Mikel didn't think—he just acted. As soon as danger invaded his personal space, his body reacted purely on instinct.
CRACK!
He raised the Grimoire just in time to catch the hard, jointed limb between its pages. The book trembled in his grip, the claw-like end stopping inches from his face.
"Give me a break…" he grunted through gritted teeth, staring at the freshly sharpened nail. It sliced into the Grimoire's pages as it tried to push forward.
Fear bubbled in his chest, making him swallow hard.
It had only been a few days since his first encounter with an evil ghost. Couldn't they wait a little longer?
"What the hell is this now?" His voice shook as he struggled to hold the limb back, searching frantically for a solution. "Doom—where the hell are you?"
No response. Doom's odd silence added to the pressure in his chest.
Damn it! Now that I need you, you're gone?!
A strained groan escaped between his clenched teeth as he twisted the Grimoire with all his might.
CRACK!
The bone snapped with a sickening crunch, yet there was no cry of pain. Adrenaline urged him on. Pressing the book tighter, he twisted again, pinning it to the floor with a smack. Another snap echoed. The weight vanished as the long finger broke away, trembling in the air, blood dripping but not reaching the floor. Almost like the blood from the severed joint was a jelly just hanging mid-air.
The hell?
But Mikel didn't wait to wonder.
He scrambled backward, pushing across the floor to create distance between himself and the threat. All the lights in the living area shattered, making him flinch mid-crawl.
When his back hit the wall, he sat up, wide eyes fixed on the long—very long—non-human fingers creeping through his house.
They weren't like the slithering hair from his first ghost encounter. These felt more like writhing pipes, invading his home from every angle.
"Damn… I thought it was the end for me," he panted, trying to steady his breath as the fingers paused mid-motion. Instinctively, he held his breath, keeping as quiet as possible.
Mikel's eyes tracked the limbs carefully. They were spreading, probing, but not attacking, as if they were searching for something... or someone — him.
Doom… don't tell me you're angry?
Come on, dude. I might die tonight—Is this a dream?!
Had he fallen asleep? Or had exhaustion blinded him to it?
Before he could make sense of anything, something burst through the wall just inches from his side, grazing him.
[No, Master. This is not a dream.]
Are you doing this on purpose?! Why are you just showing up now?
He clutched his side, gritting his teeth as pain spread like ice across his ribs. The sharp sting grounded him in reality. This was happening. This was real. It wasn't just a dream but a living nightmare.
What is that thing?!
---
[Threat Detected: The Blighted]
[Cursed Type: Corrupted]
[Overview: Corrupted by the shard of the Mourning Eye. It does not just haunt—it hunts.]
Blighted are newly tainted spirits, often retaining fragments of their memories in the early stages of mutation. As a result, they are confused, aggressive, and unstable.
[Skills:]
- Devour Spirit: Heals or strengthens by consuming other spirits.
- Sorrow's Mist: Releases a decaying mist that weakens targets within its range.
- Cursed Rites: Self-destructs in a blast of curse energy. A final death curse to all affected.
[Threat Level: Low to Mid]
[Objective: Exorcise before it reaches its final stage of mutation.]
[It can grow stronger, Master—stronger than the Nightbound. If you don't seal it before it finishes mutating, it'll ascend to a Greater Blight.]
---
Maybe because he'd been bonded with Doom, the influx of data felt oddly digestible. But even then, Doom's feed glitched—like it was struggling to generate. Deep down, he knew something was wrong with Doom.
Are you alright?
Doom didn't answer. Not a tick, not a pulse, nothing like the ones that often made Doom remind him it was there in him.
Mikel shook his head. This wasn't the time to worry about Doom's well-being. Not when his home was being invaded by pipe-like limbs moving like a giant and multiple caterpillars.
How the hell do I exorcise this thing? The only exorcism I know is from that movie with the creepy doll. Do I light incense and call its name or something?!
Panic pounded in his head, and the cold sting on his side wasn't helping.
Then, the book in his palm grew warm, subtly pulsing as if to announce its presence. He looked down, noticing thin smoke rising from the closed pages.
---
[Exorcising spirits depends on the threat level. Traditional human exorcisms shown in theaters are inaccurate at best. The Book of the Dead contains not only the knowledge of your world but also that of others.]
