Chapter 12: The Ritual of Sacrifice

Chapter 12: The Ritual of Sacrifice

The night was deep and dark, with the moon hidden behind thick clouds. Only a few dim rays of light managed to slip through the treetops, casting a faint glow over the abandoned altar. The wind whispered low, carrying a chilling bite as it swirled through the forest, rustling the fallen leaves with a soft, eerie sound.

Tom stood at the edge of the stone platform, breathing heavily, his gaze locked onto the grotesque corpse puppet. A sharp sting spread across his shoulder—though the creature's previous strike hadn't been fatal, it had torn through his clothing, leaving a shallow cut.

Ignoring the cold sweat dripping down his forehead, he tightened his grip on the folding knife in his hand. His knuckles turned white from the pressure, and the blade gleamed with a cold, eerie light under the faint moonshine.

The corpse puppet stood a short distance away, its shriveled body hunched slightly. Its grayish-white skin, resembling wax that had dried over the years, exuded an ominous aura.

It was faster than Tom had anticipated. A creature that had just broken free from its seal should have been weak, barely able to move. And yet, its previous attack had carried an unmistakable predatory instinct—swift and ruthless, as if it had long been accustomed to killing.

Bang! The corpse puppet's claws struck the stone platform beside Tom, missing him by inches. Shards of stone flew in all directions, leaving deep gashes on the surface. Tom dodged sideways just in time, his heartbeat pounding like a war drum, threatening to leap out of his chest. He quickly widened the distance between them and gritted his teeth. "Damn it… this thing is way too fast!"

Elizabeth stood beside a weathered stone tablet, her gaze calm yet profound, watching the corpse puppet's every movement intently. She murmured, "Something's not right… It's waking up much faster than expected." There was a barely perceptible tension in her voice as her fingers traced the ancient carvings on the tablet, as if searching for an answer.

Tom, still gasping for air, pushed off the ground and leaped onto a broken slab of stone, trying to gain a more advantageous position. He shot her a quick glance, his voice urgent. "Yeah, no kidding! This thing doesn't act like it just woke up at all!"

He paused for a brief second, then lowered his voice and added, "Weren't we supposed to stall for time? But at this rate, it looks like it could tear us apart any second now!"

Elizabeth didn't answer immediately. Instead, her eyes narrowed slightly, as if she had just noticed something.

At that moment, the corners of the corpse puppet's mouth slowly curled into an unnatural grin—far beyond what any human could ever achieve. Its crimson eyes flickered as they swept back and forth between the two of them.

Then, it tilted its head slightly and let out a low, guttural chuckle—

"Krr… Krrrk…"

The sound was grating, like dry bones scraping together, like rotting flesh being torn apart. It echoed through the empty forest, sending an icy chill down their spines.

"Holy shit, is it laughing?" Tom's heart nearly stopped. His throat felt like it had been scraped raw with sandpaper. Instinctively, he took half a step back, his grip on the knife trembling ever so slightly.

Elizabeth remained silent, her fingers pressing lightly against the stone tablet. Her fingertips traced over the ancient runes, her gaze flickering as if she were rapidly formulating a plan. She could sense it—the corpse puppet was undergoing some kind of transformation. Its aura was growing denser, more oppressive, as if a dormant power within it was slowly awakening.

The next second, the creature moved. Its neck twisted at an unnatural angle, unnervingly flexible like a serpent. Then, in a sudden motion, it crouched low to the ground, both hands pressing against the earth, its entire posture resembling a warped, predatory beast.

It didn't lunge immediately. Instead, it took two slow, deliberate steps forward, its clawed fingertips scratching shallow lines into the ground, as if testing their reactions.

"Move!" Tom hissed, his body reacting on instinct. He threw himself to the side in a quick roll, landing hard on the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust. At the same time, Elizabeth leaped backward, her feet barely skimming the surface of the stone tablet as she evaded with the grace of a swallow in flight.

Bang!

The corpse puppet was terrifyingly fast. In the blink of an eye, it had already pounced onto the spot where Tom had been standing just moments before. Its claws smashed into the stone, sending cracks spiderwebbing across its surface. Debris scattered in all directions with a deep, resounding crash.

"It's speeding up its attacks!" A heavy sense of dread settled in Elizabeth's chest as her brows furrowed. If, at first, the creature had seemed hesitant—its movements sluggish, as if it were still acclimating to its reanimated form—now, it had fully entered hunting mode. There was no hesitation left in its strikes. Each attack was decisive, carrying a chilling, unmistakable intent to kill.

They had to stall for time.

Elizabeth's sharp gaze swept across the surroundings, her mind racing to analyze the situation. Without hesitation, she dropped into a crouch, pressing two fingers against a fresh cut on her fingertip. As a bead of blood welled up, she quickly used it to trace a complex pattern onto the ground. Her movements were fluid, practiced—this was clearly not the first time she had drawn such a sigil.

"Tom! Hold it off for ten seconds!" Her voice rang out, sharp and commanding, leaving no room for doubt. Her fingers moved even faster across the ground, the intricate lines of the symbol taking shape with precision.

"Ten seconds?" Tom nearly choked. He turned his head to gape at her, his tone filled with sheer disbelief. "How am I supposed to do that? That thing could swat me like a fly in one hit!"