Matthew didn’t waste ti. He pulled himself off the bed and stepped over the ss. His body ached, but not in the sa way as before. It was... solid now. Like his limbs had been tightened, realigned, strengthened. As soone who spent the last few years of his previous life in a state of paralysis, it was easier for him to notice that his physical state had changed.
Matthew ignored the blood-soaked floor for now. He sat down in a lotus position and took a deep breath. Then another. His body still ached in places, but not the sa way as before. It was tight. Compressed. Efficient. He could feel it—like a machine that had just been tuned.
He closed his eyes and focused.
At first, there was only silence. Then, slowly, awareness settled in. His breathing evened out. He could feel his heart beating, sure, but beyond that... was sothing... more.
There was sothing else. A subtle pulse beneath the surface. His veins almost felt like he could trace them. He focused harder. He imdiately noticed blood flowing in his body, in his arms, legs, and chest. There was life in them.
Then a faint buzzing surfaced at the edge of his awareness. He opened his eyes. The room was empty. No movent. No sound.
And yet he could feel them. Ghosts.
Twenty, maybe thirty ters around him. The range was wide. Enough to cover a few rooms. The hallway outside. Even parts of the floor below.
Downstairs, near the entrance, there were two faint signatures. In the west wing, just past the old study, another hovered motionless. On the second floor, to the left, one was pacing. And right outside his door, he could feel one standing still, just hovering.
His senses were mapped out like a field. He could track them. Distances, movents, locations, he knew exactly where they were.
Matthew blinked.
He turned to face the wall. "You’re the one with the cane, aren’t you?" he muttered.
No response. But he already knew. He could see it. The faint silhouette. A man with a hunched back and a twisted leg, his face half-gone from so explosion or fire. Matthew tilted his head. He had made inquiries about the past of this house but didn’t have the ti to check it, so he had no clue how many people died there.
To his surprise, the ghost flickered. As if it was startled.
Matthew smiled faintly.
He brought his attention inward. The core.
It was still there. Not physical, but definite. Last night, it felt translucent. Fragile. Like a soap bubble that could pop any second.
Now? It was denser. Solid. Like a small marble lodged in the center of his chest. It pulsed faintly, its rhythm didn’t match his heartbeat.
He rembered what the ghost girl told him. Awakening was just step one. Sensing the core was normal. But solidifying it was another thing.
Once his core solidifies, then he will officially enter the Initiate Level and awaken so more abilities.
He wasn’t there yet. Not fully. But it was close.
He leaned forward slightly, eyes shut. He focused everything he had on the marble-like core. Let the sensations settle.
Pressure. Warmth. Gravity.
It didn’t grow, but it humd.
Maybe tomorrow, maybe in a week. But he was getting there. Faster than she predicted.
But before that—
He opened his eyes again. "Right now, I can sense them and it feels like they can sense too."
Before, only a handful of spirits ever reacted to him. Most drifted by, unaware or uninterested. Now, their attention felt different. It felt like they were aware of him.
Sothing had changed. Solidifying his core made his abilities stronger.
Whether that was a good thing or not, he couldn’t tell yet.
He glanced toward the nearest presence. "Can they talk to now?" he muttered. Talking to ghosts...
He thought about it for a second. That ability sounded great. Again, he concentrated and thought about the ghost outside of his door. Just as he expected, the ghost seed to notice his presence and actually turned in his direction.
"Can you hear ?" Matthew thought. When the ghost didn’t react, he mumbled, his voice louder. "Can you hear ?"
Again, the ghost didn’t react.
Matthew frowned. So, it could sense him but not react to his words?
Slowly, he got up and walked towards the door. He opened it and, just as he expected, the ghost was outside, hovering, staring at him. Matthew said, "Can you hear ?"
Again, the ghost flickered, but it did nothing. It didn’t respond or even acknowledge his words.
This ti, Matthew touched it. Again, it flickered. But this ti, Matthew’s body didn’t absorb it.
In the past, it was different.
Back then, there was no choice. No control.
The mont a ghost got too close, sothing in his body would kick in, an automatic pulling force. Like a vacuum buried in his chest, sucking them in whether he wanted it or not. The ghost would just vanish, dragged straight into him.
But this ti?
Nothing happened.
Matthew touched the ghost again, pressing his fingers through the flickering form. It trembled and wavered slightly, but stayed intact. Still hovering.
Matthew narrowed his eyes.
He closed the door behind him and took a deep breath. Then he reached inward, toward his core. He pictured the ghost as part of the energy around him, an extension of that field he’d sensed earlier.
"Co here," he whispered.
Then he focused.
This ti, the shift was imdiate. His core responded, not violently, but steadily. A subtle pressure ford in his chest. The ghost trembled. Its edges blurred, then stretched toward him. The pull had returned—but this ti, it wasn’t uncontrolled.
Matthew could feel the energy slipping through his fingers and into his body, drawn toward the marble-sized core inside him. It was like a stream of warm water pouring into a cold container. Not as intense as the spirit stone, but similar. Smooth. Gentle. Natural.
Matthew grinned as he embraced it.
The ghost shrank, piece by piece until only flickers remained. Then those too were gone. Matthew placed a hand on his chest. The core pulsed again, a bit stronger than before.
He exhaled, lips twitching into a grin. "So I can control it now."
He could feel it. The residue warmth spreading outward from the core. Not overwhelming, not like the near-fatal overload from the spirit stone. This was lighter. Cleaner. A fragnt of energy, now his.
It wasn’t much, but it was sothing. And more importantly?
He could now control it.
Matthew opened his eyes and let out a slow breath.
Talking to ghosts. It still sounded ridiculous, but after what just happened, he knew it was only a matter of ti before he could communicate with them. The ability was probably buried sowhere in the process, just waiting for him to reach the right level, the right condition.
But not every ghost was the sa.
His thoughts drifted to Jero. The man who’d tried to kill him in that underground auction house. That encounter hadn’t been like this. Jero’s spirit didn’t flicker or float around blindly like the others. It had presence and awareness. And more than that—Jero could talk. He could touch him.
He thought about how Jero tried to end his life and then the photo of the man plastered on the school. Jero was clearly dead, and he had retained sothing more. Intelligence. Emotions. And most importantly, so mories.
"Jero wasn’t like these," Matthew muttered.
Jero had felt solid. Powerful. Stronger than most people he’d t. anwhile, the ghost outside could barely respond, let alone speak. Was it because Jero had died recently? That had to matter—how long ago a person died had to affect sothing.
Then another thought crossed his mind.
What if ghosts had levels too?
Reviews
All reviews (0)