Chapter 1632: Chapter 1632

Gasping for breath under the influence of the Cursed Item's power, Jenkins was certain that the world inside the manor was a completely different space from the one outside.

The manor's courtyard had transformed into a truly horrifying spectacle. Flanking the obsidian path that led from the main gate to the main building were countless gruesome "game" implements, scenes of bloody torture, and malformed monstrosities, all replaying their terrible acts in an endless loop.

If there was such a thing as hell, this was surely it. Even without the Cursed Item's influence, any sane person who walked this path and witnessed the horrors surrounding them would likely be reduced to a permanently hysterical, convulsing lunatic, twitching in perpetual fear.

A barely perceptible golden sheen materialized on Jenkins's skin, shielding him from the dreadful power saturating the air and soil of the nocturnal manor. He forced himself to keep his gaze fixed on the undead gatekeeper ahead. Compared to the atrocities on either side of the path, the creature's back almost seemed... endearing.

The man and the corpse soon reached the main entrance of the building. The emaciated, undead gatekeeper didn't proceed further but turned to shuffle back toward the manor's main gate. As they passed each other, the unnervingly full, demonic eye in the desiccated corpse's socket swiveled at a horrifying angle to cast a single glance at Jenkins. For more chapters visıt novel·fire·net

Jenkins ignored the gatekeeper, his attention fixed on the massive doors before him. They were double doors of a brass alloy, heavily corroded with rust. The left door bore an engraving of a naked woman being beheaded, surrounded by a circle of grotesque, strangely-featured people. The right door depicted a hanged man, his tongue lolling out, and beneath his feet was a great, blazing cauldron. Masked figures danced wildly around it, lost in a frenzy.

Jenkins had no idea what had happened to Hathaway and Briny, and he didn't have the time to scour the courtyard to decipher the rules of this place.

He reached out and pressed his hands against the doors. The passive effect of his [Hero] ability activated almost instantly. The moment his palms made contact with the brass, it felt as if he were pressing them against a scorching steel plate.

The scene within was no better than the one he'd left behind. A long, narrow, dimly lit corridor stretched before him like an endless, hellish maze. The walls on either side were lined with oil paintings depicting horrors beyond human imagination. The scenes were so ghastly they could plunge even the most resolute veteran into a lifetime of nightmares. Jenkins even recognized some of the terrifying creatures he had encountered in the past, leading him to suspect that these paintings depicted things that were, or had been, terrifyingly real.

The corridor was even dimmer than the courtyard outside. What little light there was came from an assortment of grotesquely shaped gas lamps. Positioned in the spaces between the paintings, most were not crafted from metal, but from human heads and the organs of other creatures.

Jenkins didn't dare to imagine how many lives had been extinguished just to create the lamps he saw before him, nor did he want to contemplate the meaning behind the frozen expressions of terror on those faces.

He soon realized the corridor seemed to have no end, so he pushed open the nearest door. Beyond it raged a sea of fire. In the heart of the inferno, a demon wielding a massive, black iron pitchfork cackled as it circled a bubbling cauldron.

A phantom of the Twin Demons shot out from behind Jenkins, blasting the demon and its cauldron to smithereens. Shielding himself with a blessed flame, Jenkins plunged into the inferno. He prodded the demon's gory remains with his cane, confirming that this was truly a pure-blood demon—a creature that had vanished from the material world long ago.

Its power was a pale shadow of the Twin Demons who had escaped their world of dominion, but the very presence of a pure-blood demon was significant in itself.

The room had another door. Jenkins pushed it open, only to find himself back in the same deep, dark corridor, which felt more like a tomb's catacomb. He walked a few more steps before pushing open another door and stepping inside.

The room was pitch-black, almost entirely devoid of light. Only a single, tiny point of luminescence glowed in the center. As Jenkins slowly approached it, a profound sense of terror welled up inside him.

The point of light was the eye of an enormous monster. The entire room, he realized with a jolt, was situated on the head of some colossal beast.

"Blasphemous Creation!"

Jenkins fought down the sudden surge of megalophobia as the summoned vines writhed with glee, plunging into the light.

Once two complete [Blasphemy Seeds] had materialized, Jenkins stepped through another door and returned to the corridor for the third time. This time, he didn't walk on. Instead, he summoned the glowing motes of all his abilities and attempted to activate [The Unknown Path].

A regal purple light bloomed into existence. It didn't point toward the bizarre paintings lining the walls, nor did it show any interest in the human-head lamps. It ignored the cruel, terrifying scenes beyond the windows. Instead, it pointed directly behind Jenkins.

He turned. The light was indicating the very door he had just exited. Holding his breath and steadying his nerves, Jenkins placed his hand on the doorknob. The searing sensation of fire on his palm returned instantly.

He held the pose and closed his eyes. At the precise moment a flash of inspiration struck, he wrenched the door open.

The deep, dark space was gone. In its place was a dining room surrounded by countless red candles. They hung from the ceiling, floated before the curtains, or simply stood on the floor, casting a strange, crimson glow upon the long, white-clothed table in the center of the room.

The long table was bare save for a single, ordinary-looking golden candlestick in its center. A group of people sat around it. At the sound of the door opening, they all turned in unison to look at the entrance. Jenkins saw them then—a group of young women in their nightgowns, seated sporadically around the table. Of course, Hathaway and Briny were among them, along with their friends.

Girls their age loved perfume. With more than a dozen of them gathered together, the curtained room should have been filled with a pleasant fragrance. Instead, what assaulted Jenkins's senses was a foul stench and a damp, chilling cold.

At that moment, every eye was on him, but no one uttered a word. Normally, the presence of so many people should have dispelled the manor's eerie, terrifying atmosphere. Here, however, the suffocating oppression and twisted ambiance were only more palpable.

Jenkins glanced toward the head of the table, only to find it empty.

He wondered to himself.