His breath caught. His mind reeled.
He was feeling alive ... finally Alive, as he felt his legs. ..
The hallway smelled of kerosene and old wood. Shadows clung to the walls, twitching like they had minds of their own.
Every step Arin took felt heavier, as if the floor didn't want to hold him.
".....Grandpa?" His voice came out small, trembling. It echoed faintly, bouncing off the walls like a cruel joke. The room answered with silence—only the fan kept humming, steady and low.
One memory after another hit him hard. Like that one time when Grandpa sat by the old radio, humming that same tune.
Rain tapping on the window. The burnt-wire smell just before the explosion. His chest tightened. His stomach knotted. Was it real? Or just another false memory? Doubt was there but this all seemed so realistic, so ....Real.
[System Alert: Host emotional instability detected. Fear Index rising.]
The room ahead looked familiar—but....off somehow. The air felt thicker here, heavy enough to choke on, heavy enough to...
Cough! Cough!
He wanted to touch things, to set them right, but it felt like the house itself resisted him.
"Grandpa...where the fuck are you?" he whispered again. His knees shook.
Something moved in the kitchen. Not footsteps. Not breathing. Just movement.
His pulse quickened...
The clock ticked. A sharp, metallic sound. Then—impossibly—the second hand jerked backward.
A chill crawled up his spine. Wrong. Everything was wrong. Maybe Grandpa wasn't here. Maybe he had left him, leaving him all alone.
Again.
A voice drifted through the air, broken and distant, but close enough to make his blood run cold.
"…wAiting fOr yoU…"
He froze. Every nerve screamed. Logic said run. Instinct said don't.
Basement door. Workshop. That's where it started and That's where it ended. His life destroyed before it even started. The start of his downfall.
He took a step forward. The smell of iron and oil grew stronger. The door was slightly open, darkness leaking through the gap.
Then another whisper, this one soft, almost gentle:
"…AriN… come Down…"
The voice ...it was him..
'...grandpa?'
No, The sound twisted something inside him. That voice,—it wasn't Grandpa's. There was no softness to it, he knew, he remembered, how he called him, how he called his name.
And that, that....that was definitely not grandpa.
But...he wanted to see him. He wanted to talk to him.
Call it desperation or just pure naivety, a flicker of hope burned in him. If this was really the past… maybe he could fix it.
[Mission Reminder: Confront past trauma to increase power.]
His whole body trembled. Fear pulsed through him like electricity. Yet beneath it all, something else stirred. Power. His power.
He gripped the handle. "Grandpa… please… be real."
He pushed.
The basement air was thick with the smell of oil and rust. Shadows crouched in the corners, still but watching.
[Fear Index: 90%]
[Reward Multiplier x10 — System Glitch Detected]
His hand lingered on the handle as his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Every step felt like walking through syrup...
His breath hitched, and his hand trembled. The cold basement air brushed against his ears.
In the darkness, a vague, shadowy figure slowly began to take shape—
a shadow of an old man, like his own grandfather.
Arin's eyes widened. His knees bent slightly, and a faint sound escaped his lips, like air struggling to leave his chest.
His mind screamed that this was impossible… yet his eyes kept staring.
He whispered in a small, trembling voice, barely audible even to himself,
"Grandpa… is that you?"
The shadow remained completely still.
One second, two seconds, and another—time seemed to freeze.
Arin's breath stopped for a moment, but the System chimed softly:
[Ding!] Fear Index Reached 100%
[Ding!] Reward Multiplier x10
[Ding!] Skill Acquired: Fear Reflexes
[System Alert: Host emotional instability detected. Maintain focus.]
Silence.
Complete silence.
Yet it felt as if it was listening.
Then, from behind, a deep, slow, and heavy voice emerged—
cold, hollow, as if echoing from the depths.
A sense of old pain seemed woven into the air.
"…becAuse of You…"
The voice trembled slightly, trying to hide its pain, but failing.
A few moments later, it spoke again, weaker yet sharper:
"Your moTher and faTher… are DEad...
And do yOu know wHy?
BecAuse of y0u, you wEre born, a tragEdy amOng tragEdy.
A MisTAke."
"No...no, granpa...granpa wouldn't say this.." Arin voiced as he stepped back, closing his ears with his hands. But..
The echo still lingered.
"BecAuse of YoU, your motHer died. BecausE of you She becAme misErable...
AnD you dIdn't taKe enough, beCause of you, your faTher, comMited suIcide. Do you knOw wHy?
Because of you...only You.."
Arin couldn't help but tear up, as he slowly sat down, memories flaring. "No...no..it wasn't my fault... wasn't my fault."
[Holy Touch Activated — Reward Multiplier x10]
[Skill Power Boosted]
The words hung in the air—not gentle, not kind, but cutting, slicing through him.
Arin's breath caught. His eyes flickered, his body stiffened.
Yet the voice… lingered in the air, like an unfinished prayer, seeping into Arin's chest.
"It was YoUr fault, it alwAys was, yOu just didn't acCept it... acCept it!"
The words seemed to freeze in time.
Arin's heart stopped for a moment, hearing those words.
All he could hear was the pounding of his own heartbeat—thump, thump, thump.
The darkness seemed to close in on him completely, and time itself felt suspended.
Then, the shadow dispersed like smoke into the ceiling above—
he could neither question it nor comprehend it.
Only silence remained.
Arin stayed there, completely still.
His eyes were open, but it was as if he couldn't see.
Tears began to fall more and more from his eyes, tip-tipping down his cheeks.
[Holy Touch Activated — Success]
[Skill Acquired: Fear Manipulation (Minor)]
[XP Gained: 150]
His mind shattered into pieces—he felt the weight of hearing his own guilt spoken through his grandfather's voice.
Inside, his heart was crushed, weighed down by the mix of grief, shame, and helplessness. How could he understand it all? How could he process it? All of it hit him at once—pain and sorrow intertwined so tightly it felt unbearable.
His eyes found something else, as he glanced at the basement table—something glimmered under it.
Moving closer, he noticed a path leading to a secret room hidden beneath.
Inside, he found an old, slightly scorched journal—his grandfather's.
Even the cover carried the scent of old memories.
He reached out, opening it slowly, feeling the texture of the paper, the faded ink, and the faint smell of smoke—each detail stirring something deep inside him.
[System Alert: Hidden object detected. Possible skill progression available.]
Inside, he found entries about himself—things his grandfather had never shared with anyone.
Reading the lines filled with love and remembrance, Arin felt a flood of emotions—pain and warmth rushing together, intensely personal and deeply real.
He realized how his grandpa had watched over him, how he had recorded everything quietly, protecting him in secret, observing and guiding, blending care with sorrow.
But then, in the middle of a page, his eyes caught one line.
It read:
"My family has a connection to the supernatural...."
His hand froze. His heartbeat raced.
His grandfather had written in detail about the process of fear energy transmutation—
how pain, fear, and trauma could be transformed into power.
[System Notification: Skill acquisition potential detected. Proceed with caution.]
A mix of fear, curiosity, and unfinished excitement surged through him.
As he carefully turned the next page, the words flashed in his mind—
examples, processes, successes and failures, all meant to guide the next generation and protect the family's hidden abilities.
At the very end, one line remained unfinished… still not fully written.
As Arin read it, a chill ran straight down his spine—
so personal, so haunting.
He thought to himself, "This isn't just words… that pain, that fear, that power… it's all in my han....."
[Ding!] System Log: Host potential acknowledged. Fear-based progression activated.
[Mission Update: Unlock legacy potential by mastering fear.]