Demon Hunter and His Cabin
Chapter 401 - Chapter 401 Chapter 401 Moonlight

Chapter 401: Chapter 401 Moonlight… Chapter 401: Chapter 401 Moonlight… Roger looked up at one of the wall paintings.

The scene depicted an open field where a young boy lay idly on the grass, head lifted as if he were basking in the afternoon sunlight.

Yet, the boy’s face was covered with an expression of terror, and moving closer, one could even hear the faint screams escaping his mouth.

His limbs were pinned to the ground, his belly slit open with entrails being pulled out and methodically placed around him.

It seemed that only the scorching sun could dispel the dark energy lingering upon them.

The entire canvas soaked in the scent of fresh blood.

The figures within were sketched in just a few strokes, and Roger couldn’t make out their features; he continued walking upwards, observing each wall painting along the way.

Without exception.

The people in the paintings were all enduring torturous agony, and each one was alive.

“Look, what’s this?”

Excited voices echoed from the hall below, and when Roger looked down from his elevated vantage point, two wooden chests had appeared near the dining table.

The chest was opened, and a middle-aged man stood in front of it, rummaging through its contents.

“So many treasures, are they gifts from the manor’s owner?”

The man lifted objects out of the chest, one by one, playing with them.

Roger didn’t know what the items in the chest looked like to the man, but from his perspective, he saw only a pile of bones.

He no longer paid attention to the two below and continued upwards.

Searching painting by painting.

The patterns sketched out on the narrow canvases sent chills down one’s spine, and Roger hardly dared to imagine if every person existing in these canvases were real.

That would mean he was looking at an unimaginably large number.

The second floor was silent, with light flickering in a room at the end of the hallway. Roger listened carefully while gripping his weapon tightly in hand.

As he approached one of the wall paintings, Roger suddenly stopped.

In the painting was a large dining table where a grotesque giant was waving knife and fork, chopping a squirming tiny human on a plate into pieces before swallowing them.

“Stephen!”

A look of joy crossed Roger’s face, but once he confirmed Stephen’s identity, he refrained from acting rashly.

The consequences of removing a wall painting were unclear, and the place was too strange. Being restricted in strength was one factor, more importantly, was the bizarre state of one’s soul.

The room with the light was deathly silent, and the sound of paper rustling could be heard within. Roger cautiously moved, surveying the room’s layout with the reflection from his weapon.

Under the dim light, on a smooth writing desk, a paintbrush was outlining something on paper, then quietly waited for a while, ensuring it wasn’t a Ghost at work before Roger took a deep breath and walked into the room.

On the paper, a face contorted with terror came to life.

It was the curly-haired boy Roger had once encountered.

On the paper, he repeated his recent death again and again.

“It seems that the souls of everyone who dies here will remain here forever.”

“But what is the purpose of doing this?”

“Just mere torture?”

He could feel that the paintbrush in front of him must be a Cursed Item.

Crackling noises.

Just then, a tumultuous noise rose from below. Roger hurried to the window and saw a middle-aged man, sated with food and drink, struggling to move a large chest towards where his horse was tied.

Excitement glinted in his eyes, as he muttered to himself.

“Awesome, the gifts for my daughters are enough.”

After packing the so-called treasures in the chest, he untied the reins, and just as the middle-aged man was about to leave, his gaze swept across and caught the vibrant red hidden in the snow.

A splendid rose garden.

Seeing this, a Spiritual Light flashed in Roger’s mind, and he remembered a long-circulating story.

“A Fairytale Manuscript?”

“But isn’t this way of entering too bizarre?”

“Is someone manipulating things behind the scenes?”

As Roger pondered, the middle-aged man had already sprinted into the rose garden.

According to the story’s progression, the greedy middle-aged man would soon pick a rose from the garden, and he would suffer a curse because of that action.

But just as Roger was distractedly checking, a strange oppression surged in his heart, causing him alarm. He quickly turned his head around.

In the darkness outside the door, a pair of blood-red eyes were staring intently at him!

Drip, drip…

Blood flowed on the ground, and the sound emanating from the throat of the beast let Roger know that the animal was not yet satiated.

……

Time rewound to a short while ago.

Upon hearing Roger’s shout, Henrik took a deep breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw surging water erupting from the room, heading towards Roger and Goway standing in front.

“Crack!”

Without any hesitation, Henrik crushed the frail floorboard under his feet. The next second, he saw Roger unleash a powerful attack, but their figures were quickly engulfed by the water.

With that momentary buffer, Henrik’s figure plummeted, and he fell through the gap on the fourth floor.

As he descended, he had already taken in his surroundings; the moment he landed, he could move next to one of the surrounding windows.

He would then break through it to escape.

Two seconds passed, and Henrik realized he was still falling. He looked around in horror; there was no dilapidated corridor or the growth of green tendrils.

The space around him twisted, as if he were in some sort of passage.

His breathing hesitated, the velocity of his fall suddenly slowed, and a soft sensation enveloped him. Regaining his senses, Henrik found himself lying on a soft, large bed.

An elusive fragrance lingered in the air.

The bedding made of swan’s down, so loose and soft it made one reluctant to rise, felt like sinking into a cloud.

The pine wooden floor, with a small sheepskin rug in front of the bed–each strand of wool on it carefully groomed–an audible sound of burning wood came from the hearth nearby.

“Where am I?”

Henrik opened his mouth, but a voice unfamiliar to him came from his throat; he jumped out of bed in panic and grabbed a mirror beside it.

In the mirror was a face utterly foreign to him.

Slightly red curly hair was tied at the back of the head, with a pale face and an open white shirt that revealed a slim chest.

This was the face of a refined and handsome young man.

“Your Highness the Prince, are you awake?”

A coquettish voice came from outside the room.

The next second, two figures dressed in courtly ladies’ attire opened the door and appeared before Henrik.

“It’s time to eat.”

One of them lifted the tray she was holding, and on it rested a still-beating heart.

“Time to eat?”

“What the hell is that?”

Henrik knocked the thing from the woman’s hand aside, struggling to stay calm, “What’s going on? How have I become someone else?”

“An illusion?”

“Or some weird, Cursed Land?”

“Please don’t, Your Highness…”

An exclamation came from beside him, but Henrik paid it no mind; he moved a few steps forward unconsciously and pulled back the curtains.

Looking down from here, the entirety of a vast ancient castle laid within view.

At the same time, the moonlight from outside the window shone into his eyes.

The next second, Henrik’s eyes were completely captivated by the full moon that hung high in the sky.

“This moonlight…”