"Wah-ah-ah-ah!"
My scream pitched high, comically undignified, as she hurled me above her. The world blurred into streaks of motion. My back slammed into something warm. Ronald's arms wrapped around me as we collapsed into a tangle of limbs and panic.
"Ack!"
Our cries overlapped, the chaotic thud of our collision barely muffling the horror chasing us.
I blinked rapidly, disoriented, the world still tilting around me. I saw multiple Ronalds, etched with a worried face. I chuckled like a drunk. So many Ronalds. So many crybabies.
Ronald flinched. His eyes screamed panic. He stared at me like my brain had leaked out somewhere. What's wrong with Llyne? Did the throw damage her head? I have to knock it back straight. A pressure squeezed my shoulders and shook me hard, his voice cracking through the haze.
"Llyne! Llyne!"
Then SMACK! And again. And again.
"Get a grip already!"
Pain registered. Cheek stung, throbbing. Clarity followed. The corridor snapped back into place. The screams. The running. The danger.
"Oui! Was she strong!" I gasped, eyes finally snapping into focus. Ronald let out a broken breath. "Llyne! You're finally awake."
I touched my throbbing cheek and glared at Ronald. My precious cheek! You hit it!
Ronald saw my glare and malfunctioned. Once it registered, he avoided my eyes. Guilt, probably. He always did that when he lied or tried to hide something.
Ronald didn’t waste a second. His hands were shaking, but they were firm as he yanked me up. Fear flooded his face, but something hotter burned beneath it. Adrenaline. The kind that makes cowards reckless.
We turned, bolting again down the endless corridor. The woman's shrieking grew louder behind us, her wails clawing at our sanity.
"My kick didn't work!" I cried out mid-sprint.
"That's because zombies don't feel pain, Llyne! They're already dead!" Ronald answered between gasps.
"But aren't zombies supposed to be weak?!"
Ronald shot me a glance, panic and sarcasm blending into one sharp breath. "Maybe it's an evolved type?"
I barked out a laugh, dry, wild, frantic. "You mean the first zombie we face is an evolved type? What rotten luck!" I screamed, voice rising with the tempo of terror. Then again, my luck is probably on the negative. Better not tell Ronald.
A door. Hope. Just meters away. Slightly ajar. A speck of salvation in this madness. It looked like a trap. Felt like one too. But did we have any other choice? Nope.
"Ronald!" I shouted, even though I didn't have to. He saw it. We ran.
The howling behind us grew sharper. The beat of her hands against the walls felt like drums of death.
At the last second, her hand reached out towards me. Ronald noticed and pulled me. Her hands missed my back, sliced my hair. A few strands fell before we reached the door. We yanked the door open and slammed it shut behind us.
Silence didn't follow.
BANG.
We flinched. Her fist smashed through the wood, splinters exploding between Ronald and me. Ronald and I both yelled.
"That's some strong-ass zombie!"
We stumbled back as more cracks spiderwebbed across the wood.
"What do we do? I don't think the door can hold much longer!" Ronald shouted, eyes wide, body trembling.
My torchlight swept forward, only to reveal a twisting series of doors, arranged like the bones of a creature made of passageways and confusion. Thick iron bands ran across each door, bolts embedded deep into stone. We looked at each other, fed up. My reflection in his eyes mirrored his.
"Let's try opening those doors!" My legs were already moving forward. Ronald didn't question. He nodded and followed behind me. I took the right, and he took the left this time.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Door by door, we twisted knobs. Turned handles.
Nothing.
Still locked.
Still locked.
Still locked—
BANG.
The door behind us screamed. My head snapped toward it. Wood cracked. I turned back to the knob. It still wouldn't open. I tried the next. And the next. None of them opened. "Dammit!" I raised a leg and kicked the door.
Bang!
My kick landed against iron reinforcement. The impact shot pain up my leg. Only a footprint was left on the door. The door was still as sturdy as ever.
BANG.
CRACK.
…
CRACK.
I froze. I slowly turned. There, a familiar hand had punched through. Pale fingers clawed blindly through the gap; splinters embedded in gray flesh. My leg stung. Right where she grabbed me.
Ronald's voice cracked. "The zombie lady is coming in!"
My mind went blank. I didn't know what to do. A sharp jolt shot up my finger from the knob. I yanked my hands back. No. I can't fall. I gritted my teeth and twisted the knob harder. It wouldn't budge. My thoughts scattered. I shook it. Hard. The knob rattled in its socket. Metal groaned. Something inside loosened.
Then.. SNAP.
The knob tore free into my hand. For a split second, I stared at it. What did I just do? I tried shoving the doorknob back into the door, but it kept coming off.
The zombie lady growled. I stared at the doorknob, then at her. Ah! Whatever.
I hurled it at her. It struck her hand with a dull thud. She didn't react. Didn't even flinch. My chest tightened. I ran to the next door.
The zombie lady was halfway through the door, her spine bent wrong. Head lagging half a second behind her body as she forced herself inside. Every door was still locked.
"Ronald, your side?!"
"Llyne...! I-"
For one awful second, I thought this was where I die. Ronald moved to the next and turned the doorknob.
