"Before this was just a stroke of luck, a mortal like you wouldn't be able to hurt—"
CRACK!
My foot slammed into the ghost's chest, interrupting his monologue mid-sentence. The impact launched him straight into the door behind, the air humming as his flickering form hit it like a bolt of lightning.
"Oops, sorry. What were you going to say?" I scratched my head, faking innocence.
The ghost staggered to his feet, disoriented and visibly shaken. His form glitched—yes, glitched—as though the kick had tampered with his connection to this realm.
"Who—Who are you? How can you hurt me?" he asked, voice tight with disbelief.
A grin pulled at the corner of my lips.
"Who am I? Isn't it clear already?" I stepped forward with theatrical flair.
"I am the killer of evil ghosts! Fear me!" I raised my hands dramatically. "Mwahaha!"
Behind me, Ronald sighed like a disappointed parent.
"Who would believe that?"
The ghost's fear deepened. "So you are the rumored Ghost Killer Knight?"
"There was such a thing?!" Ronald's voice cracked.
"That's right. I am the very same, whatever you just called me. Mwahahahaha!"
My luck must be coming back. I smirked.
The ghost squinted at me. "Hmm... I didn't know the Ghost Killer Knight is a female. And such a weak-looking one."
"Oui! I may look weak, but I ain't, you damn fossil!" I snapped, playing along.
Ronald sidled closer, whispering, "You don't think he knows you're lying, right?"
"Come on, Ronald. Do you think a sane person would lie to a ghost?"
He blinked. "So... Llyne isn't sane?"
"That's not the main point here. The main thing is we gotta get out of here alive. Hopefully in one piece. Fingers crossed."
The ghost's irritation was palpable. "What are you whispering about?"
"Oh, nothing. What's there to whisper about in front of a 'bored out of non-existent mind' ghost?"
"Why must you provoke people all the time?" Ronald muttered. "Especially a ghost?"
"Oui… the words just shoot out before I can think."
The ghost growled. "Non-existent mind, eh?" He flicked a finger—
And reality shattered.
The pristine room vanished.
Darkness swallowed everything.
The warmth of the reformed mansion was gone. We were back in the same cursed pit of decay—the mansion's original state. The kind of place where hope went to die.
"That stinking old chicken ghost ran away!" I growled.
We were plunged into thick, soupy darkness. The silence wasn't comforting—it was oppressive, unnatural.
Then—
"Kii..."
"Did you hear something?" Ronald whispered.
I stilled. The air shifted.
Then a voice—no, a sound. Wet, guttural, animalistic.
"Kii...."
"Hmm? That sounds awfully familiar." I muttered, my spine stiffening.
"Kishaaa..."
The guttural snarl twisted through the air like a blade against stone. Every hair on my body stood.
We turned—and there she was.
The zombie lady.
Her face half-gone. Her arms outstretched. Her jaw unhinged, salivating shadow. Her presence… vile. More real than ever. This wasn't some passive ghost—this was a predator hungry for flesh.
I met her milky gaze without flinching. "No wonder that sound felt familiar."
"She's still alive?!" Ronald's scream bounced around the cursed chamber.
"Oui! She looks uglier than before. Stinky too." I gagged.
She moved.
One blink, she was ten steps closer—limbs twisting wrong, dress fluttering like dead leaves.
We bolted.
Ronald dove behind a curtain, gripping a broken table leg like a club. I yanked an antique armchair off its legs, spinning it forward just in time—
CRACK!
The chair hit her square in the face, a disgusting crunch sounding as one of her rotted cheeks collapsed.
Simultaneously, Ronald struck from the side with his makeshift weapon. The blow caught her midsection, sending her flying into the far wall with a squelch.
"Nice one, Ronald!" I shouted, adrenaline still pumping. "Let's tie her up."
We scrambled.
Nothing but trash, debris, broken parts—nothing strong enough.
Finally, I spotted something. A frayed rope in a corner.
"AH! Here's one!" I grabbed it, only for the victory to fade.
"Ha! Got one—" It crumbled in my hands. "Never mind."
Then—growl.
A wet, slow snarl.
We turned.
She was rising. Broken bones popping back into place.
"Oui. I think she's awake," I whispered, nudging Ronald. He blinked, dazed.
Then his eyes went wide.
"Oh blimey! She's up! Llyne! Llyne!" His grip on me tightened like iron.
"What do we do? What do we do? We're still young, got lots of time ahead of us! What do we do?!"
Panic was crawling into his throat. I couldn't let it stay.
I slapped him.
"Wake up, Ronald! Now isn't the time to panic!"
He winced. "That hurts, Llyne."
"Who cares. We gotta run!"
I yanked his arm, and we bolted.
Our feet pounded across creaky floorboards. Behind us, the zombie lady let out an earsplitting shriek and gave chase.
She was gaining.
We slammed through the door, slammed it shut behind us.
Thud!
Breathing heavy, we turned.
And froze.
The next room was worse.
Identical doors lined every wall, indistinguishable, dizzying in their repetition.
A maze of exits. Or traps. More accurately, a trap disguised as escape.
"This room is weird, Llyne," Ronald muttered.
'A door maze?' My thoughts spun.
Without hesitation, I grabbed his arm and ran to the nearest door. We burst through—
—and the world tilted.
My foot met nothing but air.
A cold weightless drop yawned beneath me.
"Uh-oh. Wargh!" I stumbled forward, nearly falling.
A hand snapped around my wrist like an iron shackle.
"Hang on, Llyne!" Ronald's voice rang like steel in chaos. His grip didn't waver.
I looked down. There was no floor—only a bottomless void that swallowed light whole. The kind of darkness that promised you will never be found.
"Ronald… don't let go," I whispered, my voice trembling despite me.
The strain in his arm was obvious, veins standing out against his skin, but his grip didn't falter.
I swung my other arm up, clawing for purchase, dragging myself back onto solid ground. My heart was a war drum in my chest. No time to breathe—
Behind us—
BANG!
BANG!
The zombie lady was trying to break through.
And this time… she might succeed.