Desperate Escape
"It's Manager Zhou!" exclaimed the auntie player behind Eric.
"Manager Zhou" extended a hand toward Eric, his body half-embedded within the stone wall. His visage was rigid, expression frozen like petrified stone. Grasping out, he sought to pull Eric into the wall itself.
Sensing his sluggish movements, Eric swiftly crouched to evade his grasp, leveraging her slight frame to slip through the narrowing gap that remained in the passageway.
Behind her, the auntie player was seized by Manager Zhou. She frantically tried to wrench free, but Zhou's strength was overwhelming—his grip like forged iron, utterly unyielding.
The auntie struggled fiercely, kicking and pulling, yet to no avail.
"Help me!" she cried out desperately.
The blue-scarfed leader commanded the raiders to hold back, watching coldly.
Gregory, nearest to the scene, wished to assist, but Zhou's grip was unbreakable; the auntie was held fast.
With a corpse-like pallor, Zhou tried to drag the auntie into the wall.
"Cut off my hand! Cut off my hand!" she shrieked.
Frantically, Gregory looked back toward the tomb raiders. "Just lend me a blade!"
The blue scarf shook his head, a sinister smile curling his lips. "It is fate. He will not leave without taking one."
Why else, from his great-grandfather's time until now, had no one dared set foot in this tomb?
This strange golden sepulcher harbored unimaginable wealth, yet departure demanded a sacrifice of living flesh.
Each door demanded fresh blood—seemingly simple, since hardy living prey was plentiful. The true challenge lay in maintaining dominion, avoiding reversal where the bait would rebel and the hunters become hunted.
This was the first trial. The second was graver still: the dead became necromancers, dragging the living into hell at the final threshold, binding their souls to this golden tomb. The more who died, the greater the souls consigned to eternal burial.
In the era of the blue scarf's great-grandfather, nearly half the village perished attempting to escape, with only the ancestor surviving, trapped within the exit tunnel. Then, devoid of illumination, they navigated blindly into the passage, falling prey to relentless undead clutching at them from the walls.
From that generation onward, the family endeavored ceaselessly to re-enter the golden tomb. During his grandfather's time, they discovered the Undying Village, resolving all passage and bait dilemmas.
The villagers there never truly died, an ideal living bait. Their undying condition meant fewer tethered undead lingered to impede departure—optimally, none.
Only two laborers died this time. The two who fled might have perished elsewhere, but not within the beast's head's grasp; thus, they were spared becoming spectral enemies.
Two undead; four laborers—that sufficed.
Before Gregory could ponder the malice in these words, he witnessed in horror the auntie's arm as it fused grotesquely with Manager Zhou's hand.
Terrified, he instinctively released her grasp.
"Let me go! Help me! Save me!"
The auntie remained unaware, struggling desperately for aid.
A glint of steel flashed; before she could react, a cleaver struck the arm entangled in Zhou's grasp.
Ahead, Eric dodged Zhou's claw and sprinted forward several steps, only to see the auntie captured again and hasten back.
Clutching a knife, she abandoned caution—at such a critical moment, she had no choice but to intervene.
With a heavy blow, she severed the auntie's arm clean at the elbow. A howl of agony erupted.
"Run!" Eric hauled the auntie along, with Gregory hesitating briefly before hastening to follow.
The tomb raiders merely observed, standing at a distance, permitting their escape!
The blue scarf's face darkened—laborers possessed weapons and dared flee!
"Seize the fat one at the rear!" he barked.
"Manager Zhou" absorbed the severed arm into his body, gazing silently toward the blue scarf and his men, advancing steadily.
The portly player trailing last had been curious since the commotion began. Who was this Manager Zhou? Wasn't he dead? His torso alone remained, a ghastly corpse-like figure. Yet the players ahead called his name again.
Their cries grew loud enough to disturb even the portly player, who felt a stirring unease.
Chapter 77: Escape from a Dead End
But with a harrowing scream, the sounds ahead receded. Eric heard the blue scarf's furious cry, an ominous instinct gripping her. Finding herself at the rear of the group, she hastened to retreat.
Yet behind lay an unbroken chain of golden chambers, leaving no sanctuary to evade capture. The portly player was eventually seized and knocked unconscious. He was dragged before Manager Zhou, the raiders instructing Zhou to grasp his hand.
When the portly player awoke, his perspective was distorted—he looked down upon the tomb raiders.
"I…" he tried to speak, but no words came. Gazing downward, he saw his head protruding from the passage's stone wall; the rest of his body was gone. Yet he unmistakably sensed that his form was embedded within the bricks of this golden tomb.
Realizing this, a silent scream of terror bubbled within him. He frantically used healing packs, but they were as futile as throwing stones into the abyss.
"Go fetch those three laborers ahead," the blue scarf ordered, his face dark with portent. Should those laborers have escaped, one of them would need to stand as bait to counter the dead female laborer!
Who among the escapees would willingly be recaptured?
