The Cursed Halls
Jihwan's footsteps echoed in the oppressive silence of the Death's Mansion. The air felt heavier with each step, like an invisible weight pressing against him. He was in the entrance hall, but the deeper he ventured, the more the mansion seemed to breathe, alive with an unsettling energy that made his skin crawl.
His hand still gripped the dagger tightly, but even the familiar comfort of the blade didn't ease the growing tension in his chest. I can't trust anything in this place. Not the walls, not the shadows, and certainly not myself. The thought sent a chill down his spine.
The hall stretched endlessly in front of him. Portraits of long-dead faces adorned the walls, their eyes seeming to follow his every move. The flickering candlelight cast twisted shadows, distorting the images into grotesque forms.
What is this place? Jihwan's mind raced as he scanned the room for any signs of danger. Everything about the mansion felt wrong—like it was a trap, and he was the prey.
A distant sound broke his concentration. It was a faint, rhythmic tapping, like the slow drag of something heavy across the floor. His instincts flared, but he forced himself to stay calm. Focus. Stay alert. It could be anything.
He crept forward, each step deliberate, trying to make as little noise as possible. The tapping grew louder, and then, just as he rounded a corner, he saw it.
A figure—tall, shrouded in tattered robes, dragging a large, jagged sword behind them. The floor seemed to groan under the weight of the weapon as the figure's hollow eyes fixed on him. There was no light in those eyes, only an endless void.
The figure didn't move at first. It just stood there, staring at Jihwan. The atmosphere around them thickened, and Jihwan could feel the presence of death itself looming closer.
This is bad. Jihwan's thoughts churned. He instinctively raised his dagger, but the figure made no move to attack. Instead, it tilted its head, its eyes narrowing as if it were studying him.
A low, rasping voice filled the air, vibrating through the very walls of the mansion. "Are you the one who dares enter the Death's Mansion?" it hissed, the sound like nails scraping across a chalkboard.
Jihwan didn't answer. Instead, he tightened his grip on his dagger, ready to strike at the first sign of aggression.
The figure chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine. "You are a foolish one, aren't you?" it said, taking a slow step forward. "The mansion is alive. You can feel it, can't you? The weight of its curse." The figure's voice became more sinister. "You will not leave this place. No one ever does."
Jihwan's eyes narrowed. He couldn't let this thing—whatever it was—intimidate him. Stay focused, Jihwan. His hand didn't waver as he took a defensive stance.
The figure grinned, revealing sharp, yellowed teeth. "Very well. If you wish to challenge death, then I shall grant you that privilege."
It raised its jagged sword, and the air grew colder. Jihwan could feel the pressure building, as though the very atmosphere was trying to crush him.
This isn't good. It's stronger than I thought. Jihwan's thoughts raced as he scanned his surroundings. The mansion felt like it was closing in on him, as if the walls themselves were watching, waiting for him to make a mistake.
Then the figure lunged, its sword slashing through the air with frightening speed. Jihwan barely managed to block the blow, the impact reverberating through his arms. He stumbled back, the force of the strike pushing him off balance.
The figure didn't give him any time to recover. It advanced relentlessly, each swing of its sword faster and more brutal than the last. Jihwan was forced to retreat, the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. He couldn't keep up with the speed of the attacks, and the weight of the sword was too much to bear.
I need to get out of here. I can't take it head-on. Jihwan's mind raced, looking for any way to escape. But the mansion seemed to twist and shift, blocking every path he tried to take.
The figure's laughter filled the room as it swung again, but this time, Jihwan was ready. He dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the blade. It slammed into the wall with a deafening crash, and for a split second, the figure was vulnerable.
Now! Jihwan sprang into action, charging at the figure. With a swift, precise movement, he aimed for the figure's exposed side, plunging his dagger deep into its ribs.
The figure froze, its eyes widening in shock. For a moment, it stood motionless, and then the laughter returned, this time more mocking than ever. "You think this will stop me?" it taunted, its voice filled with venom. "You are a fool."
Jihwan's heart sank as he pulled his dagger free, but the wound did nothing. The figure's body began to heal itself, the flesh closing over the wound as if it had never been struck.
This is hopeless. Jihwan gritted his teeth, trying to steady his breath. He was outmatched, outclassed, and he needed a plan.
The figure didn't wait for him to think. It swung its sword again, but this time, Jihwan was ready. He ducked under the attack, using the momentum to roll away, putting some distance between them.
This is bad. I need to finish this quickly. He thought, his mind racing for a solution. But the figure wasn't done yet. It raised its sword high, and the air around them crackled with dark energy.
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[New Objective: Defeat the Death's Mansion Guard.]
[Current Location: Death's Mansion – Main Hall.]
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Jihwan's mind sharpened. This isn't just a guard. It's a test. He could feel it now. The weight of the mansion pressing in on him, the curse of the place alive and hungry. If he didn't defeat this figure, he wasn't sure he would make it out of this place at all.
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End of Chapter .