Seed still stood frozen from disbelief, the prediction burning in his mind. Squashed by beams? He could almost imagine it, creaking metal, falling debris, her pink eyes wide in shock, blood everywhere.
No way. He couldn't let that happen. But how to warn her without spilling about the Book of Death?
"Mira, wait, m—maybe we should scout first," he yelled, jogging after her. She ignored him, vanishing into the shadows of the uncompleted building Seed cursed under his breath, "ah, fuck it". stepping in too.
The warehouse was a maze of half-raised walls, scaffolding like twisted bones, tools scattered like toys on the ground. each on a puddle echoing all around and a low moan winded through the air, was it wind? Or something else?
His [Perception: 31] picked up a chill, not just the cold air, something felt wrong, like the air was thick with grief.
"Ah, the sound!" seed exclaimed, he wasn't hearing the sound of the rain drizzling again. They've definitely walked into come kind of confinement field but it wasn't either of them who had set this one up.
Mira moved ahead,he halo lighting her path like a flashlight. "This place is a dump," she grumbled. "Probably just some weak poltergeist. I can handle it."
Seed's tattoo pulsed again, warning him. The prediction time ticked closer. He had to think fast. "Hey! Mira!, seriously, slow down. I got a bad feeling."
She rolled her eyes. "Bad feeling? You're just scared, old man. Stay out of my way." She pushed deeper, past a stack of rusted beams leaning suspiciously, Seed's heart raced as he saw it.
The screen had said "multiple beams".
Suddenly, a low rumble shook the ground. Dust sifted from the ceiling. Mira froze.
"What was—?"
A beam creaked, tilting. Seed lunged. "Mira! Move!" He tackled her aside just as the first beam crashed down, brraking the concrete floor where she has stood.
More followed, three, four, all smashing like Tetris, dust choked the air and Seed coughed, pinning Mira under him. She shoved him off, her pink eyes wide.
"What the hell? How did you know?"
Seed panted, trying to catch his breath. "Lucky guess." But inside, relief flooded him. He had changed the prediction. Mira dusted off, her halo flickering. "Whatever. Thanks, I guess. But don't think that makes us friends, old man." Seed nodded, hiding a smile.
Maybe not friends. But partners? Yeah, they could work with that. The warehouse moaned again, whatever caused the "accidents" wasn't done. Time to go from being haunted to doing the hunting.
.
.
.
The rest of the mission blurred into a storm of dust and screams as Seed and Mira pushed deeper into the half-built warehouse with Mira's halo casting a soft golden glow as they were running through the dark hall way.
Then a dark shape lunged from a corner—a twisted spirit, a worker's ghost with a hard hat fused to its skull like a crown, his face half-melted. It screamed a loud howl that shook the building, causing tools like a wrenche and hammer to come flying towards seed and mira.
Mira moved first, her school uniform a white blur as she leaped—superhuman speed kicking in, her legs coiling like springs. She caught the wrench mid-air with one hand.
"HOLY FIRE!" she yelled. Her free hand slamming forward, divine energy crackled around her fist like flames.
The punch connected with a loud sound that echoed off the walls, the impact burned the ghost's ethereal form, the holy fire dissolving it into smoke as the wrench clattered to the floor.
Seed whistled low. "Damn, kid. That's some punch." But another spirit appeared, two this time, fused into a hulking shape with four arms, one clutching a phantom hammer, the other a coil of rebar. They howled in unison, their voices overlapping with each others.
We warned 'em!
Slippery scaffolds, no harnesses!
company said we were clumsy fools!
The first ghost wailed, its face a filled with agony, eyes hollow sockets leaking dust.
Lied in the reports!
'Worker error,' they called it!
Our blood on their hands, not ours!
The second spirit swung the rebar like a whip, cracking toward Seed's head.
Seed dodged and countered with his Ghost Hair. The strands erupted from his scalp, long and dark, whipping out like Vines under his sharpened control.
They snagged the rebar mid-swing, coiling tight around it. Death Energy surged through him fueling the hair's grip—stronger now with his Constitution at thirty points .
"I hear you," Seed grunted, his empathy for the worker ghosts twisting in his gut. He'd chased enough corrupt leads as a detective to know the sting of company lies burying the truth."Company bullshit! blaming the dead to save their asses. That's not right. You deserved better."
The spirits paused, their howls faltering into sobs, faces flickering with tears. For a split second, the rebar went limp, the will to fight draining from them.