Eldritch Horror Theatre

Where exactly did world pillars anchor themselves?

This was a question Fu Qian often wanted to ask when faced with numerous legends and stories.

The Transcendent Tier might defy science, but it still had to make sense.

It was hard to imagine that the numerous higher entities he had encountered, along with their highly conceptual and symbolic authorities, were only effective on this tiny planet.

Take the most obvious examples: the sun and the moon.

Even though the Wheel That Cannot Be Looked Upon appeared completely dead, it couldn’t possibly be just a giant fireball; it had to be a conceptual symbol for light or something similar.

As for the moon, the Red Moon hanging outside was another matter entirely—after all, it had likely been forced into the role.

The methods the Witch had displayed earlier were already terrifying enough to embody the dark side of the universe.

Not to mention the First Generation Dark Moon’s chilling performance during That Long Night.

To Fu Qian, things like the Abandoned Prison operated on the same principle.Its exact coordinates might not be clear just yet, but within the entire transcendent system, it functioned as the ultimate symbol of certain concepts—even more extreme than a higher entity.

One could sense as much just from the title King of the Abandoned Prison.

Not to mention The Abyss, which the Warehouse had personally verified as a world pillar.

With that premise established, the crucial question arose.

It made sense that the higher entities might have gathered together due to past grievances and entanglements, eventually choosing—after the Long Night and out of various considerations—to either hide inside the barrier or wander outside.

But what reason did these ultimate symbols of the universe’s fundamental powers have to coincidentally all gather on this tiny planet?

For one thing, he had been navigating this business for a while now and had yet to discover the exact locations of any of these things.

For another, they could all be considered the ultimate condensations of certain powers; cramming them all together would inevitably cause some conflict, wouldn’t it?

In short, a little reflection revealed that compared to theories like geocentrism, this setup felt far too contrived.

What if they weren’t inside the barrier? Because of their transcendent nature, did these things lack concepts like spatial coordinates, making them naturally unfettered by the barrier?

That sounded somewhat reasonable at first, but even if it were true, another problem would inevitably arise—if they weren’t isolated by the barrier, they weren’t protected by it either.

In that case, what were the Mother of Gospel and the rest plotting by going to such lengths to constantly try and enter the barrier?

...

As an outsider who hadn’t been ”synchronized” for long, Fu Qian didn’t know much about the specific conflicts between the higher entities.

But from his interactions with them over this period, he could clearly see that they all knew how to seek advantage and avoid harm; they calculated their gains and losses shrewdly.

For a group like this, there had to be a reason to fight to the death, didn’t there?

When he first pondered this question, some intuitive answers easily came to mind. For example, the Bookstore World might be small, but it contained things that were extremely important to the higher entities.

Exhausting all their efforts to break the barrier was for exactly this purpose; the apocalypse was just a byproduct.

Fu Qian didn’t even think this was mere imagination. After all, just based on what had been confirmed so far, the Blazing Rainbow was plotting to seize The Abyss, and Excellency Stomach was drooling over the Realm of Bliss...

Considering Excellency Stomach’s authority and the Paradise symbolism of the Realm of Bliss, one could clearly sense the connection between them.

Thus, he could further deduce that higher entities not only coveted these things but also had specific preferences; consuming something compatible could grant them a major evolution or something similar.

In short, throughout his ongoing exploration, this idea had gradually become increasingly well-founded.

But the moment he reintroduced his earlier conclusion, a paradox immediately appeared—

Since the things the higher entities coveted were inherently transcendent and existed beyond the concept of the barrier, what meaning did this tiny planet still hold for them?

A God not loving mortals was one thing, but they wouldn’t disregard their own safety just to casually manufacture an apocalypse for fun, right?

The problem seemed to have reached a dead end. If he didn’t want to accept the premise that all these authority cores had simply gathered inside the barrier through various coincidences, was there any other explanation?

Fu Qian glanced at the Emissary Mask in his hand and placed it directly over his face.

...

The sun was shining brightly. It was obvious the synchronization was still in effect; his Laboratory was already right in front of him.

After enjoying the peaceful years for another moment, Fu Qian didn’t even stand up; he simply turned the ring on his hand again.

Abandoned Prison.

It turned out that the Mechanical Tyrant’s Fist, personally designed by the King of the Abandoned Prison, had excellent stability. In the blink of an eye, he had already left and returned.

”So I didn’t pass through the Warehouse this time, but came directly from the Academy... That practically eliminates the possibility that it’s easier to connect to these places just because the former’s status is so overwhelmingly transcendent.”

Fu Qian nodded slightly, immediately reaching a conclusion and eliminating yet another far-fetched explanation.

So did he have to just accept that possibility?

That due to the weight of history and certain unknowable secrets, too many things had gathered in the Bookstore World beneath the barrier over the long years, turning it into a rich land that made predators across the entire universe salivate?

To be honest, it made logical sense, but on an intuitive level, Fu Qian still didn’t really like this conclusion.

Unless he found a more elegant explanation one day, there was no rush to conclude this project.

Of course, there was no need to obsess over it pointlessly either.

While sensing the progress of his health recovery, Fu Qian tossed the umbilical cord in his hand around his neck.

Actually, no extra actions were needed; the umbilical cord took effect as long as he carried it on his person. However, Fu Qian still felt this classic look was a bit more domineering.

As for why he had specifically brought the Entwined Umbilical Cord with him?

It didn’t actually have much theoretical support; it was purely an attempt to exploit a bug.

He was currently the Mechanical Remastered King of the Abandoned Prison, and by possessing the umbilical cord, he automatically gained the status of an Ancient Higher Being.

Fu Qian was quite curious whether the Abandoned Prison would have any special reaction under these circumstances—and it seemed it actually did.

Reaching out, Fu Qian scooped up a handful of sand from the ground.

During this little free-to-try test, some changes had already been faintly occurring.

...

Every grain was lustrous, yet sharp-edged.

If one didn’t know their origin, in all fairness, the molten sand beneath his feet actually looked quite pleasant.

But once one associated them with the former displaced ones, it seemed one could still feel the blood and tears reflected within them.

To fight against the terror of the Long Night, they had even discarded their ”selves” just to remain as living corpses.

Unfortunately, the result was exchanging that for thousands of years of scorching torment, right up to the present—there even seemed to actually be blood.

Experiencing that unique texture, Fu Qian eventually let the sand sift back down to his feet.

And amid the falling grit, a familiar trace of scarlet was unexpectedly reflected.