Chapter 128: Lila's Home & Mask... Prince

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting an eerie glow over the remains of Lila's household.

What was once a grand mansion now stood as a decaying monument to tragedy, its walls crumbling and overgrown with thick, twisting vines. The air was cold, unnaturally so, and carried a faint whisper of voices long silenced.

Ruchir, accompanied by Garret, Robert, and Professor Aanya, approached the entrance with caution. The gate creaked open as if welcoming them into a world of forgotten horrors. Garret, his bravado from earlier now diminished, shivered visibly.

"Why do we have to go in first?" Garret whispered, his voice trembling. "This place gives me the creeps."

"Because we're the brave ones," Robert teased, trying to mask his own unease. "Besides, think of it as an adventure."

Garret shot him a look. "I didn't sign up for a haunted house adventure! I prefer solid ground, good food, and no ghosts!"

Professor Aanya, who had been silent until now, turned to them with a stern expression. "Stay focused, both of you. This is no ordinary haunted house. If there's even a hint of danger, you must be prepared."

Ruchir nodded, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Let's move. We need to uncover the truth behind this place—and the ghost."

They stepped into the mansion, the wooden floorboards groaning under their weight. Shadows danced on the walls, and the air seemed to grow heavier with each step they took.

The mansion's interior was a labyrinth of dust-covered furniture, broken chandeliers, and tattered drapes. Faint echoes of the past lingered in the air, like ghostly memories refusing to fade.

As they ventured deeper into the mansion, Garret couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.

Every creak and rustle made him jump, his nerves fraying by the minute. "Did anyone else hear that?" he asked, clutching his chest as if to steady his racing heart.

Robert chuckled, albeit nervously. "Probably just the wind, Garret. Or maybe a rat."

"A rat? A rat!" Garret exclaimed. "I can deal with ghosts, but rats? That's crossing the line!"

Ruchir smirked but kept his focus on their surroundings. "Keep it together, Garret. We're here to investigate, not run from rodents."

They reached a grand staircase, its once-polished wood now covered in grime. As they ascended, the temperature seemed to drop even further.

Garret's breath came out in visible puffs, and his teeth chattered uncontrollably.

"I swear, if something jumps out at us, I'm—" Garret's words were cut short as a shadowy figure suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs.

It was the ghost—a translucent, ghastly figure with hollow eyes that seemed to pierce their very souls. The air grew thick with malevolent energy as the ghost let out a low, mournful wail.

"Spirit Magic: Phantom Blast!" Professor Aanya shouted, raising her hands. A wave of ethereal energy shot forth, striking the ghost and forcing it back.

But the ghost was unfazed. It glided down the stairs with an otherworldly grace, its wail growing louder, more insistent. The walls of the mansion seemed to pulse in response, as if the house itself was alive and angry.

Ruchir drew his sword, the blade glowing faintly with spiritual energy. "Stay behind me!" he ordered, his voice firm.

Garret, already trembling, tried to muster the courage to stand his ground. "Right… behind you," he muttered, taking a step back instead.

The ghost lunged at them, its form shifting and warping like smoke. Ruchir swung his sword, but the blade passed through the ghost harmlessly. "It's no use!" he said, gritting his teeth. "Physical attacks won't work!"

Professor Aanya's eyes narrowed as she focused her energy. "We need to banish it completely. Stand back!" She began chanting, her voice resonating with power. "Spirit Magic: Wailing Vortex!"

A swirling vortex of spiritual energy formed around the ghost, trapping it within. The ghost thrashed and howled, its form distorting as it struggled to break free.

Robert, watching the intense battle, couldn't help but glance at Garret. "You okay there, big guy?"

Garret, who was now crouched behind a broken table, peeked out nervously. "Just… staying out of harm's way. Someone has to survive and tell the tale, right?"

Ruchir almost laughed despite the seriousness of the situation. "You'll be fine, Garret. Just don't faint on us."

As the vortex intensified, the ghost let out a final, ear-piercing scream before vanishing into thin air. The mansion fell silent, the oppressive atmosphere lifting slightly.

Professor Aanya lowered her hands, panting from the exertion. "It's not over yet," she warned. "That was just a fragment of its power. The real threat lies deeper within."

Ruchir nodded. "We need to keep moving. There's something here that the cult didn't want us to find."

They continued their exploration, each room more unsettling than the last. The further they went, the more they felt the presence of the ghost, as if it was leading them deeper into the mansion.

Finally, they reached a large, ornate door at the end of a narrow hallway. The door was covered in strange symbols, glowing faintly in the dark.

"This must be it," Ruchir said, pushing the door open.

Inside, they found what appeared to be a ritual chamber.

The walls were lined with shelves filled with dusty tomes and strange artifacts. In the center of the room was an altar, and above it, an ominous mural depicting a dark ritual—a summoning of some kind.

Garret's eyes widened as he took in the scene. "I don't like the look of this place… at all."

"Neither do I," Robert agreed. "But we have to figure out what's going on."

