The third year after the strange descended and the worlds overlapped, mysteries began to emerge.
Those who came from the ancient past parted the dense, pulsing darkness with pale hands.
Fuchao lifted a boot and ground it against someone's face twice.
The members of the Old Ones dropped their melon seeds. They had never seen their usually gentle and refined lord display such a twisted expression.
The team's human printer: (adjusts glasses)
He casually takes out a worn notebook, ignoring the fiercely writhing, emotional text on his retina, and carefully records the scene and dialogue.
Scene number: ***, analyzable space +1.
Written by: Dedicated to recording the mentally ill moments of every powerful person.
(I'm terrible at writing blurbs. The protagonist is not a good person. I'm a new writer with an average writing style. Consider yourself warned. Uses some settings from Lord of the Mysteries and Cultist Simulator, with a mountain of original additions. Don't read if that bothers you.)
Theme: Love every moment of life
