Eldritch Horror Theatre

Experimental variables couldn’t be added at random; otherwise, it would just become a lottery squandering massive amounts of resources.

He had two reasons for introducing the Umbilical Cord. The first, as already mentioned, was to test the stability of the script.

The second stemmed from the behavior of the blood thread earlier. Its rule of like attracting like, combined with aggregation, reminded Fu Qian of his previous experience holding the Umbilical Cord.

Back in the Abandoned Prison, forcibly incarnating as the Ancient Tyrant had unexpectedly triggered a surging Crimson Frenzy, allowing him to faintly lock onto the remains hidden behind it.

In such a unique situation, could he borrow that power of aggregation to see even more?

The changes happening now once again proved the value of academic thinking. Even without direct aggregation, this peculiar disturbance eventually provoked a reaction.

Although nothing physically swam into view this time, his field of vision seemed to stretch. Amidst the chaos, a specific scene gradually grew clear.

It was even blood-red.

Hazy vapor, rot, searing heat... he could sense all of it at a single glance.

And all of this was contained within a bizarre... ”soap bubble”?’It really is you, huh?’

Fu Qian marveled to himself.

There were no special markings on the soap bubble, but its very shape was an identifier he was all too familiar with.

Even with no visible forces compressing it from the outside, it formed a strange polygon. It also lacked any sense of thickness. If not for the somewhat complex composition inside, it could almost be mistaken for a pure pane of crystal.

But Fu Qian knew exactly why it looked this way—he had seen countless similar shapes back in the Burial Ground of the Gods.

A clustered pile of soap bubbles, with every single one harboring the corpse or remnants of a higher entity.

Back when he stepped out of Senior Liliana’s hiding place, he had navigated the gaps between those soap bubbles, which served as transitional boundaries.

He had noted a very bizarre physical sensation at the time.

Specifically, it felt as though his entire body had been reduced to two dimensions, exposing every internal detail as he spread out evenly to slide through the gaps between the bubbles.

Looking back on it now, he hadn’t been overthinking it. It was yet another perfect callback.

...

The Burial Ground of the Gods could also be found within this crystallized apocalypse?

Was even the shape of the soap bubble due to a similar effect?

In the blink of an eye, the apocalypse theory gained a new piece of evidence, and a very weighty one at that.

Regardless, a place like the Bone Burial Ground shouldn’t exist in the real world. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have had to go to such lengths to get the Red Moon to help him locate it.

His multiple previous explorations had further proven that the place bordered the deepest recesses of the human mind.

So much so that a barrier like Akons was necessary to prevent its corruption from leaking out and plunging everything into madness.

And now, under this unique state of unfolding, it had evidently been dragged onto the exact same plane of existence.

Even its long-established form suddenly seemed to line up perfectly with this revelation.

Had the shape of the apocalypse been reflected in the Burial Ground of the Gods all along?

It made sense. After all, according to his previous analysis, the gods’ Long Night had never truly ended—in fact, even the gods themselves were here.

It didn’t take long before Fu Qian noticed more of them appearing around the blood-red soap bubble.

Taking various shapes, they clustered tightly together as though entirely lacking in thickness. It was the exact same scene he had witnessed back then.

If that wasn’t proof enough, there was another piece of evidence.

Beyond the lake and the whale, there was also the storm.

The apocalyptic storm, whose source he had been unable to pinpoint until now, finally reacted to the manifestation of the Bone Burial Ground.

As the storm swirled, it unmistakably oriented itself straight toward that distant location.

...

Did the apocalyptic storm raging above the whale’s head truly originate from the Bone Burial Ground?

He had to admit, he was starting to feel the momentum of finally understanding everything.

The changes were easy enough to interpret, and once deciphered, they fit flawlessly into the grand scheme of the apocalypse—

Not only did all mortals suffer, but even the gods suffered.

The storm had never ceased for thousands of years. Even after they had long become unrecognizable, they were still not spared.

As for why the Bone Burial Ground looked somewhat different from the rest of the world?

The warped soap bubbles weren’t pure crystals after all; they were more like clumsy imitations of the shape.

Having personally stepped inside one, he knew that their internal elements remained incredibly diverse.

Actually, this wasn’t hard to explain. Hadn’t he just seen the Holy Infant Calamity Star earlier? It hadn’t completely crystallized either.

This even led him to wonder about the Red Moon and the others—was it possible that they were relying on concepts to shelter themselves?

So, could this deceptive facade maintained by the gods also be a method of self-preservation?

The Bone Burial Ground was a concept in itself. The condensed remains of the gods gathered together might very well act as an indigestible lump of Ambergris.

Even if gathering together caused the storm to rage more fiercely, it could at least buy them a glimmer of hope for a return before they completely succumbed to corruption...

The more he thought about it, the more it made perfect sense—and the more tragic it seemed.

Of course, there was also the most direct point. The blood-red soap bubble he had first spotted was exactly the location he had suspected the Tyrant’s remains to be after his last sensory experience in the Abandoned Prison: the Blood Lake that birthed the Phoenix.

Now it seemed a casual remark truly proved prophetic—were the dragon and phoenix ending up in deep shit?

Although it was disdained by the Warehouse, the Umbilical Cord had undoubtedly performed a great service once again.

The only pity was that this power of aggregation seemed to max out at this level.

The Dragon King still hadn’t shown itself, and unlike with the previous blood thread, he couldn’t actually reach out and touch the vision.

After all, this was merely the Etched Intellect. His Excellency the Fool’s script could write about all living beings, but they weren’t truly real—or were they?

He didn’t drop the Umbilical Cord in his hand. A moment later, a red and white mask appeared on Fu Qian’s face.

...

Bane of Those Denied Godhood.

Shaped like a clown, sporting a massive grin while masking deep inner anxiety. It was, theoretically, the spoils of god-slaying.

Its effect was that, upon wearing it, you would be drawn toward an invisible, broken, and ominous... yet entirely genuine path to becoming a Deity.

Putting it on right now might seem inexplicable at first glance, but one couldn’t forget that he was currently in a place where concepts themselves were physically manifested.

Considering everything that led him here, Old Man Ji Feng’s guidance that ”the path to gods is severed, ashes form the ladder” was a massive factor.

Although there weren’t many traces related to The Deep around at the moment, using this item to get a real glimpse of the Divine Path was clearly a viable new test variable.

The immediate side effect of wearing it was the corruption from The Redeemed One’s Black Dream, which was theoretically another negative status effect.

But that didn’t matter. One couldn’t forget that he was currently in a crystallized state. His ”heart and actions were clear as a mirror,” and as for whether his deeds were ”just”...

Fu Qian took another deep breath, feeling the world and his own sense of self after donning the mask.