Eldritch Horror Theatre

A mastermind behind the scenes had to be ruthless.

Stirring up the world with a couple of sentences and getting people to take on impossible missions was nothing more than wishful thinking.

Old Man Henry’s help had been a pleasant surprise to begin with. As for the predicament Serana might run into, how could Professor Fu not have a backup plan?

Given the high potential risks of Annalise’s Lies, a contingency was a certainty.

Beyond drawing attention and serving as a transit coordinate when necessary, the Seed of Writhing left on the Red Moon could easily be put to other clever uses.

Because at its very core, it was an exclusive gift from a child to ”Tilanqi.”

Yes, in stark contrast to Annalise’s Lies, it pointed much more explicitly to another name.

Used properly, it was theoretically a method of contact with fewer toxic side effects than Old Man Henry’s all-channel broadcast.

The only two questions were how to use it, and whether to use it at all.

High risk, high reward. Whether for Serana or the Red Moon, that was the most optimistic outlook for tonight.For one thing, the former was only a Demigod. Certain things on the other side were still far too oppressive for her, well beyond what sheer willpower could digest.

As for the latter, she was caught in an even bleaker process. To put it bluntly, she was already dead, eyes shut tight, refusing to look at the coffin—her mindset ready to shatter at the slightest breath.

So for Fu Qian, when he realized the Red Moon was still capable of refusal, he had genuinely considered taking things slow rather than rushing to force a deeper connection.

After all, as Blood Clan offspring, Serana’s actions were to some extent a denial of the Red Moon’s ”refusal.”

Yet what subsequently happened to Serana drastically raised the risks of that approach.

The Red Moon’s condition was deteriorating far too quickly.

Weighing the options, letting Serana’s ritual continue became the more reasonable choice.

As for how exactly to use the Seed of Writhing, that was actually the easy part.

As everyone knew, shared misery was a sentiment that brought people together remarkably fast—especially when both had fallen victim to the same ruthless hand.

Before setting out, he had already hoped that ”Mother” would keep her eyes fixed on him. Surely the identical corrosion now left inside Serana’s belly would stir something in the Red Moon?

”It might hurt a little.”

With that fond hope in mind, Fu Qian slowly withdrew his hand, reminding Serana not to worry.

...Sure enough, pain was the least of the problems.

The moment she was struck, Serana’s sole remaining eye snapped wide open.

At Fu Qian’s words, however, her movements visibly eased.

Even the hand that instinctively rose to cover the wound hesitated for a moment before dropping back down, and she simply lowered her head to look at the spot.

The incubation of the Seed of Writhing was ”relatively long,” so for the time being, there were no tentacles or claws sprouting from it.

Still, as a full-fledged Demigod, even beaten beyond recognition as she was now, telling whether something extra had been planted in her flesh was simple enough. What Serana felt in that moment was undoubtedly bizarre.

By comparison, a little physical pain was nothing at all.

And now, with Fu Qian’s explanation, once she realized this was an unorthodox form of assistance, her biggest worry visibly faded.

”What did you put inside her?”

More than one Demigod had noticed the strangeness.

To Chief Yuan, watching from the sidelines, Fu Qian’s move was downright jaw-dropping.

Dark night, fine clothes, a Blood Clan Demigod having her stomach ripped open on the high platform of an abandoned Church... the whole scene had crossed straight into the sinister. After being stunned into brief silence, her instincts as the local chief of security forced her to analyze the scene, and she too sensed that something was off about the wound.

Even so, of course, she showed no sign of stepping forward to stop him.

”Setting up a dedicated point-to-point line.”

The mismatch between Chief Yuan’s words and her inaction clearly showed her confidence in the consultant’s control of the situation.

Fu Qian didn’t disappoint her, answering with the most direct, vivid, and straightforward metaphor possible.

”You still want her to keep going?”

Though she wasn’t fond of reading, with Old Man Henry’s all-channel broadcast right there for comparison, Yuan Shan quickly grasped what he meant.

”Why not?”

Fu Qian admitted it without hesitation.

”...Whatever your line of thinking is, it looks very likely to get her killed.”

Looking at Serana, who barely had any human shape left, Yuan Shan couldn’t help feeling a twinge of pity.

”That’s certainly possible, though don’t worry—it won’t pollute the surroundings.”

Just as candidly as before, Fu Qian casually acknowledged the upcoming danger, as well as the fact that it was under control.

Well...

Faced with such blatant disregard for life, Yuan Shan had been about to say something more.

Seeing Serana standing there without the slightest intention of stepping down from the platform, however, she opened her mouth and ultimately said nothing.

Serana clearly hadn’t lost the ability to communicate; reacting this way was already a statement of resolve.

”Don’t suppress it.”

Fu Qian naturally noticed this too, tossing out another reminder.

Though it didn’t look strictly necessary—never mind the Seed of Writhing, the festering mutations across Serana’s body were already visibly spiraling out of control.

Still, looking on the bright side, it was precisely this tenacity to never give up under such circumstances that made him place greater hopes on her—oh?

The moment the words left his mouth, Fu Qian wiped at the blood on his chest.

The flickering crimson there was rapidly dimming, growing deep and oppressive.

As for the reason...

Fu Qian turned his gaze back to the spot where Serana had been standing. Without a sound, it was already completely empty.

...

With the light source gone, the color had naturally dimmed.

And it looked as though point-to-point communication really did work better than an all-channel broadcast.

Gazing at the empty platform, Fu Qian felt that this Blood Clan advancement ritual, which should have been eerie and mysterious, had somehow taken on a distinctly scientific air.

Serana had vanished?

Given the rather harsh conditions of the advancement, it was easy to suspect she had simply packed up and bolted.

”Looks like there’s progress.”

The experienced Old Man Henry, however, clearly didn’t think so.

Having stepped down from the platform with his student earlier, he was now watching from a safe distance.

True to his past as a core member of the Night Watchers, before his student could even show surprise, he offered his assessment.

It looks like this Tier 2 ritual is meant to take place in a dream...

”Which makes sense. The Blood Clan has always had a strong affinity for dreams. Since this involves communicating with the Progenitor, crossing directly into a dream isn’t strange at all.”

His detailed analysis that followed explained the bizarre disappearance even further.

With Brother Taylor as an example, the Blood Clan’s fondness for dreaming was beyond doubt.

Dreaming oneself straight into a dream, though? Fu Qian felt he now understood why Ambor had been so hard to find last time.

Come to think of it, there was actually a precedent for this sort of thing.

Not long ago, he had run into a Dream Chaser named Herbert.