There Are No Washed-Up Idols, Only Faltering Faith!

"Nyarlathotep really had a twisted sense of humor..."

Early the next morning, Fang Mo sat on the sofa in the hotel lounge, fiddling with a pendant in his hand.

The pendant had a bizarre design. At first glance, it looked like a dim gemstone the size of a fingernail, cut into countless irregular planes. Broadly speaking, it resembled some kind of geometric structure, yet it gave off an extremely discordant feeling.

It was neither a triangle, nor a cube, nor an octahedron, much less a pyramid. It was as if the thing possessed some power to blur perception, making it seem like those geometric shapes while being utterly different from them, creating a powerful sense of displacement and fragmentation.

Nyarlathotep had not stayed long.

Before leaving, He had given Fang Mo this earring as a gift.

Fang Mo would rather have had Him draft a speech for him, but according to Nyarlathotep, this thing was far more useful than a mere speech.

Fang Mo briefly examined it.

He found an indescribable, murky power wrapped around it.

Thinking back on the sort of things Nyarlathotep usually did, Fang Mo roughly understood how this thing was meant to be used. It was probably something like Mental Pollution, right?

Now that he had figured out what it did,

Fang Mo could not be bothered to write a speech anymore. He would just improvise on the spot.

After thinking for a moment, he directly summoned Stand-in Steve, materialized two breakfasts, and woke Sakura Matou in the room.

"...Lord Archer?"

Sakura Matou sat up in bed, still somewhat groggy.

"Go wash up." Fang Mo reached out and smoothed down the two tufts of hair sticking up from her head. "After breakfast, I'll take you out to see something fun."

"Huh?"

Sakura Matou looked a little