The creature that appeared before him seemed to have once been human. Now it was some madman dressed in a worn nobleman's suit. His hair was disheveled, sticking out in all directions. The stranger jumped in place, burst into a terrifying, inhuman laugh, and rushed at the grate where the hero had been standing a second earlier. The madman struck the bars again and again with frenzied force, constantly breaking into fits accompanied by wild laughter. Then he inserted a key into the door's lock, opened it, and ran farther down the corridor.
The Cursed opened the door and carefully stepped outside. This did not feel like a release. He had the sense that he had stepped out of one trap and into another—far more terrifying one.
He moved down the corridor in the direction the madman had gone. A strange, ominous atmosphere enveloped the surroundings. He felt that something otherworldly was taking place.
He turned just in time.
At the far end of the corridor, a tall, solid figure stood in the half-light. Two fires burned in the area of its eyes. The figure raised a massive bow, set a long arrow to it, and drew the string. A shot followed.
The Cursed, using his vampiric strength, stepped aside. The arrow hissed past him. It scorched him, and he realized it carried a magical nature.
The dark figure nocked another arrow. The Cursed turned and ran farther down the corridor. He vanished around the corner before the second arrow could reach him.
Beyond the turn lay another corridor.
A tense face flashed in the darkness. The man cried out. Then he recognized the hero.
"Are you prey too? This is the Castle of the Psychopaths. The place infamous across the entire northwestern part of the Land of Filth. The Psychopath family lives here, and every night they hunt the captives that grim carriages collect from the surrounding areas. They hunt us.
They say that in ancient times, the family accepted a magical artifact from a terrifying sorcerer. They gained magical power that gradually drove them insane and made them mad. They craved power and worship, but the Sorcerer gave them the cursed artifact, seeking to destroy their bloodline over an old vendetta.
The Psychopath family is immensely powerful—and just as mad. There is nothing more terrifying than psychopaths racing through the castle at night in pursuit of their prey. They draw their strength from the artifact. No prey has ever survived this horrific hunt.
There is only one chance. The artifact must be destroyed. It is kept somewhere on the upper floor of the castle."
They ran together down the castle corridor. Behind them, hissing sound echoed. The magical arrow pierced the runner's body, tearing him apart. A fountain of blood spattered the corridor walls. The Cursed kept running.
The arrows struck through the corridor and tore several more runners apart. But the Cursed kept running, still dodging them.
He reached the stone staircase leading to the next floor and began his ascent.
A terrifying roar echoed along the walls above.
Two runners were climbing two flights ahead. Before them stood a massive figure in dark armor with a huge two-handed sword. A crest with huge red eyes adorned the armor. A horned iron helm hid a new form of madness. The iron figure swung its terrifying bloodstained sword and, in a single motion, cut the runners in two.
It swung the sword at the Cursed, but he dodged with a few quick moves, ducked under the blow, and ended up behind. He ran on. Suddenly he ducked low and saw the enormous two-handed sword, humming heavily through the air, fly past him overhead until it pierced the stone wall and stuck halfway into it. The sword was magical. The terrifying knight had thrown it at his back, and if not for the vampiric and warrior reflexes, it would have pierced him through and torn him apart.