Test of courage (2)

Tene-nene-ne-nenenene…

A melancholic melody played softly in the background as Deon walked up the stairs.

Krrrr…

With his every step, the floorboards creaked.

Deon worried that one wrong step may cause the stairs to crumble and send him tumbling below. Thus, he carefully measured his steps and walked at a turtle pace.

'Such a dilapidated building…'

Upon reaching the top, he found a porcelain doll sitting on a stool as if it was waiting for him.

The blonde doll was dressed beautifully in a cream-colored dress covered with frills and laces.

The doll's appearance felt so out of place in this dirty building.

Deon approached it, thinking that it was harmless, but he stopped in his tracks when the doll subtly moved.

Deon unconsciously held his breath as he stood frozen in place.

5 seconds.

His eyes were glued to the doll's face for five whole seconds, tensely observing the toy.

'Nothing's happening… Was it just my imagination?' just as he was about to pass it off to hypersensitivity, the doll creepily turned its head toward him and stood.

'Uhhh…' Deon's mind had gone blank.

He stared at the doll which slowly walked up to him, "Big brother… save me…" the doll begged in a high-pitched voice as it tugged at his clothes.

"What are you--? H-how?" Deon stammered.

"Brother. Help me…" the doll's voice was full of anguish and sorrow that wrenched Deon's heart.

Psychologically, humans perceive pretty creatures as good, pure, and innocent thus, it was not surprising that Deon, who was currently unable to make rational judgments, thought that the demon held the doll hostage and that he had to help her.

"Brother… Save me… I'm scared…" the doll flew to his face and hugged his neck.

"W-wait a minute! Tell me how to save you!" Deon pulled the doll away.

"AAAAHHHHH!!!" He screamed when he saw that the doll was crying tears of blood.

He threw the doll away and ran with the flickering candle in his left hand.

Fwoosh!

The little fire went out and Deon was left running with no light.

"Brother… why did you leave?.. BROTHEEER!" the doll screamed, its sorrow replaced with lunacy.

Thud!

Deon stumbled over something and he dropped his candle; His fingers fumbled to retrieve it but he instead felt something else, 'It's soft, warm and… wet?'

He brought his fingers to his face and a metallic stench wafted to his nose.

'I-is this a c-corpse?!'

"UWAAAAH!!!" he ran around like a headless chicken, not stopping even as he bumped into furniture.

'I have to get out! I'm going to die here!' he grabbed a door handle and turned it.

Chink!

The door opened but a murder of crows came out.

CAW! Caw! Caw!

Deon shielded his face as the crows hurriedly flew away.

Inside the room was a large round table with a dead goblin set at the center. Surrounding it were lit white candles arranged in a pentagram.

'Sacrificial offering?'

Deon was extremely hesitant to enter the room. Even though nothing was happening, the stillness of the little flames and the eerie silence unnerved him.

"Brother?..." The porcelain doll's distant voice spurred Deon into action.

He hurriedly entered the room and locked it from inside with a door latch.

Strangely, he found the pretty doll asking for help to be scarier than a ritual table.

"Haah." Deon slumped on the floor in relief as he found solace in the room's tranquil atmosphere.

'Ah! I can't go out unless I find that fountain pen!' Now that he had regained some composure, Deon began to look around the room.

He walked to the opposite wall to inspect it.

'What are these symbols? Is the demon perhaps summoning his kin?' Deon shivered as he looked at the red marks written in blood.

Sniff. Sniff.

'Why does it smell like juice though?' Deon wondered before shaking his head in denial, 'No. this is a demon that we're talking about. There's no way it will smear juice on the walls.'

He then walked to a table where he faintly saw something silver gleam.

'I hope it's the pen…' he wishfully thought.

Deon was greatly disappointed when he saw the assortment of weapons arranged neatly on the table. There were worn-out daggers, swords, axes, and spears that were covered with dried blood.

He touched the cold handle of a dagger and thought, 'what's the use of weapons against a demon that you can't even see?'

Shhhshsh…

Deon abruptly turned at the sound of movement.

He searched the room to see if anything was amiss and his eyes widened in horror when the goblin that initially laid on the table was now standing 5 feet away from him.

Instinct overrode his rationality, and Deon threw the first thing he got his hand on.

Fwoosh!

