“What the fuck is this - ” The man looked around and cursed, while still trying to remember how to open the vault before his eyes.

Dark dots splashed onto the walls, as if ink was being thrown in every direction. Invisible fingers clawed the walls, leaving long streaks of dark red marks here and there. The voices of a man and a woman continued to beg, while the younger ones continued to cry and weep. The woman upstairs seemed to have lost her patience, as she kept flinging things at the walls, tearing through floor boards in hopes of trying to find that red talisman which could help them alert those meant to support them.

The man tried a few combinations he thought of - but the box just wouldn’t open. Sweat dropped on the door as he put his short sword in the gap between the door and its frame. The blade bent as he exerted his force upon it. The box was from the original owners of the mansion, someone of some importance and stature in the city. Maybe that was why the integrity of this box was much sturdier than what the man had imagined.

“Fuck!” The blade of the short sword bent to a dangerous degree, so the man had to stop. He checked the spine of his blade - it was slightly bent from his attempts. The years had not been kind to his weapons either.

Just when the man checked out the bend on his sword, three bloody fingers full of sores, burns and cuts, and one that lost the first two sections with bones exposed, wrapped around the blade.

“Please - please stop…” A man, roughly around 30 to 40 years of age appeared following the arm connected to the hand. His left eye was missing, with only a bloody hole where it was. There were more holes from his missing nose, his missing cheek and peeled forehead. “Please stop - let my children go at least - we haven’t done anything wrong! Please!”

Cold, long blade slashed across the man’s neck. No resistance came from the collision, this ghostly man’s figure just dissipated like a pile of dust and sand.

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“Please, please - I beg of you - stop …” The ghostly man uttered another plea before his shadow disappeared completely: “Please - let them go - we are ready to die - just let them go…”

The man only had a faint idea of who this ghostly man was - the only possibility was that he was the sole owner of this mansion. And the people he was speaking of were his family - his wife, and his children.

Who the family once living in this mansion was had already escaped the man’s memory. They had left for many years. If the man recalled correctly, there was no torturing or murdering of them happening in this house. They left this place in a hurry, but they left unharmed.

It must be that fog. Whatever laid inside of it, it must have brought their ghosts back here. The man had no idea what would have this kind of power.

“Hey, woman!” The man raised his head and yelled: “Did you find it?!”

At first there was no response, then after a minute, a female scream came from above.

The man immediately ran for the stairs. They were in this together, if she was harmed, there would be ills befalling him as well.

Just as he made it into the staircase, a woman in bloody, ragged clothes and half her head shaven lunged at him from above with her twisted arms extending forward. Her nails were broken, crooked and sharp, her face was skinless and showing only muscles and bones, and spikes of her broken bones were protruding from her palms, wrists and elbows. She was screaming something, but her tongue was missing and she had a gaping hole in her throat, so all she made was a retching and gurgling sound.

Out of pure instinct, he thrust his long sword forward while jabbing at the ghostly woman’s lower body with his short sword. Both swords passed through her body just like his blade did the ghostly man’s. The woman’s body dissipated into sand and dust, and in but an instant scattered in the wind.

“Woman! Where are you!?” The man took a short moment to breathe while asking.

Still no answer, he had to continue rushing up.

The begging voices, cries and moans did not stop. The mansion itself was getting darker every minute, even as he focused his Qi, he could barely see past three arms’ length beyond his immediate surroundings.

The ground had somehow turned tarry, sticky and reeking of a familiar saltiness and bitterness. Blood, dried up blood mixed with fresh blood. Must be an illusion from whatever it was from the fog. He raised his two swords and readied himself for anything. He slowed and lightened his footsteps as he walked towards where he remembered the balcony was. He had to be really careful, for he was more worried about the woman attacking him accidentally than the illusions that had proven to be pretty harmless so far.

“Please. Please - let my children go - ” Four or five steps in his direction later, he saw some shadows in front of him. Illusions, no doubt, for there were many of them, some more solidified, some were only partially manifested. The most clear and colorful of them all were the two with their hands tied behind their backs and kneeling on the ground.