《Isekai Ghost》


 001 The Isekai Ghost

    001 The Isekai Ghost


    I had always thought that if I were to die in a spectacularly tragic accident, I''d at least wake up in another world, sword in hand, some goddess explaining my overpowered skills to me. But no. The isekai trope had been a lie all along.


    I knew because I was looking at myself.


    Or, more specifically, at what was left of me.


    The scene was a mess¡ªflashing red and blue lights painting the slick asphalt, the sharp scent of burnt rubber and gasoline filling the air. Cars had come to a stop, some dented, others outright wrecked. Traffic enforcers were arguing with motorists, their frantic voices drowned out by the incessant honking from vehicles still trying to squeeze through the chaos. And in the middle of it all, there I was. Or what was left of me.


    The young man in the black jacket and trousers, sprawled out on the road, was none other than myself. The problem? My head was missing.


    "Holy shit," a cop muttered, standing near my decapitated corpse, covering his mouth with his hand as if trying to hold back his breakfast.


    "This is Commonwealth Avenue," another officer grumbled, rubbing his temple. "Of course, someone¡¯s gonna get pancaked every damn day."


    "Yeah, but a guy getting his head knocked clean off? That¡¯s a first for me."


    A small crowd had gathered¡ªrubberneckers peering through the gaps between officers, some whispering, others recording with their phones. I recognized one of them. A young woman in a navy blue blazer, her long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She clutched a microphone in her right hand while her cameraman adjusted the angle.


    "This is Trina Morales, reporting live from Commonwealth Avenue, where a horrific accident has just taken place," she began, her voice steady despite the chaos around her. "Authorities have yet to confirm the identity of the victim, but witnesses claim he was riding a motorcycle when a large delivery truck ran a red light¡ª"


    "¡ªcame out of nowhere," I finished for her, though of course, no one could hear me.


    I sighed. That damn truck. I¡¯d been on my way to my nth job interview, barely awake but determined to give it my best shot. And then, just like that¡ªBAM. Lights out.


    I wasn¡¯t even sure where my head had landed.


    "You think it¡¯s still around here?" a cop asked, mirroring my thoughts.


    "Probably rolled off somewhere. Maybe under another vehicle?"


    "Christ. Somebody¡¯s gotta find it before¡ª"


    A scream rang out from the other side of the intersection.


    Well. That answered that question.


    A commotion stirred at the far end of the street. Murmurs turned into gasps, then laughter¡ªhigh-pitched, carefree. It was an odd contrast to the grim scene behind me.


    I turned toward the sound and spotted a group of street kids, no older than ten, huddled together near the curb. At first, I thought they were just goofing around, but then I saw what they were passing between them.


    My head.


    "Yo, check this out! It¡¯s so heavy!" one of them said, holding it up with both hands like a trophy. Blood dripped onto his already-dirty shirt.


    "Put it down, gago! It¡¯s cursed!" another boy warned, but he was grinning.


    "Not before I try these on." The smallest one, a scrawny kid with a shaved head, plucked my sunglasses from my lifeless face and slid them onto his own. "Damn, astig!" he said, adjusting them like he was the coolest guy in the world.


    I sighed. Those were my favorite pair.


    Then, one of the kids¡ªdifferent from the rest¡ªstopped playing. He was staring directly at me. Not my body, not my severed head¡ªme.


    Ah. What was the word for it? Third eye?


    I floated closer, leaning in toward his round face. His pupils dilated. His mouth fell open.


    "Boo~!"


    The kid let out a shriek so loud it rivaled the sirens in the distance. He shoved my head away like it was on fire, and it hit the pavement with a sickening thud-thud-thump.


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    The other kids screamed, scattering in all directions. My sunglasses-wearing thief bolted, forgetting to return my shades.


    "Hoy, where are you all going?!" one of the cops shouted after them, clearly annoyed. But the kids were gone, leaving my bloodied, rolling head behind.


    I yawned. Ghost or not, scaring little kids wasn¡¯t exactly entertaining.


    My gaze drifted back toward the wreckage. The news reporter, Trina Morales, was still at it, her professional mask firmly in place despite the grotesque scene behind her.


    "The victim has been identified as twenty-four-year-old Nolan Cruz," she announced.


    I paused.


    Hearing my name said out loud like that felt¡­ weird. Final.


    Nolan Cruz. That was me, wasn¡¯t it? A fresh graduate, job-seeker extraordinaire, and now, apparently, a very dead guy.


    I didn¡¯t bother staying to hear the rest. There was no point.


    Instead, I started walking. Or, well, floating.


    Commonwealth Avenue stretched endlessly ahead of me¡ªneon signs flickering, headlights blinding, vendors still pushing their carts like a man hadn¡¯t just lost his head a few feet away. Life kept going, uncaring.


    I wanted to see as much as I could before¡­ before what?


    Before I faded away?


    I would fade away, right?


    I had dreamt of a different life.


    A normal one. A stable job, a decent paycheck, maybe even my own condo in the city someday¡ªfar from the life my parents had led.


    Mom was a Mangkukulam. Dad was an Albularyo.


    Put otherwise, frauds.


    And if not frauds, then probably just scary people.


    I still remembered the things they put me through.


    Dad would perform all sorts of rituals on me, muttering incantations while waving herbs and candles in my face. I lost count of the times he made me drink strange potions, each one more disgusting than the last.


    ¡°This will protect you from evil spirits,¡± he¡¯d say, handing me a murky, bitter concoction that smelled like rotten eggs.


    Mom, on the other hand, was worse. She didn¡¯t just believe in magic¡ªshe practicedit. She made me learn strange symbols, recite prayers in languages I didn¡¯t understand, and worst of all¡ªshe made me eat things.


    "Swallow it," she''d insist, holding up something black, shriveled, and vaguely insect-like. "This is an Agimat, an amulet. It will make you strong."


    And because I was a dumb kid who didn¡¯t know better, I obeyed.


    Even now, as a ghost, I shuddered at the memory.


    I stretched a bit, feeling stiff for some reason.


    And then my head fell off.


    I sighed.


    Could you imagine it? The bike¡¯s chains decapitating you? Talk about a bad way to go.


    Grumbling, I bent down, picked up my head, and reattached it with a practiced motion¡ªlike a ball-jointed doll putting itself back together. There was a faint click, a weird tingling sensation, and then everything was back to normal. Well, as normal as things could be when you were already dead.


    I rolled my shoulders. Still stiff. Death really wasn¡¯t as relaxing as I had hoped.


    Then something strange happened.


    My feet started sinking into the ground.


    At first, I thought it was just my imagination. Maybe I had moved without realizing it. But no¡ªthere was a definite pull, like I had stepped into quicksand made of air.


    "Uuuhh¡­" I blinked, staring down as my sneakers disappeared into the pavement. It would be an understatement to say I was worried.


    Okay. Maybe I hadn¡¯t been a devout believer or anything, but this was the Philippines. Catholicism ran deep here, so even an idiot like me¡ªwho rarely went to church unless my grandma dragged me¡ªhad some fear of God.


    And right now? That fear was escalating.


    I tried stepping back, but my legs wouldn¡¯t budge. The sinking continued, slow but relentless, like I was being dragged into the underworld inch by inch.


    "Okay, okay, let¡¯s not panic," I muttered to myself.


    Then I reached my waist, tried to push myself against the concrete ground.


    I panicked.


    "Hoy! Help! Somebody¡ª!" I shouted at the officers still loitering around my crime scene. My crime scene? My accident scene? Either way, they were right there¡ªmere feet away, completely unaware that I was being swallowed by the earth.


    "Excuse me, sir? Ma¡¯am? Anyone?!" I waved frantically, but they didn¡¯t so much as flinch.


    Nothing.


    No one could see me.


    I kept shouting anyway, because what else was I supposed to do? But as I sank further¡ªchest, shoulders, neck¡ªI realized something chilling.


    The deeper I went, the quieter everything became. The sounds of traffic, of honking cars, of officers grumbling about paperwork¡ªit all faded.


    By the time my head slipped under, I heard nothing at all.


    Here''s Chapter 1 of The Isekai Ghostin first-person past tense:


    <hr>


    Chapter 1


    So where was my destination?


    Underworld? Hell? It was going downwards, wasn¡¯t it?


    Ah. I was done for.


    I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for whatever eternal damnation awaited me. But then something strangehappened.


    First, my head.


    It was like a bamboo shoot, pushing through soil in a matter of seconds. One moment, I was sinking into the earth¡ªthen, pop!My head broke through the surface like I was some cursed plant sprouting in the dark.


    I was phasing through the soil.


    It was night.


    I blinked up at the sky, breath catching at what I saw. Three moonshung above, bathing everything in an eerie, pale glow. Not one. Not two. Three.


    Oh.


    That wasn¡¯t normal.


    At this point, I was waist-deep in the ground, and my body continued pushing upward, soil sliding past me like I was nothing more than mist. My arms, my torso, my legs¡ªuntil finally, the earth spat me out completely, and I stumbled forward onto solid ground.


    I looked around.


    A cathedral.


    A massiveone.


    Dark, towering spires loomed over me, their stained-glass windows reflecting nothing but the moons¡¯ cold light. Flickering torches lined the stone walls, casting shifting shadows on intricately carved pillars.


    But that wasn¡¯t the weirdest part.


    The skeletons were.


    They were everywhere. Wandering aimlessly, their hollow sockets staring into nothing, some carrying rusted weapons, others simply existing. None of them paid me any mind as I staggered to my feet, trying to process what the hell was happening.


    Except for one.


    A skeleton, differentfrom the others.


    His entire form was engulfed in blue, ghostly flames, his hollow gaze locked onto me. And judging by the way he was waving his arms and shouting in some unknown language, he was pissed.


    I had no idea what he was saying.


    But I had a feeling I was about to find out.

 002 Language Barrier

    002 Language Barrier


    The normal skeletons? Yeah, I decided to call them Normies.


    As for the one on fire, well¡­ Skully sounded about right.


    Hey, it wasn¡¯t my fault I had a bad naming sense.


    Skully, unfortunately, seemed very unhappy with my presence. His jaw clacked aggressively as he waved his bony hands around like a very angry Italian, complete with exaggerated gestures that made him look like he was about to flip a table.


    "Yeah, yeah, I get it," I muttered, crossing my arms. "You''re pissed. But buddy, I have no idea what you''re saying."


    He didn¡¯t seem to appreciate my lack of reaction. If anything, my indifference only made him angrier. His blue flames flared higher, casting eerie shadows on the cathedral walls.


    Then, suddenly, his temper snapped.


    With a dramatic swipe of his arm, he summoned a giant fireball the size of his own skull.


    Huh.


    I tilted my head, watching as the swirling mass of blue flames crackled ominously in his hand.


    "You gonna throw that?" I asked.


    He threw it.


    And I just¡­ didn¡¯t care.


    Honestly? Annihilate me. I should be dead already, anyway. Give me peace. I¡¯d prefer being nothing than suffering a probable hell.


    I didn¡¯t flinch. Didn¡¯t brace for impact.


    And then the fireball hit me.


    Or rather, it didn¡¯t.


    It phased right through my chest, passing harmlessly like I was made of air.


    "Huh?"


    Skully froze.


    He slowly lowered his still-burning hand, staring at me in awkward silence.


    I stared back.


    "Uh¡­" I scratched the back of my head. "Tough luck?"


    Skully wasn¡¯t done.


    After the fireball fiasco, he raised a bony finger toward me, flames flickering wildly around him. His eye sockets burned brighter as crackling blue lightning sparked at his fingertips.


    Oh boy.


    Before I could even blink, he hurled the lightning straight at me¡ªexcept, uh, his aim wasn¡¯t great.


    ZAP!


    A nearby Normie took the hit instead, convulsing violently before collapsing into a smoldering heap of bones.


    Skully paused. I paused. The remaining Normies also paused, all of us processing the skeleton-on-skeleton violence that had just occurred.


    "Uh," I said, pointing at the fried remains. "You missed."


    Skully ignored me. Instead, he raised both hands, his bony fingers twisting in intricate motions. A spectral hand¡ªshadowy, malevolent¡ªappeared out of nowhere and reached for me.


    Okay, that looked creepy.


    I expected it to feel awful. Maybe soul-wrenching agony? Maybe instant death?


    Instead¡­


    It tickled.


    And not in a bad way.


    "Oh. Oh wow," I mumbled as a weirdly pleasant sensation washed over me. "This is¡­ kinda nice?"


    Skully immediately dispelled the hand as if I had personally offended him. His flames flared brighter, his jaw clacking rapidly in what I could only assume was sheer frustration.


    Then, he tried again¡ªthis time, a sickly green ray shot out from his hand, its eerie glow making the surrounding shadows dance.


    It passed through me without a trace.


    I sighed. "You¡¯re really trying, huh?"


    Skully didn¡¯t answer, because at this point, I was pretty sure he was entering some kind of magical tantrum phase. He whirled toward the Normies, barked something in his spooky, unintelligible language, and gestured at me like, "Get him!"


