Richard, Wake Up
The moment Emma charged, Max fired.
The bullet whizzed through the air, tearing through her shoulder. Blood splattered, but Emma barely reacted. Instead, she twisted unnaturally, her bones snapping and rearranging mid-movement. The wound on her shoulder oozed dark red, but instead of slowing down, her pace accelerated, her body moving like it was being controlled by something else entirely.
Max readjusted his aim, eyes sharp, breath steady. He was about to fire again—
Richard slammed into him, knocking Max's arms sideways. The gunshot fired off-course, missing Emma completely.
Max stumbled but caught himself, turning to Richard with an unreadable expression. His breathing was calm, controlled—but there was something else in his eyes.
"Move." His voice was quiet, firm.
Richard shook his head. "We can still save her." His fists clenched. "She's possessed. Just like Amelia. You saw what happened back then—we got her back."
Max's eyes stayed locked onto him. "This isn't Amelia," he said. "She's in the final stage."
Emma's body twitched violently, her bones snapping and protruding further, jagged and dripping with fresh blood. Her head tilted at an unnatural angle, and her hollow, empty eyes locked onto them.
Richard's voice tightened. "We can still—"
Max stepped forward, his face unreadable. "Move," he repeated, more forcefully this time.
Richard didn't.
Max's fist swung.
Richard barely had time to react before pain shot through his jaw. He stumbled but recovered quickly, his heart pounding against his ribs.
Richard didn't hesitate—he swung back, his fist coated in blue flames, and hit Max in the ribs. Max staggered slightly but barely reacted beyond tensing his body against the impact.
Their breaths were shaky, but neither backed down.
Behind them, Emma moved.
Fast.
Richard barely had time to register it before she was right in front of them.
He felt it before he saw it—the gust of wind from her swing, the faint whistle of something sharp cutting through the air.
Max and Richard jumped away in opposite directions, barely avoiding the bone blade aimed for their heads.
Max rolled, his grip tightening on his gun as he came back up. Richard, still slightly dazed, forced himself upright, shaking off the impact of landing hard on his shoulder. His breathing was heavier now, his mind racing.
Emma's body twitched again. Her head jerked, as if something inside was trying to adjust to her own movements. Her limbs elongated slightly, the bones shifting under her torn flesh.
She was getting worse.
Max slowly straightened, eyes locked onto her. "You see now?" His voice was measured, but there was an edge to it. "She's already gone."
Richard's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides.
"No," he said. "She's still in there. I know she is."
Max exhaled, gripping his gun tighter.
Emma moved again.
Richard saw the attack too late—she was too fast, and he wasn't used to fighting something like this.
Max's shoulder slammed into Richard's, knocking him out of the way just as Emma's blade-like bone sliced down.
The impact sent Max skidding back, but he kept his balance. Richard, thrown off, nearly collapsed but caught himself at the last second.
Max adjusted his stance, eyes narrowing. His breathing was controlled, measured.
"Then prove it," he said.
Richard exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling.
Then, without another word, they both moved.
Richard barely had time to react before Emma was on him again. She lunged forward, her movement too smooth, too unnatural, like something was pulling her along instead of her own muscles working. The blade-like bones extending from her arms gleamed under the dim light, dripping with blood from her torn skin.
Richard stepped back instinctively, but Emma closed the gap too fast.
He raised his arms to block—
Max grabbed his collar and yanked him backward at the last second.
Emma's blade slashed through the air where Richard's neck had just been.
Max let go of Richard and raised his gun, but Emma was already moving again. She twisted, crouched, and lunged straight for Max's chest.
Max fired.
The bullet grazed her ribs, but she didn't even flinch.
She swung upward, her bone blade slicing through Max's jacket and cutting into his shoulder.
Max hissed in pain but kept his footing, stumbling back as Emma pressed forward, slashing wildly.
Richard, still regaining his balance, saw it too late.
Emma's next swing was aimed for Max's throat.
Richard threw himself forward, grabbing her arm mid-swing.
Her strength was monstrous. The moment Richard's fingers wrapped around her wrist, he felt like he was holding onto a moving truck.
Emma's momentum carried both of them, and Richard was lifted off his feet for a moment before she shook him off. He crashed onto the pavement, rolling twice before coming to a stop.
Max fired another shot while she was distracted.
This time, the bullet struck her directly in the stomach.
She staggered. But only for a second.
Her body twitched violently, the bullet wound oozing dark blood, but she didn't collapse. She took a slow step forward, her head tilting slightly, like she was confused why she wasn't dead.
