Blacksmith of the Apocalypse

Chapter 570: The Ballroom

On their way back, the house finally showed some supernatural activity. Doors closed and the path’s kept changing, trying to trap them inside.

But the house had not taken into account the era it was currently. Without a care Seth simply kept going straight, blasting through doors and walls. Although they were more durable than their aged looks could justify, they lacked behind the strength of the blacksmith.

They blasted their way through until Seth found a wall with a window and burned a hole to the outside. Once outside, they quickly found the limousine and left Jackson with the ominous driver. By the time they returned, no damage could be seen.

“Are you sure this place is not a dungeon?” Seth asked, seeing all the damaged having vanished.

“It wasn’t when we investigated the place before.”

“Then, maybe it’s in the middle of becoming one…”

Seth couldn’t help but suspect something along these lines. Dungeons were usually indestructible, however, it often came down to the specialties of the dungeons themselves. However, he was sure if this was a full dungeon, he would not have been able to blast through the place so easily.

With the way the place tried to stop them from getting Jackson out, the blacksmith did not think the dungeon let them blast through on purpose. This meant it probably was not yet completely transformed into a dungeon.

“We should hurry and clear the place. It could become a lot harder if I’m right and this becomes a dungeon.”

She nodded and they quickened their steps. Seeing how the place could simply change, they couldn’t rely on gamer strats. They needed another way to break through to the core of this place. Seth was a little apprehensive to burn down the whole place, as it meant that the bound victims would die the same way the evil doers would.

“Can’t you do something to locate the big entity?”

If the exorcist lady could find the main perpetrator, they could free the victims and end the spook in this place a lot quicker. However, Sandra shook her head.

“I’m sorry, but with how thick the aura of the dead became here, my rituals won’t work,” she explained apologetically.

She had the same problem as Seth.

“Usually ghosts are more aggressive and we have little problems finding them.”

Hearing her mumble gave Seth an idea. Currently, the ghosts were in hiding most likely because their leader is afraid of them, well mostly of Seth, the door-smashing, ghost-freeing brute. Before they were friendly thanks to the cloak. Now, what if?

…

After leaving the mansion again, Sandra moved on her own, while Seth stayed in the car. The atmosphere of the lobby completely changed, when she entered alone. A cold shiver ran down her spine and her hair rose immediately.

She could see her breath and feel malicious gazes observing her. Just like the man had said. This ghost feared the strong and bullied the weak. She could feel the presence of different ghosts in the vicinity.

Whoever was in control had let their guard down, without Seth by her side. The exorcist hurried to set up the ritual. One could call it a spectra compass that would show the rough direction of the strongest spectral presence in the vicinity.

Even if she couldn’t dispatch ghosts as easily as Seth could, she was confident that she could do what he asked of her and keep her life. After setting up a few candles and drawing a magic circle she started chanting in a demonic tongue.

After a few moments, a green, transparent needle appeared hovering above her hand. The compass turned a few times before settling in a direction. Following the direction, she quickly came to miss the man and his cloak.

Without Undead Amity, the full pressure of the place descended on her, her breath grew ragged and her heart palpitated for no reason at all. The needle pointed at a door. She strengthened her talisman circles before stepping inside.

Inside was complete darkness, except for a flickering candle standing on a small table. It illuminated the first whole furniture she saw in the mansion. The small table and the wingchair beside it. At the foot of the chair sat a young figure crying pitifully.

Sandra did not approach, but it did not matter. The ghostly silhouette looked and her heart jumped. It was a young lad with immaculate young features. This was the kind of face that would make any woman’s knees weak. Streams of tears were running down his cheeks.

When he saw her, his eyes widened in rage and a wrathful screech escaped his throat as his mouth kept ripping open wider and wider as if his jaw had unhinged. The boy charged at her with terrifying speed.

…

While Sandra was having a genuine horror experience, Seth had turned the tables on the ghosts. Since the big boss decided to hide behind an ever-changing labyrinth when Seth was present and ready to force his way through, he chose the way of non-conflict.

As Sandra entered the mansion, so did Seth, but under the cover of the Helm of Hades. Now HE was the invisible fiend that would stalk them through the mansion. Wearing the helm, he could not be detected by the ghosts of the mansion and was able to freely explore the place while Sandra played the decoy.

Paths did not change for him, ghosts did not pester him. It was like walking through a horror game without triggering any events. The only drawback was that he could not help anyone if he found them on his way. His purpose was clear: Find the entity at the center and get rid of it, ending most of the spook in one fell swoop.

When Seth tried to use the cloak of Hecate, he found a second drawback. With the helmet on his head, the hood of the cloak was not big enough to be pulled completely over his face. He couldn’t use the path-finding function this way!

This meant back to gamer strategies. Seth became the eerie wind, that would suddenly throw open doors, frightening the ghosts in the rooms. His only regret was that the mansion lacked the convenient snippets of old documents and hints one would find in most horror games.

There was nothing exposing the dark history of Spookyspook Manor. Nothing that helped him make an educated guess where the old lord of the mansion built his sanctum of depravity, or where he could find the crypt of the blood-drinking duchess that had secretly killed people for centuries.

Seth couldn’t help but criticize reality’s lack of good game design on his speed run to open almost every door of the mansion once. The only silver lining was that gave him a rough lead for where to look.

Even without the powers of the ghost or dungeon constantly changing the pathways, the mansion was convoluted and labyrinthine. Even if Seth had an idea of where to go, it was unlikely he would find it easily. Crappy level design, or good if it was a game. Really annoying in a situation where he was pressed for time.

At some point, Seth had the idea to observe the bound ghosts he found. To be exact, the chains that bound them. His thought was that maybe the chains would all point in a particular direction, leading to the boss.

However, reality once again disappointed. The ghosts were only bound to the places they appeared, the chains did not directly lead to the big baddie. Lacking any better means, it took the blacksmith almost half an hour to finally pick up a scent that could only come from the boss.

Not really a scent, but an aura that was a lot darker and more unsettling than any other. Even when it was weak when he first noticed it, it stuck out from the others like a drop of ink in water. He finally had a lead.

Following the growing stench of malice, he came before a huge door. It looked like a big intricate door as you would expect it from a mansion like this, but also like the gates of the boss rooms in a dungeon.

The blacksmith could help but suspect that this was already the influence of the mansion turning into a dungeon. He pushed the door and it slowly swung open with a terribly loud squeaking.

What he saw behind it was a massive ballroom. Unlike the rest of the mansion, this room was pristine. Golden chandeliers illuminated the expansive room. A floor made of polished marble, the walls decadently decorated with intricate paintings and gold leaf.

Ghost puppets filled the room, forced to dance a stiff dance for all eternity to a piece of eerie, distorted music that made the bard shudder in disgust.

On the other end of the room, on a podium, was a pompous throne. The dark, featureless figure sitting on it lifted its head when the door swung open, but nobody was there that could have opened it.

He should have guessed it. Of course, the boss room would be some stupidly opulent ballroom in this kind of place. How else could it be?

None of the ghosts could see him, not even the boss noticed more than the door open and closing.

Currently, HE was the invisible ghost in the room. This gave him a fun idea.

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