"Give way, you're blocking the path."
The female corpse's voice sounded in Tom's ears—gloomy, impatient, almost human.
"I didn't pull out your hair on purpose..." Tom muttered, his mind flashing with terrifying images. Wasn't this corpse supposed to be dead? Did she come back to tear my hair out?
"You should know," the corpse replied coldly, "that the Sequence 6 of our path is called a Zombie. Now—immediately, come with me. The master is waiting above."
Her pale lips curled into a strange smile as she grabbed Tom's arm.
"O-Okay..." Tom swallowed, stammering.
The corpse turned and walked ahead. Several other corpses followed, their stiff, jerky movements betraying their inhuman nature.
Tom pushed himself off the cold floor, chills spreading across his body. The anger and frustration he had carried earlier were gone, crushed under pure fear. He dared not speak and silently trailed behind.
"Zombies can walk normally? She was crawling before—it must have been on purpose..." Tom whispered under his breath, thinking she couldn't hear. He didn't notice the faint twitch at the corner of her lips, almost like amusement.
The group climbed the long staircase. Their pace was steady, not hurried, not sluggish—eerily natural for the dead. After more than half an hour, they halted before a massive stone wall.
"We're here," the female zombie said.
Tom lifted his gaze. The stone wall loomed, cracks glowing faintly red as blood seeped from them.
"Go in."
The stone wall split open with a grinding rumble, and warm yellow light spilled from within. Tom squinted, adjusted to the brightness, and stepped inside.
A stone chamber revealed itself. At its center stood an altar, bearing only one strange symbol—a hand wrapped in bandages.
In front of the altar stood a woman.
She wore a complicated, gloomy black dress, golden hair bound high with a red cord, and long blue strands hanging over her cheeks. Gorgeous. Delicate. Unreal. Her back was turned, eyes closed, lips pursed.
"Your Highness Tinichole," the female corpse knelt. "I have brought the only survivor from the dungeon."
The woman turned slowly. Her crimson eyes locked on Tom with an unsettling light.
This was Reinette Tinichole—an ancient evil from the Chained pathway, Sequence 2, favored of the Bound God. Founder of the Highland Kingdom. Leader of the Rose School. Beautiful, terrible, and dangerous.
"Thank you for your hard work, Jerry," she said.
Jerry? Tom blinked.
The corpse at his side shimmered, and a short, cunning illusory figure emerged—a Wraith controlling the body.
"It is my honor to serve you, my Lady," Jerry simpered, his earlier menace replaced by flattery. The corpse withdrew, shutting the stone door behind.
Now, Tom stood alone before Reinette Tinichole.
"Your Highness Tinichole," he stammered, "I am Tom Cruise. Forgive my rudeness, but... may I have a glass of water? My throat is parched."
Reinette raised a pale hand. A teacup materialized from the Spirit World and floated into the air. Without spilling a drop, it hovered before Tom.
"Thank you..." He snatched it, sipped carefully, and sighed in relief as sweetness spread across his tongue. Then, gathering courage, he spoke again. "Your Highness, do you have a task for me? I am... a professional."
"Yes," she said simply. "I need you to do something."
"Anything. I'll do it without hesitation."
"Tomorrow night, you will go to the Church. Jerry will lead you."
Tom nodded quickly. "No problem."
Reinette turned back to the altar, staring at the strange, bandaged symbol. Minutes dragged on. Tom shuffled awkwardly, then blurted:
"Uh... what about my mission reward? Don't tell me this is one of those games with no newbie guidance and no quest rewards!"
Her crimson eyes flicked toward him, unreadable. She didn't understand his words, but she sensed the strange aura clinging to him—the same taint spreading from the Bound God. Dangerous. Unpredictable.
Finally, she said: "Jerry will give you books to expand your knowledge of the extraordinary world."