Eric led the charge, and after the auntie's rescue and healing pack restored her arm, she regained swift footing. Gregory, eager to surge ahead, hoped to outpace Eric and the auntie, seizing the vanguard position.
"What just happened? Manager Zhou was dead!" the auntie demanded. "He was no longer human; his grasp was like stone."
"This must be the final trial," Eric speculated swiftly. "Probably the dead players serve as sacrifices, which is why the tomb raiders want us to lead the way. Also, a female player has died—be cautious not to let her catch you!"
As the auntie began questioning the origins of Eric's knife and flashlight, Eric sensed danger ahead and signaled to halt. "I see her!"
Shining her flashlight on the wall, Heather materialized, half-emerged from the stone bricks.
Heather moved far swifter than Manager Zhou had. The instant Eric spotted her, Heather lunged.
Her locomotion was terrifying—gliding stiffly through the walls, half her body exposed, reaching to seize the nearest target: Eric.
Prepared this time, Eric struck decisively—*
Clang!*
Her blade struck solid stone!
Faltering, Eric opted to retreat. Mere centimeters from being ensnared, Heather shifted her grasp to the auntie player, who scrambled desperately to avoid contact.
Gregory mirrored their nimble evasions. The three narrowly eluded Heather's claws, accelerating onward.
Unable to retreat, Heather emitted a voiceless, resentful howl toward the exit, then turned toward Eric's direction.
After a protracted sprint, the trio emerged from the narrow passage into a more spacious cavern. The chamber was bare save for towering beast heads, their gaping maws dripping sanguine menace.
Exchanged glances betrayed their fragile alliance, dissolving swiftly into suspicion and guarded wariness.
"By the way, where did you get your knife and flashlight?" Gregory was the first to inquire.
"I have my methods," Eric replied evasively, her gaze fixed upon the beast heads, contemplative.
"These beast heads are enormous—we three won't suffice to satisfy it," the auntie ventured cautiously. "Perhaps, like before, we each sacrifice a bit? Pool resources, so to speak."
"But as you said, these heads are massive. How could we manage?" Gregory seethed with spite toward the raiders. "The tables have turned—we should ambush them, capture them instead, and feed the beast!"
Eric stepped forward, approaching a beast head.
"Why get so close? Aren't you afraid?" Gregory hesitated.
"I believe this beast head is the exit," Eric offered her surmise. "If more feeding were needed, the head would be nearer the golden chambers, not separated by such an interminable corridor."
"But it's just a guess. Would you dare enter?" Gregory doubted.
Eric was about eighty percent certain.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the beast's yawning maw.
From outside, the flashlight revealed utter darkness; stepping inside, brilliance flooded her vision.
A forest of stone pillars.
Had she emerged already?
A voice echoed in her mind: *[Player Eric has completed the ordinary dungeon: Golden Tomb. Points earned: 4]*
Confirmation came that this was no dream or hallucination; she had truly emerged.
Surveying her surroundings, Eric exhaled deeply, leaning against a pillar to sit.
Exhaustion overwhelmed her. This dungeon was utterly draining—more harrowing even than supernatural realms she had braved.
If spectral trials tortured the mind, this dungeon ravaged body and spirit alike, inflicting indelible scars upon her psyche.
"Golden Tomb…" she whispered, the name echoing like a curse. At the mere thought, her limbs ached anew—not alleviated by healing packs but transmuted into a nightmare carved upon her soul. She knew it would linger, haunting her forever.
Tallying her points, the ordeal had been wholly fruitless: enduring relentless torment only to lose four points in the end—a grievous loss.
With a weary smile, Eric rose and dejectedly left the quest hall. She needed rest—retreat to her inn was imperative.
Later, while recuperating, Eric recalled the gold she had secretly stashed within the supermarket from the Golden Tomb.
She had amassed quite a fortune, even snatching a nearly human-sized gold brick. Yet after the quest ended, much of the gold had mysteriously diminished, warped into strange, twisted shapes unlike the coins she had collected.
"Why has it changed so suddenly?" she muttered, dread prickling her skin.
The warped gold resembled her severed arms, legs, and other consumed body parts.
Holding a limb-shaped nugget to the mirror, Eric saw it was an exact replica—like a precise cast.
Her lost flesh and bones had returned in this otherworldly form.
What was the Golden Tomb? Nothing less than the Tomb of Flesh and Blood.
The joy of seizing genuine in-game gold vanished completely. Eric packed the grotesque ingots into a bucket, burying them deep within the storeroom. Until her resurrection, she never wished to see them again.
She had once hoped players might turn the tables—using tomb raiders as bait to feed the beast. But now, even should players overcome disparity in numbers and equipment and succeed, the final passage awaited: throngs of undead tomb raiders emerging from the walls to block the way.
The thought of hordes erupting from stone bricks chilled her to the core.
Dismissing these grim reflections, Eric dragged the covers over her head, resolutely forcing herself into sleep.