Chapter 12
The next morning, Clayton woke up early as usual—only to be greeted by the sight of a bloody corpse lying motionless on his floor.
Startled, he rushed over and checked the body's face. One glance was enough.
"...It's that guy." The memory clicked instantly. Hank.
"What the hell happened? Why is he dead in my house?" he muttered, still struggling to process the situation.
Moments later, a group of miniature skeletons emerged from the shadows. As soon as Clayton saw them, and the wounds that covered Hank's body, everything fell into place.
The man had been killed by his own summoned creatures—likely through their Water Pistol spell.
Seeing the extent of the injuries, Clayton frowned. "How did I sleep through this?"
He stepped outside to check. Dingo, his yellow dog, was still curled up on the porch—fast asleep. That was strange. Dingo usually woke before him.
He nudged the dog gently. No response.
That's when suspicion crept in.
He remembered a type of animal tranquilizer commonly used by hunters—especially potent against beasts.