Chương 229: Chapter 229
The cold was what hit him first. A biting, unforgiving chill that seeped into his bones as soon as he stepped from the warmth of the car. Ludwig's breath fogged in the air, but he didn't move to zip his jacket. He was used to it by now. They all were.
He stood outside the abandoned farmhouse, a structure that had been standing long before his great-grandfather was born. A heavy silence pressed in from every side. The kind of quiet that made the world feel like it was holding its breath. The trees behind the house groaned faintly under the weight of snow, and the wind sent thin, cutting gusts that found their way into Ludwig's jacket anyway.
Inside the farmhouse, things were already in motion. People were waiting. The group that had assembled here wasn't large, just five men, but the tension among them could've filled a room twice the size. Each man was carefully chosen, trained to resist the lure of curiosity. That's what the others believed, anyway. Ludwig wasn't so sure anymore. He had once told himself he wasn't afraid. Now, the sound of his boots crunching in the snow made him feel small, as though he were walking to his own execution.
The entity, they called it. The One That Came. Some said it was a god, a forgotten god, a god that had been banished long ago, and now it sought a way back into the world. Some said it was something else entirely—something older, something worse. The records weren't clear. But there were patterns. Always patterns. Those who tried to communicate with it didn't survive. Those who sought knowledge, or an answer, they didn't last long enough to learn.
Ludwig had heard the stories for as long as he could remember. His father had spoken of it, not with fear, but with reverence. His grandfather's last words had been about it. A warning, or perhaps a regret. And now, here he was.
The farmhouse loomed in front of him. There were no lights in the windows. No sign of life. Just an empty structure, sagging with age, but still strong enough to hold whatever had been left behind.
He stepped inside, and the air was thick with dust. The stench of mildew and forgotten things clung to the corners. The floorboards creaked underfoot. Shadows filled the space, swallowing him whole. He wasn't sure if it was the darkness or the place itself, but it felt like something was watching him.
"You're late," came a voice from behind.
Ludwig didn't flinch. He'd expected it. Gunter, the oldest of the group, stood by the far wall, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He didn't look at Ludwig, his eyes fixed on the shadows beyond.
"Had to make sure they weren't watching," Ludwig replied. He moved past him and stood at the center of the room. It wasn't like the others hadn't been through this before. They had. But this time, it was different. This time, they would be alone.
There was no need for more words. They all knew why they were here.
The ritual, however strange, had been studied for months. They had prepared. And yet, Ludwig could feel the edges of doubt gnawing at him. The others hadn't spoken of it, but they all felt it. That hesitation. That part of them that knew, deep down, that nothing good would come of it.
The circle of chalk on the floor was already drawn, thick and precise. In the center, a small iron brazier with pale embers. The candles had been placed carefully around the room, their flames dancing like mocking spirits in the cold air. One by one, the men stepped into the circle, taking their places without a word. The air was tight, stifling.
Ludwig glanced over at Gunter, who met his gaze for a moment before looking away. The man's face was pale, the cigarette between his fingers nearly burnt down to the filter. He wasn't smoking it for pleasure. No one was. It was something to do while they waited, something to distract themselves.
The room had grown colder since Ludwig first entered, and the longer they stood in the circle, the more it felt as though the walls were closing in.
The candles flickered. No one moved.
A crackle in the brazier. The fire snapped, and then, as if on cue, it went out.
A heartbeat passed.
Nothing.
And then, the low, guttural sound began. It wasn't a voice, not in the traditional sense. It was a rumble, deep, as if the earth itself were shuddering beneath them. The air trembled with it. They could all feel it, a constant vibration, a pull.
Ludwig's pulse quickened. He tightened his grip on the edge of the circle, his knuckles turning white.
The sound grew louder, but no one moved. They knew better. But even then, the instinct to flee, to run, crawled up Ludwig's spine. His legs trembled.
A figure appeared in the center of the circle. It wasn't a person, not in any way he had expected. The shape was tall, thin, but made of something darker than the shadows around it. It had no face, no distinct features, just a mass of shifting void. And yet, Ludwig knew it was looking at him. At all of them.
His heart pounded in his chest, and the air felt too thick to breathe.
The sound intensified, the vibration reaching through his bones. And then, the thing moved.
It didn't step. It didn't crawl. It simply... shifted. A sudden, overwhelming presence, now standing before him. It was impossibly close, too close.
A coldness filled the room. But it wasn't just the temperature. This cold was deep, a sickening emptiness that hollowed out the very air.
One by one, the men in the circle began to fall to their knees, gasping for air, their faces contorted in silent agony. Gunter, his eyes wide, choked out something, but his words were lost beneath the suffocating pressure.
Ludwig's chest tightened. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. His body went numb, and all he could hear was the sound—no, not sound, but something worse. Something crawling inside his head.
His vision blurred, and the shape in front of him seemed to stretch, as though it were twisting, pulling, bending the very fabric of reality. He could feel it now, its presence, a weight pressing against his mind. It was a hunger. An insatiable need. It wasn't speaking, but the thought was in his head now. No words, just the sense of something watching, something waiting.
And then, without warning, it was gone.
Silence.
Ludwig didn't move. His legs were still weak, his body still shaking. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, fast, erratic. But the worst part was the silence.
No one spoke. The air hung heavy, like something was still there, still in the room with them, just out of sight.
He turned to the others. The first thing he noticed was Gunter. The man was gone. Not dead, not in any way Ludwig had ever seen before. His body was there, but it wasn't Gunter anymore. It was... something else. His skin was pale, stretched tight over bone, his eyes wide open, but unseeing.
Ludwig couldn't tear his gaze away. But he had to.
The others were the same. They weren't dead. They were worse.
And then Ludwig understood.
The One That Came didn't kill them. It took them. It took them piece by piece, until nothing remained. Until they were nothing but empty shells, still standing, still breathing, but hollow.
The sound started again, this time closer, louder. His heart raced.
He couldn't move.
The figure returned, and it was standing directly in front of him. Ludwig felt his body go cold, every part of him screaming to run, but his legs wouldn't obey.
And then, the cold filled him. The void, the emptiness, it was inside him now, crawling through his chest, his mind.
His body fell to the floor, his vision dimming, but not before he felt the last, final realization crawl into his skull.
The One That Came had already taken him.
And there was nothing left to take.
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