Master Says the Drawn Traits Must Not Be Wasted

Chapter 145: Chapter 144: Residents of the Manor

Bruce and Zoya stood quietly beside a gap in a collapsed wall, staring into the darkness ahead.

From within the manor, the faint, hollow sounds of wind and echoes could be heard.

It seemed the rogue Goblin Skeleton had gone in this way.

”Should we go in?” Zoya asked, looking at the pitch-black entrance. Her fingers were already resting lightly on the dagger at her waist. Her voice was soft and sweet, yet held a hint of eagerness.

The Elf Maiden was as bold as ever.

Hesia nodded. As he did, a soft ball of light ignited in his hand, dispelling the surrounding darkness.

”Bruce, pay attention to the scent,” he said, looking at the creature panting at his feet. ”And don’t stray too far from us.”

Bruce’s wet, black nose twitched. He lowered his body and was the first to slip through the gap.

Hesia and Zoya followed close behind.

Upon entering the manor, a wave of dampness and dust washed over them.

They heard the SHUSH of their feet crunching on fine gravel and a distant CLICK.

The frequency of the CLICKING sound slowed, and then it stopped completely.

’It stopped?’

...

Following the direction where the sound had vanished, they came to a spacious hall.

The manor’s interior was even more dilapidated than it looked from the outside.

The dome of the ceiling had collapsed, creating a gaping hole. Moonlight poured through the opening, joining with the sphere of light in Hesia’s hand to illuminate the floor, which was covered in rubble and rotten furniture.

The light and footsteps startled the bats roosting here. They flew up from their upside-down perches on the rafters and vanished into the night sky through the hole.

Bruce circled the hall, his nose pressed to the ground, twitching ceaselessly.

”What’s wrong?”

Bruce: ”The scent... it stops here.”

Hesia held up the ball of light, carefully observing his surroundings.

At the front of the hall, a short flight of stairs split left and right at a landing, leading up to the gloomy corridors of the second floor.

Hesia walked toward the stairs, using [Mage’s Hand] to lift the sphere of light higher.

As the ball of light rose, a dark patch of color appeared on the wall directly above the landing—the edge of a picture frame.

The light moved up inch by inch, completely illuminating the scene within the frame.

The canvas was slightly slack, and fine, web-like cracks had appeared in the layers of paint.

Fortunately, the hole in the dome was some distance away from this spot.

Natural light couldn’t reach it.

As a result, the overall content of the painting was still discernible.

The oil painting hung silently in the darkness, its subjects seeming to watch the uninvited guests who had just broken in.

The painting depicted a family of three.

A woman in a magnificent gown sat in an armchair. Her left elbow rested on its arm, and the soft, graceful lines of her bare, snow-white neck and shoulders gave her a gentle and dignified air.

Her right hand held a mask, revealing lips that were full and vividly red.

Standing beside her was a little girl in an equally exquisite dress.

Behind the mother and daughter, a portly man leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on the back of the armchair.

’Looks like this is the family that owned the manor.’

...

Hesia withdrew his gaze. The ball of light in his hand drifted forward, illuminating the deep, dark corridors of the second floor.

”Let’s split up... no, let’s stick together,” he said, changing his mind. ”Everything about this place feels strange.”

Zoya nodded, her dagger already in a reverse grip.

Bruce was still twitching his nose, searching for the scent.

They went up the right-hand staircase.

The wooden planks beneath their feet felt as if they could collapse at any moment, and every step was accompanied by a CREAK.

The first room on the left of the second floor was missing its door, leaving only a dark, gaping doorframe.

Inside the room, a tall bookshelf leaned crookedly against a wall, its books long gone.

A massive desk lay overturned in the center of the room, its broken legs pointing at the ceiling, from which hung thick curtains of cobwebs.

From the ruined scraps of paper scattered on the floor, Hesia picked up a relatively intact one.

”Before God’s creation—woman—one must show reverence and humility...

(The paper is stained and moth-eaten here, with a large section of text missing)

Bloodlines pass down authority, and the King grants land, but a truly noble character can only be forged in the soul through the daily grind of word and deed.”

Hesia put the paper away. ”This fits with a page from a book on aristocratic etiquette.”

He then glanced around. ”It also fits the image of a study in an abandoned old castle.”

”Except for the fact that my skeleton disappearing here doesn’t make any sense.”

...

After a thorough search, they had found nothing.

Left with no other choice, the three decided to split up.

Zoya returned to the first floor to continue searching, Bruce was sent to sniff out any unusual scents in other parts of the manor, and Hesia remained on the second floor.

He came to the last room at the end of the corridor.

This room was larger than any of the others they had searched, but it was also emptier, as if it had been picked clean long ago.

All that remained in the center of the room was a four-poster bed, half of which had collapsed, and a solitary dressing table against the wall.

’Looks like a master bedroom.’

’I just don’t know if it belonged to the master and mistress from the painting, or the girl.’

Hesia walked to the dressing table. The mirror was already shattered.

He then squatted down.

In the shattered mirror, he could just see his own face.

’It’s sized for an adult...’

He stood up and surveyed the empty room.

’But if that’s the case... where is the little girl’s room? The manor doesn’t have a third floor, and the masters of the house wouldn’t typically live on the first floor.’

Just then, Bruce’s voice echoed in his mind.

’WOOF! A scent! A human scent.’

’Where?’

’First floor.’

...

In a corner deep within the first-floor hall, the passageway became narrow and cramped.

Hesia pushed open a door, and the faint smell of smoke mixed with the rancid odor of grease wafted out.

On the stone-paved floor in the center of the room, a few broken stones formed a small, crude campfire pit.

Hesia pinched a bit of charcoal ash between his fingers.

”It’s still warm.”

Beside the fire pit lay a few bones, gnawed clean. Hesia averted his gaze from the bones.

”It seems our ’neighbor’ just finished their meal.”

’What kind of person would live in a place like this?’

’And what connection do they have to the mutated skeletons?’

As Hesia was lost in thought—

TAP... TAP... TAP...

A faint set of footsteps came from the hallway outside!

The sound wasn’t loud, but in the silence of the manor, it was exceptionally clear.

The man and the dog exchanged a look and immediately rushed out!

The sound came from deeper within the manor, in the opposite direction of the main entrance.

Almost at the same time, Zoya, rushing from another corridor, joined them.

...

Soon, they locked onto a dark figure in a corner.

A blinding ball of light suddenly erupted from Hesia’s hand, illuminating the narrow corner!

The dark figure in the corner let out a terrified shriek at the sudden, intense light, instinctively shielding his eyes with a hand.

Hesia focused his gaze.

It was a man in ragged clothes. His sunken cheeks and emaciated frame made him look like a humanoid skeleton.

He was staring at Hesia with wide, terrified eyes, while his other hand clutched something tightly to his chest.

Not far behind him, a small, half-open door let in a few slivers of moonlight.

”Don’t... don’t kill me...” a dry, hoarse voice echoed in the hallway. ”The food... you can have all the food...”