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    The Normies hesitated.


    "Uh-oh," I muttered.


    Then, swords were drawn.


    Rusty. Dull. Some looked more like glorified butter knives than actual weapons.


    The Normies charged at me¡ªswinging, stabbing, flailing.


    And, uh¡­ it didn¡¯t go well for them.


    Since I was apparently untouchable, their swords simply phased through me and hit each other instead.


    Bones went flying. Two skeletons lost their skulls. Another tripped on its own femur. One unfortunate Normie got stabbed right through the ribcage by his buddy.


    By the time the dust settled, about half of them were reduced to scrap piles.


    Skully stared at his own forces.


    I stared too.


    "Wow," I said, nodding in approval. "Solid teamwork."


    Skully growled (or at least, made a very angry rattling noise) before storming off toward the cathedral¡¯s massive doors.


    I watched as he disappeared inside, wondering if he¡¯d finally given up. Maybe he was reporting me to his skeleton manager. Maybe he was grabbing a bigger weapon.


    I wasn¡¯t expecting him to come back out holding a tiny glass vial.


    Okay. That was new.


    Before I could react, he uncorked it and flung the liquid right at me.


    I felt a few droplets land on my face.


    Nothing.


    The sensation was identical to being hit with regular water.


    I wiped my cheek and sniffed. No smell. Just¡­ water? It was weird enough that I could interact with it. But then I heard a faint whoosh beside me.


    I turned my head just in time to see three Normies disintegrate into ash where the liquid had splashed on them.


    Oh.


    Oh damn.


    I looked at Skully. Looked at the pile of ex-skeletons beside me. Looked at the vial still clutched in his bony fingers.


    "...Was that holy water?"


    I honestly couldn¡¯t tell.


    Skully, meanwhile, just stared at me, completely motionless.


    Now, what would a skeleton suffering a mental breakdown look like?


    This.


    Skully, unable to process the absolute failure of all his death magic, decided the best course of action was to blast everything in sight.


    He turned away from me and started hurling fireballs at trees, lightning at boulders, and just randomly cursing at the sky in his spooky, unintelligible language.


    One particularly large tree exploded into splinters. A nearby boulder? Reduced to pebbles.


    At one point, he even turned toward me and gave me the middle finger.


    That¡¯s when it hit me.


    The middle finger might actually be a universal language for insults.


    Or¡­ or what if it wasn¡¯t?


    What if it was a skeleton gesture of respect? A sacred, honorable sign of acknowledgment? What were the chances that Skully had just offered me his friendship in the form of a raised bony middle digit?


    ...Nah. He was definitely flipping me off.


    "Hey, it¡¯s okay," I told him, watching as he incinerated yet another boulder. "Life¡¯s hard. Or, well, death¡¯s hard. I get it."


    Skully responded by snarling and throwing a lightning bolt at a completely innocent tree.


    I sighed and crossed my arms. "Look, I¡¯m sure everything will be fine. Who knows? Maybe we can be friends."


    Skully stopped, slowly turning to glare at me. His blue flames flickered violently, as if personally offended by my suggestion.


    I held up my hands. "I¡¯m just saying, you¡¯re free to keep trying to kill me. Seriously. No hard feelings. In fact, I¡¯d actually appreciate it if you figured out a way."


    Because, let¡¯s be real, I should not be here. I should have been dead-dead. Not stuck in a skeleton-infested afterlife.


    Skully just kept staring at me.


    Over time, Skully and I settled into a routine.


    See, ghosts and walking skeletons didn¡¯t exactly need sleep. That meant our afterlife activities were wide open.


    Skully¡¯s schedule was surprisingly consistent:


    <ol>


    <li>Read books(which was weird because he had no eyeballs).</li>


    <li>Hurl random magic at things(usually the same poor trees and boulders).</li>


    <li>Talk to himself(full-on monologues, hand gestures included).</li>


    <li>Cuss at me(even though he knew I didn¡¯t understand).</li>


    </ol>


    It was nice. In a completely absurd and tragic kind of way.


    As for me? I did the only thing I could do¡ªI stuck around Skully, listening to him mutter and curse, hoping to piece together his language.


    Hey, I had an eternity to learn, right?


    ¡­Or at least, a probable eternity.


    I was certain his language was nothing I¡¯d ever heard before. It was neither English nor Russian. It wasn¡¯t Latin. It wasn¡¯t Spanish. It wasn¡¯t even remotely close to Filipino or any dialect I knew. But that just made it more exciting¡ªsomething new, something unknown.


    And honestly? Not worrying about bills the next day? That was a win.


    I mean, sure, I was dead, but at least I wasn¡¯t dealing with job interviews, rent, or my family nagging me about ¡°real-world responsibilities.¡± Silver linings, right?


    Besides, it wasn¡¯t like I had anything better to do.


    As it turned out, the afterlife was boring as hell.


    At first, being a ghost was kind of cool¡ªno responsibilities, no deadlines, no rent. But after a few days? It got old. Fast.


    I needed to entertain myself.


    So, I started experimenting with my ghostly physiology.


    Ghost Log #1 ¨C What Even Am I?


    I¡¯d learned a lot from my parents about ghosts¡ªmostly because they were obsessed with that stuff. According to them:


    <ol>


    <li>Ghosts go insane over time as they degrade.</li>


    <li>Ghosts are weak to daylight, though not as bad as vampires.</li>


    </ol>


    But guess what? None of that applied to me.


    No mental breakdowns. No fear of the sun. Still ugly as ever, but that was unrelated.


    Ghost Log #2 ¨C I Have (Lame) Powers


    After some trial and error, I made some discoveries:


    ? Telekinesis ¨C Weak. Like, "nudge a rock an inch" weak. But hey, practice makes perfect.


    ? Flight ¨C It was more like floating, but close enough.


    ? Phasing Through Walls ¨C Absolutely as fun as it sounds.


    And then I had a thought¡ªwhat if I could push this further? What if I could defy all logic and become something insane?


    I got a little hyped, imagining myself as some superpowered ghost hero.


    Hah~! Yeah, right.


    I tried to recall every horror movie, every supernatural gossip, and every piece of folklore I¡¯d ever heard, just to figure out what kind of powers I might have.


    Teleportation? Possible.


    Electrokinesis? Also possible.


    Pyrokinesis? Just as possible.


    Possession? Definitely.


    It was at that moment I realized just how truly overpowered ghost lore was.


    Like, no wonder Mom and Dad never considered ghost hunting as a career. If ghosts were really this broken, then fighting them would be a terrible idea. No holy water or salt circles were going to stop a being that could fly, phase, control objects, and potentially fry your brain from the inside out.


    Instead, my parents took the scam route¡ªMom the Mangkukulam, Dad the Albularyo. Not that they were legit. They mostly peddled miracle cures and questionable potions, but I guess people paid for that kind of thing.


    Still, despite all the nonsense, a small part of me... kind of missed them. And yet, another part of me was glad to be free from their weird rituals and expectations.


    I sighed. Being dead was complicated.


    Anyways¡­


    Why was Skully packing his stuff?

 003 Road Trip

    003 Road Trip


    Ooooh¡­ a road trip!


    Skully was on the move.


    He wore a dark robe, concealing most of his skeletal frame. He even suppressed his flames, which was impressive, considering he usually burned like a walking torch.


    Then came the Normies, his silent, obedient skeleton lackeys. At his command, they dragged out a carriage¡ªan old, rickety-looking thing, but still sturdy enough to hold a load of chests and supplies.


    Then, something cool happened.


    A few Normies brought piles of bones, dumping them in front of Skully like some weird offering. With a wave of his bony hand, the bones floated, twisted, and then snapped together, forming skeletal horses.


    Okay, that was awesome.


    Some of the Normies continued packing more supplies into the carriage, their movements eerily precise. Once everything was set, Skully barked a few more indecipherable commands, and two Normies climbed onto the coachman¡¯s seat, gripping the reins.


    When Skully entered the carriage, I followed right behind him and plopped down comfortably.


    Skully stared at me.


    Like, really stared.


    I could almost hear his thoughts.


    "Why are you like this?"


    Of course, the language barrier meant I had no idea what he was actually saying, but from his expression (as much as a skull could have expressions), I guessed it was somewhere along the lines of:


    ¡°Why are you in my personal space?¡±


    I just grinned. Road trip, baby!


    Skully proceeded to shout at me.


    And when I say shout, I mean full-on cussing, waving his arms, pointing at the door like I was an unwanted stray.


    Of course, I just sat there, unfazed.


    I mean, what was he going to do? Kill me? Pfft. Good luck with that, buddy.


    After a while, he just gave up, sighed dramatically (despite having no lungs), and gestured for the Normies to move out.


    I took that as my cue to get comfortable and turned to stare out the window.


    If Skully could talk to me, we could¡¯ve played Eye Spy or something. But alas, language barrier.


    So, instead, I just watched the scenery, taking in how otherworldly this place was.


    It was daylight, meaning I could actually see a lot.


    And man, this place was nothing like Earth.


    Boredom was the real enemy of the afterlife.


    I sighed, phased through the wooden boards, and drifted toward the chests Skully had packed. Maybe he had something interesting in there?


    Did I forget to mention it? I have night vision now.


    So, even in the dim interior of the carriage, I could see everything clearly. Of course, I still preferred daylight. Another quirky trait you wouldn''t normally find in a ghost.


    I rummaged around, phasing my ghostly hands through Skully¡¯s belongings, and after a few disappointing finds (scrolls, bones, a vial of something glowing ominously), I finally stumbled upon a picture book.


    Jackpot.


    Using my weak telekinesis, I nudged the book into my hands, then extended my phasing ability to it, pulling it along as I drifted back to my seat beside Skully.


    When I sat down, book in hand, Skully turned to stare at me.


    Like, really stare.


    I shrugged. ¡°What? You got something against bedtime stories?¡±


    Ignoring his intense, probably confused judgment, I flipped open the book.


    It was a storybook, clearly old but well-kept¡ªmaybe something from Skully¡¯s past life?


    The illustrations told the story of a princess trapped in a tower, guarded by an evil magus.


    Of course, I couldn¡¯t understand a single word, but hey¡ªprogress!


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    Thirty minutes later...


    "Oh man, I could use some TV right now..."


    I realized something about myself.


    I got bored too easily.


    Was I always like this? Probably. I never really thought about it until I became a ghost with literally nothing to do. No phone, no social media, no job interviews to fail. Just me, Skully, and an endless expanse of time.


    It made me understand why ghosts turn malevolent.


    I remembered what Mom used to say.


    "It''s inevitable, anak. A ghost left too long without purpose will rot. And when a ghost rots, it loses its mind."


    Dad said the same thing.


    "You think spirits stay friendly forever? They start forgetting themselves. They start hating the living. You either move on fast or you become something else."


    That was one of my biggest motivations for wanting to be destroyed.


    To be fair, they did say there were exceptions¡­ but¡­


    If I had to exist like this forever, what were the chances I¡¯d snap one day?


    I didn¡¯t want to be one of those vengeful spirits you see in horror movies, shrieking at people just for existing. That sounded exhausting. There was no guarantee I wouldn¡¯t snap, would I?


    So yeah. If Skully ever figured out how to off me, I wouldn¡¯t mind.


    Until then, I had a picture book to read.


    The story inside the storybook was surprisingly dark for something filled with colorful illustrations.


    It started with a princess locked in a tower of bones.


    She had golden hair, flowing like silk, and eyes that wept silver tears.


    The Evil Magus, a shadowy figure with burning blue eyes (huh, that kinda reminded me of Skully), had cursed her to remain in the tower forever.


    "No one will come for you," the Magus told her.


    "No knight is strong enough. No king is willing to pay the price. You belong to me now."


    The princess did not cry.


    Instead, she smiled.


    "That¡¯s fine," she said, sitting by the window. "I like watching the stars."


    Of course, the dialogues were all imagined in my head. Because again, I couldn¡¯t read.


    The Magus left, confused but amused.


    Days passed. Then weeks. Then months.


    Knights came to rescue her, climbing the tower, breaking through its walls of bone¡ªbut none ever reached her.


    Because each one was devoured.


    See, the tower itself was alive.


    It had teeth, veins, and a beating heart hidden deep within its walls.


    The princess never screamed when the knights were taken. She simply watched the stars and waited.


    Waited for what?


    I turned the page.


    The final illustration showed the princess standing by the window, looking down at a lone figure below.


    A knight? No.


    A man in black robes, blue flames flickering from his skull.


    I frowned.


    That was way too similar to Skully.


    I glanced at him.


    He was still glaring at me, muttering in his language. Probably cussing me out for stealing his book.


    I shrugged and went back to reading.


    Eventually, I got tired of the book and returned it to where it belonged.


    Alright. Time for new entertainment.


    What else could I do?


    I thought back to when I was alive, hanging around with my siblings and cousins. If there was one universal truth, it was that annoying your siblings was a national pastime.


    If your siblings weren¡¯t around, the next best target was a friend or a cousin.


