Ronan stood amidst the dimly lit chamber, the air thick with sorrow and forgotten memories. The walls were lined with ancient carvings, depicting scenes of torment and regret. A faint blue luminescence pulsed from the ceiling, barely illuminating the transparent figures before him. There were dozens of them—faint remnants of souls bound by a cruel fate. They hovered in silence, their gazes hollow yet yearning.
One of them, a tall man with a ghostly beard, spoke first, his voice echoing with a distant sadness.
"What do you want to know?"
Ronan met the man's gaze, his curiosity outweighing the discomfort in his chest.
"Why are you trapped here?"
The man's hollow eyes reflected the weight of countless years. He smiled bitterly, a gesture devoid of joy.
"We will disappoint you. This has to do with our time… It's best not to dig into history if you wish to live."
Ronan's expression remained firm.
"Then let me ask more. If all of you are trapped, how do you know about the outside world?"
Another spirit, a woman with long, flowing hair, spoke this time. Her voice carried a gentle sorrow, like the whisper of wind through forgotten ruins.
"We can watch and hear what transpires within the mansion. And every hundred years or so, someone stumbles upon this place."
Ronan furrowed his brows.
"Then why haven't you asked for help before? Surely someone would've tried. And was this mansion always here?"
The bearded spirit's form flickered slightly as he answered.
"We did ask. But none were capable of granting what we needed. As for the mansion… no, it was not always here. It was built later to harness the endless flow of soul energy within these walls."
Ronan's jaw tightened.
"Then why is it empty now?"
The spirits exchanged grim glances before another man, with a scarred face and a more assertive tone, answered.
"The mansion was not built as a mere shelter. It was a laboratory. The ones who controlled it wanted to experiment with soul energy—on humans, monsters, and animals alike. For a decade, unimaginable horrors took place here."
The air grew colder as he continued.
"Their experiments created abominations. One of those creations broke free, slaughtering everything in its path. The head of the experiment… he survived. He killed the creature, sealed this place."
Ronan shook his head in disbelief. "Why? Leave?"
The spirits remained silent, their expressions hinting at confusion and helplessness.
"We have no answer," the scarred spirit murmured. "His motives are left with him."
Ronan exhaled sharply, the truth weighing heavily upon him. Yet a lingering question remained.
"What do you want from me?"
The spirits moved closer, their transparent forms flickering like dying embers. The bearded spirit bowed his head, and the others followed suit.
"We want to be free. A thousand years is more than enough to atone for our sins."
Ronan's gaze hardened.
"I can't release you without knowing why you were punished."
The spirits knelt in unison, desperation etched into their spectral faces.
"We do not ask for freedom from the curse," the woman said softly. "We ask for freedom from everything. Release us… let our souls cease to exist."
Ronan's heart sank.
"What are you saying? I don't understand."
The scarred man's voice trembled as he explained.
"You conquered the Silver Flame. In our time, it was known as the Ghost Flame or Soul Flame. It burns not just the body but the soul itself. We wish for you to use it… to end us."
"I still cannot wield this flame, let alone its skills. And using the Ghost Flame is too much burden on my soul," Ronan protested.
The bearded spirit nodded solemnly.
"We know. We have nothing to offer you save for our gratitude. This choice is yours, and yours alone. All those years, you are the only one who comes with this kind of power. There is no skill needed; as long as we touch the Ghost Flame, we will be gone. You don't need to control it."
A tense silence followed. Ronan lowered his head, the weight of their plea gnawing at his resolve. Moments passed before he finally spoke.
"I will do it."
The spirits stared at him in shock. The bearded man's lips trembled, his hollow eyes filling with ghostly tears.
"Are you certain?"
"A punishment may last for a lifetime, but it shouldn't last for eternity."
Ronan stepped forward, his determination unwavering.
"But first… one last question."
The woman nodded gently.
"What is it?"
"You know much about the Ghost Flame. Can you tell me why no one seeks to harness its power? As you say, this flame seems too powerful."
A flicker of surprise crossed the spirits' faces. The scarred man's eyes narrowed.
"You absorbed the essence of the Ghost Flame?"
"Yes," Ronan confirmed.
The bearded spirit sighed deeply.
"The Ghost Flame cannot coexist with other flames. It will consume them, then its owner. It feeds on the soul, burning away everything. Even attempting to absorb its essence risks eternal nightmares. Only those with exceptional Soul Power stand a chance of resisting. If I am not wrong, you also had those nightmares."
Ronan's expression darkened as the memories of his recent nightmares resurfaced—the twisted visions, the agonising dread.
"That explains a lot."
The woman added softly,
"There is one more trait of the Ghost Flame. It can erase a person's presence entirely, making them undetectable. And it can sever any trace of mana left behind."
Ronan nodded.
"Thank you. I'm ready now."
He extended his hand and, with a steady breath, summoned the Ghost Flame. A Silver ember ignited in his palm, twisting and flickering as if it held the whispers of countless lost souls.
The spirits did not flinch. Instead, they knelt once more, their forms trembling with gratitude and acceptance. A spirit asked, "Can we get your name?"
Ronan replied, "Ronan, my name is Ronan Greystone."
"Thank you, Ronan. We are ready," they said in unison.
Ronan gazed at the flame.
"May you find peace."
With a swift motion, he cast the Ghost Flame toward them.
A sudden pressure bore down on Ronan's soul, eerily familiar. It was the same overwhelming force he had felt when he gazed upon the light goddess statue with his Keen Eyes. Under the immense weight, Ronan's breath quickened, but his resolve did not waver.
"You again?" he murmured, his voice trembling. "I don't know what they did to deserve their punishment, but like I said, no punishment should last beyond a lifetime. If you can't offer an explanation, why should I stop? There's no way you can prevent me from doing what I believe is right."
The Silver Flame surged forward, consuming the souls. Yet, no screams echoed through the chamber. Instead, a profound warmth washed over the space, as though the burden of centuries had lifted. One by one, the spirits dissolved into radiant light, their forms shimmering in release.
Even as they faded, Ronan felt the relentless pressure gnaw at his soul. It lingered as a silent challenge. But he stood firm, bearing the weight without regret. Tears welled in the spirits' eyes, their translucent faces glowing with gratitude. Their final words echoed in his mind—soft, yet powerful.
"Thank you."
As the last soul vanished, the oppressive force eased, leaving an almost sacred stillness behind. Ronan stood alone, his heart heavy yet resolute.
"Rest well."
With a trembling hand, he clenched his fist, extinguishing the lingering traces of the Ghost Flame.
Ronan's breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling from the strain. Steeling himself, he whispered under his breath, "Now, let's uncover the source of the everlasting soul energy."