Mysterious Awakening

A piercing scream reverberated from within a residential building located in a nondescript neighborhood.

The front door remained securely locked, the interior of the house teeming with an imposing group of suit-clad men.

“Ah, a ghost tamer. Your kind are as common as muck — half human, half ghost. Ethan, you’re far from the worst,” remarked a steely young man, wielding a baton with an air of cool detachment. He was addressing Ethan, a ghost tamer chained to the floor, his limbs cruelly secured with nails.

“Do you think I’m unfamiliar with dealing with humans? I might lack the nerve or the knack for dealing with ghosts, but people? That’s my game,” he added, his gaze boring into Ethan who lay on the ground, blood seeping from his wounds.

“Where is the ghost you trapped at the mall? Is it with this Miles character?”

“I won’t divulge anything. And if you’re feeling brave, try extracting the ghost from within me,” Ethan retorted from his prone position.

Though imbued with the power to command ghosts, Ethan was vastly inferior when it came to dealing with his own kind. Currently incapacitated, chained, and nailed to the ground, he was completely at their mercy. The chains and nails binding him were an amalgam of steel and gold, designed specifically to subdue a ghost tamer like him.

“Of what use is the ghost within you? It’s the item I want. Even if you keep your mouth shut, Miles will not. Once I have confirmation, you’re a goner. Knowing you, I’m quite sure you wouldn’t entrust something so precious to a novice,” the young man, who was himself a ghost tamer, coldly intoned.

This detached individual, known as Writing, was the mastermind behind the operation.

“If I were to die, the ghost within me would be unleashed. You won’t escape the consequences,” Ethan spat out, gritting his teeth in defiance.

A scoff escaped Writing’s lips, “That’s not my problem. I’ll have long since vanished, leaving those other ghost tamers at HQ to clean up your mess. Do you really think the prospect of your death and the release of a vengeful ghost scares me? Ghost or man, it doesn’t matter. Threats mean nothing to me. This is the life I’ve chosen.”

With these words, he swung the baton savagely at Ethan’s head once again.

A choked cry escaped from Ethan as he received the brutal blow, his skull caving in as if it were on the verge of splitting apart. An injury of such magnitude would have claimed the life of an ordinary person. However, Ethan merely let out a heart-wrenching scream, showing no signs of impending death.

“You’re quite the survivor, aren’t you?” Writing taunted, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “Despite the beating, you refuse to die, you ghostly half-breed. But survival seems to be the extent of your talents.”

As he delivered yet another round of merciless blows to Ethan’s arms and legs, the sickening sound of snapping bones filled the room. Ethan was a sight of grotesque horror, his body riddled with wounds from which blood poured profusely.

“Go ahead and keep trying,” Ethan managed, lifting his face, now a macabre mask of blood, to grin at Writing. “I’m not long for this world, and you won’t get your hands on that box even if you kill me.”

This assertion raised Writing’s curiosity. “What are you implying? Did you entrust the artifact to that greenhorn, Miles? It’s hard to believe you’d put your faith in a ghost taming novice,” he retorted, his patience thinning as he struggled to decipher Ethan’s cryptic utterances.

Even in the face of Ethan’s resolute silence, Writing was beginning to connect the dots. The sought-after item must not be with Ethan, or else he wouldn’t be so obstinate.

“Reach out to Summit. Inform him the item is with this Miles character,” Writing commanded abruptly, his tone frosty. “If diplomacy fails, resort to threatening his family. A young rookie will crumble under pressure. We mustn’t let the fact that he’s a ghost tamer intimidate us. In the worst-case scenario, we’ll sever a few of their fingers as a warning. Ghost tamers may be formidable, but they’re not immortal. If we fear retaliation, lying low for a few months should suffice.”

His use of the term ‘negotiation’ was a euphemism for coercion. No one cognizant of the actual cost would ever agree to such terms, let alone stand for abduction and threats.

“Understood, boss. I’ll contact Summit right away,” one of Writing’s men promptly responded.

It was then that Ethan let out a bitter, painful chuckle.

“What’s so amusing?” Writing demanded, brutally shoving the baton into Ethan’s mouth as if to silence him. “Decided you no longer require your tongue?”