A dagger struck the goblin's bulging belly. The goblin bled but it did not show any reaction nor pain. It just silently stood there like a mannequin.

Then the goblin's body floated a few inches above the ground, and slowly advanced in Deon's direction; its thick blood snaked down its thighs and dripped from its toes that were dragging along the floor.

"Go away! Don't come closer!" Deon's defensive aggression did nothing as the goblin continued to approach.

He grabbed another weapon – a spear and got into a fighting stance.

As a student of the spearmanship department of the royal academy, Deon was at least capable of defending himself against normal goblins and the familiar thin shaft gave him a sense of confidence.

After grasping the range of his weapon, Deon swiftly closed the distance and stabbed the goblin's heart.

Pshk! Chakak!

He immediately pulled the spear out and slashed at every vital part that he could reach.

After executing a series of attacks, Deon secured his distance while warily watching the goblin.

The goblin briefly stopped. It was still silent even as it bled from numerous wounds.

'Is it over? Did I kill it?'

But then the monster once again moved closer as if nothing happened!

'The demon! It can raise the dead?!'

Deeming it impossible to kill the enemy, Deon ran toward the door.

His violently shaking hands turned the knob but the door did not open, 'Damn it! The latch! Why did I have to lock it?! Argh!'

Deon was now sweating buckets as he fumbled with the latch – But it was stuck! As if some force was interfering with it. In his distress, he unwittingly looked back and saw the goblin corpse approach faster.

'SH*T! SH*T! SH*T!'

Deon gave up on the latch and kicked the door with every ounce of strength that he could muster.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Adrenaline coursed through his body and the door crashed open.

Deon immediately ran out.

"Brother?" but the porcelain doll was blocking the entrance!

'Oh, Please! Give me a break!' Deon internally begged.

He ignored the doll and just ran. As fast as he could. Without looking back.

Deon's royal demeanor was nowhere to be found.

As he rushed through the corridors, the prince tripped, scraped his knees, and cried.

Soon, he found the stairs leading to the third floor.

Hah! Hah! Hah!

Deon held his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He deliberated on whether to climb the stairs or to go down the first floor.

'I'll be trapped if I climb to the third floor, but the lower floors aren't safe either.'

Then, a flash of white to his left caught his attention.

Deon squinted his eyes to see it more clearly.

And there it was: A floating white blanket surrounded by three gleaming daggers, their edges pointing straight toward him.

Deon took a step back, 'This is it. The demon's done playing with me.'

He turned around, only to find the doll and the goblin corpse approach him from different directions.

Now, the only path left was the stairs.

Deon sprinted up the stairs and searched for any room that he could hide in.

Chk… Chk… chk…

He tried to open every door he came across to, but they were locked.

'Please! Please open up!' he prayed.

Finally, one door opened revealing a tidy office.

Out of every part of the orphanage that Deon stumbled into, this room looked the most ordinary. Aside from the broken window behind the wooden table, and the chandelier that was neatly propped to the side, the room's ambiance gave the impression of life – as if an actual person had just used it minutes prior.

On top of the organized desk was an ornate gas lamp that lit the room in a warm orange glow.

To the left was a wall full of books while to the right was a display of silver fountain pens.

'Silver pens!'

Deon closed the door and walked to the right wall.

He picked up the fountain pens and inspected them under the light of the lamp.

"Brotheeer~ where are youuuu?~" the doll mirthfully called, not pretending to ask for help anymore.

Dug! Dug!

" Are you here? Come play with us!" the despicable doll knocked on the office door.

'Why isn't it here?! ARGHH!!" the distressed prince double checked the pens but no matter how many times he turned them, he could not find one with the 'PML' engraving.

"Brotheeer! We know you're in there! We're gonna come in, okay?"

Deon tiredly put down the fountain pens.

Grgrgrgrrr….

He resignedly gazed at the door as they rolled off the table.

Bathump!

His eyes widened in surprise and his heart powerfully beat as he saw a silver pen taped on the door.

It was there all along. Taped to the office door as if laughing at Deon's desperation.

He ran to the door and snatched the pen.

Sure enough, engraved on its silver body were the cursive letters 'P.M.L.'

"I found it!" he exclaimed and the demon voice said, "Congratulations, Partner."

--Chapter end--