    And if they weren¡¯t available?


    You improvise.


    That was how pranks were born.


    So¡­ what mischief was I up to now?


    I turned to Skully, who was hunched over, reading some old-looking tome filled with symbols I couldn¡¯t understand. His bony fingers traced the text, the blue flames of his skull flickering softly.


    I poked him.


    Just a little tap.


    With my index finger.


    Skully stiffened.


    Slowly, he turned his skull to glare at me, his eyes made of blue fiery orbs burst forth.


    He swatted at my hand¡ªbut I deactivated my tactile telekinesis at the last second, making my finger phase through him like I wasn¡¯t even there.


    Skully paused.


    Then went back to reading.


    I poked him again.


    He growled something in his angry Italian-sounding language and swung harder. Again, my finger phased through him like smoke.


    This was almost like a game.


    How many times could I poke Skully before he lost his mind?


    For the next few minutes, I poked, he swatted. I poked, he swatted.


    His growls turned into low snarls. Then angry muttering. Then full-on cussing.


    Finally, he snapped.


    With a sharp crackle of magic, he threw a fireball at me.


    It went right through my chest and hit the carriage wall, leaving a scorch mark.


    I stared at it.


    Skully stared at it.


    Then he turned to me with a look of pure frustration, flames brighter than ever.


    I grinned.


    "What? You mad?"


    He snarled something, then violently flipped a page in his book.


    I leaned back, feeling immensely satisfied.


    Ghost or not, annoying someone would never get old.


    Yep.


    I¡¯d fully turned to the dark side if annoying people had become my only source of entertainment.


    If I had a heartbeat, I would¡¯ve been concerned about myself.


    Before I could continue my torture of Skully, the carriage came to an abrupt halt.


    I phased through the ceiling and peeked outside.


    A bunch of small, green critters stood in the middle of the dirt road, chattering in a guttural, squeaky language.


    Were those¡­?


    Goblins?


    Huh. Neat.


    Now, the real question: what kind of goblins were they?


    Were they the feral, monster-type that raided villages and ate people?


    Or were they the "civilized" type that didn¡¯t eat people but still engaged in¡­ seedy conduct?


    Before I could decide, there was a blur of motion.


    In the blink of an eye, Skully was already in the middle of the goblins.


    His dark robe exploded off his form, and blue flames erupted from his entire body like an inferno.


    Oh.


    Oh no.


    He didn¡¯t even hesitate.


    Fireballs, lightning bolts, jagged ice spears¡ªhe was throwing everything at them like he was venting every ounce of frustration in his bones.


    And judging by the scorched goblin corpses flying in all directions, he had a lot to vent.


    "Damn, Skully," I muttered, watching the carnage unfold.


    One of the goblins tried to run.


    Skully lashed out with a spectral blue chain, wrapping around the goblin¡¯s neck and yanking it back into the slaughterhouse.


    Oh, man.


    I almost felt bad.


    Almost.


    Okay, so¡­ I normally wasn¡¯t the kind of guy who enjoyed watching mass slaughter, except if it was in a movie.


    As a matter of fact, there was a time when I used to be vegan.


    Yeah, used to be.


    It didn¡¯t last long.


    Because, well¡­ meat was delicious.


    I had tried convincing myself that tofu was a worthy substitute. Spoiler alert: it wasn¡¯t.


    But now? Being a ghost meant I¡¯d never get to taste a juicy burger again. No crispy bacon, no chicken adobo, no sizzling sisig on a hot plate¡ªjust¡­ nothing. Maybe that was why I could watch sentient creatures being snuffed out in front of me and feel nothing.


    I mean, Skully was obliterating them.


    Goblins were screaming as they were incinerated, electrocuted, frozen, or outright exploded into tiny green chunks.


    And I just¡­ watched.


    Not horrified. Not even disturbed.


    Just¡­ curious.


    Would I still feel the same if it were humans?


    I wasn¡¯t sure.


    And that?


    That was a little concerning.

 004 Strange City

    004 Strange City


    The road trip continued, the skeleton horses clattering against the worn dirt path. I had no idea where we were heading, but after a while, the scenery shifted.


    We entered a dense forest.


    I had the distinct impression that Skully was hiding his carriage.


    I wasn¡¯t sure why, but it was clear he was being cautious. He had the Normies pull the carriage into a well-hidden thicket, ensuring that it was practically invisible from the road.


    Not bad, Skully. Not bad at all.


    With everything in place, we ventured deeper into the forest, following Skully¡¯s lead.


    And then we reached¡­ a city?


    At first glance, it looked dilapidated. Crumbling stone walls, rotting wooden gates, and vines creeping along the ruined structures. It screamed abandoned ghost town.


    But then, as we got closer¡­ I realized how wrong I was.


    Past the ruined facade, the interior was bustling.


    People¡ªor rather, beings¡ªwalked about like it was a normal day. The city had establishments, marketplaces, taverns, and even what looked like a blacksmith¡¯s forge. It was fully functional despite looking like a ruin from the outside.


    And the people?


    They were¡­ questionable.


    I saw all sorts of characters¡ªhooded figures lurking in alleys, heavily armed creatures bargaining with merchants, and shady individuals exchanging mysterious parcels with quick handshakes.


    This place had a vibe.


    A seedy, underground, "you-might-get-shanked-in-the-dark" kind of vibe.


    What was this?


    Some kind of outlaw city?


    I wasn¡¯t sure.


    It wasn¡¯t like my grasp of language was that good already.


    ¡°There sure are a lot of people.¡±


    I tried to memorize as many features of these people as possible. If I was going to be stuck here for who knows how long, I might as well learn to recognize one race from another.


    First, there were the beautiful long-eared fellas. Some had fair skin, while others had darker complexions. They carried themselves with an air of grace, which made me think¡­ elves? Probably.


    Then there were short people¡ªstocky builds, bushy beards, and grumpy expressions. Okay, that screamed dwarves. Some were less hairy and had more mischievous grins, making me think of gnomes.


    And then, a classic orc.


    Green skin, tusks, muscles that could crush a rock with ease. No mistake about that one.


    There was even a lizardfolk wandering around, looking like a humanoid reptile.


    A few humans, mixed in with the rest of the crowd.


    And¡­ a clothed goblin?


    I wasn¡¯t expecting that. It felt weird seeing a goblin in actual decent attire. I mean, I had assumed they were all the "run-at-you-screaming-and-get-fireballed" type. But apparently, some of them wore tailored suits. Huh.


    At this point, I had to admit¡ªthis world was definitely a world of sword and sorcery.


    For an isekai plot, this was quite something.


    Naturally, I couldn¡¯t just observe. I had to experiment.


    Could anyone see me?


    I didn¡¯t stray too far from Skully while I bothered one person after another. I¡¯d wave a hand in front of their faces, phase through their bodies, or just stand awkwardly close to see if I got a reaction.


    No luck.


    Nobody noticed.


    And yes, I was referring to all intelligent life forms as "people."


    Because why not?


    I¡¯m decent like that¡­


    Skully entered a seedy alley.


    The kind of alley where people got mugged, illicit deals were made, and something always smelled suspiciously bad.


    I decided to stop my shenanigans for now and followed him.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    At the end of the alley, we arrived at a discreet little room. Inside, an old woman sat at the center, hunched over a crystal ball resting on a pillowy cushion.


    She looked over fifty or something. Wrinkled face, beady eyes, the classic ¡°I¡¯ve seen some serious stuff¡± look.


    Huh. She kind of reminded me of Mom.


    Mom used to moonlight as a fortune teller, scamming tourists with vague prophecies. I never expected Skully, of all people, to be into this stuff.


    When the fortune teller got a good look at Skully, her face drained of color. Her eyes went wide, and she nearly bolted for the door.


    But before she could, Skully plopped a heavy sack of gold coins onto the table, spilling its gleaming contents.


    Clink-clank.


    The sound of money had an almost magical calming effect.


    She slowly sat back down, her eyes darting between Skully and the gold.


    And then, she stared at me.


    My nonexistent heart skipped a beat.


    "Oh?" I grinned. "You can see me?"


    This was huge. I had spent days¡ªmaybe even weeks¡ªfloating around, talking to myself, messing with people, and not a single soul reacted. But now?


    I was being acknowledged.


    I greeted her in the most polite and amicable way possible. A warm smile, a little bow¡ªthe full Filipino hospitality package. ¡°Hello~! Nice to meet you, Madame!¡±


    But she just stared at me.


    Confused.


    Oh.


    She didn¡¯t understand a word I was saying.


    Before I could even attempt to try charades or something, her entire body went stiff. Her lips trembled.


    And then¡ª


    She fainted.


    Just like that.


    Face-first onto her table.


    Thud.


    Skully let out a sound that could only be described as an exasperated or probably an angry scream. Then he started cussing his heart out.


    At this point, I had to wonder¡ªwas it me that freaked her out, or was Skully just that terrifying?


    I prodded the woman.


    She let out a weak groan, slowly opened her eyes, and then¡ª


    Puked.


    Right there.


    All over her table.


    "What the hell?!" I yelped, floating back in horror.


    She dry-heaved, wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and looked at me again, her face twisted in absolute dread.


    Oh.


    I was the problem.


    She grabbed the sack of gold coins and shoved it back toward Skully, screaming her lungs out.


    Skully screamed right back.


    And just like that, a shouting match broke out.


    I floated back, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold. If this was charades, what would I even guess?


    Skully was pointing aggressively at me. The old woman did the same.


    Hmm. Was Skully angry on my behalf because she was rude to me?


    Pfft. No way. I¡¯m not that delusional.


    More likely, Skully was trying to get rid of me.


    Well, tough luck, buddy. I had no plans of leaving you just yet.


    After all, only Skully could see me, and I¡¯d be pretty sad if I was lonely.


    Sure, the old woman could see me too, but at this rate, she might faint every five minutes.


    And if she suddenly kicked the bucket?


    Well, then I¡¯d be alone again.


    So yeah.


    I decided to stick with Skully.


    He was virtually immortal, could slaughter a small army of goblins with ease, and honestly?


    He was kind of fun to mess with.


    The shouting match didn¡¯t stop for the next five minutes.


    At this point, it was like watching a divorced couple arguing over child custody¡ªexcept neither of them wanted the kid.


    Skully barked something. The old woman shrieked back. More wild gesturing. More pointing at me. I just hovered there, watching the chaos like a soap opera.


    Then, slowly, they started to calm down.


    The woman let out a deep sigh and then turned her focus on me.


    Uh-oh.


    She muttered something, waving her hands in weird motions.


    I felt a faint tingle in the air.


    Ah, magic.


    I had no clue what the spell was, but I was pretty sure it was aimed at me.


    She cast one.


    Nothing happened.


    She frowned.


    She cast another.


    Still nothing.


    Her expression turned more exasperated.


    Another spell.


    And another.


    And still¡ªzip.


    I floated there, perfectly fine, perfectly unaffected.


    Eventually, she let out a long, defeated sigh and turned back to Skully.


    She said something¡ªthis time, her voice was gentle, almost¡­ sympathetic?


    Maybe she was giving Skully advice?


    Whatever it was, Skully didn¡¯t look happy. He groaned, rubbing his bony temple as if he had a headache.


    Which, you know, was impossible since he had no brain.


    We got out of the alley, Skully stomping ahead of me like he had somewhere important to be.


    I was floating right behind him, just minding my own ghostly business, when he suddenly stopped and turned to stare at me.


    For a moment, we locked eyes. Well, his eye sockets, at least.


    And then, without warning, Skully raised a hand, pulsing with some kind of magic. Before I could react, there was a bright shimmer, a ripple in the air¡ªand Skully vanished.


    I blinked. Or, well¡­ I think I blinked.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    I looked around, confused.


    ¡°Wait¡­ what just happened?¡±


    Did he just¡­ teleport?


    No way.


    I floated there, stunned for a few seconds, as realization slowly dawned on me.


    ¡°Did he just ditch me?¡±


    He did. He actually did.


    I shook my head, chuckling in disbelief. ¡°Damn it, Skully. I never knew you had it in you.¡±


    I sighed. This wasn¡¯t exactly what I¡¯d expected when I followed him on this little road trip. Outsmarted by a skeleton. What a day.


    Thankfully, I wasn¡¯t entirely helpless. Before we¡¯d entered the city, I¡¯d been paying attention. I had memorized the way back to the cathedral.


    Was it weird? That I kind of felt¡­ homely about that place? Maybe. But it wasn¡¯t like I had a ton of other options right now.


    ¡°Alright, Skully,¡± I muttered to myself, cracking my non-existent knuckles. ¡°Let¡¯s see how far you get.¡±


    Without wasting any more time, I bolted down the street, using a combination of my weak telekinesis and floating powers to boost my speed. It was like a weird mix of running, gliding, and hovering, but it worked.


    The best part? No stamina bar. No getting tired. I could keep this up for as long as I needed.


