011 | The Haunted House

Azathan stood calmly before him. He appeared radiant and alive amidst the crumbling house's courtyard. His wings, as black as the universe, gently flapped on his back. Meanwhile, his feet hung steadily a few inches above the ground. His bare chest was covered with shimmering greenish bubbles where Arlo had once stabbed him.

Arlo quickly drew a dagger from his coat pocket, but it crumbled into dust in his hands.

"You've just witnessed the Life Chronicles," murmured Azathan. His deep voice was smoother than the blowing wind. "Be careful, as long as you watch it, you become more vulnerable to attack."

"Why don't you attack me then?" Arlo questioned.

Azathan laughed, like an old chimney wheezing smoke. "Attack you at your weakest moment? I do not need such lowly deeds," he said. "But there's a wretched spirit in this place eager to do so. Just watch."

Then, as swiftly as he had appeared, Azathan vanished in a cold red mist. Leaving Arlo alone in the courtyard of Darklake House. Or at least, that's what he initially thought.

Arlo began to feel the gaze directed at him. Watching from a dark corner amidst the gaps in Darklake House's windows.

Could it be Riley Darklake? If so, Arlo was more than ready. Glad, he had brought a spare dagger tonight.

He promptly walked towards the house. His steps felt sure on the pathway. Surrounded by waist-high grass, he was confident no one would notice him. Except Riley.

In front of the house, he didn't need to bother knocking. The house was unlocked. Like many large abandoned houses in Umbravale, it had been ransacked by unruly bandits. Almost no furniture remained inside except for worn-out carpets and old paintings.

Initially, Arlo planned to bypass the old paintings. Until one painting caught his attention. He halted and examined it closely.

In the painting, two boys are depicted. They were nearly the same height and dressed in identical formal attire. Their hairstyles and smiles differed, but their faces showed a striking resemblance.

Could Riley have a twin brother? But why didn't Arlo see the twin playing with Riley and his two friends in the Life Chronicles?

Ugh, he should have read the population book properly earlier. He had no clue if Riley had a twin. Not that it mattered much. But who knows, right?

Suddenly, Arlo heard footsteps behind him. He swiftly turned, dagger drawn, but found no one in front of him.

The footsteps echoed again, this time from behind him. Arlo glanced back in panic, yet his instinct told him the person he sought was in front of him. And usually, Arlo's instincts were right.

He tried to stand firm, hand still extended with the dagger. Despite this, regret began creeping from his heart. He cursed why he only brought two daggers tonight, never anticipating that one would turn to dust.

Then, he heard the footsteps again. This time, unmistakably coming from in front of him.

A figure without a shadow stepped out from another corridor. deliberately slowing their pace around the corner to face Arlo.

They stood face to face. Arlo's brown eyes met intensely dark black eyes. The difference was clear: he was full of life, while Riley seemed hollow.

For a moment, the specter halted at the turn. Staring at him with a look of disbelief.

"Just when I thought I had a visitor, it turns out to be another bandit after my family's treasures," Riley said calmly.

Arlo smiled. The same arrogance, the same pretense. "Seems like death hasn't changed you much, Riley," he commented.

"And who are you?" the specter replied calmly.

Arlo's smile widened further. "Well, I don't feel like we need to introduce ourselves," he commented. "Since you won't be around for long in this world."

Riley responded with laughter that was quite captivating. Shortly after, an ornamental sword from the wall flew and lodged itself into a painting, just an inch above Arlo's shoulder.

"Seriously, you need to learn some manners, kid," Riley admonished.