Innsmouth at night was deathly silent.
The string of murders over the past days had made this already gloomy town feel even colder and more sinister. Now, as soon as the sun set, everyone hurried home. Even the businesses that catered to outside tourists had shut down. Inside their houses, Innsmouth's residents didn't dare turn on the lights. They lit only candles and curled up in their rooms, waiting in fear and unease for the coming of dawn…
A black cat slipped silently through deserted streets and alleys, arriving at a distant tower. With agile leaps, she scaled it, reached the top, and sprang onto the shoulder of Duanmu Huai, who stood hidden in the shadows. She leaned near his mouth and meowed softly a few times. Duanmu Huai reached up, stroked her little head, and tucked her into his coat.
"Very good. Looks like everything's going smoothly."
Looking down at the silent Innsmouth, Duanmu Huai nodded in satisfaction. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Mixed with the fresh sea breeze was a wonderful scent—fear and despair. The terror produced by those lowly alien-blooded mongrels in the face of death and destruction was the finest nourishment for Duanmu Huai, the God of Ruin.
In fact, those fish-faced heretics had not noticed that the territory once shrouded by the Great Being they worshiped was now quietly being eroded by the Aura of Fear of the God of Ruin.
Duanmu Huai had long planned this.
In truth, most players would do the same.
If they accepted a commission to investigate somewhere, they would behave like refined gentlemen—just like professional detectives.
But if they came looking for trouble on their own initiative, without any commission, they would tear off the mask of civility and act with complete recklessness.
The reason was simple.
The moment you accepted a commission, your evaluation began.
Like a job interview—the moment you step into the room, the assessment has already started. Your posture, your tone, even the way you sit can affect your evaluation.
But when you go looking for trouble yourself, it's different.
No commission means no assessment.
You can do whatever you want.
As long as no one can trace it back to you, then it doesn't count against you.
Duanmu Huai was doing exactly that.
If he had been commissioned to investigate Innsmouth, he would act strictly like a proper Investigator.
But since he had come of his own accord, he could do whatever he pleased. Even if he slaughtered every Innsmouth resident, as long as he could submit a self-consistent line of evidence afterward, it would be fine.
That was why, back in the game, Innsmouth had descended into such chaotic player frenzy.
There was another, even simpler reason.
In this world, players were Investigators.
But at their core—
They were Inquisitors of the Inquisition.
And Innsmouth's hybrid Deep One heretics who worshiped evil gods were, by the standards of the Inquisition, to be completely exterminated.
Men.
Women.
Elderly.
Children.
All killed.
Not only the heretics who worshiped evil gods and interbred with Deep Ones—
But the Deep Ones themselves, Dagon, even Cthulhu.
By the standards of the Inquisition, if you encountered them, you purged them.
Without exception.
Thus, in some sense, the identities of Inquisitor and Investigator were contradictory.
An Inquisitor's duty was simple: kill all heretics on sight.
Evidence?
An Inquisitor decides what counts as evidence.
If I say there is evidence, then there is.
Believe it or not—why should I give a damn?
But an Investigator in this world couldn't act so brazenly.
At least on the surface, they had to operate within the framework of the law.
In the beginning, many players had suffered for this misunderstanding. They accepted commissions, investigated, discovered entire towns of cultists—and, following the Inquisition's creed of "better to kill a thousand by mistake than let one go," massacred them all.
Naturally, local governments didn't tolerate that.
Those players ended up fighting police and military forces hunting them down.
Points deducted to zero.
Kicked out of the world.
GAME OVER.
Later, players learned.
Heretics must be exterminated.
As Inquisitors, that was non-negotiable.
But…
The process in between?
There was enormous room for maneuver.
Duanmu Huai's plan was exactly that.
By causing consecutive murders in Innsmouth, he increased the town's fear and pressured the Four Great Families.
He was certain they wouldn't withstand it. They would eventually attempt to summon Dagon or Cthulhu for help.
At that moment, he would strike hard.
Afterward, he would burn Innsmouth to the ground and submit his evidence to the police, claiming these idiots had conducted a blasphemous ritual to their evil god that failed and destroyed the town.
Who could prove otherwise?
As long as the evidence was solid, the police would turn a blind eye.
Players in the game had done even more outrageous things.
Sudden plague outbreaks.
