From the moment Stephen touched the wall, he knew the Spirit Form had worked.
His hand had passed through it, clean, smooth, like slipping into cool mist. No resistance. No sound. Just… nothing.
Like a ghost.
Tentatively, he stepped forward.....through the wall.
It didn't hurt. Didn't drag. It was like reality had turned porous, like the world itself had decided he no longer counted as "solid."
He emerged in the apartment hallway.
Everything looked the same. The flickering overhead light. The peeling wallpaper. The distant hum of the building's old generator.
Then he saw Ms. Jackson, slouched in her creaky wheelchair, wrapped in her usual patchwork shawl. Her eyes stared blankly ahead. Frail. Fading. Breathing shallow and slow.
Down the corridor, Paulos the janitor was pushing his mop across the cracked tiles, humming a gospel tune under his breath.
Stephen raised a hand. "Ms. Jackson?"
No response.
He moved closer. "Hello?"
Still nothing. She didn't blink. Didn't flinch.
Then Paulie looked up....and walked straight toward him.
"Hy, pal..." He said to the janitor, raising a hand in greeting…
He walked right through Stephen.
It wasn't cold. Just weird. Like being made of smoke.
Stephen spun around, staring.
Paulie didn't turn back. He just kept walking, completely unfazed. As if Stephen had never been there.
He looked down at his own hands. They shimmered faintly, silver veins of soullight threading beneath semi-transparent skin.
He wasn't part of their world anymore.
To them, he didn't exist.
He was....
"…fucking invisible," he whispered.
Then he grinned.
"Fucking awesome!" he shouted.
His voice echoed, but only to himself. Nobody reacted. Not Ms. Jackson. Not Paulos. Not a single soul.
He was a ghost.
And it felt incredible.
******
Thirty minutes later, Stephen stood at the mouth of the tunnel.The place where he had died.It looked the same.
A jagged stretch of concrete dipped into darkness, the walls stained with grime and forgotten graffiti. Cracked streetlights lined the road like dead sentinels. Bits of shattered glass still glinted on the pavement, scattered remnants of the wreck. The stench of engine oil lingered faintly in the air, as if time hadn't dared to wash this place clean.
This tunnel was where it all changed.
Where his old life ended… and this strange, dangerous new one began.
A tomb.
A gate.
A second chance.
"This place…" he muttered, eyes narrowing. "Was it luck, or a curse?"
He stepped forward slowly, boots crunching softly over debris.
The crash had shattered more than metal and bone.
It had reshaped him.
"Death," he said, tasting the word like a joke. It curled across his tongue like a dare. "Back like I never left, baby."
He smirked.
Then it hit.
A scream.
High. Shrill. Drenched in rage and something else, pure torment.
It wasn't human.
It wasn't natural.
Stephen clutched his ears as the sound slithered through him like ice in his veins, making his skin crawl and his heartbeat skip.
Then...
DING.
The tab blinked to life before him, glowing cold blue against the night air.
[SYSTEM ALERT]
[WARNING: CORRUPTED SOUL DETECTED]
[Classification: Minor-Grade Soul Eater ][Category: Fragmented Spirit]
Threat Level: Very Low
Status: Weak....Recently formed, unstable.
[Objective Update: Reaping Mission 01]
[Target Identified:]
[Type: Soul Eater (Wailing Fragment)]
[Location: Within the tunnel]
[Behavior: Distorted. Screams are a lure. May lash out when provoked. Lacks full awareness.]
[Engage. Neutralize. Harvest the corrupted soul.]
[Judgment Required: Determine if cleansing is possible, if not, execute reaping.]
[Note:
Spirit Form active. You remain undetected.
Use [Judgment] to scan the soul.
Be wary. Soul Eaters feed on fear and regret. Even weak ones can cause psychic interference.]
"Feeds on fear, huh?" Stephen muttered, cracking his knuckles. "Too bad I don't have any left."
He took a slow step forward. "I stopped fearing the day I died."
The tunnel was quiet again...too quiet. Then, out of the corner of his eye, movement.
He turned.
It slithered from the shadows like a nightmare dragging itself into the waking world. At first, it looked like a giant, deformed rat, but as it came closer, he realized how wrong he was.
Its body was hunched and armored in pale, pinkish plates, like a skeletal crustacean peeled from some cursed ocean. Long, whip-like whiskers twitched from a jagged mouth stretched into a permanent snarl. Its limbs were crooked and too long, ending in razor-tipped claws that clicked with every movement. A thin, barbed tail whipped behind it.
It didn't walk, it crawled, like it was hunting something beneath its skin.
Stephen stared at the thing.
