Eldritch Horror Theatre

”True enough. But is his authority really that high? I thought you made decisions as a team.”

His expression was so frank and natural that, for a moment, the Jester—currently occupying Yuan Fang’s Deck Chair—truly gave off the vibe of a Dark Prophet.

Fu Qian didn’t question the claim either. He sat there steadily, casually chatting away. He had even flipped his helmet open again, looking like all he needed was a handful of sunflower seeds to snack on.

”At least the Angel of Death sees it as more efficient,” the Jester replied, ”such as when secretly guiding their actions.”

Another explosive piece of information. The Jester clearly had no interest in team spirit, and with a tilt of his chin toward the Lord, he continued to drop bombshells.

So a core team really was calling the shots, remote-controlling the peripheral members to act as cannon fodder?

With his guesses about the fate of the Lord and the others confirmed, Fu Qian gave a slight nod.

”Got it. That’s why the Black Doctor knew the title ’Angel of Death.’ But guidance and enlightenment shouldn’t be the same concept, right?”

As the first contestant to provide information about the Angel of Death, how could Fu Qian forget that lurker in The Lake?

”Of course. The Angel of Death just senses who the lucky ones are and casually slips a little something in, guiding them to work in the desired direction.”Showing absolutely no concept of confidentiality, the Jester tossed out his leader’s classified information as if it cost him nothing.

”Like opening that door, for instance.”

Clicking his tongue, Fu Qian looked like he was thoroughly enjoying the gossip.

If what the Jester said was true, one could seemingly trace the will of His Excellency A Wei in the actions of all the demigods.

Such as the Gate of Freedom, which had disrupted the entire ecosystem of the Unseen Hill.

And furthermore, the already explicit ”eternal night” plan.

So the truly strong never complained about their environment? After being sent here, that entity certainly seemed quite ambitious.

”It really was a good idea, aside from it costing me a door.”

His tone was slightly scoffing. The Jester even glanced back to admire the dead silence behind him.

”The door was yours? I was just thinking that, based on my understanding of those two, they would lack that kind of creativity.”

Receiving yet another shocking piece of information, Fu Qian still found it perfectly logical.

Using the Prophet’s disappearance to pull off a stunt like that—and actually achieving such great results—required at least some mastery of sociology.

Regardless of Rank, in his eyes, the Jester was vastly superior in this regard.

Besides, there were some similarly styled props right here.

His gaze landing on the cloth bag and the duck in the water, Fu Qian continued to sit steadily, completely unconcerned about the box beneath him.

...

”Of course. The Black Doctor merely ’mistakenly believed’ it was his own idea.”

Grimm Ballard’s reaction clearly amused the Jester deeply.

”Your assessment is correct. He truly was too mediocre.”

Making no effort to hide his piqued interest, he unceremoniously showed his disdain for the fallen demigod.

”Mediocrity isn’t terrifying; pairing it with a swollen ego is the real disaster.”

Taking on the attitude that great minds think alike, Fu Qian shook his head and sighed.

”But that brings up a question for me. If guidance can go this far, why did His Excellency the Angel of Death need to form this core team? Why not just be a one-man mastermind behind the scenes?”

Changing the subject, Fu Qian seemed to have pinpointed a flaw in the logic.

”Hiss... Could it be because I’m harder to guide?”

The question had been a bit sharp. Taking a highly exaggerated breath, the Jester uncharacteristically answered a question with a question.

”That is indeed a factor worth considering.”

Looking genuinely thoughtful, Fu Qian followed that line of reasoning.

”For someone like you, dangling profits is obviously hard to pull off. High-level talent still needs to be roped in through ideology. It seems you’re quite happy to see the Angel of Death achieve this ’eternal night’.”

Not treating the Jester’s Rank as an issue at all, Fu Qian placed him ahead of the Black Doctor and the others, showing off his own background in management.

It wasn’t flattery; for any organizer, a character like the Jester was a nightmare to handle. Being unyielding without desires, he didn’t even seem interested in becoming a demigod.

Fortunately, the Jester wasn’t entirely without desire—the madness and destruction in his will were practically overflowing.

As long as one figured that out, the Angel of Death didn’t even need to lure him with benefits. Simply painting a picture of a sufficiently entertaining future was enough.

”Eternal night? Heh... Haha, it’s definitely a bit more interesting than before.”

The Jester cooperatively let out a string of highly neurotic laughs, though the look in his eyes as he surveyed his surroundings wasn’t exactly intoxicated.

”So you agree with this statement?”

The next moment, as if performing a magic trick, he pulled out a microphone and thrust it right up to Fu Qian’s lips, asking for final confirmation with the tone of a trivia show host.

Tap! Tap!

Although the contestant didn’t look nervous in the least, Fu Qian even reached out and tapped the microphone.

This thing actually had power.

”Of course not.”

Nodding in satisfaction, Fu Qian then leaned in slightly closer and delivered his final conclusion.

”It’s a reason, but in my view, it’s not sufficient.”

...

Oh?

The Jester looked incredibly surprised in that moment, practically hugging the microphone to his chest.

Of course, it couldn’t be ruled out that the tapping had left his ears ringing, as the sound had been quite loud.

”So, in your opinion, the truly sufficient reason is—”

But since he was dealing with a contestant bold enough to take the mic, the Jester quickly adjusted his posture and passed it back, showcasing his stage-control skills.

Even as he pressed the question in an excited voice, he turned his face toward the center of The Lake, as if an invisible audience were seated there.

”He’s afraid of death.”

Fu Qian didn’t disappoint, delivering an even more resounding answer.

...

”Ah, ha... haha...”

Even though his voice echoed all around, for a moment, there seemed to be a suffocating silence.

That was, until the Jester’s uncontrollable, manic laughter erupted. It went on without a pause, almost short-circuiting the microphone.

The Angel of Death being afraid of death—this starkly contrasting answer finally made a stage disaster inevitable. The Jester looked as if he could barely resist the urge to jump into The Lake for a bath.

”THAT! IS! CORRECT!”

However, he ultimately stuck to his role, forcefully announcing the outcome before that could happen.

”Yes, he’s afraid of death. He needs someone to act as his front man when necessary—like wasting your time here to buy an opportunity for his grand plan.”

Not only that, the Jester even elaborated on the answer in detail, successfully outing his true purpose for waiting here in the process.

”I know. But how can you call it a waste of time?”

Unexpectedly, the contestant didn’t mind at all. Remaining seated, Fu Qian even earnestly corrected him.

”Let’s talk a bit more about that crying sound.”