Eldritch Horror Theatre

The survival environment for the higher entities of this world truly seemed rather harsh.

Across from him, Professor Ah Kai’s face was still filled with bewilderment and even agony. Yet, in that moment, Fu Qian indicated that he had seemingly found his answer with the man’s help.

Even if the specific details of that answer were somewhat terrifying—

It was a systematic persecution. Was Red Moon far from the only one subjected to that kind of ”curse”?

Just as mentioned before, introducing the concept of ”zero” was truly a pioneering act.

A disappearance that not even Master Yuhun could figure out could suddenly be brought into the same broad category as Red Moon.

No wonder people always said one had to free their mind. Without drawing this analogy, trying to explain the question raised by his inner demon would almost inevitably drag the entire world toward nihilism, which in turn would only increase the apocalyptic elements right in front of them.

Now, compared to Nepheli’s pessimistic conclusion, it seemed the world had been pulled back a step from the brink.

Starting from this point, it could even somewhat explain why his many old friends were keeping such low profiles, one after another—like Blazing Rainbow.

When He resolutely appeared in the Sacred Night Capital to throw His full support behind Fu Qian’s advancement, one of the things He did was summon the sun out in the dead of night.And the most striking part of it all was when Fu Qian stared into it, feeling those wills staring right back at him.

Silent, struggling, twisted, and hungering for the outside world... so much so that he had described them at the time as a bunch of Purgatory prisoners.

Looking back at it now, could that title have been appropriate in an entirely different way?

They really were a bunch of prisoners, but what trapped them wasn’t the physical form of the sun, but rather the concept of the ”sun”?

Just like the ”moon” and ”zero” here.

The numbers were indeed a bit high, making it feel somewhat counterintuitive. It wasn’t the kind of thing someone would immediately think of.

But one couldn’t forget that compared to the moon, the sun was inherently much larger. What was the problem with locking up a few more inside it?

Of course, for now, this was merely a dark conjecture. It was still far from being proven, and several related questions remained unanswered.

For example, if they truly were all victims of the same kind, what force was driving this genuine, cosmic-level persecution?

A conspirator like the First Generation Dark Moon? Some indescribable Supreme Will? Or was it simply the fundamental operating rules of the universe?

Did imprisoning over a dozen prisoners using the concept of the sun have any connection to the fallen Ancient Sun God, the Lord of the Bliss Realm, or the ”Wheel That Cannot Be Looked Upon,” the entity that Ancient One Eckhart served?

Was He also a conspirator, or a victim?

Even if He was entirely innocent in this regard, who caused His fall?

And did Annalise—the one Red Moon claimed was ”longing for the Long Night”—know about all of this? Was this the reason for her longing?

If so, how did she know?

To Fu Qian, the various ancient secrets he had encountered since stepping into this line of work seemed to link together far more smoothly in this moment.

Naturally, this inevitably brought about even more unknowns.

But that didn’t matter. Academic workers never feared the ignorance that came with knowledge.

”Or emptiness, or nothingness... but in short, a noun rather than an adjective. Do you think describing your feelings this way is appropriate?”

Amid his thoughts, facing the clearly overwhelmed Ah Kai, Fu Qian didn’t delay in pressing for confirmation.

Academic research required both a lofty perspective and feet firmly planted on the ground. Compared to the Ancient Sun God, there was a much more practical subject of study right in front of him.

Although the forms her power took were somewhat ever-changing, Melia was undoubtedly a very good specimen.

On one hand, he held the orthodox claim; on the other hand, he had an ”affinity” candidate right here to run verifications when the time was right.

”Zero... yes, an appropriate description.”

Only now did Ah Kai finally snap out of his daze, losing his usual composure as he jerked his head up.

Yet even in this situation, his stubbornness as a researcher shone through.

Faced with the two alternative terms Fu Qian had just offered, he firmly maintained that ”zero” was the best fit.

”But why?”

Ah Kai was instinctively chasing the cause before Fu Qian could even comment.

”Good question, but you still need to focus on the main point.”

In response, Professor Fu merely waved a hand and pointed at him, once again demonstrating what true composure looked like.

”You came here this time to inspect for hidden dangers, and based on my current judgment, you shouldn’t have much to worry about.”

...

She was suspected to be at least three aspects of a single entity, with each facet brimming with vitality.

Did Melia, who faintly exuded the aura of a goddess of life, inherently possess these ability traits, or had she fractured into this state because of certain encounters?

It was undoubtedly a very interesting question.

In Fu Qian’s view, it could be listed as an important topic for future research, right alongside Ah Kai’s recent question about why it was ”zero.”

But regardless, if this conjecture held true, Ah Kai’s worries were largely unnecessary.

Melia’s behavior after being cursed was something that simply did not exist throughout all of history. In theory, the power Ah Kai had an affinity with should be similar, meaning the probability of it wreaking havoc was quite low.

So much so that, for Ah Kai, not only were his fears alleviated to a certain extent, but it was even a decent choice for advancement—the object of his affinity, ”He,” was absent, but His story remained.

It was equivalent to keeping the accompanying risks to an absolute minimum without affecting the exploration.

”Huh?”

For the person in question, however, the leaps in logic during this conversation were still a bit too intense.

”...Understood. Thank you.”

However, the reputation Professor Fu had built up over time undoubtedly lent his words immense persuasive power.

Having subconsciously accepted this optimistic outcome, Ah Kai pondered for a brief moment after his initial surprise. He had to admit that having the concept of ”zero” made things feel much more grounded than the intangible uncertainty from before.

For a moment, he didn’t even try to get to the bottom of it, instead earnestly thanking him once again.

”Later, you can collaborate further with Professor Rob on the mushroom project. Study it more and gather your insights. I look forward to more discoveries.”

Waving a hand to show there was no need for formalities, Professor Fu, who had just helped resolve the problem, even offered guidance on the direction of their next efforts.

”I was thinking the same thing... What Rob came up with is truly special. I feel there’s so much knowledge worth exploring in it.”

Ah Kai accepted the suggestion almost instantly. Although he didn’t draw deductions by guessing at underlying connections like Professor Fu did, he evidently already had this intention in mind.

It was indeed worth it.

As for the ”knowledge in the mushroom,” the phrase brought a completely different image to Fu Qian’s mind—the mushrooms in Professor Rob’s laboratory that seemed to take root in the void.

Was that void also a manifestation of ”zero”?

When judging the relationship between the Fungal Emperor and Melia, this had originally been one of the reasons as well.