Just like Lucidas...the so-called Death God of Silence, it was something no one could ever imagine was real.
A creature born from fear, wearing it like armor.
The Wailing Fragment lashed out again, shrieking with a sound that made Stephen's skin crawl and his bones hum. Its claws raked through the air, sharp enough to peel flesh from bone.
But they missed.
Stephen ducked, pivoted, and spun out of the way with a smoothness that stunned even him.
"What the hell, did I just dodge that?"
Another swipe.
He weaved under it.
A second strike, faster than the first, he sidestepped, just in time.
Then something clicked.
It was like his body wasn't just reacting anymore. It was flowing, his feet moved before he thought, his hands guided by some deeper instinct. Every step, every lean, every twist felt effortless. He wasn't just moving.
He was dancing with death.
The Soul Eater hissed and screeched, its jagged limbs tearing up concrete, but it couldn't touch him. Not now.
Stephen smirked.
"Let's put an end to your misery, friend."
He tightened his grip on the Fangs of Silence, the bone dagger's pulse syncing with the rhythm of his heart. He dashed forward, then leapt, his body soaring upward, almost brushing the tunnel's ceiling.
For a split second, time felt like it slowed.
Then....
He came down hard.
The dagger plunged into the creature's skull with a crack, the impact echoing through the tunnel like thunder. The Soul Eater let out a distorted scream, its body convulsing violently as it slammed into the ground beneath the weight of Stephen's strike.
It writhed. Twisted. Clawed at the air.
But it couldn't get free.
The dagger had pinned it...locked its corrupted soul in place.
Its scream faded into a choking rasp.
But then… something happened.
The creature beneath him, the snarling, wailing horror, began to disintegrate. Its grotesque body cracked apart like burnt paper, breaking down into drifting ash. But instead of vanishing, it reformed, shifting and reshaping into something terrifying in an entirely different way.
A human form.
An old woman.
Stephen stumbled back, stunned. The lines of her face. The greying curls. The cardigan.
He remembered.
The woman on the bus. The one who had turned and looked at him just before the crash.
"Fuck life," he had muttered bitterly, back then.
And now… she was here.
A sudden sharp pulse surged in his brain, a red thread of energy that lashed across his thoughts like lightning. His eyes widened as memories not his own flooded in, pouring into his mind like a torrent.
Rose Baker.
A widow. Her husband, a police officer, killed in a botched drug raid. She never recovered. The day he died, so did her reason to live. She drifted through the years in silence....alone, afraid, yet still kind. Still hoping that maybe, just maybe, she would see him again in the next life. But buried under that hope was a deeper fear: What if she didn't?
She had died with that fear.
That fear had twisted her soul.
When the red pulse faded, Stephen gasped and staggered back. The Soul Eater was gone.
In its place sat Rose, eyes full of warmth, wet with tears. Her wrinkled hands clutched the air, trembling but gentle.
"Free me, please," she whispered, smiling through the tears. "I don't want to be afraid anymore."
The screen came up.
[JUDGEMENT INITIATED. Soul resonance detected. Emotion: Grief. Fear. Loneliness. Corruption Level: LOW.]
[Soul Harvest – Release or Consume]
[Release it: Send it to peace, earning purity points or a Death Mark (very rare).]
[Consume it: Absorb its soul energy to grow stronger, but risk spiritual corruption if abused.]
He swiped down.
[RELEASE TO LIGHT – 0.2 Death Mark Probability]
[ABSORB SOUL ENERGY – +3 SE]
[Warning: Consuming purified souls may lead to Soul Corruption.]
Her soul shimmered faintly, fragile as glass, flickering between light and shadow. She had once been kind, maybe not perfect, but kind. Her life had revolved around one thing: the man she had loved and lost. Her husband.
Now, her fate rested in Stephan's hands.
His fingers hovered between the two glowing seals, one white, one black.
The white seal pulsed gently, like a heartbeat. Peace. Mercy.
The black seal cracked with faint red lightning, power. A starting point.
His mind raced.
This was a tournament. A twisted survival game between Death God vessels. And he… he was probably already behind. Others could be on level 2. Or 5. Or 10.
And what was he? A reincarnated soul with a broken memory and a bone dagger?
They'd come for the weakest. They always did.
He clenched his fist. If he released her, he'd gain nothing but a clear conscience. But if he consumed her soul… he'd take one step closer to survival.
A part of him whispered, You can't protect anyone if you're dead.
Another voice, quieter, said, But what does it cost to lose your soul one choice at a time?
He looked at Rose. She was watching him with eyes full of tears… and trust.
"What am I supposed to do…?" he muttered.
Time was running out.
And Stephan knew… whatever he chose next, there would be no going back.