    And it wasn¡¯t long before I spotted Skully¡¯s carriage rolling down the road, the same rickety contraption from before, pulled by his spooky, bone-horse creations.


    I floated up alongside it and phased through the side of the carriage, popping in right next to Skully, who was slouched on the couch with his arms crossed.


    ¡°Miss me?¡± I asked, grinning.


    Skully slowly turned his head to look at me. His hollow eye sockets burst with blue flames for a second, creating two orbs of blue flames.


    Yep, there was no getting rid of me yet.


    Skully stared ahead, his fiery eyes dim and flickering, locked on some faraway point outside the carriage window. He wasn¡¯t moving, wasn¡¯t yelling, wasn¡¯t even giving me the usual ¡°I¡¯m-gonna-destroy-you¡± death glare.


    He was just¡­ sitting there.


    Quiet.


    I floated in front of him and waved a hand. No response.


    ¡°Uh¡­ Skully?¡± I said, leaning a little closer.


    Nothing.


    I blinked. Wait¡­ did I break him?


    I tilted my head, watching for any sign of life¡ªor, well, unlife, in his case. But nope. He just sat there like he¡¯d completely checked out of reality.


    ¡°Okay¡­ this is weird.¡± I tapped my chin, trying to figure out what was going on.


    Did he hit his limit? Did the whole teleporting-away-and-me-still-showing-up-right-next-to-him thing push him over the edge?


    ¡°Hey, Skully,¡± I said, poking him lightly on the shoulder with my telekinetic finger. ¡°You good, buddy?¡±


    Still nothing.


    Oh, man. I think I really did it. I broke the skeleton.


    Part of me felt kind of bad. But another part? Well, that part was just a little bit proud.


    I mean, it¡¯s not every day you can say you defeated a flaming, magic-slinging skeleton.

 005 The Lich

    005 The Lich


    The cathedral stood like a monument to forgotten eras, its towering spires clawing at the overcast sky. Gargoyles leered down from the roof¡¯s edge, their expressions warped by centuries of erosion and darkened by grime. Stained glass windows stretched high along the stone walls, though many of the panes had dulled with age, losing their once-brilliant luster. Within the hollowed chambers, the air smelled faintly of dust and incense, as if time itself had come to rest beneath the vaulted ceiling.


    This cathedral had been Donatello¡¯s sanctuary for centuries¡ªa place that bore witness to both his triumphs and his many failures. Here, in the heart of what was once a thriving city, he had carved out a refuge of solitude, far removed from the noise of mortal lives. It was quiet now, save for the faint crackle of a hearth tucked near the back of the main hall and the occasional flutter of bats that had taken up residence in the bell tower.


    Donatello stood at the center of the cathedral, his eyes trailing over the murals that adorned the walls. He had painted them himself long ago, back when his hands were steady and his heart was full. The images depicted angels and saints, scenes of devotion and sacrifice. But time had done its work here too. Faded pigments and chipped plaster rendered some of the figures little more than ghosts of what they had been.


    He sighed, his gaze drifting downward to the cluttered table before him. There, amidst dusty tomes and glass vials filled with strange, luminous liquids, lay the remnants of his latest experiments. Failed attempts, all of them. The Elixir of Eternity¡ªa formula that had consumed him for what felt like an eternity in itself¡ªcontinued to elude him.


    "It was easier when I believed," he murmured to no one in particular, his voice echoing softly against the stone walls.


    He reached for one of the vials, a swirling blue liquid that glowed faintly in the dim light. Carefully, he lifted it to eye level, studying the way the liquid shifted and churned within the glass. It looked promising, but he had thought that before. He set it down again with a sigh.


    As his fingers brushed the edge of the table, his thoughts drifted back to another time, another life. Back when he had been a mortal man, with mortal dreams. He had been in love once. He could still remember the way her laughter had filled the air, bright and warm, like sunlight filtering through leaves. They had been hopeful then, so many things seemed possible.


    But that was a long time ago.


    Now, all that remained was the work. The endless, grueling pursuit of knowledge that had led him down this path. He had sacrificed everything for it¡ªhis humanity, his soul, even his faith.


    A soft creak echoed from the far end of the hall, drawing Donatello¡¯s attention. He turned, his sharp eyes narrowing as he scanned the shadows. But there was nothing there, only the shifting light from the dying hearth. He shook his head and returned his gaze to the murals.


    ¡°Perhaps this is my penance,¡± he said quietly, tracing a finger along the cracked surface of a painted angel¡¯s wing. ¡°To chase eternity and never reach it.¡±


    The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of centuries.


    He sighed, rolling up the sleeves of his tattered black robes. "Time to clean this up," he muttered.


    Cleaning was a task he hated, but he trusted no one else to do it properly. His minions were clumsy at best and catastrophically incompetent at worst. The last time he had left them unsupervised, they¡¯d managed to set fire to the cauldron and melt half the laboratory floor.


    With a flick of his bony fingers, Donatello summoned a gentle gust of magic that swept the broken glass into a neat pile. Another spell sent the scraps of parchment fluttering into a drawer. He moved efficiently, muttering incantations under his breath, but when it came to the dangerous chemicals¡ªthe ones that still bubbled ominously and shimmered with unnatural light¡ªhe handled them personally.


    The last thing he wanted was to fumble and create something the realm would regret.


    Like goblins.


    His jaw clenched at the memory. Goblins were the unfortunate byproduct of one of his earliest experiments, back when he¡¯d foolishly attempted to create a homunculus using devil magic. He¡¯d been trying to craft a loyal, intelligent servant. What he¡¯d gotten instead was a swarm of gold-obsessed, mushroom-hoarding idiots with the collective brainpower of a particularly dim rock.


    ¡°Never again,¡± he muttered, carefully pouring a viscous, purple liquid into a flask. He tightened the stopper and set it aside with a sigh of relief.


    For a moment, everything seemed peaceful.


    And then he felt it¡ªthat creeping, unmistakable sensation that sent shivers rattling down his spine. It wasn¡¯t the chill of the cathedral. It was the feeling of being watched.


    Slowly, reluctantly, Donatello turned his head.


    There he was.


    The ghost.


    He stood near the far end of the hall, leaning casually against one of the cracked marble columns. His arms were folded across his chest, and his head was tilted slightly, as if he were watching Donatello with amused curiosity.


    He looked the same as always: dark jacket, dark trousers, dark, tousled hair. His boots were scuffed, his posture lazy, and his smile¡ªoh, that damn smile¡ªwas just a little too enthusiastic, as though he found the entire situation hilarious.


    But it wasn¡¯t the smile that unsettled Donatello the most.


    A bright red line encircled the ghost¡¯s neck, vivid and angry against his pale skin. It looked fresh, as though it had been inflicted only moments ago. The ghost had been haunting him for a month now, and had been doing nothing but annoy him.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Ugh,¡± Donatello groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. ¡°Not you again.¡±


    The ghost said nothing. He couldn¡¯t.


    There was a language barrier, a cruel twist of fate that left them trapped in awkward silence whenever they crossed paths. The ghost didn¡¯t seem to understand Donatello¡¯s tongue, and Donatello didn¡¯t recognize whatever strange dialect the ghost spoke¡ªif he spoke at all.


    Still, that didn¡¯t stop the ghost from following him everywhere.


    Donatello watched warily as the ghost took a few steps closer. His boots made no sound against the stone floor, but his expression spoke volumes: wide-eyed, grinning, practically vibrating with energy, as if he were thrilled just to be there.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch anything,¡± Donatello warned, holding up a hand.


    The ghost tilted his head, as if trying to decipher the words. Then he shrugged and gave Donatello a thumbs-up.


    Donatello groaned again and turned back to his work. Ignoring the ghost was usually the best strategy¡ªthough it didn¡¯t always work.


    He returned to his cleaning, carefully labeling a set of vials and wiping down the surface of the workbench. He could feel the ghost¡¯s gaze on him the entire time, like an itch he couldn¡¯t scratch. Every now and then, he risked a glance over his shoulder, only to find the ghost standing closer than before, watching with that same unsettling grin.


    ¡°Why are you still here?¡± Donatello muttered, though he knew he wouldn¡¯t get an answer. ¡°Please, leave me alone¡­¡±


    Sometimes, Donatello just wanted to die. Truly die. To let the blue flames in his ribcage flicker and fade, to dissolve into nothing and let the void claim him at last. But he couldn¡¯t. He was too much of a coward, and far too entangled in the magic that had bound him to this wretched afterlife.


    There were times, however, when he believed that if he didn¡¯t end himself, loneliness eventually would.


    He sighed, the sound hollow and rasping, as he sat on the cold stone floor of the cathedral. His empty eye sockets drifted up toward the towering stained glass windows. He could still hear the echoes of long-ago hymns, could almost imagine the pews filled with worshippers kneeling in reverence.


    It had been centuries since the cathedral had been anything but his laboratory¡ªa mausoleum of shattered dreams and failed experiments.


    He thought of her, as he often did. His wife. His beloved. The princess of a powerful nation, with hair like spun gold and eyes as deep as the sea. She had loved him once. Perhaps she still would, if she could see him now¡ªthough he doubted it.


    Their last argument was etched into his memory as clearly as the runes carved into the cathedral¡¯s stone walls. She had begged him to stop, to abandon his quest for immortality.


    ¡°Our love is more important than magic,¡± she had said, her voice breaking. ¡°What¡¯s the point of all this power if it destroys you?¡±


    But they had been at war then. Their kingdom was crumbling, besieged on all sides by enemies with dark magic at their command. They needed strength. They needed him. And so he had made his choice. He had turned to the unholy, and in the process, he had transformed himself into a Lich.


    The ritual had been soul-wrenching, both literally and figuratively. He could still remember the searing pain as his mortal flesh burned away, leaving only bone and flame. He had gained unimaginable power, but at a terrible cost. He had lost his humanity. He had lost her.


    A sudden creak pulled Donatello from his reverie. He turned his head slowly, the blue flames in his eye sockets narrowing as he stared at the ghost that had been haunting him for the past month.


    The ghost was sweeping up shards of glass, whistling cheerfully as he worked. Every so often, he¡¯d chuck a handful of glass out the nearest window, where it shattered against the stone courtyard below.


    Donatello sighed again and rubbed his bony temples. He had tried everything to get rid of the ghost. He had blasted it with magic, trapped it in wards, and even attempted to slay it with a cursed blade forged in the depths of the Shadow Realms. Nothing had worked.


    In a moment of desperation, he had even hired a former clergywoman from Outlaw City to perform an exorcism. The woman had taken one look at the ghost, paled visibly, and promptly fled without so much as a prayer.


    Donatello snapped his bony fingers, his thoughts colliding like falling rubble as he suddenly remembered something crucial. Unfortunately, his enthusiasm had unintended consequences¡ªhis thumb shot off his hand with a faint plink and skittered across the stone floor.


    The ghost scooped up the rogue digit and held it aloft like some kind of prize. His grin was as wide as ever, and he wiggled the thumb in Donatello''s direction as if to mock him.


    ¡°Give me that,¡± Donatello grumbled, snatching the thumb back with a quick swipe. The ghost let go without resistance, his expression one of innocent amusement.


    Donatello grunted in annoyance, reattaching the thumb with an audible click. ¡°You¡¯re more trouble than you¡¯re worth,¡± he muttered, though he couldn¡¯t shake the nagging feeling that the ghost¡¯s antics were far less aggravating than the crushing solitude that had weighed on him for centuries.


    But now wasn¡¯t the time for self-reflection. The memory that had surfaced moments ago spurred him into action. Without another word, Donatello turned on his heel, his tattered robes sweeping across the dusty floor, and made for the cathedral¡¯s hidden vault.


    The ghost, naturally, followed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have anywhere else to haunt?¡± Donatello snapped over his shoulder as he descended the narrow spiral staircase leading to the vault. He didn¡¯t expect an answer¡ªnot that the ghost ever gave one¡ªbut he was rewarded instead with the sound of the ghost¡¯s boots echoing close behind.


    When they reached the bottom of the staircase, Donatello halted before a massive iron door, etched with ancient runes that glowed faintly in the dim light. Behind it lay his treasure vault, a collection of artifacts and relics he had amassed over the centuries.


    And guarding it was Cerberus, a towering, three-headed dog whose black fur rippled like shadows. Each of its heads snarled and snapped as Donatello approached, though the creature made no move to attack. It recognized its master, after all. The ghost, however, received a far less welcoming reception. Cerberus growled menacingly at the intruder, its massive heads lowering in unison.


    ¡°Oh, hush,¡± Donatello chided, patting one of the heads with a bony hand. ¡°He¡¯s harmless. Annoying, but harmless.¡±


    The ghost gave a mock salute, clearly unfazed by the monstrous guardian.


    With a whispered incantation, Donatello traced a sigil in the air, and the runes on the iron door flared brightly before it creaked open. He stepped inside, motioning for the ghost to stay back, but, as always, his spectral companion ignored him and followed right behind.


