Enchanted University of Magemenos

Chapter 71:The mansion.

At the entrance stands an old woman, her face deeply lined with age and wisdom. Her hair, entirely silver, is swept back into a neat bun, and she's dressed in traditional Chinese robes that seem to flow with a timeless elegance. In one hand, she holds a candle that flickers faintly in the dim light, casting an eerie glow across her face. Beside her looms a massive stone block, so large it could easily be the length of one and a half elephants, stacked on their sides.

The woman doesn't say a word, but her eyes meet mine briefly, intense and knowing. It's as if she's waiting for us to understand something unspoken, some silent rule of the game.

"Welcome, students... I'm very happy to have you here in the mansion. I hope you have a good time," the old lady says in a frail voice, setting down her candle to push the massive brick away from the door.

"Come on, guys, give her a hand!" shouts a blonde guy impatiently. "By the time this lady opens the door, our loop will have restarted! She's taking forever!"

A few of us glance at each other, unsure whether helping her is part of the game or a trap, but the sense of urgency wins over. We step forward, bracing against the enormous brick, trying to heave it aside before the loop starts again.

I can't help but wonder—why put an elderly lady here just to greet us? Are they trying to waste our time on purpose?

We all crowd around, hands on the giant brick, grunting and pushing to get it out of the way. Well, everyone except one girl with flawless manicured nails. She stands back, eyeing the brick with obvious reluctance.

"Oh, come on!" I mutter to myself, watching her delicately inspect her nails. "Why even bother playing if you're so worried about chipping a nail? Maybe a nail salon would be more her speed!"!

A girl's panicked voice breaks through the quiet, "My hand—it's stuck! It's turning black! What's happening?!"

My heart pounds as I try to pull my own hand free, but it's like it's fused to the brick. Black veins crawl up my wrist, darkening my skin, and my nails start to take on a shadowy, unnatural hue. I look up, and the old lady's smirk sends a chill down my spine. Her expression isn't one of surprise; it's one of satisfaction, as though trapping us was her plan all along.

How did we let ourselves fall for this? My mind races.

"Listen, everyone," I say, trying to keep calm. "Let's wait for the loop to reset. Panicking won't help. When it restarts, we'll get another chance to break free."

The loop resets, and just like that, we're back at the entrance. This time, we're on high alert, carefully watching the old woman, determined not to fall into her trap again.

But something's different. Where there had been a massive brick to her right, now the old lady stands on the left of the door, her hand gripping a long, hot steel rod. Beside her, a young child sobs in agony as she strikes him with the rod, leaving searing marks. His cries cut through the air, and my stomach twists at the sight.

"Why is she hitting him?" whispers a girl behind me, voice trembling. "Is this some illusion to lure us in, or... or is this real?" She covers her face, horrified. "I can't watch this. He's just a kid—he could be my brother's age. I need to help him."

But none of us dare to move, frozen in the uncertainty of what's real and what's part of the game.

"What child? Are you all blind or something?" scoffs the brunette girl, still preoccupied with inspecting her nails.

"There is!" we all exclaim in unison, eyes wide as we point toward the terrifying scene unfolding in front of us.

"I see the same brick as before," she replies, unfazed.

A guy in the back chimes in, piecing things together. "Guys, I think this is the void—the hallucinations it's creating. She's the only one who didn't touch the brick, so she's not seeing what we're seeing. It's all in our heads. The brick is still there, and everything else is just an illusion. Let's ignore it and move forward."

We exchange nervous glances, feeling the chill of realization. Bracing ourselves, we step forward, determined to focus on what's real, even as the haunting image of the child lingers at the edge of our minds.