The door swung open, and to Rosace's surprise, there was no one inside.
"Where are they?" he whispered to himself.
He slowly walked up to one of the chairs and sat down, waiting for the others to arrive.
Deep down, something didn't feel right. He told himself he wouldn't wait long, and if anything suspicious happened, he'd be out in a second, leaving the statue behind.
Every minute felt heavier on him, each ticking second chipping away at his patience. Sweat began to form, dripping from his head onto his roughly shaped face. His beady eyes darted around, trying to scan every corner.
Then, he heard it—a whisper. He quickly tossed the statue onto the table and turned toward the adjacent window, only to realize it was a picture so lifelike it could have been real. Startled, he stumbled back.
The door burst open again, revealing the silhouette of a woman. Her eyes glowed with a dark green hue, and her dark hair moved as if alive. She was small in frame, dressed in rugged clothing made from tree bark. Before he could speak, she let out a roar. "Who are you?" she demanded, anger laced in her voice.
'Shit!! I'm so dead now!'
Rosacer jumped to his feet, already reaching for the Grafted sigil, ready to turn into a rat and make a run for it. His eyes tracked her every move, searching for the perfect chance to escape.
She caught on instantly, her eyes widening as she fired off another question in quick succession, "Where did you get that cruel shard?"
Tendrils shot out at her, scraping the floor and tearing it up as they tried to grab Rosacer. He leapt and dodged like an acrobat, but the tendrils, faster and more attuned to his movements, quickly turned and closed in. After a minute of struggle, they finally managed to hold him.
He felled on the floor, his hand and arms were tightly bounded to his torso, there wasn't an inch of movement he could do now.
She walked slowly toward the bound Rosacer and stopped in front of him.
"Speak now, thief!"
"Alright! Alright! I stole the statue, but I wasn't the only one."
He nodded toward the table and the four chairs lined up there.
"I was framed by them; I was working for them. I'd never have known about the statue if it weren't for them."
He had no intention of letting the other four slip away.
"They'll be leaving this sector soon. They know about the search party that will be sent after them. They planned to wait and then return to sell it to the merchants here."
She exhaled, her green eyes gradually grasping the feeble attempt of the people who had tried to rob her.
"Tell me their names."
"Josan Decruz, Michael Maysee, and Neb… I don't know his last name," cried Rosacer.
She could sense the words were true, yet the man before him still dared to steal. There had to be a punishment for that.
"Fleshy, rip him apart!"
Just then Rosacer's eyes drifted towards the corner.
From the corner, a hound leapt up, his once hazy eyes now blazing crimson with fury at the one who had deceived him. The offender who had angered his master stood right in front of him. His teeth grew longer and sharper, ready to tear the man apart in a single bite.
'B*tch!'
He quickly called the system and opened his inventory. He pulled the yellow fungus out into existence, and the moment it appeared, it crumbled into powder, unable to survive without a surface to latch onto. The dust spread across the entire room in a thick cloud.
Using the yellow fungus as cover, he had already transformed into a rat. His clothes were still tangled in the vines, but his small body slipped free of their grip with ease.
He scurried toward the door.
Fea and her hounds were stunned. They tried to locate him, but the smokescreen of yellow dust blinded them, making it impossible to see. Tiny and nimble, he slipped through the doorway in an instant.
Out in the hallway, he ran even faster. He considered pulling out the doll and using its ability to bind them if necessary. It was too important to waste, so for now he kept it on him, but if the situation became dire, he would not hesitate.
The door to the inner room turned slowly, its surface etched with strange symbols. Suddenly, it burst open, and vines spilled out, forming fresh surfaces for the yellow fungus to latch onto. With something solid to cling to, the fungus spread quickly, swarming over the vines, with some patches already creeping across the walls.
Fea's clothes were being infested as well, thin yellow flakes crawling up the fabric. But by using the door as a shield, she managed to weaken the fungus's grip on her, loosening the latch of spores clinging to her body.
The hound was unharmed. Its flesh was not something the fungus sought to latch onto, so the spores drifted away from it. But the air was clearer now, and it could finally see through the fading haze.
Its vision weak, making details harder to distinguish, yet as it approached the scattered clothes, it realized the man was gone.
A low growl rippled in its throat.
It turned sharply toward the doorway, searching. Its sense of smell was useless—the air was thick with the stench of fungus—but instinct told it clearly:
Someone had already fled into the hallway.
It growled, dropping low on all fours as it bolted toward the hallway, its clouded eyes still glowing with a crimson light.
Rosacer felt something closing in. Without hesitation, he pulled out the doll.
The aura of death swept through the corridor. The air shimmered and turned stale at that very second. Paintings writhed as if alive, and even the statues seemed to bow under the crushing weight of the aura.
In the flower-man painting, the figure jerked violently. A brittle tendril crept from the canvas, reaching out like a withered limb begging for water.
Rosacer was its target.