    The vault was a cavernous chamber filled with shelves and pedestals, each one bearing a piece of Donatello¡¯s long and storied past. Here were enchanted weapons that glowed with an inner fire, scrolls inscribed with forbidden spells, and gemstones that shimmered with otherworldly light. And there, in the far corner, was what he was searching for¡ªa modest, unassuming box made of dark wood.


    Donatello reached for the box with trembling hands, his bony fingers brushing against the smooth surface as he lifted the lid. Inside, nestled on a bed of faded velvet, was a simple silver ring engraved with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and dance in the light.


    ¡°The Ring of Understanding,¡± Donatello whispered, a rare note of reverence in his voice. ¡°I almost forgot I made this.¡±


    The ghost leaned over his shoulder, peering curiously at the ring. Donatello sighed, turning to face him. ¡°This,¡± he said, holding up the ring, ¡°is one of my finest creations. I designed it to enhance comprehension, to expand the boundaries of knowledge itself. But, as with most of my experiments, it didn¡¯t quite work as intended.¡±


    He chuckled darkly, slipping the ring onto his bony finger. ¡°Instead, it grants the wearer the ability to understand and speak every language. Omnilingualism. It¡¯s magic on par with the dragons¡¯ Drakespeech themselves.¡±


    As soon as the ring settled into place, Donatello felt a strange, tingling sensation course through him. It was as if the world itself had shifted, the myriad languages of creation unraveling and aligning in his mind. He turned to the ghost, his hollow sockets narrowing.


    ¡°Speak,¡± he commanded. ¡°If I can¡¯t make you leave with force, I shall use my words instead. What do you want? Wealth? Power? Magic? What is it?¡±

 006 Kill Me

    006 Kill Me


    When I first heard Skully speak my language, I wasn¡¯t sure if I was going insane, or if my afterlife had just taken an even weirder turn.


    ¡°Speak,¡± he said, his voice dry and cold like the rustle of old parchment. His empty eye sockets burned with blue fire as he leaned closer. ¡°If I can¡¯t make you leave with force, I shall use my words instead. What do you want? Wealth? Power? Magic? What is it?¡±


    I blinked. Or at least, I think I did. Ghost eyelids are tricky. For a moment, I just stared at him, pleasantly surprised¡ªand maybe a little entertained¡ªthat the flaming skeleton had decided to give diplomacy a try. Usually, his first instinct was to chuck fireballs at me, but now here he was, trying to negotiate. Adorable.


    I glanced around his treasure vault, taking in the glittering piles of gold, the enchanted swords humming softly with latent power, the ancient scrolls practically pulsing with forbidden magic. There was enough loot in here to make any adventurer faint from greed.


    And then I glanced back at Skully. And at the silver ring on his bony finger¡ªthe one that was still glowing faintly from whatever ancient enchantment had just let him crack wise in my language.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± he repeated, leaning in closer. His voice dropped to an intimidating growl, like a lich trying to audition for the role of terrifying final boss.


    I smiled. ¡°Nice place you¡¯ve got here. Very cozy. And, uh¡­ if I could have your ring, that¡¯d be great.¡±


    For a second, there was silence. Absolute, dead silence.


    Then Skully snarled, raising one hand, and before I could say whoops, he unleashed a crackling bolt of lightning straight at me.


    Of course, it phased right through. I mean, I¡¯m a ghost. That¡¯s how this works.


    ¡°Hahahaha!¡± I doubled over, laughing as the lightning bolt passed harmlessly by and scorched the wall behind me. Classic Skully. Always so quick to anger. Always forgetting the basics. ¡°Oh, man. You should¡¯ve seen your face¡ªoh, wait, you don¡¯t have one!¡±


    ¡°You insufferable, ectoplasmic pest!¡± Skully roared, his entire body rattling with rage. He unleashed a string of curses so colorful, I¡¯m pretty sure some of them broke several interdimensional decency laws.


    ¡°You festering wisp of misery! You blight on my afterlife! You intolerable specter with the IQ of moldy bread! I swear, by all the unholy fires that burn in the depths of the Shadow Realms, that if I had a single shred of power that could affect you, I would¡ª¡±


    ¡°Whoa, whoa, whoa,¡± I interrupted, holding up my hands. ¡°Skully, buddy, you¡¯re gonna pop a rib if you keep yelling like that.¡±


    He let out a sound that was halfway between a growl and a scream, like a banshee who just found out their favorite crypt caf¨¦ stopped serving decaf. ¡°Leave. Me. Alone.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you know I can¡¯t do that,¡± I said cheerfully. ¡°We¡¯re bonded now, remember? You made me follow you. This is basically your fault.¡±


    ¡°I did no such thing!¡±


    ¡°Sure you did. Remember that time you tried to teleport away from me? And I just¡ªpoof¡ªfollowed you right back here?¡±


    By the way, I was making all that up.


    Skully groaned and dragged his bony fingers down his face, which, considering he was a skeleton, was more like scraping a xylophone. ¡°You are the bane of my existence.¡±


    ¡°Aw, you¡¯re gonna make me blush.¡±


    ¡°I hate you.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    His hands dropped to his sides, and he glared at me with those fiery blue eyes. ¡°You¡¯ll never have my ring, you know.¡±


    ¡°Eh, worth a shot.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Anyway, what¡¯s for dinner?¡±


    Skully let out another long, suffering groan and stalked off deeper into the vault, muttering more curses under his breath. I grinned. If he thought I was leaving anytime soon, he had another eternity to think again.


    ¡°So, what does the ring do?¡± I asked, floating lazily beside Skully as he clinked around the vault, clearly pretending I wasn¡¯t there. He wasn¡¯t fooling anyone.


    ¡°It¡¯s a translation ring,¡± he said after a long pause, his tone dripping with reluctance. ¡°It grants its wearer Omnilinguanism.¡±


    ¡°Omnilingu¡ªwhat now?¡±


    ¡°Omnilinguanism,¡± he repeated with an air of smugness, like it was supposed to mean something. When I didn¡¯t react, he added, ¡°It means I can understand and speak any language¡ªliving, dead, or otherwise.¡±


    I whistled low. ¡°Huh. That¡¯s¡­ actually pretty cool.¡±


    ¡°Obviously.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ can I have it?¡±


    He stopped mid-step and turned slowly, his bony hand tightening into a fist. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Aw, come on.¡±


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    ¡°I am not giving it up,¡± he said firmly, his blue flames narrowing to thin, angry slits in his eye sockets. ¡°Do you have any idea how rare this kind of magic is? I wasn¡¯t even trying to make a translation ring when I created it! It was an accident¡ªone I have no idea how to replicate.¡±


    ¡°Cool.¡± I nodded, genuinely impressed. ¡°Happy accidents, right?¡±


    Skully ignored me and started pacing again, muttering something about fools and ghosts and cursed rings. After a moment, he stopped and looked at me, tilting his skull thoughtfully. ¡°If, hypothetically, I were to give you the ring¡­ would you agree to leave me alone?¡±


    I pretended to think about it, tapping my chin like I was seriously considering the offer. Then I smiled. ¡°Nah. I¡¯d rather not.¡±


    Skully made a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl. ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Look, I couldn¡¯t just leave a friend in misery,¡± I said, grinning.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need friends,¡± Skully snapped. ¡°And I don¡¯t even know your name.¡±


    ¡°Good point.¡± I nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s fix that.¡±


    I drifted closer, straightened my posture (well, as much as a ghost can), and gave him my best ¡°interview mode¡± smile¡ªthe kind I used to practice back when I was desperately job-hunting after college.


    ¡°My name is Nolan Cruz. Mass Communication graduate. Twenty-four years old. Died in a vehicular accident. Not particularly religious, but still kind of believe in g¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut up!¡± Skully roared, his voice echoing off the vault¡¯s stone walls. The flames in his eye sockets flared like mini explosions.


    I blinked, startled, but then burst out laughing. ¡°Wow. You really hate small talk, huh?¡±


    ¡°With you? Yes.¡±


    ¡°Well, too bad, buddy. You¡¯re stuck with me now.¡±


    Skully rubbed a hand down his bony face, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh. ¡°I am never going to know peace again, am I?¡±


    ¡°Nope!¡± I said cheerfully. ¡°But look on the bright side¡ªat least you¡¯re not bored.¡±


    ¡°I despise you.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    He turned and stomped away deeper into the vault, muttering angrily under his breath. I grinned. Another successful conversation.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I asked, watching Skully rummage through the piles of ancient artifacts, glowing relics, and miscellaneous shiny things. He was tossing stuff aside like a skeleton on a mission. Which, I guess, he was.


    ¡°Looking for paraphernalia,¡± he said without looking up.


    ¡°Paraphernalia?¡±


    ¡°Yes, paraphernalia.¡± He picked up what looked like a rusted crown, stared at it for a second, and then chucked it over his shoulder. It clanged against a stack of broken swords. ¡°Specifically, something I used to create the ring. Or at least an approximation of one.¡±


    I tilted my head. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°So I can recreate it,¡± he said dryly, as if that was obvious. ¡°Give it to you. And then pray¡ªhope beyond hope¡ªthat the emotional depth of my generous offering will be enough to exorcise you.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°You think that¡¯ll work?¡±


    ¡°It could,¡± he said, voice laced with sarcasm. ¡°There are records of ghosts moving on when presented with something of great sentimental value. A selfless act, a meaningful token, that sort of thing.¡±


    I floated a little closer, arms crossed, watching him sift through the dusty remnants of a bygone era. ¡°You do realize I¡¯m not like most ghosts, right?¡±


    ¡°Oh, trust me, I¡¯m painfully aware,¡± he muttered, tossing aside a glowing amulet with a flick of his wrist.


    I grinned. ¡°So, why bother?¡±


    He paused for a moment, holding a small, cracked vial in his hand. He stared at it, the blue flames in his eye sockets flickering faintly. ¡°Because it¡¯s worth a try,¡± he said quietly.


    There was something in his voice that gave me pause. A heaviness, like he wasn¡¯t just talking about me or the ring anymore. I waited, letting the silence stretch between us.


    After a moment, Skully sighed and set the vial down gently. ¡°The ring¡­ it used to belong to my daughter.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°Your daughter?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said, his voice softer now, almost wistful. ¡°I gave it to her the last time she was alive.¡±


    I didn¡¯t say anything. For once, I didn¡¯t crack a joke or make some sarcastic comment. I just listened.


    ¡°She loved languages,¡± Skully continued, his bony fingers brushing over a dusty, worn book on the table in front of him. ¡°She was always curious, always asking questions. I made the ring for her¡ªwell, accidentally made it¡ªbut she adored it. Said it made her feel like she could understand the whole world.¡±


    His voice trailed off, and for a moment, the vault felt colder, like the weight of his memories had seeped into the air.


    ¡°What happened to her?¡± I asked quietly.


    ¡°She died,¡± he said simply. ¡°A long time ago.¡±


    There was a finality to his words, but beneath it, I could hear the ache of something unresolved. Something that still haunted him, even after all these centuries.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said, and I meant it.


    Skully didn¡¯t respond. He just kept rummaging through the piles of relics, but his movements were slower now, less frantic. Like he was lost in thought.


    I watched him for a moment longer, feeling a strange pang of¡­ empathy? Sadness? Something. It wasn¡¯t like me to get all sentimental, but there was something about Skully¡¯s loneliness that hit a little too close to home.


    ¡°You really miss her, huh?¡± I said softly.


    He stopped, his bony shoulders slumping slightly. ¡°Every day.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ if you miss her that much, why don¡¯t you move on?¡± I asked, my voice softer than usual.


    Skully froze. He didn¡¯t turn around right away, just stayed there with his back to me, one hand resting on what looked like an enchanted spear. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than I¡¯d ever heard it.


    ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ never asked myself that,¡± he said, turning to face me, the blue flames in his eye sockets flickering uncertainly. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you moved on?¡±


    I scoffed, floating down to sit cross-legged on an old, cracked table. ¡°I have no idea,¡± I said, rubbing the back of my neck. ¡°One second, I was alive, driving to my next interview after a long day, and the next¡­ I was dead. Just like that.¡± I snapped my fingers for emphasis.


    Skully watched me, his skeletal face unreadable, but I could feel the intensity of his gaze.


    ¡°I waited, you know,¡± I continued, leaning back a little. ¡°For something. Someone. Grim Reaper, an angel, even a bureaucrat with a clipboard. But no one came. I just¡­ slipped through the cracks. One minute I was floating in this weird in-between space, and the next, I got dropped here.¡± I gestured vaguely around us. ¡°In a world that looks like it was ripped straight out of Dungeons & Dragons, complete with a veritable dark lord and a bunch of skeleton minions.¡±


    Skully tilted his head slightly. ¡°You¡¯re ranting,¡± he observed.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I admitted, letting out a frustrated sigh. ¡°I guess I am.¡±


    He didn¡¯t say anything, just kept staring at me with those flickering blue flames for eyes. It was unnerving, but also kind of impressive how expressive he could be for someone without actual facial muscles.


