Eldritch Horror Theatre

He had indeed caught them.

Although the Myriad Tentacles missed, staying hidden was meaningless once the target was locked on.

Just as Fu Qian retracted the tentacles into his body, a figure slowly emerged, hovering right at the edge of his previous attack range.

Indeed, not only did this figure lack the Dragon King’s fantastical appearance, it looked even more human than Fu Qian did right now.

They were blond, beardless, and the visible parts of their face showed no signs of age.

They wore a white robe that could almost be called radiant. Aside from one hand grasping a short Golden Staff, the rest of their body was firmly concealed.

The white robe seemed to block all prying eyes, so much so that even Fu Qian couldn’t tell if their other hand was holding a gun or something similar.

Yet that was far from the most distinctive feature. On that undeniably human face, the eyes were covered by a delicate Gold-Embroidered Ribbon.

Drops of red seeped out from beneath it, soaking the ribbon, and blood continued to trickle down, forming a face of sorrow.

And if your gaze followed those falling drops of blood, you would find them gradually turning gold.Looking back up with that impression in mind, that head of blond hair seemed to burn like blood-colored flames.

...

This look seemed much more approachable than his own guise as the Tyrant.

Anyway, it wasn’t as if he had custom-ordered his own look. In that moment, Fu Qian admitted the newcomer’s aesthetic superiority without any qualms.

With such an appearance and demeanor, simply standing there without a word radiated a profound sense of compassion. Like God mourning for all living things, the line between good and evil was drawn at a glance.

And although the oppressive presence they exuded was even greater than the Dragon King’s, they were still not the Dark Moon. Fu Qian could be certain of that much.

So, God, the Dragon King, and the Dark Moon... at least three of them were joining forces to crusade against the ancient Tyrant?

Wasn’t this a bit too epic?

Was the villain he was playing really this much of a classic?

Though the ”poison” still spreading across his body didn’t exactly match this newcomer’s aesthetic...

Fu Qian’s gaze fell on the Golden Staff in ”God’s” hand. The strike that had pierced through his body earlier had undoubtedly been fired from it.

It was still surging with power even now.

A sharp gleam, its color indistinguishable between blood and gold, was extending from the tip of the Golden Staff.

It didn’t even need to hit him. Just having it aimed in his direction made Fu Qian feel the ”poison” on his body accelerate its spread.

It wasn’t surprising. Just like the Dragon King, taking the initiative to reveal themselves wasn’t for the sake of peace, but to completely let loose.

In theory, even though he had achieved a minor victory, the situation was still as dire as it could possibly be.

He had rapidly worsening corruption on his body, and the sluggishness caused by the dragon’s roar had yet to fade.

He had smoked out a hidden rat, but at the cost of sacrificing the quick-kill opportunity he’d painstakingly earned by trading blow for blow. That swarm of Soul Butterfly Fragments just now had thoroughly scraped his bones.

Although the injuries weren’t unbearable yet, they were helping accelerate the spread of the ”poison.”

And this was just smoking out one of them. The Dark Moon, at least, was still hiding in the shadows.

Now, he was even at a disadvantage in terms of appearance, feeling entirely like the target of a righteous crusade.

He could only say that the King of the Abandoned Prison back then truly hadn’t died unjustly—but if he died here, it would be incredibly unjust.

How was this any different from using a wanted criminal’s ID card to log on at an internet cafe and getting caught by the police?

Of course, Fu Qian made no attempt to explain, because it was meaningless. When crusaders were actually willing to listen to an explanation, they would ask on their own initiative.

So the next question was: if the Tyrant died like this... how did the Dragon King die?

Fu Qian’s body vanished from where he stood. When he reappeared, he was already standing beside the Dragon King’s massive, jaggedly scaled body, carrying a chilling frost.

...

He certainly hadn’t just casually toggled on a special effect; Burning Frost was far from being able to reach this level.

It was an invasion that felt like absolute zero, almost impossible to sum up with the word ”cold.”

Its small range, coupled with the enhancement of a special authority, made it extremely concealed, practically unnoticeable before entering it.

As for why he would plunge headfirst into it despite the small area—that was simple. This thing had been deployed right around his teleportation point.

A plump little worm had exploded into ice crystals the moment Fu Qian arrived.

The reason he was able to pull off this warp-like maneuver just now wasn’t because of some sudden battlefield epiphany, but because he had left a Seed of Corrosion inside the Dragon King’s body.

When he gave up on the Visceral Attack earlier, he hadn’t pulled anything out, but he had still left a little something behind.

And just now, he had used that very worm as a target to trigger a side-effect-free Extreme Hunger Infection.

It was just a pity that compared to Huo, who had died by his hands in the past, the Dragon King before him might not be a real dragon, but was truly a higher entity.

Expecting the entity not to notice that little trick was impossible. While pulling away, the Dragon King had already covertly isolated that little thing.

As for why it was isolated instead of crushed outright?

It clearly couldn’t bear to waste it, ultimately using it in coordination with the still-hidden Dark Moon to set a small trap for him.

The opponent had been waiting for his potential move this entire time.

Even in this brief moment, facing him while he was trapped by the extreme cold, the Dragon King had already slammed another claw toward him.

’What truly perfect coordination. This seat feels your resolve.’

Praising them in his mind, Fu Qian activated the second effect on a certain Dark Moon Ring—Time-Moon Slumber.

’Come, let this seat play along.’

...

The Lightless Night descended once more.

He could tell that it was indeed an item that had exhausted the Witch to the point of forcing out her true form. The power sealed within it was quite genuine.

Even with the suspected Dark Moon personally keeping watch on the sidelines, the effect was still successfully activated.

Theoretically speaking, though, this was akin to a suicidal act that only aided their operation.

Everyone losing their sight was one thing, but in this kind of environmental effect, the Dark Moon could obviously maximize that concealing effect on itself or its allies.

And he had only managed to break through it the first time by utilizing the brief deterrence of the Four Rings to buy time—

So, why would he take an action that offered him absolutely no benefit whatsoever?

If the Tyrant didn’t do it, then who did?

After tearing through the Tyrant’s body with its claws once again, the Dragon King seemed to be pondering this question as well.

And it seemed to have arrived at certain suspicions, so much so that its subsequent pursuit was not entirely resolute—especially when the Tyrant’s counterattack was both cruel and ice-cold.

He didn’t seem surprised at all about falling into the trap, nor did he care about the damage to his body.

Within the still-sharp perception of a higher entity in the darkness, the scene of mutual destruction from earlier played out once more.

The only difference was that although the Dragon King’s head was injured again this time, what smashed through its bone plates was a Crystal Giant Arm radiating endless frost.

And enveloping that terrifying body was a coldness that made one’s very thoughts stagnate.