Dawn had not broken over Amity Park. Inside the basement of the Veyne mansion, Kael lay on the floor, breathing in pained gasps. He pushed himself up slowly, every movement sending a fresh jolt of agony from the gash in his side. Shimmering blue ectoplasm still seeped from the wound, staining his suit and fading slowly into the air like mist.
He was safe, but he was damaged.
His mind replayed the fight against Skulker—not with panic now, but with cold, analytical clarity. Mistakes, So many mistakes. He had relied too much on intangibility in an environment that resisted it. He had wasted energy on panic instead of control. He had let the hunter corner him. But his controversial decision had been the desperate, uncontrolled burst of Ghost Fire Projection. It had saved his life, but the cost was also great.
He focused inward, toward the source of that deep, resonating cold. His core—the wellspring of his ghostly power—was cracked. It wasn't a physical injury his human form could feel, but to his ghostly senses, it was a hairline fracture leaking energy and stability. His C-Tier stamina, which usually allowed him to figt for 40 -45 minutes in actual combat, was now reduced to a pitiful one third of that. He'd be exhausted after just 13-14 minutes of effort. He was back to where he'd been as a raw D-Tier, but with none of a beginner's ignorance. He knew exactly how vulnerable he was.
Recovery time? Without intervention, his core would heal on its own in five to six months. He didn't have that kind of time. Not with Skulker now aware of him. Not with his goals.
He needed to get to his aunt's house before sunrise. Pushing through the pain, he forced himself to his feet, flew towards to his aunt's home. He still could do this much, but it did felt uncomfortable.
Skulker's Lair, Ghost Zone
The hunter's fortress was a jagged metal citadel built into a floating island of obsidian, with trophies scattered from countless hunts—helmets, weapons, and containment units holding rare spectral entities. At its heart, in a chamber lined with glowing screens and weapon racks, Skulker stared at the replay of the encounter.
The footage from his helmet cam showed it again: the strange ghost, electric blue and silver, unleashing that concussive wave of force. It shouldn't have been possible for a low-tier ghost. The energy readout flared B-Tier for a split second before destabilizing.
"He paid for it," Skulker muttered to himself. The scan showed the ghost's core flaring with feedback damage immediately after. **"You pushed beyond your limits, little phantom. A desperate move."
But that wasn't what interested him most. He rewinded the recording further—to the end. The ghost, wounded and fading, flying toward a sudden, swirling tear in reality. A stable artificial portal. It had opened for exactly sixty seconds before sealing shut, leaving no trace.
Skulker leaned forward, his green visor glowing intently. "A stable gate in the ghost zone. And he controls it."
This was no mindless ghost. This was a resourceful, connected prey. One with access to technology like him, but possessing something even he doesn't have. Skulker felt the desire and need to access that portal. If he had access to that portal instead of that weakling, he could do a lot more. His hunting can be expanded, and he can more access to human technology. This was a good sign for his next progress towards the A-tier. He has been stuck in the B-tier for decades. His progression has been stagnant. He wanted to aspire to the throne of A-tier. To become a honorable Domain master. To achieve that, he needed new advanced technology. The ghost zones unstable and rare portal openings were useless for him. But if he can get this artificial portal. Than A-tier wasn't a pipeline dream. It will become a reality in the future.
Skulker began cross-referencing the energy signature of the portal, plotting its approximate location in the human world. Amity Park. Of course. The ghost-rich city seemed to attract anomalies. The hunt was no longer about a trophy. It was about claiming the gate.
Back in his basement, Kael knew what he had to do. He remembered the feeling of the Ghost Zone—the overwhelming, raw energy that had felt like standing in the heart of a storm. "This was the source of everything. The ghost zone is affecting reality and making unstable portal opening in the human world. It's also the cause of incidents like the cemetary," he whispered. Kael also found another discovery there. The ambient energy there had accelerated his stamina recovery slightly. If he could harness that power he could speed up his recovery.
He began sketching frantically on a holographic pad, his movements fueled by pain and purpose. A Recovery Chamber. A device that would use his repaired portal as a power source, channeling raw ecto-energy from the Ghost Zone into a concentrated field. He wouldn't just be resting; he'd be passively absorbing energy to accelerate his core's healing.
The design was complex, the power requirements enormous, but the principle was sound. It would take him weeks to build, but if it worked, he could reduce his recovery time from months to weeks.
He finished the preliminary schematics just as the first rays of sunlight crept through the high basement windows. Time to go. He shut down the console, the resolve hardening in his eyes alongside the pain.
The exploration had changed him. It was his true awakening in this world. Now, he would become something else. Something beyond the average.
Vlad Masters' Mansion, Wisconsin
In a study lined with books and elegant, hidden technology, a soft chime echoed. Vlad Masters looked up from his paperwork, his eyes narrowing. A holographic screen flickered to life over his desk, displaying a energy map of the continental United States. A single, sharp spike of energy—clean, artificial, and powerful—had flared in Amity Park and vanished moments later.
A stable portal signature. He steepled his fingers, a slow, intrigued smile spreading across his face. "Interesting things are happening in Amity Park," he murmured to the empty room.