    ¡°And that brings me back to your question,¡± I said after a moment, my voice dropping to a quieter tone. ¡°What do I want?¡± I gave a bitter laugh. ¡°I want to move on.¡±


    There it was. The truth. Simple, raw, and painful.


    I stared at Skully, and he stared back, his expression unreadable. Then, before I could lose my nerve, I added, ¡°So¡­ I want you to kill me.¡±


    Skully blinked¡ªor at least, he did the skeletal equivalent of blinking. His flames flared slightly, and he tilted his head as if he wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d heard me right.


    ¡°Kill you?¡± he repeated slowly, his voice low and cautious.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, shrugging like it was no big deal. ¡°I mean, I¡¯m already dead, but¡­ maybe there¡¯s something you can do. Some spell, or ritual, or whatever. Something that¡¯ll send me to the afterlife. Or at least somewhere that isn¡¯t here.¡±


    For a long moment, Skully didn¡¯t say anything. He just stared at me, the flames in his eye sockets flickering like candlelight in a storm. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost¡­ sad.


    ¡°You really want that?¡± he asked.


    I nodded. ¡°Yeah. I do.¡±

 007 Unexorcisable Ghost

    007 Unexorcisable Ghost


    Grey Sands was exactly what it sounded like¡ªa barren desert stretching as far as the eye could see, covered in sand the color of ash. The sky above was dull and hazy, and there wasn¡¯t a single tree, blade of grass, or sign of life anywhere. It was the kind of place where hope came to die¡­ which, honestly, made it perfect for my current situation.


    Skully had led me here without much fanfare. He didn¡¯t say a word as we traveled, and I didn¡¯t ask any questions. What was there to say, anyway? I had asked him to kill me, and he had agreed. Simple as that.


    Now, we stood at opposite ends of a wide, empty stretch of sand. Skully had positioned himself a good distance away, probably to avoid getting any of my ectoplasmic goo on him if this went sideways. He raised one bony hand and shouted across the expanse.


    ¡°Are you ready, ghost?!¡±


    I gave him a big, exaggerated double thumbs-up and yelled back, ¡°Ready as I¡¯ll ever be!¡±


    To his credit, Skully didn¡¯t waste time with any sentimental speeches or second thoughts. He just nodded and got right to work. What a guy.


    Magic circles began forming around him, glowing in eerie shades of blue, green, and purple. Runes and ancient symbols rotated lazily in the air, surrounding him like orbiting planets. I couldn¡¯t help but be impressed. I¡¯d seen Skully use magic before, but never like this. This was on a whole other level.


    Apparently, Skully hadn¡¯t been able to use his big spells back at his base because he didn¡¯t want to risk destroying all his stuff. Fair enough. Now, though, he had no such restrictions, and he was really cutting loose. I could practically feel the power crackling in the air.


    I waited patiently while Skully built up his magic. It took a while¡ªabout five minutes or so. At first, I figured he was just being careful, but as time went on, I started to get the feeling that he was drawing this out on purpose. Like he was savoring it.


    Sure enough, when the sky finally started to darken, I noticed something¡­ off about Skully¡¯s posture. He wasn¡¯t just serious or focused¡ªhe was excited. His blue flames were burning brighter than usual, and there was a certain gleam in his eye sockets that made me think he was really looking forward to this.


    When he finally spoke, his voice boomed across the desert like thunder.


    ¡°MORTAL GHOST, PREPARE YOURSELF! FOR YOU ARE ABOUT TO WITNESS THE TRUE POWER OF A LICH KING!¡±


    I squinted at him. ¡°Uh¡­ okay?¡±


    He raised both arms dramatically, and the magic circles around him flared with light. ¡°BEHOLD! THE SPELL THAT SHALL END YOU! THE ULTIMATE DESTRUCTIVE FORCE! THE VERY WRATH OF THE HEAVENS MADE MANIFEST!¡±


    ¡°Skully, are you monologuing?¡±


    ¡°METEOR!¡± he bellowed, completely ignoring me.


    And then, with a flourish that could only be described as unnecessarily theatrical, he pointed one bony finger toward the sky.


    For a moment, nothing happened.


    Then I felt it¡ªa distant rumble, low and deep, like the growl of some ancient beast awakening from a long slumber. The ground trembled beneath me, and I glanced upward just in time to see the clouds part, revealing a massive, flaming rock hurtling toward the earth.


    ¡°Oh,¡± I said, blinking. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ actually a meteor.¡±


    And it was coming right for me.


    ¡°Hahahaha!¡± Skully cackled, practically vibrating with glee. ¡°It¡¯s been so long since I¡¯ve used this spell! Oh, I almost forgot how fun it is! Goodbye, ghost! May your second death be swift and¡ª¡±


    Before he could finish, the meteor crashed into the ground with a deafening roar, kicking up a massive cloud of dust and sand. The shockwave knocked me off my feet and sent me tumbling across the desert like a ragdoll. For a few seconds, I couldn¡¯t see or hear anything except the ringing in my ears and the blinding haze of debris.


    When the dust finally started to settle, I floated up from where I¡¯d landed and brushed myself off. My clothes were covered in sand, but other than that, I was perfectly fine. Not a scratch on me.


    ¡°Whew,¡± I said, cracking my neck. ¡°That was intense.¡±


    I turned to see Skully standing frozen in place, his jaw literally hanging open. His eye flames flickered wildly as he stared at me, clearly struggling to process what had just happened.


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ still here,¡± he said, his voice a mixture of disbelief and annoyance.


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    ¡°Yep,¡± I said cheerfully. ¡°Guess that didn¡¯t work, huh?¡±


    ¡°But¡­ but I hit you with Meteor! No one survives Meteor!¡± He threw his hands in the air. ¡°It¡¯s a spell specifically designed to obliterate everything in its path!¡±


    ¡°Well, I guess I¡¯m the exception,¡± I said with a shrug.


    Skully groaned and rubbed his bony temples. ¡°I knew I should¡¯ve gone with Eternal Abyss.¡±


    After the whole meteor incident, Skully stood there for a solid minute, silently staring at me like I was the most infuriating puzzle he¡¯d ever encountered. Which, to be fair, I probably was.


    I floated a few feet off the ground, brushing off the last bit of dust clinging to my translucent hoodie. ¡°So,¡± I said, breaking the awkward silence, ¡°what¡¯s next?¡±


    Skully let out a groan so loud it could¡¯ve cracked stone. ¡°What¡¯s next?¡± he repeated, rubbing his skull like he had a migraine. ¡°What¡¯s next is that I start questioning everything I know about the fabric of existence! There¡¯s nothing mortal about you, is there? You¡¯re a walking contradiction!¡±


    ¡°Technically, I¡¯m a floating contradiction,¡± I corrected with a grin.


    He glared at me, his blue eye flames flickering dangerously. ¡°Don¡¯t test me, ghost.¡±


    I held up my hands in mock surrender. ¡°Okay, okay. Jeez. Someone¡¯s cranky.¡±


    Skully grumbled under his breath and started pacing, muttering to himself about ¡°laws of magic¡± and ¡°cosmic anomalies.¡± Then, with a sudden burst of determination, he spun around to face me.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he said. ¡°If a meteor can¡¯t exorcise you, we¡¯ll just have to try everything.¡±


    And that¡¯s exactly what we did.


    ¡°Eternal Abyss!¡±


    Skully raised his hands, and the ground beneath me cracked open, revealing a swirling vortex of darkness. Tendrils of shadow reached up, grasping at my legs, pulling me downward into the inky void. I felt a chill seep into my very essence, like my soul was being unraveled thread by thread.


    It was¡­ uncomfortable, sure. But did it exorcise me? Nope. After about a minute of being sucked into the abyss, I floated right back out, yawning like I¡¯d just woken up from a nap.


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± I asked. ¡°Kind of underwhelming, honestly.¡±


    Skully¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°UNDERWHELMING?! That spell is supposed to obliterate souls! It¡¯s one of the most powerful banishment spells in existence!¡±


    ¡°Well, maybe my soul is built different,¡± I said, shrugging.


    He muttered something about ¡°stupid invincible ghosts¡± and stomped off to prepare his next spell.


    ¡°Hellfire Purgatory!!¡±


    This one was a real doozy. Skully summoned a ring of fire around me¡ªblack flames that roared and crackled with the intensity of a thousand suns. The heat was so intense that the sand beneath me turned to glass, and the air shimmered with waves of distortion.


    For a moment, I thought, Okay, this one might actually do something. But nope. The flames passed right through me like I wasn¡¯t even there. When the spell finally ended, I was left floating in the middle of a charred crater, completely unharmed.


    ¡°Well, that was toasty,¡± I said, grinning at Skully. ¡°Got anything spicier?¡±


    He threw his hands up in frustration. ¡°Why won¡¯t you just DIE?!¡±


    ¡°Been there, done that,¡± I said with a wink.


    ¡°Death Knell.¡±


    This one was supposed to stop my heart. You know, if I still had one.


    Skully chanted some ancient incantation, and a low, ominous tolling sound echoed across the desert. I felt a strange pressure in my chest, like an invisible hand was trying to squeeze the life out of me. But since I was already dead, it just felt like¡­ well, nothing.


    When the spell ended, I gave Skully a thumbs-up. ¡°Still here.¡±


    He let out a scream of pure frustration and started pulling at his own ribcage.


    ¡°Exploding Fireball! EXPLODING FIREBALL!! EXPLODING!!! FIREBALL!!!¡±


    This one was exactly what it sounded like. A giant fireball, roughly the size of a small boulder, hurtling toward me at breakneck speed. It exploded on impact, creating a massive shockwave that sent sand flying in every direction.


    Skully really went all in on this one. He spammed fireball after fireball at me like he was playing some magic-based RPG and had infinite mana to burn. One after another, they came hurtling toward me¡ªeach one bigger and hotter than the last¡ªexploding on impact and creating a series of shockwaves that sent sand flying in every direction.


    The desert soon resembled a war zone, with craters dotting the landscape and smoke rising in ominous black tendrils. And yet, there I was, still floating in the same spot, casually brushing off bits of ash that didn¡¯t even stick to me properly.


    When he finally stopped, panting despite the fact that he had no lungs, I waved at him through the smoke. ¡°You done?¡±


    Skully let out a strangled growl and telekinetically hurled what looked like a chunk of molten glass at me. It passed right through my head. Classic Skully.


    When the dust cleared, I was still floating in the same spot, completely unscathed.


    ¡°Nice fireworks,¡± I said. ¡°Got any more?¡±


    ¡°Lightning Pillar!¡±


    A massive bolt of lightning struck me from above, crackling with enough energy to power an entire city. I felt a brief tingle¡ªlike static electricity¡ªbut that was it.


    Skully just stared at me, looking like he was on the verge of a breakdown.


    ¡°Dragon Rend!¡±


    This one was supposed to summon a spectral dragon to rip my soul apart. I was actually kind of excited about this one. I mean, how often do you get to see a dragon, even a ghostly one?


    The dragon roared, swooped down, and¡­ passed right through me without doing a thing.


    Skully facepalmed. ¡°I give up,¡± he muttered.


    At one point, Skully got desperate and tried turning me into an undead. He figured that if I was technically undead, he might be able to kill me again and force me to move on.


    So, he performed some creepy ritual involving blood, bones, and a lot of chanting. When it was done, I looked down at myself and realized¡­ nothing had changed.


    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t think it worked,¡± I said.


    Skully sighed. ¡°Of course it didn¡¯t.¡±


    In a last-ditch effort, Skully summoned another meteor¡ªthis one even bigger than the last. It crashed down with enough force to level a mountain, creating a massive crater in the desert.


    And yet¡­ I was still there. Still floating. Still very much a ghost.


    By the end of the day, Skully was a wreck. He looked like he was about two seconds away from ripping his own skull off and chucking it into the horizon.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± he said, his voice hollow and defeated. ¡°I threw everything I had at you. Spells that could destroy armies, lay waste to entire kingdoms¡­ and you just¡­ shrugged them off.¡±


    I floated over to him and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t feel bad. You tried your best.¡±


    He sighed and slumped down onto the sand, looking utterly dejected. ¡°You¡¯re impossible, Nolan.¡±


    I grinned. ¡°Yeah, I get that a lot.¡±

 008 Special Talk

    008 Special Talk


    It had been three months since I was unceremoniously dropped into this world, and if I had to describe my afterlife so far, I¡¯d say it was like being stuck in a weird mix of house arrest and summer camp¡­ minus the campfires and s¡¯mores. I¡¯d settled into a somewhat vague routine to keep my sanity intact¡ªor whatever¡¯s left of it after being dead for a while.


    Mornings usually started with me doing household chores. It sounds mundane, I know, but I wasn¡¯t exactly scrubbing floors or folding laundry. I didn¡¯t need to, obviously, but I used chores as a way to practice my tactile telekinesis. Poltergeist stuff. I¡¯d lift broken chunks of Skully¡¯s furniture and reassemble them, move objects without touching them, and occasionally rearrange his bookshelves just to mess with him. He hated that. Especially when I alphabetized everything by author¡¯s first name.


