Eldritch Horror Theatre

Resplendent Tyrant.

He hadn’t accidentally drunk a product from the Nuka-Cola Corporation, of course. Fu Qian had simply activated his aura.

Ever since his Mechanical Ascension, his control over the aura’s intensity had become as precise as his control over his Rank.

But this tuxedo-like formal wear was simply too tight, unable to withstand even the slightest physical distortion.

Compared to the completely inhuman physique he immediately gained upon activating it previously, Fu Qian’s current bulk remained within the realm of human possibility.

Even so, it was still conspicuous enough that Kadon, lying right beside him, seemed disturbed by it.

His breathing remained as faint as a thread, but halfway through a gasp, he stiffened.

He wasn’t asleep. The Old Man was sensing him through some special method.

Effortlessly reaching this conclusion, Fu Qian—now manifesting the Resplendent Tyrant—made no further unusual moves. He merely took another sip of his industrial-style juice.

It was just as he had expected: Kadon’s final wish wouldn’t be so easily fulfilled.Of course, it also looked like he wasn’t going to give up that easily, either. Soon, the fluctuations in his breathing settled down as he resumed his attempt to pass away.

He even did so while braving the disturbance right beside him.

The driver he had hired for a hefty sum not only failed to assist with his euthanasia, but hadn’t even stopped actively interfering with it.

Although Fu Qian deliberately restrained his power—and their surroundings weren’t a dream or illusion—there was no obvious distortion visible just yet.

But for a transcendent, especially a Psychic Type, having such a source of chaos sitting right next to them was clearly difficult to ignore.

...

He thought he knew what his role was now.

Fu Qian certainly wasn’t acting out of some twisted sense of humor, flipping the table with an ”if it can’t be done, then let’s not do it” mentality.

His seemingly unfriendly actions were driven precisely by his professionalism.

His train of thought had actually been highly coherent all along. If he wanted to figure out what Kadon was really trying to do, understanding his own role in the matter was undoubtedly a great starting point.

As he had analyzed earlier, based on the events so far, it seemed Kadon didn’t need his participation at all.

Thus, for Kadon to go to such great lengths, there had to be a crucial reason.

Anyone who had ever suffered from insomnia knew that to actively fall asleep, the first step was to close off one’s senses and stop paying attention to the surroundings.

Yet, judging from the Old Man’s reaction just now, he seemed to have kept his attention focused on Fu Qian the entire time.

Why?

Through this anomaly, Fu Qian could faintly sense the purpose of his presence.

Naturally, Fu Qian continued to follow this line of logic.

If someone trying to fall asleep constantly focused on a specific object in the Real World, what positive effect could that have, other than making sleep harder to achieve? There was one: confirming that they had, in fact, fallen asleep.

That was it. The Old Man hadn’t specifically hired him to serve as a witness to watch him die.

Instead, it was the exact opposite. During the dying process, Kadon would observe him in reverse, using him as the critical gauge of whether he had entered a dream—in other words, as an Anchor Point.

Everything seemed to connect.

...

Whether the scene before their eyes was reality or an illusion was a dilemma most transcendents had likely encountered.

This was especially true for certain Psychic Types, who had no trouble moving consciously within a dream, making it even harder to distinguish from reality in some situations.

And if his previous guess was correct, it meant Kadon was very worried about this exact issue.

He had to ensure that he died in his sleep. Therefore, he was willing to suffer a certain amount of interference to guarantee a living person was by his side.

If, at a certain moment, that person disappeared, only then would it mean he had truly fallen asleep.

This would also explain why Kadon didn’t care at all about the driver’s identity, intentions, or whether they were a transcendent.

Because as long as it was a person, it would suffice—even if they had been violently subdued and tossed there.

...

So, what exactly was it that made Kadon worry so much?

As a travel-sized edition, the juice bottle wasn’t very large, and it emptied in an instant.

As Fu Qian downed another gulp, he felt as if he had touched upon the core of the issue.

The very thing that troubled Old Man Kadon and caused him to draft this Checklist.

Kadon was probably just making a dying struggle, doomed to fail if he resisted alone—but that didn’t matter, since he still had a heavily compensated assistant.

An assistant earning double pay, no less.

Casually setting down the empty bottle, Fu Qian sneered, amplifying the power of his aura a bit more.

...

True, he had deduced Kadon’s likely goal and his own role in it.

But instead of suppressing his nature as a core of chaos, Fu Qian actually intensified it.

This would undoubtedly make it even harder for the Old Man to fall asleep. It was even visible to the naked eye that the body lying there had grown a bit restless.

Pop!

As the chief culprit behind this, Fu Qian opened another bottle of juice with a light pop.

Not only was he completely unashamed, but he even drank it with great relish.

In Brother Raymond’s shop, these drinks were sold in sets, coming in a variety of vibrant colors and different flavors.

This bottle was slightly better. The pomegranate aroma was more pronounced, and its color was richer.

Was this the legendary act of feasting at a wake?

While tasting the new flavor, Fu Qian sighed at his own lack of morals.

He wasn’t being deliberately antagonistic; it was just that good medicine tasted bitter.

Knowing Kadon’s true objective didn’t mean he could actually help.

Although his actions seemed very unfriendly, if he thought about it carefully, what would happen if he really dispelled the Resplendent Tyrant?

The answer was simple: the plan would continue exactly as Kadon had envisioned.

Because up until now, he hadn’t helped Kadon solve anything the old man couldn’t handle himself.

But if everything proceeded according to the original plan, the Old Man was almost guaranteed to fail.

So it was better to play the villain first and let the situation remain at a stalemate.

When success was right in front of their eyes, the side holding the advantage often lacked patience.

...

Ugh—

As the minutes ticked by, Fu Qian opened his third bottle—pineapple juice—and frowned as he endured its paint-like smell.

And as if trying to stop him from drinking such an inferior beverage, a sound was forcefully squeezed from the throat of Kadon, breaking the silence as he lay there.

So, was he having a nightmare?

Readily taking the hint, Fu Qian set the juice aside, looking at that somewhat twisted face and the eyes that remained closed.

It really did look as if his own terrible behavior had caused Kadon to sleep poorly.

However, not only did Kadon refrain from jumping up to give him a beating, but a closer look revealed that things weren’t so simple.

The pain on that face was so intense that rings of blood-red coloring were squeezed out upon the aged skin.

Amidst the contortions, it almost looked as if another face was struggling to break free from underneath.

Dickens?

This instantly reminded Fu Qian of what Kadon had said to the nonexistent Mister Dickens during the previous pillow-smothering attempt: ”You look very uncomfortable, as if something is trying to crawl out from inside.”