The ancient stone walls seemed to drink in the faint light atop the mountain.
Many corners of the old castle were shrouded in shadow; behind every door might lurk an unknown secret.
Cold stone walls, dim corridors—under the looming threat of slaughter, they seemed to exude an even more chilling aura.
The group moved along the castle passages, keeping a delicate distance from one another.
Through the windows, one could only faintly glimpse the outlines of mist-draped forests and valleys—everything blurred, mysterious, unreal.
The two traitors, who served as thralls of the vampire lord, could only borrow his powers once he awoke. And by nature, vampires sealed themselves away during daylight, entombed in darkness, rousing only at night.
Thus, the traitors could only wield those unknown, terrifying “Count’s Powers” once each night.
On the very first day of this five-day killing game, no challengers had yet been slain. While the traitors were unable to use the vampire lord’s powers, they dared not recklessly attempt two-on-ten combat.
Instead, they wisely disguised themselves as ordinary challengers.
So during the day, the natural strategy was for everyone to stick together, never letting one another out of sight.That way, the traitors were forced to move with the group, unable to kill, unable to advance their hidden objectives. Their progress was delayed.
From the stone stairs of the grand hall, the party ascended winding passages to the second-floor landing. From here, one could still clearly see the hall below. Deeper within, apart from three locked grand chambers and several washrooms and storerooms, the most striking feature was a two-level library spanning the second and third floors.
Dark mahogany shelves, carved in ornate patterns, stretched up to the ceiling, crammed with ancient tomes of the Horning Empire—fragile manuscripts and precious maps. At the center stood a desk, upon which lay a quill of unknown bird origin and a bottle of ink. Evidently, this had once been the study of the castle’s master, Sir Caligula.
Yet Frey did not demand the group linger here to pore through books in search of clues. Instead, he led them up the spiral stair to the third floor.
From the third to the fifth floors, they passed room after room: three sealed bedchambers per level, Sir Caligula’s private chambers, a council room, an ironworks, an armory, a weaving hall, an art studio, an apothecary, towers, and more.
Many places seemed ripe with possible clues.
But the detective showed no interest.
It was as though he saw through the distractions, walking only the straightest path toward the most efficient plan he already held in mind.
After a full three-hour exploration of the castle’s interior, the challengers confirmed that the five-story stronghold was wrapped in solid magical wards, able to withstand devastating assaults. In particular, each bedroom carried its own strengthened barrier.
From the second to the fifth floors, three safe chambers per level—exactly twelve in total. Each challenger already possessed a key that unlocked their assigned room, tucked safely into their pockets.
Thus, the mechanics of this Shadow World grew clearer.
Once night fell and the vampire lord awoke, the traitors would gain access to his powers. If all challengers huddled together, the two could massacre everyone in one strike.
Therefore, nighttime strategy was obvious: disperse, hide in separate safe rooms.
Even if the Count’s powers could break through barriers, they were limited to a single use per night. Reason dictated that at most, one or two rooms might be breached each evening.
The more challengers clustered together, the higher the chance of mass slaughter. The more they scattered, the fewer casualties there would be.
But if the traitors were not unmasked quickly, five days might be enough for them to wipe out everyone.
Since each room assignment had been publicly determined before the Shadow World began, certain key figures were at far greater risk—especially the Detective.
If the Detective died early, the game would tilt heavily in the traitors’ favor.
The only way to reduce danger was to share rooms with trusted allies. Some might even be willing to sacrifice themselves to protect the Detective, ensuring he would not be the first target.
Of course, clever deception or psychological feints might also waste the traitors’ nightly strike entirely.
Having completed their survey of the castle, the party descended once more under Frey’s guidance.
He entered the kitchen and pantry, packing portable food into a leather satchel he’d found upstairs. Then he fetched several bottles of sweet white wine from the cellar.
By then, the hour was nearly nine in the morning.
Sunlight spilled in through tall windows, filtered through stained glass in shifting colors. The once-gloomy halls gleamed with alternating brightness and shadow.
Frey pushed open the massive doors. The group followed, stepping out of the ancient stronghold for the first time.
The fierce brilliance of the sun struck them like a physical force.
Only then did they behold the full majesty of the cloud-wreathed castle.
Looking back, the carved reliefs upon its limestone walls shone sharp in the dawn, stark against the verdant forest below. Suspended balconies and spires loomed ethereal amid swirling mists.
Now, Frey ordered the group to verify the information provided by the Geographer and Lawyer.
If their reports proved true, the credibility of those two identities would rise significantly.
Surrounded by autumn woods, the atmosphere grew more sinister, more oppressive, as twelve figures walked through the forest paths.
Misty trees loomed like ghostly silhouettes. Trickling brooks glimmered faintly, as though leading into a vanished world hidden in fog.
They knew the real purpose of this journey was to inspect the bridge.
In only five minutes, guided by the Geographer’s directions, they reached the cliff’s edge.
What they saw chilled their hearts:
The road that led to the city-state had been cut off by a vast chasm.
Even before reaching the edge, they felt the vertigo of the sheer drop—eight hundred meters deep, hundreds wide.
Just as Lan Qi had predicted, the hundred-meter bridge had indeed been destroyed.
It was as though someone had deliberately sealed them inside this ancient fortress.
Undoubtedly, this was the work of the traitors, using the vampire’s powers before the Shadow World began.
An eight-hundred-meter abyss, a hundred-meter span to the far side, and the empire’s anti-flight wards together left them utterly isolated—prisoners upon a rocky island in the sky.
In the chill of the morning, everything remained a tangled mystery.
The mood of the group, already heavy, plunged toward despair.
Just then—
Like a detective nearing the climax of his case, Frey stepped alone toward the cliff’s edge.