Chapter 70: Corridor of Ghosts
In one of the far corners of the mansion, hidden behind an unassuming door, was a room that might as well have been forgotten by time. Nestled inside was a closet—dusty, narrow, and suspiciously plain. It looked more like a place where someone would stash a body or dump old junk than anything important.
The air inside reeked of neglect. Cobwebs clung to the ceiling like curtains, and rat droppings dotted the floor in a pattern that screamed abandonment. It was a stark contrast to the elegance and pristine condition of the rest of the estate.
"This is starting to feel like an RPG... moving from point A to point B," Corven muttered with a groan. He had long since stopped trying to make sense of his escapades in this new world.
Instead of questioning it, he simply accepted the map’s vague instructions. At this point, blind faith seemed faster.
FWOOSH.
He tugged open the closet door. A thick cloud of dust exploded out, instantly filling the room. Corven gagged as it caught him off-guard, some of it even making its way into his mouth.
"Gah! How long has this thing been shut!?" He coughed violently, swatting the air with one hand. A few casual waves of his supernatural strength cleared the space quickly, but the irritation lingered.
Beyond the dust-covered doorway lay a narrow stone passage, descending deeper into the estate. The walls were dimly lit by sconces—each one burning steadily despite the absence of anyone for what seemed like centuries. The sconces were engraved with symbols and carvings that depicted the rise and fall of past rulers, scenes of bloodshed, rituals, and thrones long abandoned.
Corven didn’t stop to admire any of it. He barely spared the engravings a glance.
He wasn’t here to study history. He was here to get this over with.
He walked straight ahead, keeping his pace steady, but after five minutes, something felt... off. The walls hadn’t changed. The torches looked identical. Even the air smelled the same—stale, unmoving.
He came to a stop.