Eldritch Horror Theatre

Praise the Pope.

Caressing the distinctly transcendent item in his hand, Fu Qian marveled at its peculiar nature, taking a moment to thank its generous benefactor.

The item undoubtedly came from the Witch, Nelgria. She had delivered it the very instant he finished explaining his situation.

She hadn’t uttered a single word before or after the gift, however.

He could deduce two things from this exchange—

First, even though his Transcendent Perception was gone, he could still connect to the Dark Moon by using the Blasphemous Embrace—which the Witch had imprinted directly into his body as an ability—to shoot the sun.

Second, their communication was still inevitably hindered. Specifically, the Witch could only unilaterally receive his messages, or expend a massive amount of effort to send a physical item over.

Her voice could no longer reach him; otherwise, she would have at least given him instructions on how to use it.

He had a rough idea of its purpose, though. It probably wasn’t powerful enough to directly restore his perception. Instead, it was likely meant to bypass their communication barrier, or perhaps even clear the way for him to travel to her world.

Losing the Pope’s guidance was one thing, but the absence of his Transcendent Perception brought another problem: even after connecting with the Dark Moon, he could no longer sense the Imprint he had left in that world, such as the blood on the painting.That meant the Extreme Hunger Infection lacked a target. In other words, he had temporarily lost the ability to travel there for an audience.

He had suspected as much the moment he noticed the change in his perception, but now it was fully verified.

Furthermore, there was a reason he had slapped the sun’s face with the Blasphemous Embrace the moment matters at the Academy had settled. For one, during his previous battle in the Abandoned Prison, he had managed a fleeting connection with the Pope thanks to the Dark Moon hovering on his opponent’s side. Reaching out now was his way of reporting that he was safe.

For another, even if she couldn’t directly fix his condition, he hoped the Pope might still be able to offer some advice.

But the facts were now clear: the Pope’s mighty power was beyond question.

Since her verbal advice couldn’t reach him, she had simply tossed an item across the void instead.

...

So, the question remained: how was he supposed to use this thing without an instruction manual? Then again... who said there wasn’t one?

Running his hand slowly along its exquisite curve, Fu Qian didn’t just recognize it as a bow; he knew exactly what its prototype was—the Blasphemous Embrace.

It was the only item the Pope had taken from him when he let her choose whatever she wanted.

Choosing this specific shape held its own meaning.

To be honest, this Spine Lock looked rather sinister. It clashed entirely with the style of the Pope’s previous gifts.

And Fu Qian highly doubted that simply bending it into a curve meant it was actually meant to shoot people.

It was obvious that the slightest pull would warp its shape again. Using it to strangle someone would probably be far more effective.

Given that it hadn’t been very long, the Pope’s state couldn’t have recovered much.

Sending an item over was already taxing enough. Expending the extra effort to shape it like this meant she was definitely trying to convey a message.

”This item can help me, but I can’t use it on myself? Do I need to give it away, just like the bow?”

Gazing at the Dark Moon in the sky, Fu Qian voiced his theory.

That was it. Don’t use it on yourself. That was the first hidden meaning that came to Fu Qian’s mind.

Back when he was still recovering from his hangover, the Witch had seen all of his equipment, which included quite a few bizarre items.

Whatever message the Witch wanted to convey had to be simple, straightforward, and impossible to misinterpret. Out of everything, she had chosen to mimic the Blasphemous Embrace—

Compared to the rest of his gear, its biggest difference was simply that it was no longer in his possession.

”So, is this something dangerous? It certainly looks grim enough.”

Silence was his only answer. Fu Qian casually toyed with the Spine Lock, quickly straightening it out before bending it back into a crescent moon.

...

Good.

A moment later, realizing that no new item had suddenly appeared in his hand, Fu Qian nodded in deep satisfaction.

Assuming the Witch could observe his every move, if his deduction had been entirely wrong, she almost certainly would have found a similar way to correct him, regardless of the toll it took on her.

Sending over a hammer for him to knock some sense into his own head, for example.

The lack of any reaction suggested his guess was fairly close to the mark.

”So how exactly is this thing used? Do I eat it, or—”

With the basic concept confirmed, Fu Qian began to ponder the exact mechanics of its operation.

Halfway through his muttering, a peculiar change interrupted him.

The crescent moon was warping on its own. It slowly arched toward the hand holding it, as if drawn by the blood coursing through his veins.

Even the bone spurs along its edges were beginning to soften and sway, writhing like reawakened flagella...

”I think I know how it works now. I don’t eat it; it eats me.”

Faced with this bizarre sight, Fu Qian didn’t hastily pull his hand away. Instead, he studied the bone’s surface with intense interest, watching the dark red hue grow damp and slick... right up until the Spikes elongated enough to brush his palm.

He slowly lifted his hand, effortlessly evading its strike. As Fu Qian observed the Spine Lock, which had settled back down in response, he noted there was still no new item in his grasp.

Even the Dark Moon was gradually fading from the sky.

It seemed he needed to find it something to eat... preferably something a bit chewier.

Realizing their connection had run its course—and that the Dark Moon’s decisive retreat was essentially confirming his theory—Fu Qian felt a wave of satisfaction and immediately began plotting a feeding regimen.

Considering the toll of forcing an item through to him, it must have been incredibly difficult for the Witch to maintain the connection at all. He could hardly blame her for not providing further instructions.

Whether it was its sudden appetite for his flesh or how it matched the expansion speed of the Calamity Eyes, everything proved that this item was of extraordinary quality.

Feeding it ordinary food probably wouldn’t yield great results.

As for extraordinary food...

The very first thing that came to Fu Qian’s mind was the ”bubbles” he had visited time and time again.

Theoretically, those places likely housed the remains of a higher entity. Given this thing’s demeanor, it probably wouldn’t mind if the meat wasn’t entirely fresh.

The problem was that, unable to travel to the Half-Step Moon, and lacking the Red Moon’s assistance, that realm seemed firmly shut to him as well.

If that was off the table, the Night Watchers had no shortage of experts... Should he just slaughter his way to their doorstep? Blood for the Blood God, skulls for the Skull Throne?

After acknowledging the logistical hurdles of that plan, an alternative quickly presented itself.

This alternative was far more practical. In fact, a proactive invitation had already arrived—

Glancing out, Fu Qian quickly spotted a familiar figure making a beeline straight for The Bookstore below.

It was Chief Yuan of Shangjing, still clutching shopping bags they hadn’t even had time to put away.