Unexpected earthquakes leveling towns.
Volcanoes erupting and burying everything.
Too lazy to fabricate? Just say the residents went mad and slaughtered each other.
Dead men tell no tales.
After all, Investigator was just a role.
Inquisitor was the real job.
Duanmu Huai wasn't worried about Innsmouth reporting him.
These cultists were filthy to begin with. If they reported the murders and higher authorities truly investigated, that would spell real disaster for them.
He was certain—
No matter how many heretics he killed here, Innsmouth wouldn't dare utter a word.
And that was exactly the case.
According to Suzune's reconnaissance, the Four Great Families had already convened to discuss countermeasures. The police station had ordered that the incidents be completely suppressed. No one was allowed to mention them.
Which meant—
Even if higher authorities came to investigate, there would be no murder records in the police archives.
Because officially—
These cases did not exist.
He killed their people.
And they cleaned up after him.
Duanmu Huai found these cultists remarkably kind.
Of course, as repayment, he would give them an unforgettable ending.
His ability to do all this was thanks to the Primarch gene-seed of the Raven Guard, which allowed him to move like a phantom through Innsmouth's streets and alleys without detection. Without it, free movement here would have been far more difficult.
During the period when the Four Great Families mobilized their forces to hunt for the killer, Duanmu Huai had not been idle.
He used the daytime—when they were out searching for him—to infiltrate their strongholds and collect evidence.
From the Fulson family bribing a congressman…
To records and video data from the Tolomini Hospital, where patients were injected with mysterious drugs and used for human experimentation under the guise of medical treatment…
The Four Great Families had no idea that while they raged outside hunting for the culprit, the culprit had already turned their nests upside down.
Combined with evidence of collusion between the Innsmouth police and the Flink family, a complete chain of evidence was now in Duanmu Huai's hands.
Now he would simply see how far these cultists would go—
And whom they would summon.
Cthulhu seemed unlikely. His awakening required a specific celestial alignment, and there had been no abnormal astronomical signs recently.
Dagon was probably their limit.
Of course, if not Cthulhu, Dagon would suffice.
As a god himself, Duanmu Huai did not fear village-chief-tier evil gods like Cthulhu. Though there were beings in this universe that warranted caution, Cthulhu was mostly famous for his name.
Some of his followers claimed that when he awakened, he would destroy the world.
And then he got knocked out by a fishing boat.
That's it?
Aren't you embarrassed?
If the world could be destroyed by that thing, it would be a joke.
Duanmu Huai was genuinely curious whether those followers had brain problems.
Oh right.
They did.
That's fine then.
After all, one defining trait of Cthulhu cultists was stupidity.
And now—
It was time to completely destroy everything.
The next morning, the atmosphere in Innsmouth was tense and oppressive.
The relentless rain had not stopped. It fell even harder.
Yet despite the weather, the townsfolk did not remain indoors. Instead, like swaying zombies, they emerged from their homes in small groups, gathering together and moving down the streets toward Dagon's church by the sea.
No one spoke.
No one gestured.
They simply walked.
And walked.
Until they entered the church.
Once belonging to another denomination, the church had been remodeled over decades into a massive structure capable of holding hundreds of believers—
Nearly the entire population of Innsmouth.
Below the church stood the Flink patriarch, cloaked in black robes, staring at a vast, dark cavern before him.
This was the site where they offered sacrifices to the Great Being they worshiped.
This time, united, they would pray for Dagon's blessing and guidance to eliminate the killing specter haunting Innsmouth.
The Flink patriarch had privately prayed many times for divine guidance.
What he received was only a vague revelation—
A towering, terrifying, majestic figure overlooking Innsmouth. Before it, the town seemed as fragile as a toy on a sandbox table.
But the figure was indistinct.
Worse—
When he gazed upon it, he felt a soul-deep terror beyond measure.
"Mr. Flink."
"——!"
The voice startled him.
He snapped back to reality and turned to see a corpulent man frowning at him—the patriarch of the Fulson family.
Under normal circumstances, Flink would have mocked his pig-like physique.
But now—
He had no such mood.
"What is it?"
"It's time to begin the ritual."
Fulson nodded.
Flink inhaled deeply and stared ahead.
"Of course… then let us begin."
(End of Chapter)