    Then came the ghost power experiments. That was hit or miss. Literally. One day, I discovered I could float through walls at will simultaneously, which was cool, and the next, I tried phasing through the floor and ended up stuck waist-deep in the stone like some kind of supernatural gopher. Skully laughed for a solid fifteen minutes before begrudgingly yanking me out.


    Afternoons? That was reserved for getting hit by Skully¡¯s magic.


    Yep, still happening. Skully had taken it upon himself to keep testing whether he could destroy me, and I, in my infinite boredom and curiosity, let him. It wasn¡¯t like it hurt. One minute I¡¯d be floating around, and the next, BAM¡ªfireballs, lightning, even something he called Death Beam, which sounded way more dramatic than it actually was. I¡¯d just blink, phase back into place, and give him a thumbs-up. He¡¯d grumble, mutter something about ¡°damned persistent spirits,¡± and we¡¯d repeat the cycle.


    But recently, I¡¯d added something new to the mix: learning magic. Or at least trying to.


    Skully wasn¡¯t exactly thrilled about that. ¡°You¡¯re already an unkillable ghost, and now you want to add spellcasting to the list?¡± he¡¯d said, sounding more annoyed than concerned.


    ¡°Yep,¡± I¡¯d replied. ¡°Might as well. I¡¯ve got the time.¡±


    Who knew, I might achieve an incredible breakthrough that would allow me to kill myself.


    The magic system in this world was¡­ weird. Apparently, it revolved around a theoretical form of energy called mana. You couldn¡¯t see it, touch it, or measure it in any scientific way. It was just there, flowing through everything like some kind of mystical Wi-Fi signal. According to Skully, magic users manipulated mana by using spells, runes, incantations, or even sheer force of will, depending on the type of magic they specialized in.


    It was fascinating but also incredibly frustrating because none of it followed the rules my mom taught me.


    My mom¡­ she used to dabble in folk magic back when I was a kid. Nothing fancy¡ªjust little charms, herbal remedies, and the occasional candle spell to ward off bad vibes. She always said magic was about intention, about channeling your energy into the world and trusting it to respond. But here? Here, magic was like math. Complex, structured, and annoyingly precise.


    Still, I kept at it. Not like I had much else to do.


    So, how was my afterlife treating me recently? Absolutely boring. The realm was surprisingly peaceful despite looking like something straight out of a high-fantasy RPG. No marauding warlords, no dragon attacks, not even a rogue necromancer causing chaos. Just endless stretches of quiet forests, crumbling ruins, and sleepy villages where nothing much happened.


    I guess I should¡¯ve been grateful for the peace, but honestly? I was kind of hoping for more excitement. Maybe a quest or two. A treasure map. A prophecy. Anything to break the monotony.


    ¡°Hey, Skully,¡± I said one afternoon as we sat in his cathedral-turned-lair. He was hunched over his workbench, fiddling with some kind of glowing crystal, and I was lazily floating upside down near the ceiling. ¡°Do you ever get bored?¡±


    He snorted. ¡°Do I look like someone who has time to be bored?¡±


    ¡°Kind of, yeah,¡± I said, pointing at the pile of half-finished experiments gathering dust in the corner. ¡°You¡¯ve been dead for how long now? Centuries? Millennia? And you¡¯re still puttering around in here like a retired alchemist with a hobby.¡±


    ¡°I am not puttering,¡± he said, shooting me a glare. ¡°I¡¯m conducting research.¡±


    ¡°On what?¡±


    He paused. ¡°That¡¯s none of your business.¡±


    I shrugged and drifted lower until I was level with him. ¡°You know, maybe if you got out more, you wouldn¡¯t be so grumpy all the time. Go on a vacation. Take a break from all the doom and gloom.¡±


    ¡°A vacation,¡± he repeated flatly, as though I¡¯d just suggested he take up knitting.


    ¡°Yeah! Hit up a tavern, visit a magic fair, see the sights. You might actually enjoy yourself.¡±


    ¡°I am a Lich,¡± he said, enunciating every word like he was talking to a particularly slow child. ¡°I do not vacation.¡±


    ¡°Maybe that¡¯s your problem,¡± I said, grinning. ¡°You¡¯ve forgotten how to have fun.¡±


    He groaned and pinched the bridge of his bony nose. ¡°Nolan, I swear, if you don¡¯t stop talking, I¡¯m going to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, hit me with another fireball. Go ahead. I¡¯m ready.¡± I struck a dramatic pose, arms outstretched. ¡°Bring it on, Skully.¡±


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    He stared at me for a long moment, then sighed and shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re insufferable.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. I try.¡±


    And time went on like usual¡­


    It had been a few more weeks of me floundering through this bizarre afterlife when Skully finally hit me with some news: I was magically defective.


    Apparently, after all my failed attempts to cast even the most basic spells, he decided to run some tests. After poking, prodding, and scribbling down notes on crumbling parchment for hours, he gave me his professional diagnosis.


    ¡°You¡¯re suffering from anti-mana interference,¡± he said, gesturing dramatically with a bony hand.


    ¡°Anti-mana¡­ something?¡± I repeated, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°Interference,¡± he clarified, as if that somehow made it sound better. ¡°Your spirit seems to repel mana. It¡¯s why you can¡¯t perform magic like normal beings.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± I said, throwing up my hands. ¡°So, I¡¯m basically a magic brick.¡±


    ¡°More like a magic black hole,¡± Skully mused, tapping his chin. ¡°You don¡¯t absorb mana, but you disrupt it¡­ a lot. That¡¯s probably why nothing I¡¯ve thrown at you so far has worked.¡±


    I sighed. ¡°So, I¡¯m unkillable and magically useless. Fantastic.¡±


    For a while, I honestly thought I might die (again) of boredom. The days started to blur together in a haze of ghostly chores, failed spellcasting attempts, and Skully¡¯s increasingly frustrated mutterings. I was about to lose hope when, out of the blue, Skully invited me to help with his experiments.


    At first, I thought he was joking.


    ¡°You want me to help you?¡± I asked, blinking in disbelief.


    ¡°Do you have anything better to do?¡± he snapped.


    Fair point.


    And so, for the next few days, I became Skully¡¯s lab assistant¡ªor, more accurately, his magical guinea pig. My duties included carrying stuff, bringing stuff, standing still while he scribbled runes around me, and, occasionally, getting tossed across the room by experimental potions.


    ¡°Are you still trying to kill me?¡± I asked one day, after picking myself up from a pile of shattered vials.


    ¡°No,¡± he said, frowning. ¡°This is purely for research purposes.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I said, dusting off my ectoplasmic sleeves. ¡°Because, you know, my whole ¡®exorcise me, please¡¯ request is probably going to be a long-term affair. And while I¡¯ve got the patience for it, I¡¯m starting to worry I might outlive you if you don¡¯t find a solution.¡±


    He shot me a glare, but he didn¡¯t deny it.


    Currently, we were experimenting with magical items. According to Skully, people in this world could only equip a limited number of magic items, and that limit was tied to their strength. It had something to do with how much magical power the body could handle before it overloaded.


    In game terms, I think he was referring to level requirements.


    ¡°In this time and age,¡± Skully explained as he handed me a glowing amulet, ¡°if someone tries to equip a magical item beyond their means, they¡¯ll suffer severe consequences¡ªanything from debilitating sickness to, well, instant death. Unless you are a demi-god, there is no way you can equip artifacts beyond your ken.¡±


    ¡°Sounds fun,¡± I said, slipping the amulet over my head.


    For me, though, the consequences weren¡¯t quite so extreme. My limit, as it turned out, was a single ring. No more, no less. If I tried to wear anything beyond that, I didn¡¯t die or get sick¡ªI just became¡­ encumbered.


    Imagine trying to move through a pool of molasses while wearing a hundred-pound backpack. That¡¯s what it felt like.


    ¡°Fascinating,¡± Skully muttered, jotting down notes as I struggled to lift my arms.


    ¡°Glad you¡¯re enjoying this,¡± I wheezed, slowly peeling off the extra magic items.


    Once I was back to normal, I glanced at Skully¡¯s hand. Specifically, at the glowing ring on his finger.


    ¡°So,¡± I said casually, ¡°about that ring¡­¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he said immediately.


    ¡°Come on, you didn¡¯t even let me finish!¡±


    ¡°I know what you¡¯re going to ask, and the answer is no,¡± he said firmly. ¡°This ring is¡­ irreplaceable.¡±


    Yeah, I knew that. I tried. But come on, imagine the adventure I could¡¯ve had if I had that ring. Unlimited translation powers? I¡¯d be practically unstoppable¡ªat least when it came to asking for directions or haggling over magical trinkets at the market.


    Unfortunately, Skully wasn¡¯t budging, so I figured it was time to consider a more nuclear option.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I said with a shrug. ¡°If you won¡¯t give me the ring, maybe it¡¯s time I try something else.¡±


    Skully raised a suspicious eyebrow¡ªor at least, the bony equivalent. ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°Point me to the nearest church.¡±


    He blinked¡ªor, well, his eye sockets flickered, which I took as blinking. ¡°Church?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. You know, holy ground, priests, faith, all that stuff.¡± I gestured vaguely, like that would make it clearer.


    Skully crossed his arms and stared at me like I¡¯d just asked him where to find a unicorn petting zoo. ¡°There¡­ aren¡¯t any churches left,¡± he said slowly.


    ¡°Wait, what?¡±


    ¡°The Church you¡¯re talking about perished over a thousand years ago.¡± He said it matter-of-factly, like he was talking about last year¡¯s crops. ¡°The most powerful religious organization in the world now is called the Clergy of Magic.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°Clergy of¡­ Magic?¡±


    ¡°Magic,¡± he repeated with a nod. ¡°They worship the arcane forces of the world and venerate powerful archmages as saints.¡±


    Okay, that was definitely not what I was expecting. I mean, sure, this world was clearly leaning hard into the high fantasy aesthetic, but no churches? No priests with holy symbols? No exorcists wielding crucifixes and chanting Latin? What kind of afterlife was this?


    I scratched the back of my head, trying to process it all. ¡°So¡­ what happened to the old Church? You know, the one with gods and stuff?¡±


    Skully sighed, and for a moment, he actually looked¡­ tired. ¡°It¡¯s a long story,¡± he said, his voice softer than usual. ¡°Let¡¯s just say the world changed, and the old gods didn¡¯t change with it.¡±


    I nodded slowly, even though I didn¡¯t really understand. ¡°Okay¡­ So, what exactly is the Clergy of Magic? Do they do exorcisms?¡±


    ¡°Technically, yes,¡± Skully said. ¡°But their exorcisms are more like magical purges. They don¡¯t use holy water or prayer¡ªthey use spells, sigils, and alchemical rituals. It¡¯s technically the same thing I¡¯ve been doing to you.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡± I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. ¡°Sounds intense.¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± Skully said. Then he gave me a pointed look. ¡°And not something you should mess with lightly.¡±


    I waved him off. ¡°Relax, I¡¯m not planning to march into their temple and demand an exorcism. I just want to know my options.¡±


    Skully didn¡¯t look convinced, but he let it go. Instead, he gave me a curious look. ¡°You know,¡± he said, ¡°for someone who¡¯s been here for months, you seem surprisingly clueless about¡­ a lot of things¡­ Does it have something to do with the degradation of memories of ghosts?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°What can I say? I¡¯m a slow learner.¡±


    Skully narrowed his eyes. ¡°Just where did you come from, anyway? How have you not heard about the historical changes, the fall of the old Church, or the rise of the Clergy of Magic?¡±


    I froze. For a split second, I considered lying. But then I remembered who I was talking to¡ªa literal undead skeleton with a penchant for blasting me with lightning whenever I annoyed him. If anyone could handle the truth, it was probably Skully.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said, taking a deep breath (even though I didn¡¯t technically need to breathe). ¡°You might want to sit down for this.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have muscles,¡± Skully deadpanned. ¡°Or a butt.¡±


    ¡°Fair point,¡± I said. ¡°But still¡­ you might want to brace yourself, because what I¡¯m about to tell you is going to sound pretty crazy.¡±


    Skully tilted his head, clearly intrigued. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±


    And that¡¯s when I decided to drop the bombshell:


    ¡°I¡¯m not from this world,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m from another one¡ªa place where magic doesn¡¯t exist, skeletons don¡¯t talk, and the only monsters we have are the ones on TV.¡±

 009 The Skeleton鈥檚 Deal

    009 The Skeleton¡¯s Deal


    Skully rubbed his chin¡ªwell, the bottom part of his skull¡ªand hummed thoughtfully as I wrapped up my story. He didn¡¯t interrupt once, which was unusual. Normally, by this point, he would¡¯ve thrown in at least three sarcastic comments and possibly a fireball for good measure. But this time, he just paced in slow, deliberate circles, like he was chewing on every word I¡¯d said.


