Novel Full Chapter 1877: Bone Against Bone
Chapter 1877: Bone Against Bone
Villain Ch 1877. Bone Against Bone
The sound echoed through the crooked alleyways, deeper than before—less hollow, more human. It didn’t clang like metal striking metal. It rang like bone against bone. Slow. Deliberate. Measured.
Allen sheathed his sword in a slow, lazy motion. Smoke still curled around his boots, tendrils rising from the corpses—or what passed for them—that now stained the cobblestone black. The fog hissed with it, thick as soup, curling around ankles like fingers that hadn’t learned to let go.
Shea stepped up beside him, wiping her blade-wings down with two feathers that sizzled softly as they absorbed the lingering magic. She glanced sideways, narrowing her dark eyes. “You looked excited, Allen.”
Allen grinned, not bothering to hide it. “I am.”
The smile wasn’t for the blood. Not just that.
It was for the puzzle.
Because now—finally—it had a shape.
He stared down at where the last Faceless Daughter had collapsed. Nothing was left but scorched stone and a faint, smoky residue seared into the cobbles. But something lingered—a feeling. Not magic. Not threat. Just sorrow, thick and heavy, like dust trapped in forgotten sunlight.
Allen knelt, dragging two fingers through the charred imprint. The stone was still warm. Too warm. It pulsed beneath his touch like it had once lived.
Then he saw it.
Folded beneath a splinter of scorched dollbone was a scrap of paper—half-scorched, still damp at the edges. Childlike handwriting scrawled in dark ink, the lines shaky and stained. As if written in a rush. Or with trembling hands.
He picked it up. Carefully. The paper was soft. Fragile.
He read.
“I’m just a child… Just a child…”
“Yet… they will marry me… to the landlord… to pay my father’s debt.”
“I don’t want it.”
“I ran to Grandma. I hoped she could help me.”
“But I was wrong…”
A slow exhale escaped him. Not shock. Not pity. Just the sharp click of understanding falling into place.
Behind him, Vivian let out a low whistle. “Oh, that’s dark. Even by my standards.”
Jane’s voice came cold. Measured. “That wasn’t a spawn. That was a memory. A soul, twisted. Bound into a doll.”
“A vessel,” Allen murmured, rising to his feet, the brittle paper still in his fingers. “But not a lie.”
Then came the system ping—cruel, clean, and red.
[Quest Updated.]
[Clue Discovered: Daughter’s Note]
[Objective Added: Locate the Grandmother’s House.]
[Optional Objective Added: Discover the Identity of the Landlord.]
The fog shivered as the text vanished, almost like the town itself was flinching.
Bella’s tails twitched uneasily. “So… the dad sold his daughter to some landlord freak, she ran off, and… what? Got turned into a cursed doll?”
“She never made it out,” Allen said. “Or she did, and the curse caught her anyway. Either way… this town turned her pain into a loop.”
Alice twirled her broom once, then rested it on her shoulder like a battle banner. “You think grandma did something?”
“She tried to escape,” Zoe muttered. Her tentacles flexed, still twitching from the fight. “But the curse doesn’t let you escape. It feeds on that.”
Larissa ran her tongue along one fang, thoughtful. “So… everything here’s a performance. A loop. And we’re walking through the script.”
Allen didn’t respond at first. He was watching the alley ahead—narrow, crooked, lined with broken flowerpots and shuttered windows. One shutter twitched. Just once.
His voice came low. Controlled. “Not a script. A confession.”
Shea’s expression shifted. Not her usual teasing confidence, but something darker. “You think the town’s showing us how it died?”
Allen’s hand drifted back to his hilt. Not out of fear. Habit.
Preparedness.
“I think it’s trying to make us understand.”
Vivian tilted her head, hair falling over her shoulder like spilled wine. “How thoughtful of it.”
“No,” Allen said. “It’s not kindness. It wants empathy. And when it gets it, it breaks you.”
He started walking.
The street stretched forward like a throat. Stone gave way to dirt, dirt gave way to wooden boards slick with moss and damp rot. The houses leaned in tighter now—closer, heavier, like they were listening. The air had changed. It tasted sweeter. Wrong. Like perfume poured over something dead.
Zoe muttered, “It smells like a sick girl’s bedroom.”
Alice’s face scrunched. “That’s too specific.”
Vivian smirked. “I think that’s the point.”
Allen didn’t laugh this time.
He stopped at the next corner, eyes narrowing. There—hanging from a rusted lantern pole—was a child’s dress. Pale blue. Torn at the hem. Blood on the collar. Still damp.
The girls tensed.
The lantern above it flickered on. By itself.
Allen didn’t move for a long moment. He stared at the dress. At the light. Then at the ground beneath it—scratched. Clawed. Not human.
Not monster either.
A message was scrawled there, carved into the wood by something desperate.
HELP
CAN’T BREATHE
SHE’S COMING
Vivian muttered, “Oh, this is getting fun.”
Jane was already tracing glyphs in the air, dark runes forming around her hand. “We’re being lured. Again.”
“I know,” Allen said.
He stepped under the lantern. The light flickered. The fog coiled tight around his legs. For a second, he thought he felt a hand close around his ankle—but when he looked down, it was gone.
Only mud.
Only rot.
Only a heartbeat in the floorboards.
“Keep moving,” he said.
“Toward what?” Shea asked.
“Her house.”
The alley twisted again, and there it was.
A gate, half-broken. A stone path overrun with weeds. Flowers dead in planters. A house too small to be innocent, with a roof that sagged like a broken spine. Every window had been painted black from the inside.
Allen stepped up to the gate.
It didn’t creak. It didn’t move. It just opened. Like it was waiting.
The others followed. No one joked now. Even Bella was quiet.
Allen stood on the porch, staring at the wooden door. There were scratches on it. No, not scratches. Words. Carved with something blunt. Desperate.
I DIDN’T MEAN TO
SHE WAS BLEEDING
WHY WOULDN’T SHE STOP
Allen traced the letters with one finger. They were old. Dried. But the message still screamed.
He turned to the group. “Weapons out. No spells. No skills. We go in quiet. If it moves, you cut it.”
They nodded.
He pushed the door open.