Eldritch Horror Theatre

[That is false, that is true, that is Him, that is me.]

Fu Qian clearly remembered the description of the Bane of Those Denied Godhood.

At this moment, even its seemingly meaningless flavor text felt incredibly fitting.

For instance, the earlier clash with the Crystal Tyrant and the blurring of his Self-Anchor.

Or whether this unfolding crystalline apocalypse right before his eyes was reality, while everything he had seen and done before was a lie.

Just going by that line alone, the anticipation of what he might see after putting on the mask was immense—hm?

He had to admit, the comfort was decent. It wasn’t nearly as awkward to wear as it looked.

Exhaling softly, Fu Qian—who hadn’t let a single minute change in his surroundings escape his notice—casually arrived at a minor conclusion.

The only conclusion, really.

That was right. He had put on this undeniably authentic guiding artifact for the Divine Path, yet absolutely nothing seemed to happen.It didn’t trigger any new crystalline movements, nor did his body undergo some miraculous rebirth or shedding of mortal flesh.

Even when he tried setting down the Fool’s Statue and the Umbilical Cord separately, the result was entirely the same.

It made the mask’s clownish appearance feel rather fitting in that moment.

...

See, this was why theory had to be tied to practice.

No matter how good the story sounded, he had to see it with his own eyes to ensure no accidents occurred.

He even deliberately glanced down to confirm that the script in his hand remained exactly as it was. At that moment, Fu Qian shook his head.

Unfortunately, a lack of an accident right now was clearly not a good thing.

As a highly anticipated new variable, failing to yield a single shred of data didn’t just waste his effort—it also inevitably cast doubt on the true value of this mission reward.

For instance, perhaps the Warehouse had failed to score any good loot back then, so it just picked this thing up from somewhere, slapped a random description on it, and used it to fool its tool of an employee.

After all, items involving fate and rituals were always profound of the profound. Believing in them made them real; doubting them made them false. If there was no effect, they could just say the time wasn’t right yet—it ticked every box for typical charlatan nonsense.

If it weren’t for today’s special circumstances, exposing the fraud would have been difficult.

Speaking of which, didn’t that description feel a bit familiar?

With another long sigh, Fu Qian suddenly recalled the White Porcelain Die he had given Classmate Su Gao back in the Sacred Night Capital—the Gambler’s Hand Bone.

[Can slightly increase luck, but perhaps this luck is only reflected in self-validation after a successful roll.]

Comparing it to this Mask of the Path to Godhood, didn’t they suddenly share the marvel of different tunes played with equal skill?

When he gave it to Su Gao back then, he truly hadn’t expected it to be of much use. It was mostly because of its unique material, serving as a token of good luck.

It was just that Classmate Su Gao was rather earnest, genuinely carrying it with her the entire time.

Who would have thought that not long after, the exact same thing would happen to him.

As expected, the world was a massive boomerang. You’ve finally gotten your due, old thief Fu.

In short—this accident was turning out to be quite a big deal.

That’s right. Interpreting the results of an experiment ultimately depended on the skill of the observer.

He had previously emphasized that after diving this deep, logic might be his only reliance.

Nothing happening under normal circumstances might just be a boomerang of karma, but nothing happening in his current situation wasn’t a lack of data in Fu Qian’s eyes. On the contrary, it was a blaring, blood-red alarm.

...

A rock dropping on one’s foot was supposed to hurt. If it dropped and there was no feeling at all, one needed to check if it had smashed someone else’s foot instead.

The Bane of Those Denied Godhood—wearing it would automatically set one upon the Path to Godhood.

He wouldn’t have fussed if it showed no reaction normally, but for it to not trigger anything in such a special place?

Different environment, different significance.

Even though he had tried putting it on when he first received it, there had been no reaction back then either.

But in this place where all elements were abstracted, Fu Qian still felt the Divine Path should manifest in some way.

So why was there such an anomaly? Why couldn’t he see any relevant elements?

Simple—because this anomaly was the Divine Path.

Only by keeping one’s thinking flexible could one dare to speak of logic.

Putting on the mask would draw one toward the Path to Godhood, but what if the path was already right before his eyes?

This was the Etched Intellect, a spacetime fallacy. Theoretically, the First Step on the Path to Godhood should be escaping from this place, right?

Yet right now, there was absolutely no reaction. Could this mean that the Path to Godhood didn’t require him to leave?

Why wouldn’t it require him to leave? Because this place wasn’t the fallacy—the outside world was the lie.

...

Tossing aside all emotional factors, at a certain moment, Fu Qian arrived at a rather shocking conclusion.

But if he overcame that slight discomfort, he would find that the logic naturally fell into place—

First, the mask wasn’t a fake. It was working.

Second, if the world itself was a lie, then was the spacetime fallacy still a fallacy?

To put it bluntly, this reaction once again proved that the apocalypse was the true reality of the world.

His Excellency the Fool was writing non-fiction. It didn’t just display what the world truly looked like—it even was the real world.

And it was also the Path to Godhood for him, the ”Doomsday Envoy.”

Fu Qian lowered his head, his gaze once again sweeping over the titles of each act.

Act I: [Not the Land Where the Stars Fall, but the Place Where False Gods Fall]

Act II: [Light and Shadow Cannot Judge Each Other]

Act IV: [The starting point is the ending point, and the ending point is the starting point]

Act V: [Crystallization is the Corruption of the Transcendent Tier, and Machinery is the Endpoint of Crystallization]

Even with Act III left blank, it already seemed like a decent story, and one laden with metaphors—

The place where the ”False God” falls—this False God could very well refer to himself.

And while the word ”corruption” didn’t sound great, since ”Crystallization is the Corruption of the Transcendent Tier,” recognizing his own essence as a pure crystalline higher entity made calling it a ”corruption” seem entirely reasonable, didn’t it?

This included the equivalence of the starting point and the ending point. Although there had been an explanation for it earlier, it seemed to carry another layer of meaning right now—with the peak of the Divine Path acting as the ending point, would it also be the starting point of the real world?

As for Light and Shadow Cannot Judge Each Other, his first thought naturally went to the Scavenger and the Shadow.

But one shouldn’t forget what was revealed in Act III: everyone perceived themselves to be normal. So who exactly was the Scavenger, and who was the Shadow?

Unable to see the mountain from within... Completing the final act to finalize the script and expose the lying nature of the outside world wasn’t just finishing His Excellency the Fool’s little game. Could it even be his own true ascension ritual, carried out with His help?

No longer just a super-evolution of the King of the Abandoned Prison, but a true step forward on the path of the False God.

If that was the case, then the phrase ”Ashes Forming a Stairway” was incredibly fitting.

Though with him, the ”Doomsday Envoy,” acting as an Anchor Point, whether the surface ”lie” of the Bookstore World could still be maintained was highly questionable.

At that moment, Fu Qian truly picked up his pen, silently recalling the contents of Act III.

Hah...

However, right before he put pen to paper, he turned his head to look at a certain figure not too far away, sighing with a touch of emotion.

”Li He.”