Eldritch Horror Theatre

Truly a cause for celebration.

Being able to pull someone straight out of the Etched Intellect was a minor moment of vindication for the Warehouse.

After all, with the recent upgrade to his social circles, all sorts of entities had been mocking it from every possible angle for days. The Warehouse’s perceived intelligence seemed to be plunging toward that of an eight-year-old.

Besides, since he would always return to that exact same moment no matter how long he stayed, Fu Qian was in no rush to leave. Instead, he sat there and examined his workplace, even though everything looked exactly as usual.

Aside from messing with His Excellency Rom’s mental state, this had been one of his original purposes for taking off the mask and returning.

After all, if the claim that the apocalypse had already arrived was true, the role the Warehouse had been playing all along became far more nuanced.

Was it treating a dead horse as if it were alive? Even if it was already dead, was it stubbornly trying every possible method to bring it back?

That was one easily conceivable possibility.

Or had it never intended to bring the dead horse back to life at all? Was it merely administering a mild euthanasia to the remaining consciousnesses, sparing them from facing an overly cruel reality?

That seemed equally plausible.But no matter which it was, would an employee like him—having just returned from such a sensitive location—trigger any slight anomalies?

This was exactly what Fu Qian was looking forward to, though the Warehouse currently appeared as unmoving as a stone Buddha. It seemed he would have to find other ways to probe the mysteries of the apocalypse.

Fu Qian wasn’t dissatisfied with this, however.

The fact that the Light Hearthstone still worked was theoretically impressive enough.

Although his room to maneuver was a bit limited, on the other side, His Excellency Rom was truly fighting for his life.

For most people, having even a sliver of an opportunity to act at a time like this held immeasurable value—and besides, who said there weren’t any anomalies?

Only one of this week’s tasks had been completed so far.

Yet from the moment he entered until now, there hadn’t been a single leak notification?

This was why it sometimes wasn’t a good thing for it to be too quiet.

...

The Warehouse hadn’t assigned a daily task. What did that mean?

It wasn’t that Fu Qian had any great enthusiasm for work, but rather that he was intimately familiar with how low a capitalist’s bottom line could go.

Just as he never believed Rom would laugh away old grudges, Fu Qian didn’t think the Warehouse would just give him a day off for no reason.

Therefore, this abnormality had to have a reason—the script.

The Warehouse was acting abnormally because he himself was abnormal this time.

And his biggest abnormality this time was coming straight here from within the endless Etched Intellect.

Was His Excellency the Fool terrifying to this degree?

Even if the Warehouse had managed to pull him back, was he temporarily unable to take on part-time work because he was already an actor in the script?

Let me see...

Without him needing to lift a finger, a gash automatically tore open on his body, and the Red-Covered Notebook appeared in Fu Qian’s hand.

Yes, how could he possibly leave something so important behind at the Lookout Platform?

When responding to His Excellency Rom’s call, Fu Qian had already conveniently tucked it away.

And at this moment, not only had he truly been able to bring it into the Warehouse, but even after ending up in such an incredible place, it didn’t show the slightest abnormality. The cover was still as vividly red as ever.

As for the contents... Fu Qian casually opened it and examined it carefully.

Unfortunately, nothing new had been added. It still held only those few words.

Furthermore, he hadn’t encountered any resistance while opening it; everything was very peaceful.

Such a harmonious scene was certainly heartwarming, but unfortunately, in Fu Qian’s view, it wasn’t necessarily good news.

On one hand, it naturally confirmed his previous guess: the special state of the Etched Intellect didn’t affect his ability to travel to and from the Warehouse.

But on the other hand, it also seemed to mean that even after returning to the Warehouse, the restrictions of the script remained in effect. He couldn’t bypass this step through a dimensional strike.

Riiiip—

Fu Qian casually tore a blank page from the notebook.

However, the moment it left his hand, before it even hit the ground, it dissipated without a trace.

And the torn spot was restored to its original state at the exact same time.

...

This behavior was somewhat similar to the Containment Objects inside their boxes.

Marveling inwardly, Fu Qian recalled how whenever he managed to take a Containment Object out of its box, it would automatically return once it was a certain distance away.

Perhaps no specific place had been reserved for the notebook, but it was evident that the Warehouse still accommodated it in a similar manner.

And this wasn’t even the only proof of their harmonious coexistence. Fu Qian’s gaze fell to his own body once more.

All traces, injuries, and exhaustion had likewise been brought over perfectly intact. The connection between the two sides was truly seamless.

It was very reasonable. To a certain extent, it once again proved the meticulousness of His Excellency Rom’s thinking; he wasn’t blindly fighting for his life.

Let’s not forget the processing and reuse of the former Warehouse Manager, Ariel. That figure had definitively provided personal guidance on the matter.

It was impossible for Him to not have a concept of the Warehouse’s operating mechanisms and the Administrator Identity.

And a method like an emergency town portal should have been factored into His calculations long ago.

To dare unleash a massive domain ultimate under such circumstances—was it because He had calculated that Fu Qian absolutely had to return?

If such a conclusion turned out to be true, it would significantly weaken the force of the psychological strike mentioned earlier.

But judging from the scene before his eyes, Fu Qian still leaned toward it being highly probable.

He had reason to suspect that even if he tried manipulating the bloodstain on the Emissary Mask to directly return to Shangjing, there was a high probability it wouldn’t work.

As long as he put it on, he would definitely still have to return to the inside of the Etched Intellect.

Speaking of which, theoretically, the traces on the Emissary Mask were originally formed by the crystal-related Blood of Thorns—just as he thought.

Putting away the script, Fu Qian instead picked up the mask in his hand and examined it.

At first glance, everything seemed normal, but just like the quietness of the Warehouse, this itself was an abnormality.

He was absolutely certain that the bloodstain had been in this exact shape when he took it off earlier; it hadn’t changed at all.

In other words, the bloodstain, which would normally recover slowly when left alone, was now congealed right there.

Even the Decree of Return had no effect.

He casually activated one of his auras, and sure enough, the bloodstain on the mask remained completely unchanged.

This previously most conventional processing method had already failed.

Not bad.

But having reached this conclusion, why would Fu Qian mind? He still put it back on his face.

...

It felt like a lifetime had passed, yet the transition was silky smooth.

He had to admit, although the aesthetic of the Inverted Lake was bizarre, it was at least much more gorgeous than the Warehouse.

Sure enough, he encountered no resistance. The very next moment, the resplendent crystalline traces reappeared before his eyes.

Crack—

And His Excellency Rom showed no intention of offering a greeting, silently continuing to unleash the seventh strike.

Unsurprisingly, this strike still had no intention of pursuing the Tyrant’s figure. Instead, it landed further away, almost reaching the edge of the Inverted Lake.

A murderous intent as hard as iron.

Leaping lightly back onto the Lookout Platform, Fu Qian naturally didn’t think this was any sort of friendly gesture.

The blade that didn’t swing at his body was the one that truly killed.

His Excellency Rom had clearly made up his mind to kill. He held onto no illusions of luck, nor was he willing to grant the Tyrant any chance at it either.

Also, it was truly worthy of being called the Lookout Platform; the field of view was even better from this angle.

A total of seven crystalline traces truly followed some wondrous arrangement, embodying what it meant to be a bud ready to burst into bloom.

Most importantly, there wasn’t even a need for an eighth strike to intersect them into a cross. All the crystalline traces abruptly shattered, blotting out the sky and covering the earth.