed, the scene before his eyes had already sharpened back into focus.

Even though he was no longer in the interview venue, as Fu Qian stood on a street corner, he could easily recognize that the surrounding architectural style remained remarkably consistent.

...

’So piercing the obscuring mist actually means arriving at another layer of the same location?’

’If that’s the case, my previous theory about other groups simultaneously interviewing through overlapping time and space seems highly plausible.’

Fu Qian held his palm up toward his face. The unique card was gone, replaced by a vivid red network of crisscrossing marks imprinted directly onto his skin.

’Very reasonable. An attendance card should definitely be strictly bound to its user.’

Besides, the reason he concluded this was another layer entirely—rather than just being teleported to another spot within the same area with matching architecture—was simple: there were people.

In just this brief moment, Fu Qian confirmed that someone had already noticed him.

Though their gaze didn’t necessarily harbor much goodwill, the sheer bustle of the place was completely different from the dead city he had witnessed earlier—

”The hour... has not yet arrived—”

Accompanied by the crisp chime of a Handbell, a rhythmic voice rang out right in front of him the next second.

It came from one of the gazes that had noticed him right away, though right now, he had to look down to meet it.

Indeed. With one hand ringing a Handbell and the other resting on its chest, the figure was exceptionally short.

But it likely wasn’t a dwarf, as its face was just as youthful as its voice.

At the same time, its dark eyes held a profound compassion unsuited for its age, interwoven with a cold apathy that, despite being contradictory, felt entirely natural.

’Oh?’

This apathy was immediately demonstrated. Just as Fu Qian was about to ask when the hour would actually arrive, the little figure simply walked away.