    After a few laps, he stopped and turned to face me, the flames in his eye sockets flickering with¡­ curiosity? Excitement? It was hard to tell with Skully.


    ¡°I believe you,¡± he said.


    I blinked. ¡°Wait, what? Just like that?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Just like that.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°No skepticism? No accusations of me being insane or making it all up?¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± he said, popping the ¡°p¡± sound.


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked, genuinely baffled. ¡°How can you believe me so easily?¡±


    Skully crossed his arms and gave me a long, measuring look. ¡°Because dimensional magic is a field of study in this world. Or at least, it used to be.¡±


    I stared at him, my mind struggling to process that information. ¡°Dimensional¡­ magic?¡±


    He nodded again. ¡°It was one of the major branches of magical research back in the days of the old gods. Before they got wrecked by the Clergy of Magic, they were obsessed with the idea of other worlds¡ªdifferent dimensions, alternate planes of existence, that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait,¡± I said, holding up a hand. ¡°You¡¯re telling me the old gods were basically into sci-fi multiverse theory?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand half what you are saying even with the ring¡­ Anyways¡­ Well, it wasn¡¯t exactly fiction to them,¡± Skully said dryly. ¡°More like a divine obsession. They believed that by mastering dimensional magic, they could expand their influence beyond this world and become truly omnipotent.¡±


    ¡°And then¡­ what happened?¡± I asked, leaning forward slightly.


    ¡°They got too greedy,¡± Skully said, his tone darkening. ¡°The Clergy of Magic rose up against them, accusing them of tyranny and hubris. There was a massive war¡ªgods versus mortals. And against all odds, the mortals won. The old gods were overthrown, their temples were destroyed, and their magic was forbidden.¡±


    ¡°Whoa,¡± I whispered. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ intense.¡±


    Skully nodded. ¡°It was one of the most important events in this world¡¯s history. And it left a lot of unanswered questions¡ªlike where the old gods came from in the first place, and why there are so many different sentient species in this world.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Skully began pacing again, gesturing with his bony hands as he spoke. ¡°In most worlds, at least theoretically, intelligent life tends to converge toward a single dominant species. It¡¯s a basic principle of evolution: survival of the fittest, natural selection, and so on. But in this world, that didn¡¯t happen. Instead of converging, the sentient species kept diverging¡ªhumans, elves, dwarves, beastfolk, demons, dragons¡­ the list goes on.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said slowly, ¡°and what does that have to do with dimensional magic?¡±


    Skully stopped pacing and turned to face me again. ¡°Some scholars believe it¡¯s evidence of dimensional travel,¡± he said. ¡°The theory is that a long time ago, before the fall of the old gods, people and creatures from different worlds were brought here through dimensional portals. Over time, they intermingled and formed the diverse population we have today.¡±


    I stared at him, my mind racing. ¡°So you¡¯re saying¡­ I¡¯m not the first person to end up in this world? Hmmm¡­ I am probably the first ghost though¡­¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Skully said. ¡°You might be one of the few recent cases, but the idea of people coming here from other worlds isn¡¯t as far-fetched as it sounds.¡±


    That¡­ actually made a weird kind of sense. It explained why this world felt like such a mishmash of different fantasy tropes, with magic, monsters, and medieval castles all coexisting in one place.


    ¡°So¡­ what happened to the other dimensional travelers?¡± I asked.


    Skully shrugged. ¡°Some of them probably integrated into society and lived out their lives. Others might have tried to find a way back to their own worlds. And some¡­ well, some might not have survived the journey.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± I said sincerely. ¡°That¡¯s comforting!¡±


    Skully chuckled. ¡°Hey, you¡¯ve already beaten the odds just by existing here as a ghost. That makes you special.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, special,¡± I said with a sigh. ¡°That¡¯s one way to put it.¡±


    For a moment, we stood in silence, both of us lost in thought. Then Skully spoke up again, his tone more serious.


    ¡°You know,¡± he said, ¡°if dimensional magic really is the key to understanding how you ended up here, it might be worth looking into.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Didn¡¯t you just say it was forbidden?¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± Skully admitted. ¡°But forbidden doesn¡¯t mean forgotten. There are still ancient texts, hidden libraries, and rogue scholars who study it in secret. If you¡¯re serious about finding a way to move on¡ªor maybe even return to your own world¡ªdimensional magic might be your best bet.¡±


    I nodded slowly, letting that sink in. It wasn¡¯t exactly the answer I¡¯d been hoping for, but it was a lead. And after months of aimless wandering and magical beatdowns, a lead was better than nothing.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I said. ¡°Where do we start?¡±


    Skully leaned back against the wall, crossed his bony arms, and tilted his skull as if he were deep in thought. Then, after what felt like an unnecessarily dramatic pause, he spoke.


    ¡°I want to make a deal with you,¡± he said, his voice casual, but there was a glint in those fiery eyes that put me on edge.


    ¡°A deal?¡± I repeated, raising an eyebrow. ¡°What kind of deal?¡±


    He leaned forward, his skeletal face now inches away from mine, which would have been intimidating if I hadn¡¯t already gotten used to him doing that. ¡°I need your help with something¡­ big.¡±


    I folded my arms. ¡°Define ¡®big.¡¯¡±


    ¡°I want to attack a Clergy base,¡± he said bluntly.


    I blinked. ¡°Wait, what?¡±


    ¡°You heard me,¡± Skully said, his tone dead serious.


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked, genuinely curious. ¡°Did one of their priests insult your bone polish or something?¡±


    Skully sighed. ¡°The Clergy of Magic and I¡­ let¡¯s just say we¡¯ve had some disagreements over the centuries. They don¡¯t like me, and I don¡¯t like them. But this isn¡¯t just about revenge. I need something from one of their bases¡ªa relic that could be crucial to my research.¡±


    I stared at him, trying to gauge whether he was serious. He was.


    ¡°And you think I can help with that¡­ how, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re a ghost,¡± he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. ¡°You can phase through walls, avoid detection, and, oh yeah, you can¡¯t die.¡±


    I scratched my head. ¡°Okay, fair point. But before I agree to anything, I have one condition.¡±


    Skully groaned. ¡°Here we go.¡±


    ¡°Innocent people can¡¯t be harmed,¡± I said firmly. ¡°Whatever your plan is, no collateral damage, no civilian casualties.¡±


    Skully threw his hands up in the air. ¡°Ugh, you¡¯re so na?ve!¡± he complained. ¡°Do you have any idea how difficult that makes things?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m serious, Skully,¡± I said, standing my ground. ¡°No innocent people.¡±


    He sighed dramatically, like a kid who¡¯d just been told he couldn¡¯t have dessert before dinner. ¡°Fine, fine. I¡¯ll pick the most corrupt Clergy base I can find, okay? Happy now? Thankfully, the item I want isn¡¯t that unique, but its rare¡­¡±


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°Corrupt how?¡±


    ¡°Corrupt as in filled with mages who abuse their power for personal gain,¡± he explained. ¡°They¡¯re still technically part of the Clergy, but they¡¯ve got more skeletons in their closets than I do.¡±


    I snorted. ¡°That¡¯s saying something.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Skully said, grinning. ¡°And besides, it¡¯ll give me an excuse to cut loose and unleash some of my bigger spells.¡±


    I frowned, remembering the kind of magic Skully was capable of. I¡¯d seen him casually throw around things like Exploding Fireball and Lightning Pillar, and he hadn¡¯t even been trying to show off. The thought of him going all out was¡­ mildly terrifying.


    ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s a good idea?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Of course it is,¡± Skully said, waving off my concern. ¡°They¡¯ll never see it coming.¡±


    I sighed. ¡°Okay, but what¡¯s in it for me?¡±


    Skully¡¯s eye flames flickered with amusement. ¡°The possibility of death.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°Come again?¡±


    ¡°The Clergy of Magic has some of the most powerful mages in the world,¡± he explained. ¡°They¡¯re not as strong as me, obviously, but they¡¯re still formidable. If anyone has a chance of exorcising you¡ªor outright killing you¡ªit¡¯s them.¡±


    I considered that. It wasn¡¯t exactly the most comforting sales pitch, but he wasn¡¯t wrong. If anyone could figure out how to get rid of me, it was probably the Clergy. And honestly, after months of boredom and aimless wandering, the idea of finally getting some answers¡ªor at least a change of pace¡ªwas pretty appealing.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I said slowly. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a particular artifact I need you to steal,¡± Skully said. ¡°It¡¯s locked away in one of the Clergy¡¯s vaults, and it¡¯s heavily guarded. But with your ghostly powers, you should be able to slip in and grab it without too much trouble.¡±


    ¡°And if I get caught?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Even better,¡± Skully said with a grin. ¡°If the Clergy catches you in the act, they¡¯ll have all the motivation they need to try and exorcise you. It¡¯s a win-win.¡±


    I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. ¡°You know, I¡¯m starting to think you¡¯re taking advantage of me.¡±


    ¡°Of course I am,¡± Skully said cheerfully. ¡°But you want to be exorcised, right? This is your best shot.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t wrong, and we both knew it. I might not have trusted Skully completely, but I did want to move on. And if this crazy plan of his could get me one step closer to that goal, then it was worth a shot.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I said, nodding. ¡°I¡¯m in.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Skully said, rubbing his bony hands together. ¡°This is going to be fun.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I muttered. ¡°Fun.¡±


    What could possibly go wrong?


    ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± I tapped my chin, pretending to ponder as Skully laid out his plan in vivid, dramatic detail. ¡°If we¡¯re gonna do this, I think you should at least loan me your ring.¡±


    Skully¡¯s eye flames flickered. ¡°My ring?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, pointing at it. ¡°The Translation Ring, or whatever it¡¯s called. You know, so I don¡¯t accidentally offend someone by mispronouncing their sacred chants or something. I¡¯ll be careful with it, promise. After all, it was your gift to your daughter, right?¡±


    For a moment, Skully didn¡¯t say anything. He stared at me, his eye sockets narrowing slightly, as if trying to decide whether I was being sincere or just trying to con him. Which, to be fair, wasn¡¯t an unreasonable suspicion.


    ¡°It¡¯s called the Ring of Understanding,¡± he said finally. ¡°And it¡¯s one of a kind.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I said with a nod. ¡°Which is why I¡¯ll take extra care not to lose it. I¡¯ll bring it back in perfect condition, cross my heart.¡± I made an exaggerated crisscross motion over my chest, even though I didn¡¯t actually have a beating heart anymore.


    Skully sighed. ¡°You really don¡¯t know when to quit, do you?¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± I said cheerfully.


    With a reluctant grumble, Skully waved his hand, and a piece of parchment materialized out of thin air. Strange symbols and glowing runes covered its surface, and it radiated a faint magical aura.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± I asked, eyeing the parchment warily.


    ¡°A magically binding contract,¡± Skully said, handing it to me. ¡°If you¡¯re going to borrow the Ring of Understanding, you¡¯re going to sign this first.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°A little paranoid, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Just sign it,¡± Skully said, thrusting a quill into my hand.


    With a shrug, I scrawled my name at the bottom of the parchment. As soon as I finished, the contract glowed briefly before vanishing in a puff of blue smoke.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Skully said, holding out his hand. ¡°Shake on it.¡±


    I reached out and shook his bony hand. His grip was surprisingly firm, and when we let go, he slipped the Ring of Understanding off his finger and handed it to me.


    ¡°Take care of it,¡± he said, his voice uncharacteristically serious.


    ¡°I will,¡± I said, sliding the ring onto my finger. It felt strangely warm, almost as if it were alive.


    Skully nodded, seemingly satisfied. ¡°Alright, now that that¡¯s settled, let¡¯s talk about the item I want you to steal.¡±


    He waved his hand again, and an illusion of a red oval stone appeared in the air between us. It shimmered with a faint, otherworldly glow, and I could practically feel the magic emanating from it.


    ¡°This,¡± Skully said, gesturing to the stone, ¡°is the Philosopher¡¯s Stone. It¡¯s a powerful magical artifact with the ability to transmute matter, among other things. The Clergy has it locked away in one of their vaults, and I want you to retrieve it for me.¡±


    I stared at the illusion, my mind racing. ¡°The Philosopher¡¯s Stone? Seriously? Isn¡¯t that, like, legendary or something?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s very real,¡± Skully said, his voice low and serious. ¡°And very dangerous. Which is why the Clergy keeps it under tight security.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± I muttered. ¡°No pressure or anything.¡±


    ¡°Relax,¡± Skully said with a grin. ¡°You¡¯re a ghost. You¡¯ve got an edge.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± I said, eyeing the illusion of the stone again. ¡°This is gonna be a piece of cake.¡±


    At least, that¡¯s what I told myself. Deep down, I wasn¡¯t so sure. But if there was even a chance that stealing the Philosopher¡¯s Stone could help me finally move on, then it was a risk worth taking.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I said, nodding. ¡°Let¡¯s do this.¡±


    Skully grinned, and for a brief moment, I could have sworn I saw genuine excitement in his eye flames. ¡°Then let the heist begin.¡±