Clack.
Ronald gasped. "This one!"
At the same moment—
BOOM.
The impact shook the corridor. Dust cascaded from above, coating our hair and shoulders. The iron bolts rattled violently, clinging to the stone. The iron bands bowed inward, metal shrieking against stone before the bolts tore free.
BOOM.
One tore free. Then the rest followed.
The zombie lady broke through. The smell hit first. Something rotten. That's when I noticed something shifting under her skin. I narrowed my eyes and caught a faint, squelching wriggle beneath her skin. The worms must be trying to escape, or maybe the body was trying to eat them...? Yuck! I covered my nose; eyes shifted to the door.
Chunks of her skin hung from the splintered door, flapping. Her arms stretched out, back hunched forward at an unnatural angle, eyes locked on us. Her mouth slowly opened, jaws dislocated, lips crudely stitched, then ripped apart.
Our eyes locked in disbelief. We turned, clinging to each other, hearts hammering.
"AACCCKKKK!!!"
In a wild burst of motion, I turned and kicked Ronald through the door, then dove in after him. As the door slammed shut, her bony hand grazed my hair, clawing inches from my neck.
The latch clicked, barely holding. Darkness fell.
We collapsed, breaths loud in the stillness. My heart pounded. Every creak in the floor sounded like her coming.
Ronald exhaled, voice shaky. "We... made it."
"For now," I said, scanning the room. "We can't stay too long."
He nodded, eyes wide.
I slumped against the door, every muscle trembling from the exertion. "Still, what a narrow escape," I muttered.
Then came the words I wasn't ready for.
"How the heck did that zombie lady come out of the portrait? And are we in some kind of horror genre world? Gosh, this place doesn't make any sense."
Ronald's voice was too casual. "Hm? But I thought there's a demon inside you, Llyne."
De-demon? What?! I snapped my gaze toward him. "How do you know that?!"
"Isaac told me. We communicate sometimes."
"Oui. That small oaf…" I grumbled, rubbing my arms as the room's cold crept under my skin. "Anyways, I'm getting chills down my back, so let's block the entrance with something."
"How about these?" Ronald lifted a painting off the wall.
I froze. The painting was of a girl, ethereal and doll-like, blonde waves framing her face, green eyes almost glowing. She wore a dress spun from dreams, rose pink and sapphire blue. Coiled on her lap was a king cobra, regal and still, its eyes pierced straight through the canvas. I felt them follow me, cold and unblinking.
I swallowed hard.
The image sank deep into my thoughts. Why a cobra…? And then I saw it. Or didn't. No dates. No numbers. Just blank corners. Like the zombie lady.
"Err... Ronald...?" I whispered.
"Yes?" He didn't look at me, eyes fixed on the painting.
"Let's forget this room and explore another one, what do you say?"
"Why?" He sniffed the painting. Hmm? Why is there must a musky smell on the painting. It smells like sweat. He shook his head and continued, "Besides, the zombie is still out there."
"Cause... why not?" I murmured, eyes still glued to the portrait.
"But I haven't finished looking at all these paintings," his eyes wandered to the rest of the room.
I followed his gaze. My mouth fell open. There were more. All of them. Children. Beautiful, strange. Masterfully painted. Whoever drew them seemed to breathe life into every stroke.
"They seem almost enchanting," Ronald said, eyes twinkling. He touched another portrait. I hope to paint like this one day. She would be so proud.
"Charming us to death more likely," I muttered, kneeling to check the lower corners. No death dates. Not a single one. My breath hitched. "I hope they don't get resurrected..." I whimpered. Like the zombie lady!
"Did you say something just now?" Ronald turned.
"Huh? Oh. Nothing important." I gave him a tight smile, though my mind raced.
Seriously. These paintings couldn't possibly… come to life, right?
A shadow grew behind us, a sinuous ribbon of darkness slithering across the floor, stretching and curling with a quiet, predatory rhythm. I glanced over my shoulder. The shadow flickered, stretching and twisting before slipping out of view.
Strange. I felt something behind us just now. Was it my imagination?
"What's wrong, Llyne?" Ronald tilted his head sideways.
I waved off, "Oh no-"
Something… alive… moved behind us. My skin prickled. Then came the hiss.
HISSSSS. Something warm and scaled brushed the back of my ear. Not wind. Not imagination. My blood ran ice-cold. Ronald collided with me and clung like I was the only solid thing left. I hugged back. Our bodies trembled.
What's that? That doesn't sound human. And it didn't come from the painting. From…
The shadow swept past and coiled around our ankle, warm yet icy against my skin.
LitRPG Dark Humor Overpowered MCAI Companion
HEAVEN HAS A HACKER PROBLEM
Bash died doing what he loved: exploiting the system.
Now he's in the Shard, a gamified afterlife where the rich play god and the dead grind dungeons.
Armed with a pure INT build and really bad jokes, he's ready to BASH it all down.
"A lot of stories claim their MC is a 'glitch' or a 'hacker,' but Bash actually acts like one."
— RR Reader
"It may not have crazy aliens but it has the same kind of energy as Dungeon Crawler Carl."
— RR Reader