Becoming a God Starts with Acting

Chapter 490: [Crimson Inheritance] (9)

The restroom was bathed in a gloomy hue, tinged with an eerie blue glow. Moss crept along the cracks in the walls—something that definitely hadn’t been there just moments ago. And Silvanus was certain that, earlier, this restroom had not been this dilapidated or decayed.

The toilet and sink had turned a dull gray, while a murky, strange liquid flowed across the bathroom floor, carrying with it all sorts of nauseating, squelching sounds.

The sudden filth of the scene made Silvanus’s skin crawl. He turned his head, only to find that the door behind him had vanished without a trace. The entire space seemed to have undergone some abrupt transformation.

Right then, a text box suddenly appeared before his eyes—but the letters were blood-red...

[Special dungeon unlocked. The escape game has officially begun. Please survive for 15 minutes!]

"Click!"

At the same moment, the sound of a door being flung open rang out. The restroom door that had disappeared moments ago had now returned—and, as if considerate enough, it even swung open on its own, as though it could no longer wait to urge Silvanus to pass through it, to cross that boundary.

At the same time, a sound like something slithering through water suddenly echoed.

Within Silvanus’s line of sight, something pitch-black began to sway as it emerged from the mouth of the toilet.

Long, thin strands of hair twisted and coiled together. They paused for a brief instant—then suddenly surged forth in a writhing torrent, as if that place had become far too cramped for them. In the blink of an eye, the mass of hair poured out like a flood at an unimaginable speed!

Silvanus didn’t hesitate for even a second—he turned and ran out before the owner of that hair could fully emerge.

And it seemed that the one hunting him down was a... female ghost?

Silvanus had no desire to confirm the gender of that thing—he practically bolted as he fled the restroom.

Outside, the rooms were old and drafty, doors hanging open in disarray. The layout was clearly no different from before, yet everything had become bizarrely aged and ancient, washed in a dull, unnatural gray. Even the restroom door Silvanus had just run through had completely vanished. Only the howling wind remained, growing louder and louder, as everything exuded a strange sense of chaotic madness.

Silvanus gritted his teeth and pushed himself to run at full speed. But where could he run? Where could he go? If he dared to leave the castle, his fate would surely be no different from that of the tall man earlier.

And if he stayed here, death seemed just as inevitable. After all, he was only an ordinary person—how could his strength possibly compare to that of a ghost?

Use his God Realm?

He didn’t even fully understand how to use it yet. Besides, in his "script," that was supposed to be a final move, something to further complete the very concept of existence of Erebus...

Daddy...

He had just run past his own room. In that fleeting moment, countless thoughts suddenly flashed through his mind.

Everyone here shared one thing in common—their families had once been extremely wealthy. Wealthy enough to live a life without worry. Yet for some reason, they had all fallen into ruin and collapse due to seemingly simple causes.

Silvanus had come to this conclusion after listening to the others’ conversations.

In any case, right now, he was an "NPC," and he couldn’t take part in those "strange" discussions.

So perhaps it wasn’t unreasonable that they had been invited here. Maybe, from the very beginning, they had shared an even greater commonality—something they themselves had never realized.

The TV program kept replaying a single channel over and over: the bizarre death of a young man, and the corpse of a woman who had been buried seven years ago.

And he—a single father...

Silvanus suddenly stopped, then turned and walked straight into his room.

"Bang!"

The door slammed shut. The comments in front of him froze for a moment, seemingly stunned by his foolishness—then immediately erupted into loud mockery.

[Ha ha ha, thought you were so smart.]

[If you had the guts to run out of the castle, I might’ve praised your courage—pathetically stupid.]

[So this is goodbye already? Honestly, that face really won my heart.]

[I wonder how he’ll be butchered.]

[Thought we’d get to watch a grand performance... didn’t expect the show to end this soon.]

[Come on, beg—just beg. Shed a single tear and I’ll give you a prop to help you survive this.]

The comments were all waiting for the "actor" to kneel down, to cast aside all dignity and beg for mercy. But Silvanus was certain that what he would receive in return would be nothing more than even harsher ridicule. They simply wanted to watch others, stripped of all dignity, still struggle and plead in despair. fгeewebnovёl.com

He might as well treat this as his final act of resistance before being pushed to the brink.

Silvanus cast a glance at the comments, then directly made them disappear. The viewers froze for a moment, and soon after, a flood of furious insults erupted—but by then, none of it could reach Silvanus anymore.

He quickly surveyed the room before him. Everything was arranged exactly as before, except the entire place was shrouded in that same strange gray hue, no different from the corridor outside. More importantly, there were additional items in the room—things Silvanus had never brought with him.

Like the phone resting on the bedside table.

The moment Silvanus picked it up, the screen lit up. On it was him—his face. Yet he was certain that it wasn’t him. The man in the image looked exhausted, his body gaunt and frail. In his arms, he held a child around five or six years old, just as thin.

But this child...

Silvanus was sure this wasn’t Neo. Neo had black hair and green eyes, and his face resembled Silvanus by about fifty percent. freёwebnovel.com

This child also had jet-black hair, but his eyes were an inky, pitch-black void. His features were still immature, yet carried a distinctly feminine softness. Judging by his clothing and hairstyle, the child was supposed to be a boy...

Was this his real son? Then who was the child outside?

Silvanus’s thoughts grew heavy. He stared at the darkened phone screen, then let his gaze fall to the drawer.

"Creak—"

As the drawer was pulled open, it let out a sharp, grating noise. At the same time, the sound of something slithering through water drew closer and closer.

Yet Silvanus remained unfazed. His eyes were fixed only on the somewhat thick notebook inside, bound in black leather—it looked like a journal.