Chapter 422 Supernatural Town
Moriarty, on horseback, galloped down an empty path in an abandoned town.
Another horse followed behind him, Ambrose on the horseback, gazing at the desolate surroundings with a sense of foreboding.
After finding a place for their horses, they unmounted and began exploring the eerie town, their footsteps echoing through the silence.
Moriarty walked along the porch of a tavern that looked as though it hadn't seen a customer in years.
It had a faded sign swinging in the wind, the paint peeling and barely legible. Inside, the air was heavy with dust and the faint smell of stale alcohol.
"So, what is this place?" Ambrose asked while surveying the empty tables and cobweb-covered corners.
"I spent a day in Hightown surveying the surroundings for any good grinding spots." Moriarty said. "This place had been abandoned for a few decades, and apparently it houses malicious ghosts."
"Ghosts?" Ambrose repeated, and his voice was filled with curiosity.
"Yeah." Moriarty walked over to the bar desk and picked up a dusty journal. "This town's people were killed by a White Plague. They say their spirits still linger in these walls, seeking vengeance."
"Why are they seeking vengeance if it was a plague?" Ambrose asked. "They can't really blame anyone for that, or can they?"
"Who knows, but some old geezers back in Hightown said that the White Plague was man-made." Moriarty said. "It's just a rumor, nothing to be taken seriously."
"So, you think that was a hint for a special event, perhaps?" Ambrose asked.
"Hard to say," Moriarty said, and he tossed away the dusty journal that was filled with strange language. "Let's look around for a moment, and if we don't see anything, there is forest nearby that we can explore."
"Well, let's split then." Ambrose said and headed out of the tavern, leaving behind Moriarty, who slowly approached the second floor.
Moriarty pulled out a shiny steel spear from his inventory and grabbed it tightly in his hand.
He then kicked down the doors on the second floor, searching for any of the so-called ghosts.
After a short while, he reached the final room and stepped inside cautiously.
The room had a chilling atmosphere, with cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and a musty smell that filled the air.
It looked like the room had previously belonged to someone who had a deep fascination with the supernatural, as there was an array of occult symbols and books with satanic symbols scattered across a desk.
At the bed, a stitched-up doll with creepy black marble eyes stared at Moriarty with a blank look. It didn't look like it was real, and the stitches were about to come undone.
Moriarty picked up one of the satanic books and flipped through its pages without much interest.
He then closed it and placed it back on the ground.
Then he noticed a fallen framed picture that had been knocked off the desk, and its glass was cracked.
He picked it up and carefully examined the picture.
The cracked picture had three individuals standing on the porch of the tavern. The parents had smiles on their faces, but a black-eyed young man between them, who seemed to be their son, looked lifeless and distant.
"That guy doesn't look nice." Moriarty looked around the room and thought out loud. "This must've been his room. Ghosts and the supernatural go hand-in-hand."
The doll on the bed slowly turned its head towards Moriarty, its glassy eyes staring directly into his soul. Its stitched lips turned into a creepy smile.
It jumped off the bed and picked up a hidden knife below the bed. It had to use both of its stitched-up arms to lift it.
With a creepy smile, it jumped towards Moriarty and plunged the rusty knife towards his exposed neck.
At that moment, Moriarty stabbed the steel spear through the doll's head, sending the doll flying across the room in a whirlwind of stuffing and fabric.
"Huh, you think I'll turn my back on a creepy doll such as yourself?" Moriarty chuckled and approached the destroyed doll. "I have seen far too many horror movies to do so."
The doll tried to stand up in defiance, but its stitching had come undone, leaving it helpless and in pieces on the floor.
Moriarty lifted his spear and stabbed through the doll and the floorboard.
Nothing was left of the doll except the two black marble eyes, a final reminder of the doll's previous existence.
Slam!
A closet door slammed open, and a short figure with a creepy clown facepaint burst into the room, laughing maniacally.
"Kakakaka!" It pulled out several knives from its pockets and threw them all towards Moriarty.
Moriarty spun the spear around, deflecting the knives with sparks flying about, and threw a quick kick that sent the creepy clown flying across the room.
As the clown crashed into the wall, its laughter turned into a pained scream.
Moriarty plunged the spear through the clown's face and lifted it off the ground while its blood splattered onto the floor.
"You can bleed?" Moriarty muttered curiously.
At that moment, a transparent figure shot out of the clown's body and vanished into thin air. The same thing happened with the doll.
"They are just possessing other objects." Moriarty said, and glanced at the clown's dead body. "Was this a human before? No, it looks like it had been goblin before, based on the shape of its body and those pointy ears.
"However, for some reason, its face was painted in clown facepaint."
Moriarty saw that he hadn't received any experience points and clicked his tongue in frustration.
"I suppose we have to kill those ghosts."
…
Ambrose kicked open a door and entered an establishment filled with eerie silence.
It looked like this place was created to house the patients of White Plague, as it had plenty of medical equipment and empty beds.
'Can I get infected by simply being here?' Ambrose wondered, cautiously stepping deeper into the echoing corridors. "Well, fuck it."
"Hihihihihi…"
Ambrose came to an instant stop as he saw a hunched figure sitting on the floor of a dark room, surrounded by bloody beds.
The figure was seemingly laughing as if it had lost its mind.
Ambrose picked up a bottle of medicine from the nearby table and threw it at the figure.
After the bottle slammed on the figure's head, the laughter abruptly ceased.
"Huuuh…" The person's head turned around like an owl, as if its neck had no bones, and looked at Ambrose with empty, soulless eyes.
It looked like a nurse, with pale, expressionless features and a white uniform.
It slowly reached out towards Ambrose with its bony, trembling fingers.
"Haaaaaaaaaaa!" It let out a blood-curdling scream that echoed through the empty hallways and shattered all the windows.
It sounded like a banshee from the depths of hell.
Ambrose touched his ears and felt blood trickling down from them.
"A loud one." He reached out to his inventory and took out the crimson great sword, which immediately slammed down onto the ground, causing a powerful shockwave.
"Haaaaaaa!" The creature let out a piercing scream that rattled the very foundation of the house and rushed at Ambrose with incredible speed, its fingers slashing through the air.
Ambrose grabbed the great sword with both hands and swung it through the creature's body, slicing it in half. The creature's blood sprayed everywhere as its lifeless halves fell to the ground.
A crimson slash flew out of the great sword's blade and sliced the house in two. The ceiling and its three floors started crumbling apart, falling towards Ambrose.
"The fuck?!" Ambrose's eyes widened in shock, and he quickly put the sword back in the inventory and jumped out of the window to avoid being crushed by the collapsing building.
The building crumbled apart behind him, leaving a trail of dust and rubble in its wake.
"Ugh…" Ambrose grabbed his head and stood up in a daze. "What was that crimson slash? It came straight from my sword, but I had no intention to do that.
"It wasn't my Inner Power, like my other long-range attacks, but it was an ability of the sword. So, I suppose there are things I have to learn about my sword."
"Ah, I wonder who was making all the ruckus." Moriarty walked from the tavern and whistled as he saw the destroyed building. "Got attacked?"
"Yeah, by some fucking possessed nurse." Ambrose groaned and stood up. "You?"
"Clown and doll," Moriarty said.
"The hell is going on?" Ambrose asked.
"I have a hunch." Moriarty said, and he started explaining the things he found out.
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