Thud. Creak. Groan. With every step he took, the old, decaying floorboards shrieked in protest. The awful sound was like the terrified screams of those who had witnessed his existence. In the long, yet short, agonizing hours between the fall of night and the break of dawn, he roamed. Night after night, he tore through the mansion searching for his head, but it cruelly refused to return to its master.

To exist in this horrific form was an unspeakable torment, a profound humiliation. But the hatred, resentment, and thirst for vengeance that soaked into his very bones only fueled his will. Once he found his head, he would snuff out their lives. No, even if he couldn't find it, he would crush them until they couldn't draw a single breath, making them pay for their sins with a brutal death. Those who dared to deceive and betray him, who left him in this state. And all the foolish souls who brought about this tragedy. Tonight, he would not fail.

The air feels different today. A faint vibration, an echo spreading from a single point. They've finally shown up. His sinister aura blazed hotter, feeding on the fear of your presence. Enraged, he strode toward where he sensed you were. His vengeance is meant for another, but without a head, he doesn't know who you are. He only knows you as his enemy.