Eldritch Horror Theatre

If fear was equal, then courage naturally was too.

It was hard to say if it was just an illusion, but when Gan Baobao left, her steps seemed a little lighter than when she arrived.

In truth, after his remarks on the fear of death, Fu Qian hadn’t said much else.

Instead, he had fully utilized the art of leaving things unsaid to prompt her own reflection.

It was already more than enough. His ties with Old Man Gan only went so deep—did she really expect a comprehensive psychological consultation for free?

Fortunately, young people never disappointed in this regard. All it took was a casual prompt, and they would overthink a mountain of details on their own.

And as a dignified demigod, using himself as a personal example naturally carried extra persuasive weight.

All in all, Ms. Gan Baobao left looking quite satisfied and hadn’t asked any further questions.

As for her municipal officer father, her initial question might have seemed a bit disrespectful, but it hadn’t stemmed from a child’s contempt. Rather, she was voicing an injustice on his behalf.

Her father, a man of high status and extraordinary courage, had exhausted himself to achieve what ordinary people could not.Once his children understood even a fraction of it, a deep sense of reverence was bound to take root.

Yet amid all that thriving prosperity, the sight of certain figures doing exactly as they pleased at the banquet subtly rendered his success a little ridiculous.

Growing up was a process of disenchantment, of gradually realizing that one’s parents were not omnipotent.

For the children of the Bookstore World, however, that process was undeniably far more cruel.

No matter how impeccable your parents were, the moment you grew up and noticed the veiled chasm separating ordinary people from transcendents, every ounce of that reverence would instantly lose its foundation.

For Ms. Gan Baobao, her father was exceptionally brilliant, but the very privileges he had provided made it easier for her than most to see exactly how vast that chasm truly was.

Just as he had mentioned earlier, Fu Qian had no intention of comforting anyone with platitudes about all men being created equal, or even about everyone being equal in the face of death.

Because they simply weren’t equal. A transcendent was far harder to kill than an ordinary person.

Ever since he took up this job, the vast array of people he had seen treating minefields like dance floors had thoroughly proven that point.

Yet even so, that did not prevent him from finding the one aspect that was equal.

Hard to kill did not mean unafraid of dying. If a wealthy man lost a hundred dollars and an ordinary man lost a hundred, their reactions would obviously be different.

But if a wealthy man lost absolutely everything and an ordinary man lost everything, the outcome would not necessarily be any different.

Even for a ”higher entity.”

Recalling the endless variety of ”High Tier” lifeforms and their desperate, exhaustive struggles, Fu Qian drank the last mouthful of his tea and casually took off the Emissary.

Even before this little interlude, he hadn’t been in a rush to open shop. One of the main reasons was that he had been planning to clock in at the Warehouse.

Integrating theory with practice was never quite that simple.

...

[Warning: Containment Breach]

The familiar scene greeted him again at a glance. He had only completed two tasks so far this week, so the Warehouse’s welcoming remark wasn’t surprising in the least.

[Name: Demon Mountain, Number: 1-013]

[Today’s tasks have been updated. Enter the 1-013 Containment Scenario and complete Containment once again.]

[Consume 1 SAN Value to begin?]

Another task starting with the number 1? The Warehouse was really giving off the vibe of tight schedules and heavy workloads lately.

Sitting in his seat and listening to the continuous prompts, Fu Qian could not help but sigh.

If his memory served him right, all three tasks so far this week belonged to the First Echelon. The Warehouse’s high regard for him was truly touching.

Not to mention, thanks to his prior research on SAN Value and inspiration, he was anticipating the actual work a lot more now.

As the ultimate Calamity Core with 99 inspiration, what kind of shit—ahem, storm—would he stir up by walking into this segment of history?

In truth, that metaphor hadn’t been intentional.

Mainly because the illusory image that manifested in the Warehouse alongside the prompt looked incredibly bizarre.

It definitely fit the name Demon Mountain to some extent. The object was an enormous pyramid, exuding a rather imposing aura.

But zooming in on the details, there was a strange, indescribable awkwardness to it.

Specifically, it looked as though the entire mountain had not been built from massive stones, but rather formed by a single soft, cream-like line coiled and stacked all the way to the top.

So much so that, as a highly imaginative individual, just a single glance at its shape was enough for him to be subjected to a certain psychological suggestion—subtle, imperceptible, and pervasive.

[Yes]

Naturally, as a seasoned professional, Fu Qian responded without the slightest hesitation.

...

[Entering the 1-013 Containment Scenario.]

[Current SAN Value: 177]

Because he had consumed the Umbilical Cord, the explosive surge in his SAN Value gave him the sensation of possessing an incredibly thick health pool.

Unfortunately, those carefree days were a thing of the past. If this were earlier in his career, it absolutely would have had that effect.

But considering his permission level had now been upgraded to All-In, most tasks offered only a single chance for trial and error. Failing would merely deduct 5 points of SAN Value before skipping the mission entirely, so in a way, his health was already somewhat locked—

[This is a special task. You must successfully complete the Containment, until your SAN Value drops to zero.]

While Fu Qian was still lamenting his life, the truth that worldly affairs are hard to predict was demonstrated to him once again the very next moment.

A special prompt seemed to tell him there was no need for regret—his health pool really had grown.

Something like this could happen? Did that mean there was something truly terrible inside?

Fu Qian was undoubtedly deeply moved, though perhaps not for the right reasons.

Although he hadn’t triggered a failure even once since his promotion, this was the first time he had encountered a scenario that couldn’t be skipped. It certainly gave the situation a special flavor.

It was like the difference between choosing to stay home and being locked inside.

But rather than the discomfort itself, Fu Qian was far more focused on the reason behind it.

Why was it mandatory to complete?

Going by previous instances, even if an administrator failed, the Warehouse should have been able to forcefully smooth out the timeline.

Was the deficit too severe this time? Could the Warehouse no longer afford the price?

That shouldn’t be the case. Over forty missions into his career, surely he had saved it some effort by now?

Shaking his head slightly, Fu Qian felt his anticipation skyrocket, growing even more curious about what kind of monsters he would run into this time.

[Due to capacity limits, you cannot bring any additional items with you.]

[Due to capacity limits, most damage will no longer be repaired upon completing the task.]

[Entering the 1-013 Containment Scenario.]

The Warehouse’s prompts continued systematically.

Tsk, tsk...

Amidst the routine warnings, Fu Qian noted that a certain crucial option still had not appeared. He hadn’t been given the choice to equip his King of the Abandoned Prison skill.

A number 1 designation, unskippable, and restricting his abilities yet again?

It was simply—perfect.

You had to admit, the Warehouse certainly had a knack for building hype. Even as a veteran administrator, Fu Qian felt his anticipation being thoroughly stoked.

[...8%...13%...21%...34%...55%...89%...100%, Containment Scenario successfully loaded.]

And the most gratifying part of all was that his anticipation required no delayed gratification.