Fifteen minutes later, Ethan crouched behind the old piano on the first floor, his back pressed against the chipped, century-old wood. The faint scent of mildew and dust mixed with the metallic tang of blood lingering in the air. Every creak and shuffle from the stairs above made his stomach twist.
He gripped the lantern tightly, its weak glow casting long, jittering shadows across the hallway. He barely breathed, straining to hear every footstep.
Suddenly, the front door shattered. Splinters flew like shrapnel as the ninja came crashing through, a black blur of lethal intent.
Without thinking, Ethan hurled the lantern. It smashed against the wall, sparks scattering as she flinched. He ducked behind the piano and kicked her square in the back, sending her stumbling forward.
"Sorry, but I respect gender equality," Ethan quipped, trying to mask the adrenaline with humor.
He pivoted to run—but froze. A six-foot-tall man blocked the hallway, shadowed by a headless ghost whose empty gaze seemed to pierce through the dim light.
"Wrong way," the man said casually. He barely moved as Ethan swung a punch at his face. The fist slammed against solid flesh and bone, yet the man didn't flinch an inch.
"Huh…!" Ethan blinked, stunned.
The floor beneath him groaned, splintered, and gave way. He tumbled down, crashing into the lower level, and froze in horror. The hoodie was there, arms crossed, a faint grin tugging at his lips.
"Glad to see you, kid," Hoodie said, his voice calm, almost teasing.
"Well… I'm not," Ethan shot back, swinging a punch that landed with impact. Hoodie barely staggered.
From the shadows, the ninja lunged, katana flashing. With a sweeping arc, the blade sliced through the floorboards.
Ethan grabbed a water bottle and hurled it at her. The blade met it midair—cut clean in two. A jam jar followed; sliced again. Desperate, Ethan flung Hoodie himself, and the ninja caught him effortlessly. Seeing a brief opening, Ethan sprinted forward, springing into the air with hands cocked back. He crashed down on her face with a punishing blow.
"Surprise, big girl!" Ethan grinned through the pain shooting up his arms. "Damn… that hurts."
Meanwhile, the suited man descended slowly to the basement. Each step echoed like a death knell, shaking dust from the ceiling. Hoodie struggled to his feet, clutching his back.
With sudden speed, Hoodie dashed at Ethan, shoving him to the floor and reclaiming the straw doll.
"It's mine, not yours, kid," he hissed, eyes burning with obsession.
He carefully placed the doll on the floor and re-knitted its left arm.
Ethan smirked. "So… I guess he's the one making your cosplays, huh?"
Ethan's fingers found a loose plank of wood. He yanked it free and hurled it at the suited man. It slammed against the man's chest, staggering him—but barely. Ethan lunged at Hoodie, who crouched low, preparing to drive a nail into the doll's head.
Ethan's kick connected with Hoodie's jaw, knocking him to the ground.
"Old dude, it's dangerous to mess with me," Ethan said, tossing the nail toward the suited man—accidentally.
Hoodie's eyes blazed as he launched three nails like bullets.
"When did I become 'old dude'?" he shouted.
Ethan's vision swam. "From when you started calling me kid—" His head felt heavy as one nail struck the doll. Simultaneously, the suited man fired a bullet, not at Ethan—but at the doll's head.
The doll flew back toward Hoodie. His eyes widened in anger, in pain, in murder. He shouted something unintelligible, a mix of rage and anguish, his voice cracking like glass. Ethan couldn't make out the words.
Hoodie's cries grew desperate. Then, a white figure in a black dress appeared behind him, wrapping arms around his shoulders, her presence almost ethereal.
"I'm sorry… I can't keep my promise," Hoodie cried.
The figure whispered, her voice like a soft wind:
"Can you do me a favor… lend me all your power?"
Ethan watched, frozen, as Hoodie's body began to contort.
"Even if I lose control… my body will be yours to command. I trust you'll take better care of it than I ever could," he said, voice trembling.
Instantly, his skin began peeling, revealing pale, moon-white flesh underneath. Two grotesque arms burst from his ribs. He screamed, an unholy sound that echoed in the basement, as he tried to speak—but his mouth sealed shut by his own skin. The flesh stuck to his bones, revealing his skull beneath. His eyes turned into endless voids, black tears streaming from the emptiness. Ethan's vision blurred at the sight, heart hammering in his chest.
The basement door creaked slowly, ominously, as if announcing the arrival of something worse.
To be continued…