Eldritch Horror Theatre

People did use a ”rose line” as a metaphor for a bloodline, sure, but seeing it take such a literal form was a first.

The Serana standing beside him wasn’t in a prominent spot. Nobody else was near her, either, so by all rights she shouldn’t have been easy to notice.

Yet whenever clues were scarce, ”spot the match” remained a simple, reliable method.

A brief look was enough to reveal an identical figure inside all three rose bushes.

Trace the stems further, and however differently the branches twisted and wound, the blossom in front of each of them shared the exact same path back to its root.

Right then, Fu Qian felt she truly hadn’t let him down—she had discovered something the very instant she entered the dream.

Enlightenment from her bloodline?

Either way, Serana had clearly realized that the vines cascading down through the Church were the physical manifestation of the Blood Clan’s family tree.

She had pinpointed her own place within it and was trying to draw further enlightenment from the branches.

Confronted by an uninvited menace, her instinctive reaction had been to cover that up.Fair enough. Even if he was on the receiving end of that cold treatment, Fu Qian considered it human nature.

Understanding it didn’t stop him from calling it out without mercy, both to confirm his guess and to put pressure on her.

Tight deadlines and heavy workloads weren’t excuses. What this seat wanted were results.

”You actually have the spare time to worry about that right now?”

He dismissed her question in an instant, not even bothering to make up an identity for himself.

”Give me just a little time, and this whole place will be corrupted.”

A harsh tone alone wouldn’t cut it, of course; spelling out the stakes was a must.

Fu Qian raised a hand in an imperious, all-controlling grasp, his words as honest as could be.

...

When a true demon king descended, the victim had to feel fear, no matter what state they were in.

That included Serana right now.

Even if being inside a dream seemed to dull her emotional sensitivity...

Even if, with the Red Moon’s help, she had managed to split the whole into scattered parts... None of that was an excuse. Her sole duty now was to keep pushing forward.

In the name of an Offspring of the Blood Clan, she had to push this dream to its upper limit.

Uh...

Being in a dream where emotions were less complicated seemed to have its perks, too.

Faced with Fu Qian’s claim, Serana didn’t press him with questions like ”Why corrupt it?” Instead, right in the middle of her shock, fear quickly crept across her face... and then spread to the faces of the other Seranas.

It was like pricking a caterpillar with a needle and watching the pain send a ripple of contracting muscle all the way from head to tail.

”Feel it now? Looks like I don’t need to say much more.”

Fu Qian wasn’t about to miss that reaction. He flashed a satisfied, wicked grin, deepening her emotional experience.

As the owner of the dream—and a member of the Blood Clan skilled in dreamwalking, in a special dream like this no less—Serana’s sharpness made complete sense.

She was the one meant to reach the deeper layers here. If she couldn’t even tell that something was being stolen from her, her talent would be far too ordinary—Clang!

Even as he expressed his faith in Serana, Fu Qian didn’t lower his raised hand. Instead, he lifted it higher still, setting off a crisp ring on impact.

It sounded like clashing steel, though in truth it was claws tearing at each other. His right hand had morphed into the classic Dark Claw of the Blood Clan, slamming straight into another claw plunging from above.

Where had the other claw come from?

Simple enough—there were four Angels of Judgment hovering overhead, as noted just moments ago.

High pressure bred fear, and between feeling fear and accepting reality, there was usually still some distance to cross.

What fear sparked first was almost always a desperate fight back.

Anyone who couldn’t see that much of the big picture had no business trying to be an exploiter.

Once the fear rippled out, the four Angels of Judgment—already itching to strike—finally refused to hold back any longer.

Throughout the whole exchange, not only did the Serana across from him not betray a flicker of it on her face, using her frail posture as the perfect cover, bolstered, it seemed, by the dream itself, the power behind this holy judgment far outstripped Serana’s usual level.

So much so that even though her Dark Claw shattered on the first clash, the attacker didn’t go down; the broken fragments dissolved into mist and kept drifting downward to envelop him.

Amid the crushing suppression that followed, more attacks were already closing in, including a vicious spear of fresh blood.

Judging by its heart-stopping edge and the elegant lines she hadn’t forgotten to give it even at a time like this, the weapon had clearly taken real effort to craft—its lethality worlds apart from a basic attack like the Dark Claw. Crash! Even the sound it made when it shattered was much more pleasing to the ear.

Against the relentless chain of holy judgment, Fu Qian made no move to dodge. In return, he simply sent out three eerie tentacles linked together from metal Razor Blades—no, four.

The ”Dark Claw” who had struck first had lagged by only a fraction of a second before wheeling around for another pass.

And in the end, just like her sisters, she was swatted flying headfirst by a mechanical tentacle.

In all fairness, it was a solid play—swift as thunder, ruthless and all-out.

She had even known to lull her opponent first.

Too bad that, as everyone knew, rebellion born of fear could never be met with a soft hand. It had to be crushed hard.

Otherwise, how was production supposed to get underway afterward?

Fu Qian didn’t give them a chance to show off any further, treating them straight to a taste of the Tyrant’s Mechanical Fist.

Come to think of it, the very first time he met Excellency Serana, things had kicked off with tentacles too... Did she have some kind of special constitution for this?

Practiced at finding fault with the victim, Fu Qian kept a close eye on all of them.

True enough, heavy as the Tyrant’s Mechanical Fist was, he didn’t follow up with a second strike.

Even during his act of self-defense just now, Fu Qian had been careful to measure his force, steering clear of any vital spots.

Not because he was worried about being ruled excessive force, of course—after all, the one backing this dream was his own ”Mother,” and you couldn’t ask for stronger connections than that.

The reason he held back from a killing blow was simple—there was still work to be done once the beating was over.

The Night Demon brought devouring, devouring bred fear, and fear sparked resistance...

All of that was just scenery along the way. The endgame was always getting them to accept reality after their resistance failed.

Making it clear that ”the demon king cannot be matched by force” was plenty.

If he actually blasted them into scraps, not only would he be short several pairs of hands for no good reason, but since they were undeniably parts of Serana, destroying them would be bound to send a shock through the dream itself.

”You’ve already wasted fifteen seconds.”

As the mechanical tentacles slowly retracted into his body, Fu Qian offered the friendly reminder and gestured for her to proceed.