Mysterious Awakening

This is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

In the heart of the city, the afternoon sun bathed the streets in a warm light. The streets were alive with a flurry of activity. People hustled and bustled, their steps hurried, each engrossed in their own world and tasks for the day.

Without warning, a piercing “Crash!” interrupted the rhythm of the city.

From a towering building nearby, a massive pane of glass made its unexpected descent. As it crashed into the concrete below, it fragmented into myriad pieces, scattering in every possible direction. Several unfortunate pedestrians caught in its path sustained injuries from the flying shards.

The immediate reaction was a mix of panic and astonishment. While many sought refuge behind nearby structures or vehicles, others couldn’t resist the urge to trace the trajectory of the fallen glass. Their eyes fixed upwards, pinpointing the origin around the building’s 15th floor. From that vantage point, it was hard to gather all the details, but the shadows of people were discernible, frenetically bashing at the windows with an array of implements.

Given the building’s windows were of tempered glass — a material renowned for its resistance to breakage under typical conditions — the scene was all the more baffling. What could be so urgent or terrifying that it would drive individuals to shatter such windows, heedless of the peril posed to those below?

“There’s got to be something major going on. They’re trying to escape! Maybe there’s a fire?” one astounded observer postulated.

But another quickly countered, “But there’s no smoke. A fire doesn’t seem likely.”

Among the murmurs and gasps, another theory arose, “It’s so strange. Have they lost their minds? Or could the corporation be brainwashing them?”

As word of the unfolding crisis spread, more and more curious onlookers gathered, each straining to get a better view of the mysterious events on the 15th floor.

Suddenly, a voice pierced the whispers. “Help! Stay away! Someone, please!”

A distressed female office worker, tears glistening on her cheeks, was perched precariously on the window ledge. She seemed to be fleeing from something within the office. Her gestures grew more frantic, and she edged dangerously close to the precipice, evoking fears of a potential fall.

But just as she was about to leap, a force from within the office yanked her back, snatching her away from the horrified gazes below. Her anguished cry reverberated in the air, sending shivers down the spines of many spectators.

“Crash, Crash!”

In another window, a group of more robust male employees could be seen, equally desperate, attempting to descend one floor by breaking the windows. Their actions begged the question: what could have possibly transpired inside to push them to such extremes?

“It’s chaos up there! We need to get help!” cried a deeply concerned individual. Acting on this sentiment, several people whipped out their phones, intending to alert the authorities to the escalating situation.

Amid the mounting commotion, many spectators had their heads craned upwards, a blend of shock and curiosity evident in their eyes as they tried to decipher the puzzling scene above. Simultaneously, several others, keen to immortalize this otherworldly event, swiftly whipped out their smartphones, setting them to record.

A few steps away from the crowd, Miles stood, ice cream in hand. Each lick he took seemed deliberate, measured even. His brow was furrowed, and his attention was unswervingly directed at the eeriness of the 15th floor. The windows of that floor were blanketed in an unusual, dark blue-black haze. It wasn’t quite as thick as smoke, nor did it resemble the density of fog, but its very presence hinted at something abnormal. The haze was just translucent enough to let onlookers know that anyone inside that floor would be grappling with a clouded vision, barely able to discern more than mere shapes.

River, visibly disturbed, turned to him. “This is really happening, isn’t it? How did you even sense this would take place?”

Miles paused, considering his words. “It’s a kind of connection, I guess,” he began slowly. “It’s akin to a sixth sense humans claim to have. Only, in my case, it seems to be amplified.”

He took another deliberate bite from his cone. “Based on what I see, it’s unlikely any other floors will be influenced. But the 15th floor? They stand no chance. Whatever entity is at work here is powerful, capable of manipulating its immediate environment.”

Contemplating further, he said, “This phenomenon suggests the making of a ghost domain. If we had to rate it using those international scales, it’d probably rank as a Level B event.”

River’s unease grew. “Why linger here then? We have no stake in this. The smart move would be to leave before things spiral further.”

Miles shook his head, “We must observe. Gaining a deeper understanding of this phenomenon is crucial. Should we face a similar situation in the future, ignorance won’t serve us well.”

Finishing his ice cream, he reflected, “It’s quite a change, not being the central figure in such a bizarre occurrence. Being an observer has its merits, I suppose.”

While Miles seemed almost academic in his approach, River’s heart ached as she watched the palpable fear in the eyes of the 15th floor’s occupants. Memories of her own terrifying ordeal in a mall came flooding back. The ongoing crisis offered her no thrill, only deep-seated fear.

But as the saying goes, while laymen see the spectacle, the adept recognize the mechanics.

Eyes narrowing in thought, Miles mused, “Another supernatural occurrence in Spear City. How many of these have transpired recently? Both known and unknown to me… The frequency seems to be increasing.”

Remembering an earlier dialogue, he pondered aloud, “The widespread chaos that Professor James spoke of might be closer than we think.”

Drawing a deep breath, he ominously concluded, “The tranquility we know may soon be destroyed. These malevolent spirits will plunge the world into unprecedented despair.”

As Miles surveyed the scene, he was struck by the general lack of concern evident on the faces of the bystanders. They seemed to view the unsettling occurrence merely as a chance occurrence, an unexpected but intriguing disruption in their day.

How naive, Miles thought. Little did they know they were bearing witness to a genuine supernatural event, a rare occurrence that was unfolding right before their eyes.

“We need to move, and fast,” Miles whispered, his voice laden with urgency as he took another deliberate bite of his ice cream. “We must mobilize our resources, get our defenses up, and be ready for whatever comes next.”

A heavy weight settled in his heart, a creeping dread that felt all too familiar. As a ghost tamer, he had a heightened sensitivity to the supernatural realm, and what he sensed now was foreboding in the extreme.

They say before a storm, it’s not the rain or the thunder that heralds its arrival, but the subtle shifts in nature, like dragonflies flying lower than usual.

A heart-rending scream suddenly cut through the ambient noise, pulling everyone’s attention upwards.

A man, evidently overwhelmed by the sheer terror within, had leaped out from one of the broken windows. His descent was rapid, and as he made a gruesome impact with the ground, he ceased to be a living, breathing human being and instead turned into a mangled corpse.

It was a horrific, stomach-turning sight.

The crowd’s earlier detachment transformed into palpable fear, with many screaming and scattering in different directions. Miles, however, remained rooted to the spot, unfazed, methodically finishing his ice cream.

River, unable to stomach the horror any longer, took refuge behind Miles, seeking comfort in his proximity.

“For many, jumping is a desperate bid to escape an unimaginable terror,” Miles commented coolly. “However, a wiser strategy would be to confront the entity head-on, especially when it’s preoccupied with another. In such situations, there’s always a chance that one might be overlooked.”

It sounded like a straightforward plan, but executing it amidst the prevailing panic was another matter altogether. An individual attempt at such an escape was doomed; what was required was collective action. Yet, having seen the sheer might of the ghost, most victims were too paralyzed with fear to act. Some, driven to utter despair, chose the finality of death over facing the horror.

But just as the situation seemed dire, the unmistakable roar of specialized vehicles echoed in the distance. They approached from multiple directions, blatantly flouting traffic norms as they raced to the crisis epicenter.

“Quick response,” Miles noted, admiration tinged with skepticism in his voice. “Effective for mundane emergencies, but this? This is a world they might not be equipped for.”

Even if the ghost tamers were to take immediate action, extracting the trapped souls from the ghost’s clutches would be a herculean task. Confronting such a powerful entity without adequate preparation might spell doom even for the seasoned tamers.