Abhay stared at it. "System, you sure this thing isn't a tracker?"
System: If it is, they're doing a terrible job. You've been sitting on your bed for 2 hours.
"Just making sure no dramatic music starts when I activate it."
He held the disc near his phone. It pulsed once, and the screen blinked. A strange browser window opened automatically with a dark-red background and a flashing header:
WELCOME TO ORDER 15 – GHOSTS DON'T SLEEP.
Below it:
[LOGIN RECOGNIZED: Abhay G.]
[LOCATION ACCESS GRANTED – PROCEED TO THE SITE]
Abhay made his way to the edge of town, where a half-finished apartment building loomed over abandoned construction lots. It was clearly illegal. Not just shady illegal—"extra floors added without permits" illegal.
"System, how is this still standing?"
System: Section 144 of the Indian Municipal Building Code states you can't exceed approved floors.
This building has... let's see... six illegal floors and zero shame.
"Nice."
The 15th floor—yes, fifteen, when the permit said nine—was dimly lit by tube lights zip-tied to pipes. A banner flapped on one wall:
"FALSE RANKER RECRUITMENT ZONE"
(Scribbled in pen: If you're here, you're not legal.)
Abhay slipped on the black gloves and mask they'd provided. The material was smooth, matte, and clearly expensive.
"Hey, System—why gloves?"
System: So you don't leave fingerprints when you punch things illegally.
"Fair."
Everyone on the floor looked the same—black mask, black gloves, black hoodie. A crowd of shadow clones from a budget ninja anime.
Then a voice boomed across the floor.
"The last Ghost has arrived."
Everyone turned.
The speaker stood on a makeshift platform—an old water tank flipped sideways—and addressed them like a substitute teacher trying to look intimidating.
"Alright, listen up! Some of you are new, some of you think this is a cult—it's not."
He paused. "Well… maybe a little."
A few nervous chuckles echoed.
"Here are the rules," he continued. "One: you get paid per confirmed monster kill. The more you kill, the more credits in your pocket."
"Two: whoever kills the most monsters gets an extra bonus for boss-room proximity assist."
Abhay raised a brow under the mask. "Proximity assist?"
System: Translation: they'll pretend you helped with the boss and pay you enough to shut up about it.
"Three: you are not allowed to enter—or even look—at the boss room."
"Four: no looting. Materials belong to the organization. But we'll pay you 10% above the government market rate. Yes, we know what the rates are. We're not monsters. That's what the actual monsters are for."
"Lastly, keep your damn masks on. We don't need your face going viral in some fight video on CrackedTube."
Abhay nodded slightly. "So… shadow freelancers with a health plan. Cool."
After the briefing, Abhay drifted to a corner, eyeing the others.
Most were lean, quiet, intense. But a few looked like office workers who'd accidentally stepped into an apocalypse simulator.
"First time?" someone asked.
Abhay turned. It was him—the masked figure from the rooftop. Same coat, same voice.
"You really like dramatic entrances, don't you?"
The figure chuckled. "Gotta keep up the image. I'm the one who recruited all of them."
"All of them?"
"Yep. Each one here's a ghost. Unregistered. Unknown. Untouchable. Just like you."
Abhay whistled low. "You've been busy."
The recruiter nodded. "Let's hope you stay that way."
As they talked, another man walked to the far end of the floor, removed a flickering "DO NOT ENTER" light bar (which looked suspiciously like a stolen metro barrier), and waved them forward.
The recruiter clapped Abhay on the shoulder.
"Time to earn your pay."
One by one, the masked Ghosts—fourteen of them, and Abhay last—stepped into the swirling red light of the Crack.
Abhay felt the chill of the gate wash over him.
System: You ready?
"Ready."
System: No speeches? No cool one-liner?
"I'm saving it for the boss fight I'm not allowed to see."
System: Hah. Fair.
The world warped, and in a blink, they were gone—vanishing into shadow, leaving only the illegal floor and the faint hum of red energy behind.