Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended [Part Two]

CHAPTER 215: Hocus-pocus & the Subterranean Fiend

The dim glow of candlelight flickered across the room, casting ominous shadows against the silk curtains and ornate furnishings. A light mist of incense curled through the air, carrying the sweet scent of strawberries and vanilla—an odd choice for a supposed ritual of malice.

Lyndoria stood in the center of it all, a vision of delicate yet dangerous allure. Her lacy black lingerie clung to her curves, the sheer fabric teasing soft, porcelain skin. Her long, silken legs were bare, her thighs plush, and her hips smooth and shapely, accentuated by the dim lighting. Her ash brown hair cascaded down her back and shoulders in sleek waves, and her copper eyes gleamed with wicked determination.

Before her lay a poorly drawn magic circle, its markings uneven, smeared in what was unmistakably chocolate syrup. At its heart sat a small straw doll, its silvery threads imitating the hair of her most despised foe, and golden buttons for eyes that glimmered soullessly beneath the flickering flames.

Around it, an assortment of ritualistic "offerings" was placed with utmost reverence: a plate of cupcakes, a mountain of cookies, and a suspiciously empty pudding cup—an unfortunate casualty of her earlier "preparations."

Lyndoria lifted her arms dramatically, her voice dropping to a whisper as she began her incantation.

"Zigarith, Malgaron, Shakarooo... Bazoombas... Haxxor Starfarce—No! Starfrost! By the will of the dark abyss... by the fury of the forsaken... may this accursed vermin be swallowed by the eternal flames of suffering!"

She raised a hand to the heavens, then, with all the solemnity of a high priestess, stabbed a pin straight into the doll's stomach.

The stuffed monsters surrounding the ritual circle flinched in unison. The Owlbear plushy, still wrapped in bandages from past atrocities, subtly inched away, hoping to avoid another round of abuse.

Lyndoria exhaled, brushing a nonexistent bead of sweat from her brow. A satisfied smile curled on her lips. "Hah! That should send him straight to the netherworld for making the princess worry! Suffer, Haxks Starfrost!"

Feeling triumphant, she turned toward her dresser to fetch her clothes when she happened to catch sight of herself in the standing mirror.

She paused.

Her brows furrowed.

Slowly, her eyes lowered, and her expression darkened with despair. After weeks of practically replacing her daily intake of water with milk, her chest was still... underwhelming.

A vein twitched at her temple.

Her head turned, almost mechanically, toward the trembling Owlbear plushy, its beady eyes wide with dread.

CRACK. CRACK.

Lyndoria rolled her wrists, her fingers flexing ominously. The shadows stretched as she loomed over the unfortunate plushy. The Owlbear—battle-scarred and weary—quivered beneath her piercing glare.

A single tear slid down its stitched cheek.

"Blame the gods who made me like this," she seethed, lunging forward.

The candles flickered wildly as the room filled with the sounds of stuffing being pounded mercilessly into submission.

***

Daisuke burst from the forest into a vast clearing, his boots kicking up a flurry of snow as he came to a sharp halt. Ahead, a frozen pond stretched wide beneath the darkening sky, its fractured surface reflecting the last traces of daylight like shattered glass.

But he had no time to take in the scenery—his eyes immediately locked onto something far more alarming.

A single iron nail was driven into the ground, its surface smeared with crimson. A few feet away, an axe lay abandoned, its hilt darkened with blood. And then—drag marks. Deep, desperate grooves in the snow leading straight to the pond's edge... before vanishing beneath the ice.