Terror in the dark
The bullies stood frozen in place, their bodies paralyzed by an overwhelming fear. Their minds screamed for them to run, but their legs refused to move. The monstrous figure before them—Ozen's twisted, pumpkin-headed form—grinned wickedly, radiating a menacing aura of dark energy.
One of the bullies, still trying to grasp what was happening, stammered, "Th-This must be a dream…" He turned to his friend, looking for reassurance.
Before he could finish his sentence, a loud crack shattered the silence.
His friend gasped, eyes widening in pure horror. "Y-Your arm…" he stuttered, pointing in terror.
The bully looked down and saw his arm—twisted at an unnatural angle, bone jutting out, blood dripping onto the ground. The pain hadn't even registered yet. Then, all at once, it hit him like a sledgehammer.
A bloodcurdling scream tore through the air.
Jack, still possessing Ozen's body, cackled like a lunatic. His eerie, glowing pumpkin eyes flickered with sadistic amusement. "Ah, I love that sound," he mused, stretching his arms. "Music to my ears."
Before the injured bully could process what was happening, Jack launched a devastating kick to his face, sending him flying backward. He crashed into a tree with such force that it split in half, collapsing behind him. The boy lay there, unconscious, as blood pooled beneath him.
Jack slowly turned his head toward the remaining bully, his grin widening as he spoke in a cold, Mafia-like tone.
"Now… it's your turn."
The second bully, trembling violently, suddenly regained control of his body. With pure terror driving him, he spun on his heels and bolted, sprinting as fast as he could.
His breath came in ragged gasps as he ran through the dark streets, heading straight for an old, abandoned factory. He had no plan, no strategy—just a desperate need to escape.
Once inside, he frantically pulled out his phone, fingers shaking as he tried to dial the police. "P-Please… you have to help me! There's a demon—"
His trembling hands failed him. The phone slipped from his grip, clattering to the ground.
Panic took over as he dropped to his knees, blindly searching for it in the darkness.
Then… something handed it to him.
"Oh, thank God," he gasped, snatching it up. "I thought I—"
His voice trailed off. A terrible realization sank in.
Who… handed me the phone?
Dread creeping up his spine, he slowly turned his head.
Jack loomed over him, glowing pumpkin eyes staring straight into his soul. His wicked smile never wavered.
The only sound that followed… was the boy's final, terrified scream.
A Nightmare or Reality?
Ozen jolted awake, heart hammering in his chest. His body was drenched in sweat, his breath shallow and quick.
For a few moments, he sat in bed, staring at his hands. His skin was smooth, unscathed. No bruises, no blood. Nothing.
Was it all a dream?
He touched his face, trying to remember the brutal beating, the pain of each punch, the fear that had gripped him. But there was no pain now. No proof that it had ever happened.
"Just a dream…" he muttered to himself, shaking his head. He had other things to focus on.
Pushing the thoughts aside, he climbed out of bed and went downstairs to check if his mother and grandfather had returned. The house was eerily silent.
His mother worked late as a marketing agent for Mickey and Minnie's father's luxury brand company, while his grandfather spent his evenings at an old-timers' bar, probably reminiscing about his youth with other grumpy old men.
Since they weren't home yet, Ozen decided to make dinner. He cooked something simple, ate, then left food on the table for them before heading back to his room to study.
A few hours later, he heard the front door open. His mother and grandfather had finally returned.
He went downstairs to greet them.
His mother smiled warmly at him. "You made dinner? That's so sweet, Ozee."
His grandfather, though outwardly indifferent, gave a small grunt of approval as he sat down to eat. Ozen knew that meant he was proud.
With his job done, he returned to his room, diving back into his studies.
The Demon Returns
The moment he started reading, a strange, eerie sensation crept up his spine.
A whisper.
A name.
His name.
It was faint at first, but it grew louder, more persistent, surrounding him like a ghostly presence.
His patience snapped.
"WHO KEEPS CALLING ME? LEAVE ME ALONE!" he yelled in frustration.
Silence.
Then… he turned.
And there it was.
Jack.
Floating in his small, toy-like pumpkin-headed form, dressed in a pitch-black Mafia suit, arms crossed, looking at Ozen as if he were a family member that had deeply disappointed him.
Ozen's eyes widened in sheer disbelief. He jolted backward, scrambling onto his bed, grabbing the closest thing near him—a pillow.
Pointing it at Jack like a weapon, he stammered, "D-Don't come any closer! I have a pillow, and I'm not afraid to use it!"
Jack blinked. Then, he burst into laughter—deep, hearty, and terrifying.
Ozen clenched his eyes shut. "This isn't real. I must be dreaming—"
SMACK!
Jack delivered a solid slap to Ozen's face. The entire house vibrated from the force, rattling the windows.
Ozen was thrown onto his bed, clutching his jaw.
Jack, looking satisfied, blew on his tiny hand like it had just delivered the world's greatest strike. "There. Proof enough for ya?"
Ozen, still stunned, muttered, "WHY did you hit me?"
Jack shrugged nonchalantly. "You weren't listening."
Rubbing his face, Ozen groaned. "Fine… What do you want?"
Jack's playful demeanor shifted. His glowing eyes darkened. "It's time to talk about the monsters."
Ozen frowned, about to refuse, but Jack's tone was serious. He spoke about the world's hidden dangers, the creatures lurking in the shadows, and the legendary Lantern Knights. He explained that before Ozen, there had been another—a warrior who stood against the darkness a thousand years ago.
At first, Ozen didn't believe a word of it. "Sounds like a you problem, not a me problem," he scoffed.
Jack fumed. "IT WAS A THOUSAND YEARS AGO, KID! I CAN'T HANDLE THIS ALONE !"
After much back-and-forth, Ozen, albeit reluctantly, agreed—but only under his conditions. Jack, despite being annoyed, had no choice but to accept.
With the deal sealed, Jack showed Ozen how to control the darkness, turning it into flame and shadow.
As Ozen concentrated, the room was consumed by a pitch-black aura. The lights flickered out. When he stepped forward, his reflection in the mirror revealed a completely different person.
He was taller, draped in an immaculate pitch-black luxurious Mafia suit. His shoes gleamed under the moonlight, and he wore stylish black gloves. A 4K-karat golden watch glowed on his wrist.
And then… the most striking part.
His head had transformed into a glowing pumpkin with piercing, golden eyes.
Jack's voice echoed in his mind: Jump out the balcony.
Ozen hesitated. "Hell no are you insane?"
But Jack took control a little saying
"Hell yes".
Ozen's body leaped into the air. He clenched his eyes shut, expecting pain—
But he landed gently.
And then… he soared.
Jumping from rooftop to rooftop, feeling a freedom he had never known, he finally opened his eyes to a breathtaking sight .
His shadowed figure, soaring high, silhouetted perfectly against the full moon.
And for the first time… he felt alive.