Eldritch Horror Theatre

The destination of a dream is to wake up...

The greatest advantage of playing the prophet was that no matter how utterly nonsensical your words were, the audience’s first instinct would always be to doubt their own comprehension rather than question your phrasing.

Not to mention that Fu Qian had casually toggled the Commandment Residue and Frost-Cold Moon Radiance, pushing the eerie atmosphere to its absolute peak.

And the results were exactly as he’d hoped.

The circle of brains around him instantly kicked into frantic overdrive. A moment later, Madam Bali—the least prejudiced among them—ventured to speak.

”As a Dark Moon Apostle, have you already seen the outcome of this ’Nightmare’ we currently find ourselves in?”

The woman’s associative reasoning was genuinely impressive; she had actually managed to concoct an explanation for his behavior on her own. Though when she mentioned the word Nightmare, her tone carried obvious mockery.

”Even if the destination is preordained, that does not mean the flock requires no shepherd to guide them.”

In response to her lack of respect, Fu Qian merely snorted and continued to speak in riddles.

”We are right here. So, how do you intend to guide us?”Madam No. 2’s posture remained distinctly unfriendly as she instantly cut in, aggressively meeting him head-on.

”Indeed, you are right here.”

Fu Qian, however, let out the benevolent chuckle of a wise elder and gestured toward a small window off to the side.

”That change from earlier—you really were the one behind it!”

After a brief moment of confusion, one of the quicker vampires roared out.

”Yes. I was in a hurry.”

Fu Qian gave a slight nod, acting as though he had done nothing more than a trivial chore.

”And I did not wish to violate your principle of only gathering at night.”

The sudden shift between day and night had truly been his doing... and his only goal was to force this gathering to happen early?

Those who were slower on the uptake finally processed the conversation and suddenly understood. Fu Qian gesturing for them to look at the night sky outside was, at its core, a response to her challenge of ”how do you intend to guide us when we are already here”—

In truth, the very fact that they were ”already here” was the direct result of his guidance.

Could someone really possess such power? That was far too absurd!

And if that were true, did that mean Safar’s death just moments ago...

For a moment, more than one person recalled the steady, unchanging rhythm of this Dark Moon Apostle’s footsteps as he had approached.

It was as if he had known all along that the gathering was hidden here...

Safar had failed to stop him and, adequately provoked, had taken the initiative to open the door...

Yet even the traps set in advance hadn’t slowed the man down in the slightest...

This man had simply walked right up to them, instantly killed his attacker, and taken the newly emptied seat...

As the saying goes: the prophet only sets the stage; the wild leaps of logic are left to the audience. In a flash, a terrifyingly coherent narrative pieced itself together uncontrollably inside their heads.

It even manifested in physical changes.

The last of the brilliant blood streaks inside the Rotunda had already silently dissipated.

...

’A child worthy of teaching!’

Seeing that all the attendees had set aside their obsession with social posturing and started focusing on the actual issue at hand, Fu Qian felt deeply gratified.

”I will admit that your story is quite intriguing. However, it is still a long way from something we can simply accept, Excellency Herbert.”

The Blood Clan’s momentum had plummeted, but Madam Bali—who had been the first to cooperate with a question earlier—now displayed an attitude that was neither haughty nor subservient, speaking up to stabilize their morale.

”Without further proof, I can only view your claims of us being unknowingly trapped in a Nightmare as the ravings of a madman.”

”Why would I need you to accept it? Think carefully. You were the ones who derailed the conversation in the first place.”

How could something so trivial stump Fu Qian? Without blinking an eye, he deployed the prophet’s ultimate maneuver: believe it or don’t.

”Alright. Now that your curiosity has been satisfied, shouldn’t we return to the main topic?”

...

Having just endured a severe psychological battering, the members of the Blood Clan were left feeling as sick as if they had swallowed a live rat when faced with Fu Qian’s righteous indignation.

Yet, with their group cohesion temporarily shattered, they clearly lacked the strength to refuse him.

”So, I believe everyone understands the situation now. Let’s hear it again: why do you think this is a problem caused by the discarded pieces in the Mist?”

Given the situation, Fu Qian naturally turned toward Jacques.

”Because all other conceivable possibilities have been eliminated. I am absolutely certain the patient has always been an ordinary person. They have not been plagued by the recent Nightmares, nor do they carry any corruption in the traditional sense.”

Jacques had clearly begun settling into his role. Even the term ’patient’ rolled off his tongue much more smoothly now.

”A pure process of elimination. And the rest of you?”

Fu Qian remained noncommittal, passing the floor over to the others.

”Assuming Jacques’s theory holds true, can any of you figure out how a discarded piece might have caused this effect? Even though I failed to detect any traces of them on the patient at the time.”

”Shouldn’t you be the one who knows more about that? Didn’t you just return from an expedition into it today?”

Madam No. 2’s tone remained thick with hostility, simultaneously revealing just how well-informed they truly were.

”Not quite as much as you’d think.”

Fu Qian, however, was remarkably magnanimous. Not only did he take no offense, but he genuinely began to share his findings.

”The Order orchestrated a special dreamscape in there, allowing the discarded pieces to project inside through a unique method.”

”It certainly opened my eyes. The forms they projected were almost entirely chaotic amalgams of multiple elements. They were just as aggressive as the ones outside, though the destructive power between individuals varied drastically.”

”But as of right now, that is all I know. I haven’t seen any evidence that they can cause specialized distortions or seamlessly parasitize a human host. So, what is the Blood Clan’s perspective on them?”

Was this man seriously trying to have an open discussion?

Seeing the man at the table calmly breaking things down and freely sharing the fruits of his daily expedition left Madam No. 2 utterly speechless, while the rest of the Blood Clan members found it difficult to suppress a profound sense of absurdity.

Just a few minutes prior, this generous soul had clawed Safar to bloody pieces. Even now, the floor beneath his feet was still stained a vibrant, pooling red.

”They are indeed chaotic amalgams. They originate from the Natives within the fog, including but not limited to living creatures.”

After a stretch of stifling silence, a voice finally responded.

Madam Bali took the lead in the discussion, corroborating Fu Qian’s theory.

”As for how they were formed, it appears to involve the domain of time—a curse that blankets the entire world.”

”The Mist is a manifestation of this force, but it is not the curse itself. It is more akin to the residual dust of withering time. The discarded pieces are also made of this dust, meaning they are fundamentally one and the same.”

The explanation sounded entirely plausible, subtly flexing the Blood Clan’s formidable grasp of the situation once again.

Fu Qian listened intently, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Judging by the reactions of the surrounding vampires, Madam Bali’s information clearly wasn’t common knowledge among them. This clan truly was quite loosely structured.

Yet, despite that, they had still managed to investigate the matter so deeply. It gave them the distinct air of a superior race, which perfectly explained why every last one of them had developed such insufferable attitudes.

”The entire world?”

Amidst his musings, Fu Qian pressed for confirmation.

”Correct.”

Madam Bali’s face remained utterly impassive, her tone absolute.

”From the moment that fog appeared, Laerdin became the only place left existing in the entire world.”