Chapter 10: The Altar

Chapter 10: The Altar

The night wind wept and whispered, cold and damp, carrying the metallic scent of soil and decaying leaves as it swirled low through the dense forest. It rustled the treetops, making the branches and leaves tremble with a faint, fragmented rustling, as if something unseen lurked in the shadows, watching, brushing past the nape of one's neck with an indescribable chill.

Tom panted heavily, rushing through the darkness, his boots crunching softly against the damp mixture of fallen leaves and mud. In his grip was a folding knife, its blade gleaming with a ghostly sheen under the pale moonlight.

Behind him, Elizabeth followed closely. Though her steps were quick, they showed no sign of panic. Her sharp gaze swept the surroundings, searching for an escape route.

Not far behind them, the Gu Puppet pursued relentlessly, its gaze fixated hungrily on Tom's back. It showed no sign of giving up. Its limbs twisted unnaturally, crawling with an eerie, uneven rhythm, joints clicking and cracking. Its shadow clung to the ground like a nightmare that refused to be shaken off.

Tom clenched his teeth and stole a glance behind him, a bead of cold sweat trickling down his forehead. "Damn it… Why won't this thing give up?" His voice carried both exhaustion and irritation—prolonged flight had nearly drained him.

"It won't." Elizabeth's voice was chillingly calm, almost detached. Her eyes remained fixed ahead. "Gu Puppets know neither fear nor fatigue. As long as their target isn't completely dead, they will hunt it down. It's in their nature."

Tom cursed under his breath, gripping the knife even tighter, his knuckles turning pale. "So… the only way to stop it is to kill it?" He hesitated, uncertainty lacing his tone—he wasn't sure he had the strength to do it.

"Lose it first." Elizabeth didn't answer him directly. Instead, she narrowed her eyes, scanning the darkness. Fighting the Gu Puppet head-on was a losing battle—buying time was a better option.

Suddenly, she caught sight of a grayish-white stone slab peeking out from the undergrowth ahead. Its sharp edges and structured form suggested it wasn't naturally occurring. Her heart tightened.

Without warning, she reached out and grabbed Tom's arm, her voice low. "Come with me."

Tom staggered at the sudden pull, nearly losing his balance. Regaining his footing, he didn't question her and followed without hesitation.

They pushed through hanging vines and thorny brambles, their pace urgent. Behind them, the Gu Puppet's crawling grew closer, its movements pressing against their nerves like an ominous drumbeat.

Bursting through the final thicket, their vision cleared.

At the edge of the forest lay an open clearing. Under the moon's pale glow stood an ancient stone platform, long abandoned. Moss had overgrown its edges, and wild grass sprouted defiantly from the cracks.

At the platform's center stood a crumbling black stone stele, its surface marred by deep fractures. Obscure, faded runes were carved upon it, like remnants of a long-lost language. Scattered around the stele were fragments of broken bones—some still stained with dried blood, whispering of long-forgotten rituals and slaughter.

Tom skidded to a halt, his heartbeat hammering uncontrollably. He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper.

"…What the hell is this place?"

A decayed scent clung to the air, laced with something sickly sweet. His stomach churned.

Elizabeth stepped closer to the stele, her gaze fixing on the runes, her brows furrowing. She extended a hand, fingertips brushing lightly across its surface. "An altar."

"An altar?" Tom's stomach twisted with unease. He stepped forward, lowering his voice. "You mean… some kind of sacrificial site?" His tone teetered between jest and grim seriousness, wariness evident.

Elizabeth ignored his remark, focusing on the runes as if trying to decipher them. She murmured, "These symbols… they look familiar." Her fingers traced a deep etching, trembling slightly as if recalling something.

Tom, meanwhile, kept watch on the tree line, scanning for movement. "Now's not the time to play archaeologist. That thing is still—"

Before he could finish, a rustling came from the forest depths.

A shadow lunged forward.

"Shit!"

Tom's pupils contracted. His body reacted instinctively, stepping back, his knife raised in defense.

The Gu Puppet landed on all fours, its body low to the ground, stalking them with slow, deliberate movements. A thin membrane stretched over its twisted face, distorting its features into something resembling a grotesque smile—mocking, malicious.

Yet, it didn't attack immediately. Instead, it circled the stone platform, its steps eerie and measured, probing for their response.

Cold sweat dripped down Tom's back. "Now what?" His gaze flicked between Elizabeth and the Gu Puppet, looking to her for direction.

But Elizabeth didn't retreat.

She inhaled deeply, then—without hesitation—pressed her palm against the stele's center.

A deep, resonant hum vibrated through the air.

From beneath her hand, a crimson glow pulsed, veins of red light coursing through the ancient runes like flowing blood. The long-faded markings shone brilliantly, exuding an aura both ancient and unsettling.

Tom froze, startled. "What are you—" He instinctively stepped forward but stopped short, wary of interfering.

Elizabeth remained silent, eyes shut, brow furrowed, as though listening to something beyond their perception. A faint warmth spread through her palm.

The Gu Puppet stiffened.

Then, tilting its head back, it let out a shrill, guttural scream.

The sound—grating, primal, unnatural—rippled through the clearing, seeping into bone and marrow, spreading an unbearable chill.

The air grew heavier.

Tom felt an unseen pressure press against him, tightening around his lungs, making each breath harder.

Then—

The ground trembled.

Soil cracked and scattered.

Something beneath them stirred.

A low, reverberating growl rumbled through the earth, vibrating up through their feet. It was deep, ancient, and… eager.

A crushing presence descended upon them.

Tom's pulse pounded in his ears. He stumbled back, gaze locked on the trembling earth. His throat dried. The knife in his grip felt suddenly insignificant.

Then—

A pale hand clawed its way out of the soil.

Long, slender fingers stretched outward, nails black as ink, exuding an overwhelming sense of malevolence. The dirt around it loosened, shifting, as if something below was struggling to emerge.

Tom's breath caught. His voice wavered.

"…What the hell?"

Elizabeth finally spoke.

"A seal." Her tone was as cold as the night air. "This altar… it wasn't meant for sacrifices. It was meant to contain something far worse."

Tom's expression darkened. He clenched his teeth. "You're telling me… whatever's down there is more dangerous than that thing?" His gaze darted between Elizabeth and the hand clawing out of the ground, his mind a chaotic mess.

Elizabeth didn't answer.

She only stared at the emerging figure, her expression complex—wary, calculating… and something else.

The trembling earth gave one final heave.

A tall, gaunt figure emerged from the soil, wrapped in decayed strips of cloth like an ancient burial shroud. It loomed over them, its skin deathly pale, hollow eyes black as voids, mouth curving into a chilling, inhuman grin.

It had waited far too long.

And now, its prey had finally arrived.