The laughter echoing through the basement was now transforming into screams. The shadows lurking in the corners began to stir, inching slowly toward Aryan. He knew that if he lingered even a moment longer, his fate would be far worse than that of the wax doll.
Stepping back in panic, Aryan's foot collided with a heavy, rusted iron trunk.
Clatter-clatter-clatter...
The trunk shifted slightly from its position.
Aryan glanced behind the trunk. There was no wall there. The trunk had been concealing a dark, narrow hole in the wall. A smell of rotting air and damp earth wafted from the opening, but accompanied by a faint draft—signaling that this tunnel opened up somewhere outside or into a larger chamber.
"This is the only way," Aryan thought.
Summoning all his strength, he shoved the trunk further aside. The gap was just wide enough for someone to crawl through.
The sound of footsteps approaching from behind intensified. Without a second thought, Aryan lunged into the pitch-black void, dragging his body inside.
The tunnel was incredibly narrow and suffocating. Surrounded by wet earth, sharp stones scraped against his knees and elbows. Spiderwebs clung stickily to his face.
Clenching his flashlight between his teeth, Aryan dragged himself forward on his elbows.
After traveling some distance, he sensed someone standing at the tunnel's entrance—right where he had climbed in.
He didn't dare look back. He just kept crawling... and crawling.
After about ten minutes of struggle, the tunnel widened slightly. Now, he could move on his hands and knees.
Suddenly, he spotted a faint red glow ahead.
Strange sounds drifted from that direction... the rasp of a saw and the rhythmic thud-thud of a hammer.
Aryan crept slowly toward the light, reaching the very end of the tunnel. A metal grate blocked the path. He peeked through the grate.
His eyes went wide with horror.
The tunnel opened into an underground workshop.
Dozens, if not hundreds, of puppets hung from the ceiling. Some were missing hands, others missing legs.
And in the center of the room, at a large table... sat an old man. He was crafting a new puppet.
The old man lifted his face.
It was none other than the "real" Ramu Kaka! (Or at least, he looked exactly like him, but his eyes held a look of utter madness.)
He was painting the face of a puppet. And that puppet... was an exact replica of Aryan.
Ramu Kaka (or whatever that thing was) muttered:
"Just a little more... and then Aryan will be ours forever."
What happened next?