Aaron searched corner and edges of the medieval door for any clue, but there was nothing. He pressed his shoulder against it, pushing with all his strength, yet the door refused to move. Even if he were still human, he doubted he could open it. The fallen debris on the other side had jammed it shut.
"I have to look around. There might be some other way."
He turned back toward the table, the one placed too conveniently beside the spot where he first woke up. The narrow corridor had nothing else. No furniture, no boxes, not even scraps. Just the table and the cold walls.
Maybe there was something inside the drawer. Maybe a clue, a tool, anything.
And if there was nothing there, then he would have no choice but to check the other door. The ominous one. The one his instincts had forced him to run from.
With his nimble legs he reached the table quickly. With a small leap he landed on one of its legs and climbed to the top.
A doll was placed there. Its hair looked disturbingly human. When Aaron touched it, the strands felt real too, as if someone had cut actual hair and stitched it into the doll's scalp.
The moment his fingers brushed it, thin red veins crawled across the doll's face. The drawer beneath the doll snapped open with a loud thud. Inside it lay a dried black heart, stiff and shrunken, yet somehow beating.
Aaron stared, unable to breathe for a second.
His gaze drifted back to the place where he had first awakened. The stones on the floor formed carvings that resembled a faceless crowd. Smooth where the faces should have been, with faint outlines of torsos beneath, like a gathering of people blurred into one shape. It looked like a visual illusion, and yet felt too real to dismiss.
So far, nothing had reacted to him. The door was still closed. The corridor was still silent.
But it no longer felt safe.
Suddenly he heard a humming coming from the dried heart, it was calling him.
His intuition went dull as he almost found himself, touching the dried black heart.
But somehow he was able stop himself midway, he jerked himself back.
"What the hell was that?!"
He called the system for help.
The system came just like usual with "[Help]"
"The requested information require more authority."
He frowned at the message, grunted in dismissal, and climbed down. He searched the entire corridor again, checking every crack and corner for a way out. Nothing. No path, no loose panel, not even a weak wall. The place was sealed.
Exhausted, his eyes drifted back to the two things he had tried to avoid. The ominous door that his instincts warned him to stay away from, and the table with the demonic doll perched on top, the black heart inside its drawer still pounding faintly.
He swallowed, feeling trapped between two bad choices.
He called the system again, forcing his voice to remain steady, and this time asked about the table instead.
A translucent window shimmered into existence in front of him.
[Ordinary Table]
Once belonged to a mage.
Can be used as a foundation for basic ritual.
Chance of success increased by 70 percent.
"So it wasn't an ordinary table. Seventy percent is huge. But I don't know any ritual…" he muttered, staring at the glowing window with timid eyes.
The system seemed to understand his confusion.
Another help window unfolded in front of him.
Ritualistic Magic: Performed through sacrifice and enchanted materials. Can be executed even without magical talent. Success rate decreases sharply if the user lacks affinity.
Note: Each ritual is unique. Ritual records can be found in libraries or in the personal collections of mages.
As the help window faded, a small counter window appeared.
Known Rituals: 0
Aaron let out a tired breath. So even though he had access to ritual magic, he knew none. The table was useless for now.
He climbed back onto the table and looked at the doll again.
He considered storing both the doll and the black heart. His intuition did not object. For once, there was no screaming alarm in his mind, just silence.
He raised his hand toward the doll and whispered, "Store."
The doll shimmered out of existence. A new window opened, styled like a storage interface, with crates and boxes arranged neatly. In one of the boxes sat a small ornate doll, rotating slowly in place.
A short description appeared beneath it. Nothing surprising. Nothing he did not already know.
He turned to the drawer and repeated the command for the black heart. It too vanished in the same shimmering light and appeared inside another box in the storage window.
The pounding heartbeat stopped the moment it disappeared.
Now the corridor was silent again.
An eerie silence passed through. It doesn't felt calm or peaceful, but instead this silence felt somewhat disturbing.
Aaron's senses were sharper ever since he turned into a mouse. That was why he heard it now. Faint shrieks. Very far away… but coming from behind the door.
He tilted his head in confusion. He had not heard anything before. Something had changed.
The sound grew clearer. A metallic screech, like claws dragging across steel or stone. A sharp object grinding against the surface again and again, each scrape more aggressive than the last.
Then a sudden thud.
The door shuddered violently, bending inward. It was not the ominous door. It was the first door he had examined.
Someone – or something – was behind it.
Earlier, it had not tried to force its way in. It had simply existed there, silent, waiting. But now it wanted in. Now it was desperate.
Was it because he removed the doll and the dried beating heart?
He did not have luxury to ponder that question.
He jumped off the table, landing silently on the cold floor, and frantically searched for a gap, a crevice, anything he could hide in. His tiny body moved fast, whiskers trembling, instincts screaming.
It's better, he hide before whatever was outside that door come inside...