Ethan fought against the agony to articulate his response. “I’m laughing at your blunder. You’ve correctly deduced that the box is with Miles, but you don’t know why. It’s not that I willingly entrusted the box to him. I simply couldn’t reclaim it.”

“What are you implying, Ethan?” Writing queried, an edge of uncertainty creeping into his voice.

“I’m suggesting that despite being a novice, Miles may prove more formidable than you anticipate. You’ll regret your actions if you proceed with your plan to steal the item from him.”

“Is that so? I look forward to seeing what this rookie can do,” Writing sneered, his apprehension towards ghost tamers barely masking his innate bravado.

Ghost tamers led fleeting lives, often hesitant to unleash the full power of their ferocious ghostly counterparts. Unrestrained use of such force could result in their death, a consequence of the ghost’s rebirth. Furthermore, the strength of these formidable spirits held no sway over gold.

Hence, restraining the ghost tamers with a few gold-crafted items rendered them powerless.

“Boss, I’m unable to get through to Summit,” one of Writing’s men reported, his brows creased in bewilderment as he hung up the phone.

“Unable to reach him?” Writing echoed, a frown forming on his face. “Try the others, that youngster Liu Shao, all of them. It’s improbable that none of them can be contacted.”

“Boss, we’ve tried everyone. There’s no response,” the men confirmed, their futile attempts amplifying the tension in the room.

“There’s no need to continue. They must have encountered trouble,” Ethan interjected between labored breaths, a malicious grin twisting his blood-streaked face. “Your chances of success might’ve been slightly higher if you’d confronted Miles yourself, unanticipated. But sending Summit? That’s a gamble, to be honest.”

“Silence him, secure him here, and let him await his demise,” Writing commanded, his expression growing stern. “Join me in heading to Summit’s location.”

Writing had assumed dealing with the young Miles would be simple, allowing him to focus on subduing Ethan. He hadn’t anticipated an abrupt complication elsewhere.

Just as they prepared to tape Ethan’s mouth shut…

“Knock, knock, knock.”

The sudden knocking at the door arrested their actions.

“Hmm?”

All activity ceased as the room’s occupants turned their attention to the front door.

“Check who it is,” Writing nonchalantly directed one of his men.

The man peered through the peephole, only to find no one outside.

“Boss, there’s no one out there,” he informed Writing.

“If there’s no one, resume your tasks. You, keep watch at the door,” Writing commanded.

However, as the man continued his vigil…

“Knock, knock, knock.”

The knocking resonated once more, only this time, it originated from one of the side doors.

“What’s happening?” Confusion rippled through the room as everyone’s gaze instinctively darted toward the source of the noise.

“We inspected that room earlier; it should be empty.”

“That can’t be right. I hear footsteps. There’s someone moving around in there.”

“Boss, something’s not right. Do you think we might have a ghost on our hands?”

At the mention of a ‘ghost,’ a collective shudder swept through the room, their hearts skipping a beat.

Their bravado stemmed from confronting human ghost tamers, beings with rationality and vulnerabilities. But to face an actual ghost? They would need an audacity tenfold.

Ghosts were notorious for their indiscriminate killing.

“Paranormal activity? Are we really so unfortunate to face such an improbable event today?” Writing’s countenance turned sour instantaneously. He gestured to his men, “We need to evacuate. Leave Ethan here. If a ghost is present, it will target him first, buying us time. Keep calm.”

“Understood, boss.”

The henchmen were eager to heed his instructions, moving quickly towards the front door.

However, the one who attempted to open it paled, “I… I can’t open it. The door won’t budge.”

Despite the exertion of his strength, the lock on the front door appeared unyielding, refusing to respond.

“Step aside. I’ll break the lock,” another interjected, brandishing a tool with the intent to forcibly breach the lock and facilitate their escape.

At that moment, the subtle creak of a door being opened echoed through the room.

The doorknob of a side room turned down slowly, hinting at the emergence of something—or someone—from within.

Instantly, everyone’s heart was lodged in their throat.

“We’re done for~!”

Despair started creeping into the minds of some.

Their past encounters with ghost tamers had instilled a deep understanding of the terror a real ghost could inspire.

“Did I just overhear someone complimenting my looks?”

In the next moment, the door swung open, revealing a curious Miles peeking out, akin to an inquisitive child, before stepping fully into view.