The glass cup bumped against the edge of the wooden board with a soft click.
Martha was completely panicked now, and she yanked her hand back.
“I'm not playing anymore!”
The smile on Lucy's face finally faltered as well.
But she still forced herself to hold out: “Don't scare yourselves...”
Yet her voice was clearly weak.
Irene stood up and subconsciously glanced around.
The air in the courtyard had grown incredibly cold at some point. Even the fire in the brazier was beginning to dim, burning not like normal charcoal but as if it were being suppressed by something.
Meanwhile, Ryan was now absolutely certain that something had gone wrong.
Because his eyes were growing hotter and hotter, and the grayish-white patterns at the edge of his vision were constantly spreading, even starting to overlay reality.
And—
The whispers were growing clearer. It wasn't an illusion.
Absolutely not.
He could even faintly hear a sound like wet cloth rubbing together, slowly drifting from the corner of the courtyard.
Ryan suddenly stood up.
“Stop.”
His voice was much heavier than before, causing the girls to freeze.
Especially Irene; it was her first time seeing such an expression on Ryan's face.
Pale.
Tense.
Those eyes of his were even frighteningly bright.
Lucy still wanted to be stubborn: “You can't seriously—”
“I said stop!”
Ryan suddenly raised his voice, and the air instantly fell silent.
Even Lucy was startled. Ryan could no longer care about anything else.
Because just now, he had clearly felt—
Some kind of "door" had been nudged open.
It was very faint, like someone tearing open a seam at the edge of reality.
And these girls—especially Lucy, a young person with highly active emotions who was easily influenced. Combined with Halloween Eve, the séance game, and finally, himself as a catalyst who already possessed the Lantern aspect, it was practically dragging something over by force.
Ryan felt his scalp go numb.
He finally understood just how disgusting the Invisible Arts in this cultist world were.
Most of the time, it wasn't even because someone intentionally summoned something.
Instead, once the conditions stacked up, certain things would naturally be attracted.
“Put out the candles,” Ryan said quickly.
“Now.”
Irene was the quickest to react.
She immediately reached out to grab the candles, but at that exact moment, the brazier in the courtyard suddenly dimmed with a soft puff, and the surrounding light plunged.
In the next second, out of the corner of his eye, Ryan finally saw it.
Something was standing in the darkness behind the brazier.
No.
It couldn't really be called "standing."
It was more like a mass of shadows forcibly pieced together into a human shape.
It was unnaturally thin.
Its limbs were long and spindly.
Its surface rippled slightly, as if made of smoke and wet mud.
The most bizarre part was—
It had no face, only a blurry blank space, yet Ryan could feel it.
It was "watching" the people in the courtyard.
Martha had already begun to tremble, because she too had faintly sensed something.
“Irene...”
“Is there something behind...”
Lucy, on the other hand, still hadn't seen anything.
She just instinctively felt uncomfortable. Meanwhile, Ryan's heart was beating so fast it felt like it would burst.
Because that thing wasn't physical; it was more like an "echo" formed under the influence of some Invisible Arts.
Strictly speaking, it couldn't even be considered a true extraordinary creature.
But the problem was—
Ordinary people simply couldn't withstand it. Especially if their minds were touched, they could easily go completely mad.
Ryan forced himself to calm down.
He was no longer the person who only knew fear when he first transmigrated.
After constantly coming into contact with The Glory over the past few days, his spirit had clearly grown much stronger. At least he could still stand and think.
And his Lantern aspect allowed him to "see," which had instead become an advantage.
The thing was slowly drawing closer. Its movements were bizarre—not like a person walking, but more like a shadow sliding across the ground.
The whispers in the air grew heavier.
“...I see it...”
“...The door...”
“...Come in...”
Ryan's temples began to throb with intense pain.
Knowing he couldn't afford to drag this out, he suddenly took a step forward, blocking the girls behind him.
“Don't look back.”
“Go back inside.”
Irene finally realized something was wrong.
Because Ryan's current state didn't look like a joke at all.
“Ryan...”
“Don't ask!”
He growled in a low voice.
Then, he stared intently at the mass of shadow.
The burning sensation in his eyes grew stronger and stronger.
A faint golden glimmer.
It even began to surface in the depths of his vision.
In the next second.
The formless shadow suddenly stopped, as if it had sensed something.
Its featureless "face" slowly turned toward Ryan.
The air instantly grew colder, and in Ryan's mind, countless chaotic whispers suddenly rang out, as if dozens of people were speaking in his ear at the same time.
A headache erupted almost instantly, causing him to let out a muffled groan.
Nearly falling to his knees, Ryan stared deathly at the shadow, cold sweat already sliding down his cheek.
He really hadn't expected this.
A few East End girls playing a séance game around a brazier could actually summon something.
And it was clearly a thing that leaned toward the "Invisible Arts."
In this instant.
Ryan suddenly truly understood why the cultist world was so dangerous.
Because the extraordinary here was never "far removed from ordinary people."
Quite the opposite.
It was hidden in the most mundane parts of life.
The wrong time, the wrong emotions, the wrong ritual, coupled with just a tiny bit of aspect—even ordinary people could run headfirst into disaster.
Not to mention a night like tonight—Halloween Eve, when the boundary of reality was already thin.
And he, a half-baked amateur who had already been tainted by the Lantern's Glory, had been sitting by the side acting as a catalyst for quite some time.
Ryan now even suspected that if he hadn't been here, the girls might not have been able to summon anything at all.
The air grew colder and colder as the grayish-black shadow slowly came to a halt at the edge of the firelight.
Ryan's temples throbbed violently.
He knew he couldn't hold out for long.
But fortunately, he understood some of the basic logic of the cultist world.
These "vengeful echoes" or "residual shadows" that were briefly drawn in were generally unstable.
Especially without a formal ritual to anchor them.
They couldn't last very long. As long as he kept it from making actual contact with a living person, he just needed to stall for time.
The problem was that he was the only one here who could stall.
Ryan took a deep breath and concentrated once more.
The burning sensation in his eyes intensified sharply.
In the next second, a faint golden glow emerged once more.
It wasn't blinding; it was even very weak, like a tiny ember in the dark.
But the shadow clearly began to grow restless.
Its edges constantly twisted.
The whispers in the air also suddenly became slightly shriller.
It's working, Ryan thought, gritting his teeth.
He began to back away bit by bit.
He didn't dare turn around, because he had a faint feeling—the moment he looked away, the thing would immediately pounce.
Only the brazier in the courtyard remained lit.
The charcoal collapsed occasionally, making soft popping sounds.
Ryan stepped back pace by pace, his eyes locked dead ahead.
With every step backward, his headache grew more severe.
His eyeballs had begun to ache, even feeling somewhat swollen.
Blurry double vision constantly appeared at the edge of his sight, while the shadow, as if suppressed by the glow, remained at the edge of the darkness.
It did not draw closer, but neither did it leave, only writhing continuously.
Rate on N.U.
