“What the fuck is this - ” The man looked around and cursed, while still trying to remember how to open the vault before his eyes.

  Dark dots spshed onto the walls, as if ink was being thrown in every dire. Invisible fingers cwed the walls, leaving long streaks of dark red marks here and there. The voices of a man and a woman tio beg, while the younger ones tio cry and weep. The stairs seemed to have lost her patience, as she kept flinging things at the walls, tearing through floor boards in hopes to find that red talisman which could help them alert those meant to support them.

  The man tried a few binatiohought of - but the box just wouldn’t open. Sweat dropped on the door as he put his short sword in the gap between the door and its frame. The bde bent as he exerted his force upon it. The box was from the inal owners of the mansion, someone of some importand stature iy. Maybe that was why the iy of this box was much sturdier than what the man had imagined.

  “Fuck!” The bde of the short sword bent to a dangerous degree, so the man had to stop. He checked the spine of his bde - it was slightly bent from his attempts. The years had not been kind to his oher.

  Just when the man checked out the bend on his sword, three bloody fingers full of sores, burns and cuts, and ohat lost the first two ses with bones exposed, ed around the bde.

  “Please - please stop…” A man, roughly around 30 to 40 years of age appeared following the arm ected to the hand. His left eye was missing, with only a bloody hole where it was. There were more holes from his missing nose, his missing cheek and peeled forehead. “Please stop - let my children go at least - we haven’t done anything wrong! Please!”

  Cold, long bde sshed across the man’s neo resistance came from the collision, this ghostly man’s figure just dissipated like a pile of dust and sand.

  “Please, please - I beg of you - stop …” The ghostly man uttered another plea before his shadow disappeared pletely: “Please - let them go - we are ready to die - just let them go…”

  The man only had a faint idea of who this ghostly man was - the only possibility was that he was the sole owner of this mansion. And the people he eaking of were his family - his wife, and his children.

  Who the family once living in this mansion was had already escaped the man’s memory. They had left for many years. If the man recalled correctly, there was no t or murdering of them happening in this house. They left this p a hurry, but they left unharmed.

  It must be that fog. Whatever id inside of it, it must have brought their ghosts back here. The man had no idea what would have this kind of power.

  “Hey, woman!” The man raised his head and yelled: “Did you find it?!”

  At first there was no respohen after a minute, a female scream came from above.

  The man immediately ran for the stairs. They were in this together, if she was harmed, there would be ills befalling him as well.

  Just as he made it into the staircase, a woman in bloody, ragged clothes and half her head shaven lu him from above with her twisted arms extending forward. Her nails were broken, crooked and sharp, her face was skinless and showing only muscles and bones, and spikes of her broken bones were protruding from her palms, wrists and elbows. She was screaming something, but her tongue was missing and she had a gaping hole ihroat, so all she made was a retg and gurgling sound.

  Out of pure instinct, he thrust his long sword forward while jabbing at the ghostly woman’s lower body with his short sword. Both swords passed through her body just like his bde did the ghostly man’s. The woman’s body dissipated into sand and dust, and in but an instant scattered in the wind.

  “Woman! Where are you!?” The man took a short moment to breathe while asking.

  Still no answer, he had to tinue rushing up.

  The begging voices, cries and moans did not stop. The mansion itself was getting darker every minute, even as he focused his Qi, he could barely see past three arms’ length beyond his immediate surroundings.

  The ground had somehow turarry, sticky and reeking of a familiar saltiness and bitterness. Blood, dried up blood mixed with fresh blood. Must be an illusion from whatever it was from the fog. He raised his two swords and readied himself for anything. He slowed and lightened his footsteps as he walked towards where he remembered the baly was. He had to be really careful, for he was more worried about the woman attag him actally than the illusions that had proven to be pretty harmless so far.

  “Please. Please - let my children go - ” Four or five steps in his dire ter, he saw some shadows in front of him. Illusions, no doubt, for there were many of them, some more solidified, some were only partially maed. The most clear and colorful of them all were the two with their hands tied behind their backs and kneeling on the ground.