In the main hall, Lynn twirled the revolver in his hand, mulling over the demon hunter's words. He glanced outside the door—whether it was an illusion or not, the darkness beyond seemed thicker than usual as night fell.
He checked the time. In roughly half an hour, the Wraith Lamp would go out, marking the official start of night in this dark world.
"No more customers will come at this hour," Lynn muttered, his gaze drifting from the revolver to the ghost infant on the counter.
[Wraith Blood Infant]
[Level: 7]
[Alignment: Chaotic Evil]
[Description: A wraith condensed from resentment and ghostly qi, further empowered by devouring massive amounts of animal and spirit blood. Once fully formed, it will devour its host's soul and flesh to grow stronger, eventually becoming a calamity.]
In the time he'd ignored it, the infant had actually reached Level 7. With such terrifying growth speed, it wouldn't be long before it became nearly unmanageable.
"Is the gun really incapable of hitting anything, like he said?" Lynn hesitated. He stood up, placed the ghost infant on a stool in front of the counter, closed one eye, and aimed for its head.
Bang—
A bullet whistled past the infant's ear in an instant.
[Wraith Blood Infant's Fear: +10]
Wraith Blood Infant: "(ΩДΩ)!"
Lynn raised an eyebrow, blew the smoke from the muzzle, and said: "It really missed?!" Unconvinced, he thought, "I've got half an hour—might as well practice with it." His expression remained calm.
Bang—
[Wraith Blood Infant's Fear: +10]
Bang—
[Wraith Blood Infant's Fear: +10]
Bang—
...
Before long, half an hour slipped by. Whoosh—
The Wraith Lamp hanging on the doorpost extinguished without warning. Without a second thought, Lynn's expression turned solemn. He rushed to the door, grabbed the lamp, and hurried back inside. The darkness outside grew denser, so quiet not a single sound could be heard.
Lynn knew—night had fallen.
Squeak—
He slammed the door shut and locked it with a rusty iron chain. Every window on either side of the door was boarded up tightly, leaving not a single gap. Two years of experience had taught him: once the Wraith Lamp went out and night fell, it was a brutal test—for in this hour, anyone could break into your sanctuary without permission.
The clump of flesh his master had hacked up that morning? It was a monster that had sneaked in last night. But today, with his master gone, this was sure to be a sleepless night.
[Ding! Quest Triggered: Sleepless Night. Objective: Survive until dawn. Rewards: 500 Skull Coins, Level +1, 1 Special Reward.]
Lynn's heart skipped a beat, but his expression quickly regained calm. This was no good omen. A triggered quest meant there was a high chance of facing great danger tonight—especially with a reward of 500 Skull Coins. Usually, the higher the reward, the deadlier the threat.
"Let's go," Lynn said, snatching up the ghost infant—now trembling like a leaf in a storm (((;??????;)))—grabbing his boning knife, tucking the revolver into his waist, and hurrying to his small attic. He burrowed under the covers, gripping the boning knife tightly, closed his eyes, and whispered: "Hope this night passes safely."
...
Dong—
A deep bell tolled in the darkness. Lynn's eyes snapped open—the bell signaled midnight. At that very moment, urgent knocks echoed from the front door downstairs.
"Lynn! Open up! It's your master! A wraith is chasing me! Hurry! Let me in…!" The voice was strained and filled with agony.
"Master?!" Lynn bolted upright in bed. He grabbed the boning knife and raced down to the main hall. The door trembled with each knock, accompanied by heavy gasps and muffled cries of pain from outside. It was definitely his master's voice.
"Lynn! Hurry… open the door… Master can't hold on much longer…!"
Lynn nodded. He rushed to the door, raised the boning knife, and stabbed it through the crack without hesitation.
Squelch—
Scarlet blood spurted through the crack instantly. Lynn shouted: "Master, if you can't hold on, then die outside!"
...
An awkward silence fell.
Then a stunned voice came from outside: "You didn't even check if it's really me before stabbing?!"
Squelch—
(ヾ????????)—
Lynn pulled out the knife, adjusted his angle, and stabbed again. "Because if I were outside, Master would stab me too!" he said seriously.
Another brief silence. In the next instant, ear-piercing screeches erupted outside. The knocking grew more frantic, louder—as if something was clinging to the door, desperate to squeeze in.
Crack—
A bloodied, rotting hand burst through the door panel, reaching inside.
[Lynn's Sanity: -10]
Squeak—Squeak—
The protruding hand scratched wildly at the door, making a shrill, grating sound. "I'll eat you! I'll tear you to pieces and chew you up bit by bit!" a ferocious voice roared from outside.
Lynn didn't panic. He raised the boning knife and nailed the hand to the door panel. Piercing, distorted howls echoed outside, and more scarlet blood seeped through the wood. In moments, the main hall was filled with a nauseating stench of blood.
Lynn knew—he was dealing with some tough wraiths this time. But he felt no fear. He understood well: the more dangerous the moment, the calmer you stayed, the higher your chance of survival.
Without hesitation, he pulled a bright red strand of hair from his wrist—[Wraith Hair], one of the rewards he'd received from the system that day. It was the perfect time to use it.
Slither—
The hair touched the bloodied, rotting hand and quickly spread outward, coiling around whatever was outside. In just a few seconds, the shrill screams cut off abruptly, replaced by gasping, asthmatic wheezes—as if something was being choked, struggling wildly outside.
"Must be just a small fry, not very strong," Lynn ground his teeth. He grabbed the growing hair, tied it to the ceiling beam, and pulled hard.
Sizzle—Sizzle—
The sound of tearing flesh echoed from outside. With each tear, the hand nailed to the door thrashed more violently. Finally, the hand went limp, seemingly lifeless.
But Lynn didn't let his guard down. He pulled out the boning knife and stabbed through the crack repeatedly—over a hundred times—before finally relaxing. One of the unspoken rules of surviving in this world: [Never hurt to stab a few more times—just to be sure!]