As they examined the room, they found a series of ancient scrolls on the altar, their contents detailing a forbidden ritual—a ritual to summon a powerful entity from the underworld. The implications were horrifying.

"This is what they were after," Ruchir murmured. "This is what the cult has been trying to accomplish."

"But why? What's their endgame?" Robert asked, his voice laced with concern.

Before Ruchir could answer, the temperature in the room dropped suddenly, and a familiar wail echoed through the chamber.

The ghost had returned, but this time it was stronger, its form more solid and menacing.

"It's back!" Garret shouted, scrambling behind another piece of furniture. "Why is it always back?"

Professor Aanya stepped forward, her expression resolute. "This ends now. Spirit Magic: Spectral Chains!"

Chains of light shot from her hands, wrapping around the ghost and holding it in place. The ghost struggled, but the chains tightened, pulling it towards the altar.

"Now, Ruchir!" Aanya yelled. "Destroy the altar!"

Ruchir didn't hesitate. With a swift motion, he slashed his sword through the altar, shattering it into pieces. The ghost let out a final, agonized scream before dissolving into nothingness.

The room fell silent once more, the oppressive atmosphere finally lifting completely. Ruchir, breathing heavily, sheathed his sword. "It's over… for now."

But the victory was bittersweet. As they searched the ritual chamber further, they found a hidden passageway leading out of the mansion. The cultists had escaped, leaving behind only the remnants of their dark plans.

"We need to report this immediately," Ruchir said, his voice grim. "The cult is planning something much bigger than we thought."

Garret, still trembling slightly, managed a weak smile. "At least… we survived. That's something, right?"

Robert chuckled, clapping Garret on the back. "Yeah, we survived. Thanks to you hiding in the corner."

"Hey! I was… I was being strategic!" Garret protested, though his grin betrayed his relief.

Professor Aanya sighed, her expression thoughtful. "This was just the beginning. We'll need to be prepared for whatever comes next."

As they left the haunted mansion, the weight of their discovery hung heavy over them. The cult was still out there, and their plans were far from over.

The group trudged back from Lila's haunted mansion, their earlier victory now feeling hollow. The cold night air clung to their clothes, and the moon was hidden behind thick clouds, casting the landscape in near-total darkness. Ruchir walked at the front, his mind racing with thoughts of the cult's escape and the implications of their dark ritual.

Garret, lagging slightly behind, was still jittery from the encounter. "I don't like this, Ruchir. It feels like we're being watched," he muttered, glancing nervously over his shoulder.

Robert, trying to maintain some composure, sighed. "Garret, you've been saying that for the last hour. There's nothing out here except—"

Before he could finish, the air grew deathly cold, and a dense fog rolled in from the surrounding forest, enveloping them in an unnatural mist. The atmosphere turned oppressive, making it difficult to breathe. Ruchir stopped dead in his tracks, signaling the others to stay alert.

"Something's wrong," Ruchir whispered, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the mist. "Everyone, be on your guard."

Suddenly, a loud rustling came from the bushes nearby, followed by an eerie silence. The group tensed, weapons at the ready. The mist thickened, and shadows began to move within it—unnatural, twisted figures that defied explanation.

Garret swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "I knew it! We're being ambushed!"

Ruchir kept his grip on his sword steady. "Stay calm. Whatever it is, we can handle it. Just stay together."

But the fog seemed to have a mind of its own. It coiled around them, isolating each member of the group in their own pocket of mist. Garret let out a panicked yelp as he felt the cold fingers of the fog brush against his skin.

"Garret!" Robert shouted, trying to move closer to him, but the mist thickened, pushing them apart.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the fog retreated, dissipating into the night air. The group was left standing in a small clearing, their breaths visible in the cold air. In the center of the clearing, where there had been nothing moments before, now lay a single folded piece of paper.

Ruchir approached it cautiously, bending down to pick it up. As he unfolded the paper, he saw that most of the writing was smudged and unreadable, except for two clear words:

Mask… Prince.

Ruchir's eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat. "No… it can't be."

Garret, who had finally caught his breath, peered over Ruchir's shoulder. The moment he saw the words, his face drained of color. "Jiro… the Blackwood Gang… and his Mask Prince?"

Ruchir frowned, trying to piece it together. "You think… you think this cult is connected to Jiro and the Blackwood Gang?"

Ruchir's mind raced, remembering the stories he'd heard— mysterious Mask Prince, a figure shrouded in rumors and fear. Could it really be the same person? Was this all connected?

Garret's voice was a hoarse whisper. "If… if they're involved… this is worse than we thought, isn't it?"

Ruchir nodded slowly, the implications of the letter weighing heavily on him. "If the Mask Prince is involved, then this goes deeper than just a ghost or a cult. We're dealing with something far more dangerous."

The group stood in tense silence, the letter fluttering in the cold breeze.

The realization hung in the air like a dark cloud—whatever they were up against, it was more sinister than they had imagined, and their path forward had just become much more treacherous.