[It will teach you. I, Doom, on the other hand, serve as support—a guide.]
Doesn't that make you useless?
Mikel grumbled internally as he flipped to the page he remembered burning before. It felt like Doom was withdrawing—becoming distant. But he didn't have time to deal with Doom's mood swings right now.
Found it!
His eyes narrowed, struggling to read the faint writing in the dark. He muttered the ritual under his breath, reading as fast as he could, only to frown.
I don't like this.
Snapping the book shut, a spark flickered in his gaze.
The Grimoire had given him a clear instruction: acknowledge the ghost's identity and write its name on the page.
What bothered him wasn't the task but the book itself. Reading it felt like using a dictionary to understand a word, only to need another one to understand the definition.
I hate to admit it, but I think you and I make a better team, Doom.
As if pleased, Doom responded:
[Would you like an epic song that boosts morale?]
"I don't care—you're gonna do it, anyway. Just keep the protocol on." Mikel muttered as he rose to his feet. His eyes scanned the limbs crawling through his home, writhing slowly and deliberately.
The air also felt heavy as mist, and the decaying smell seemed to start materializing.
After a deep breath, he yelled, "Hey! You looking for me?"
The limbs froze.
Then, all at once, eyes—countless of them—opened across them.
Holy shit.
---
[Playing Moral Booster: "Stayin' Alive"]
Mikel's face twitched as the song's intro blared inside his head. For some reason, he could feel Doom, the bracelet, even the book, vibing with the beat.
Triple hell. Is this what my life is now? Haunted, hunted… and singing disco songs with cursed items?
"Screw it!" he growled, as the creature hissed. Mikel charged forward, grabbed one of the spine-like limbs, and vaulted over it.
As he moved, the system chimed in and projected just to his peripheral vision, enough for him to see it, but not enough to distract him.
---
[Playing: "Stayin' Alive"]
[Protocol: Active]
[Host and System: Synced]
[Initiating Exorcist Drive…]
[Ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive~]
While all these prompts flickered before him, Mikel felt his movement lighten like someone had oiled his joints and removed all hesitation from his nerves. He dodged the incoming attacks. The spinal cord-like growths rammed through his way like pipes striking him one after another.
When Mikel neared the window, he suddenly took a side step. Behind him came one of the biggest growths, shattering through the window. At the sharp crash, he grabbed its length and almost rode it outside.
As soon as he landed on the small front lawn, he saw it.
Cocking his head back, the first thing he saw was this gigantic slender being crouched just around his home. Its knee was level with the roof. It was peeking through the window as if looking for something in a doll house, only to slowly move its head over the roof before its bulging eyes suddenly dropped to where Mikel was.
It didn't just search—its gaze locked onto him, heavy with eerie finality, as if a decision had just been made.
That's… one hell of a malnourished giant.
Mikel was almost in disbelief, unsure whether to run at this point or offer it some soup.
"I haven't even figured out what I am yet… and this thing wants to end me? I am so not ready for this."
—
Meanwhile, somewhere…
Blue and red lights from a police mobile flashed in the area as officers slowly pulled up a yellow tape to seal off what looked like a crime scene. Inside, the forensics team checked the home while some officers investigated.
"Victim: Female, around mid-sixties. Aside from the big hole we got over there, there's no sign of forced entry…"
As an officer droned on, the detective crouched beside the dead body in the small bedroom. He scanned the body, drained of blood, yet no traces were found. She died with her eyes and mouth open, as if she had seen something horrifying before she took her last breath.
"She's a shaman," the same officer added, snapping his eyes at the detective. "At least, that's what she claimed herself to be and what she does for a living."
The detective kept his observant eyes on the victim, his eyes shifting to the broken bracelet — with some of it missing — just right next to the body. Once he stood again, he shot the officer a look.
"Ask around the neighborhood just in case," he said with a tap on the officer's shoulder before walking out of the house.
As soon as he stepped out, he took out his phone and called someone.
"Chief, I need someone from Zone Zero here," he requested as he looked back at the small house. From his vantage point, he could see the ruined part of the back entrance as if something massive had broken through it.
"I have no idea what code to call, but this looks bad. Those guys from Zone Zero are going to want to see this in person."