Eldritch Horror Theatre

He needed to sort this out from the beginning.

The Containment Conditions were clear: prevent the growth of the Bitter Fruit, provided that at least one Akons Native survived.

At the start of the task, he had appeared as an outsider seeking medical help and received treatment from one of the Natives—the kindhearted, steadfast believer Hilaria.

Unfortunately, her intoxicating embrace hadn’t been very effective this time. She had instead suggested he go out for a walk to clear his head, resting a while before receiving a second treatment.

After he went upstairs, the local residents, with all their various quirks, had tried to persuade him to stay inside the Church rather than wandering out into the dark.

Unfortunately, they had failed. After spending enough time in the dark, he had woken up in an unfamiliar Clinic and met the real Attending Physician, Dorian.

Everything he had just experienced was nothing more than a special scenario arranged to cure a psychological illness.

The various characters within it, including Hilaria, were all special guests invited by Dorian—the controller of this dreamscape—and recreated as Dolls.

After discussing his condition with Dorian, he had accepted the doctor’s suggestion, taken the Hilaria Doll, and set out to find the real woman to obtain more suitable materials to upgrade the tools and enhance the treatment’s efficacy.

Leaving the Clinic, he had visited four of the five people he’d met in the dreamscape. He was in no rush to gather materials, but he easily discovered that each of them possessed extraordinary abilities.This place, abandoned by the God of Insight and Wisdom, already felt like a gathering of evil gods—perfectly fitting the theme of the mission he had come to execute.

The only problem was that they remembered neither their experiences in the Healing Dreamscape nor their interactions with him in the ”real world.”

Even after he intentionally brought some souvenirs back to the Clinic, his Attending Physician similarly retained no memory of their previous conversation, as if it had never happened.

He even had another Hilaria Doll sitting right there, despite the one Fu Qian had taken away earlier.

At that point, the situation had become completely bizarre.

Specifically, the entirety of Akons was indeed operating as a Small Town on a daily basis.

But his interactions with every Native took place strictly within a temporary backup.

No matter what he did inside—burning, killing, looting, or harassing the locals—the file was instantly deleted after he left, causing absolutely no impact on the Small Town’s operations.

Even if he physically took things from inside—a Doll, a Holy Sword—it didn’t matter.

Whenever he interacted with anyone again, it was simply in a new temporary backup where he could wreak havoc all over again.

The reality of the town was truly out of reach, like a flying insect landing on a pane of glass.

And even after exploiting their various seemingly high-tier powers through different methods, he saw no sign that they could help him break through that layer of glass.

...

That was the current situation. Now, he needed to try stripping away all subjective feelings from the equation.

First, the mission hadn’t failed, which meant the Warehouse still determined it was possible to complete.

And this required meeting two conditions: the Bitter Fruit had not yet grown, and he still had a way to influence it.

The first point was practically meaningless. Since what the Bitter Fruit represented remained unclear, he couldn’t deduce anything more from it.

But the second point directly negated the idea that the glass couldn’t be crossed.

Working backward from the result to find a method, the most obvious solution was to utilize the mantle of the King of the Abandoned Prison to forcefully break through the restrictions.

However, because Akons’s operational state possessed intensely surreal characteristics, a brute-force approach like that would likely increase the risk of the Natives failing to survive, so he hadn’t rushed to use it.

Under the current circumstances, it could serve as backup option one.

At the same time, continuing his deduction from the fact that the dead end had been proven false, a primary question emerged: how had he reached that dead-end conclusion in the first place?

The answer: because he hadn’t found a path.

Harm inflicted on the Natives currently showed no signs of transmitting to reality. The higher powers reflected onto this side of the glass generally possessed shockingly high Ranks, but he hadn’t discovered any potential for them to help him ”break out of prison.”

Of course, there were two rather extreme attempts he hadn’t yet made. The first was giving up all resistance and letting these higher powers completely pollute or kill him.

As for the first, because he was immune to distortion to a certain degree, its probability of success had to be discounted.

The second was also to give up resistance, letting Hilaria and the others give him a good hug to see if, after being ”cured,” he might be able to reach the real Akons that way.

Neither possibility could be dismissed outright, but both essentially followed the logic of ”die and see if there’s a hidden setting”—choices that meant completely surrendering his initiative.

In terms of expected outcomes, they ranked even lower than transforming into the King of the Abandoned Prison.

Still, they could be listed as backup options two and three.

Next came a further question: what if none of these were viable?

What if there truly was no way to shatter that barrier and enter the real Akons?

In that scenario, if the possibility of completing the task still existed, what did that mean?

—The glass couldn’t be crossed forward, but it could be crossed backward.

In the backups he had experienced, there had to be elements that could directly prevent the Bitter Fruit from forming. By manipulating them, he could complete the task without needing to enter the real Akons.

...

Not entering the real Akons, yet still being able to influence it.

That meant there were certain elements reflected over from that side that could also be reflected back in reverse.

In fact, this had originally been one of his reasons for seeking out high-tier powers.

But just as he’d concluded at the time, he hadn’t seen anything sufficiently astonishing.

He had even been able to easily take the Holy Sword—which clearly belonged to a higher power—out of the backup.

But if the possibility of crossing backward held true, it meant this perception-based judgment was wrong.

Something had deceived him and slipped by unnoticed, or he needed to change his evaluation criteria.

For example, adjusting it from ”powerful enough” to ”distinctively different.”

And the moment he did that, a certain entity suddenly stood out starkly: the White-Faced Man.

Not powerful enough, but weak enough.

Aside from their sheer variety, the evil forces gathered in Akons shared one thing in common: their Ranks were all absurdly high, to the point that they could suppress even his current self.

Yet this legend of the dark night, which had been entrusted with such high hopes, was reduced to a dwarf by comparison.

Did this mean it was distinctively different in some aspect?

And perhaps because of this, it could be used by him, allowing him to influence the world on the other side from right here on this side of the glass?

—He couldn’t be certain, but he could try.

Having reached this point, there was no intuition, perception, or guidance of fate left to rely on—only cold, hard logic.

So the only question remaining now was: how could he use it?

”Thanks for the answers. Now, take me to see your other collections.”

Fu Qian stood up.