Eldritch Horror Theatre

There was no mistake.

Although Fu Qian rarely bothered wasting mental memory on faces, he was quite confident in his judgment at that moment.

For one thing, as noted earlier, every finest detail was laid bare; the resolution of that face was remarkably high.

For another, between Ehm Palace and the Nightmare Corridor, he had already seen this face more than once.

It really was the Statue he had seen behind that door while traveling with the Witch.

The only difference was that back then, the Statue had not only held a弓—a bow—in her hand, she had also been wearing clothes.

And the Witch, after taking the scroll from the Statue’s hand, had personally confirmed that it was her ”Mother.”

If that alone wasn’t enough, there was one more small piece of corroborating evidence.

Back when he stood before the Statue, he had noted a temptation of extreme contrast.

At once as benevolent as a holy mother and seductively bewitching to the bone, a single glance was enough to ignite humanity’s most primal desires.And right now, even though her eyes were closed, it didn’t hinder that charm in the slightest.

In fact, with her body so vividly, breathtakingly sensual, every exposed inch of her curves wildly amplified the impact.

At first glance, the implication behind this scene merely confirmed Excellency Patches’s judgment that the Dark Moon had been born from this, offering little in the way of new breakthroughs.

For Fu Qian, however, there were far too many details to dig into.

Take, for instance, the posture he had noticed right away.

Her body and arms curved together to cradle a full moon, overlapping seamlessly with the Dark Moon before them.

That posture, at once strikingly beautiful and eerie, vividly demonstrated how the previous scene had come to be—striking a pose, then projecting it onto a curtain.

As a result, to ignorant eyes, only that empty circle was visible.

And that was only the first point. More importantly, the posture was seemingly familiar—the flesh cradle in Ehm Palace.

Although the poses weren’t completely identical, the impression they gave was uncannily alike.

So much so that part of the Dark Moon’s outline—the soft, full lower belly of the woman’s body—gave the distinct impression that it was gestating that very moon.

The Order of Blood...

Even the two sides being compared were both tied to a certain concept.

To say nothing of the fact that it was already practically proven that the First Generation Dark Moon shared origins with the Laria Family.

Everything seemed to line up.

Did Annalise, and God’s First Dream, truly involve the Order of Blood and self-metamorphosis?

The only issue was a seeming flaw in the logic—the Dark Moon gestating the Dark Moon?

By the earlier logic, what lay concealed in here should have been the traces of the Dark Moon’s birth, right?

Surely the First Generation Dark Moon hadn’t already begun gestating the Witch right here?

”Oh?”

Even the person in question was surprised.

Just like during the Night of Regicide, the Witch, far away in another world, seemed to have finally sensed something amiss and realized her Templar Knight was up to something again.

Yet that was all. Perhaps because the connection was too faint, after making her presence felt for a brief moment, she decisively refrained from doing anything further to avoid causing interference.

”Interesting... Your senses got a lot sharper all of a sudden. Using that in a place like this really works wonders.”

In its place came Patches’s punchable voice.

Clearly, he was somewhat surprised by Fu Qian’s discovery.

At the same time, of course, he had plainly confirmed that Fu Qian had a way to briefly restore his perception.

Scheming against each other while working together, both sides had pulled out all the stops during this exploration of the Archipelago, and with well-measured control, they had achieved a rather ideal result.

”It looks like you tore open the true face of the King of Nightmares, though the damage to the dream is pretty severe... I can buy you another minute at most. Let’s see if you can dig it out of the darkness.”

So much so that without needing any prompting, Excellency Patches volunteered to put in extra effort to help, extending the duration of the Divine Dream to buy Fu Qian an opportunity.

It was just that the thing he was supposed to dig out...

”You can’t see it?”

Fu Qian turned to look at him.

”Pure nothingness. You can see something in there?”

Though clearly caught off guard, Patches answered quickly.

Sure enough. So he really was the only one barging into the women’s bathhouse?

Such differential treatment left even Fu Qian clicking his tongue in wonder.

If he tried to make sense of it, the only angle seemed to be the degree of secrecy—as a deliberately buried truth, even after the disguise had been stripped away, only someone like him—a Dream Polluter, a false Progenitor of the Blood Clan, and someone carrying Annalise’s Lie—could establish a faint connection with it.

Even someone like Excellency Patches, who held the authority of dreams, was reduced to cheering from the sidelines.

”I can see it.”

Fortunately, a seasoned veteran like this didn’t have a fragile ego, so Fu Qian generously confirmed it.

”Heh... You really didn’t have to tell me that.”

Patches sized Fu Qian up with a grin, reminding him that he was being a bit too honest.

”True. Time is almost up anyway, so there doesn’t seem to be much need to keep up the spirit of cooperation—so look closely.”

Fu Qian verbally agreed with the point, yet didn’t take the advice.

Snap. The next moment, he returned to his signature gesture and snapped his fingers.

At the same time, using his own command over the dream, he forcibly reconstructed that silhouette—one never meant to be seen—as an illusion.

Of course, Fu Qian wasn’t the sort of person who insisted on dragging others down with him just because he had made a blunder himself.

In the process, he casually dressed that body from head to toe, leaving only the face and hands exposed.

”This is...”

Even so, at the very first glance, Brother Patches was utterly dumbstruck.

”What’s wrong? Do you know her?”

Fu Qian certainly didn’t think this fellow was captivated by feminine charm, which made him all the more pleased with the reaction.

”I do. The Primordial Moon, the object of Annalise’s faith.”

Patches clearly didn’t expect to fool a professional and nodded cooperatively.

So that was it. That was the face of the Primordial Moon?

The beauty of sharing and communication was perfectly demonstrated at this moment.

As a fellow Ancient Higher Being, the odds of Patches recognizing the Moon God were undoubtedly high, which made his exclamation just as credible.

And if it really was as he said, then one of the earlier questions was neatly resolved.

No matter how similar the impression, that was not the Witch’s Mother.

It wasn’t the First Generation Dark Moon gestating the Witch here, but the Primordial Moon gestating the First Generation Dark Moon.

His earlier line of thought hadn’t been disproven; on the contrary, it all fit together even more smoothly—it really was the Primordial Moon’s design, and Annalise was nothing more than a pitiful pawn.

The ultimate result of all that maneuvering was that the former had used the Order of Blood right here to successfully gestate the First Generation Dark Moon, before going on to meet the Long Night.

And unlike the Witch, the Dark Moon and its ”Mother” kept the exact same face.

In fact, that wasn’t even the most critical question.

”Did you just say that was the true face of the King of Nightmares?”

Fu Qian looked at Patches, asking for a more detailed review.