Max exhaled sharply, lowering his gun slightly. "Richard," he said, not taking his eyes off Emma.
Richard groaned, pushing himself up.
"We need to stop her. Now."
Richard clenched his fists. "We can still save her."
Max reloaded his gun. "And if we can't?"
Richard didn't answer.
Max exhaled, shaking his head. "That's what I thought."
He pulled the trigger again—
Click.
Max's hand froze.
Click. Click.
Empty.
Max's eyes narrowed. He ejected the magazine and reached into his pocket, pulling out a fresh one.
Richard caught a glimpse of the blue markings on the bullets.
Spirit-infused rounds.
Bullets designed for spirits, curses, and supernatural entities. These weren't normal bullets—they would actually hurt her.
Richard's stomach twisted.
"Max—"
Max slammed the magazine into place, cocking the gun.
Emma moved.
Faster than before.
Max fired—
But Emma ducked under the bullet, closing the gap between them in less than a second.
She swung—
Max barely dodged, her blade grazing his ribs. He twisted away, trying to aim again, but Emma was too close now.
Richard, still recovering from the impact earlier, saw the fight spiraling out of control.
Max couldn't get enough distance to properly aim.
Emma was relentless, her attacks wild but effective.
Max needed an opening.
Richard gritted his teeth, forcing himself up.
He wasn't fast enough.
Emma lunged again.
Max brought up his gun but she was already swinging.
Richard made his decision.
He charged in, grabbing Emma's wrist again, stopping the attack mid-swing.
Emma twitched violently, struggling against him, her entire body jerking unnaturally, like a glitching puppet.
Richard turned to Max.
"Do something!"
Max's eyes flickered for a second—then something changed.
A faint pulse of energy rippled from Max's body, like an unseen shift in the air.
Richard felt something move.
It was subtle—almost unnoticeable—but Emma suddenly lost balance.
For a fraction of a second, her body jerked in the wrong direction, as if some invisible force had shoved her sideways.
Max fired.
The spirit-infused bullet tore through her shoulder.
Emma shrieked.
For the first time since the fight started—she reacted.
Her body convulsed, her limbs twitching violently. The air around them grew heavier.
Richard barely noticed it at first, but then he realized.
The fight had gone completely silent.
The heavy air. The suffocating pressure. The unnatural fog swirling around them.
They weren't alone.
A voice broke the silence.
"You two are quite entertaining."
Richard froze.
Max turned sharply.
From the mist, a figure emerged.
A man in black robes.
A man they both recognized.
The aura around him was suffocating.
Raven stood there, unmoving, watching.
The fight, the chaos, the blood—none of it seemed to matter to him. He observed everything with that same calm, detached expression, as if this was nothing more than an experiment he had already predicted the outcome of.
Max gritted his teeth, ducking under another of Emma's wild swings. She was fast—too fast. Every time he moved, she was right there with him, her jagged, bladed bones slashing through the air with lethal precision.
He fired again. The bullet grazed her ribs, tearing into flesh—but she didn't react.
She didn't feel pain anymore.
Richard's breathing was growing heavy, his vision tunneling as he watched Emma—no, the thing wearing Emma's skin—move in ways a human shouldn't be able to.
This was wrong.
This was beyond wrong.
This was his fault.
Richard barely noticed his own body shaking as the realization sank in. He had brought her into this world—the supernatural, the ghosts, the exorcists, the demons. And now she was like this.
The rage boiled inside him.
His flames flickered to life.
"You," Richard whispered. His voice was shaking. His hands curled into fists. He turned toward Raven.
Raven simply stared, unfazed.
"You're the one who did this to her," Richard growled, his flames rising with his fury.
Raven tilted his head slightly, looking mildly entertained.
"She's still alive," he said calmly. "That's more than I can say for others."
Richard snapped.
Flames erupted around his fists as he lunged at Raven, his body moving on instinct. He didn't think—he just attacked.
His flames surged toward Raven's chest—
But Raven vanished.
Richard's eyes widened, his breath catching as a whisper brushed against his ear.
"This is a trial," Raven murmured, his voice smooth and almost amused. "Survive, and prove your worth to me."
Then—
He was gone.
The moment Raven disappeared, Emma froze mid-attack.
Her body convulsed violently, a sickening series of cracks and snaps echoing through the fog.
Richard staggered back.
Emma's limbs elongated further, her bones ripping through her flesh. Her arms twisted, her joints snapping in unnatural directions.
Her mouth stretched open, her jaw breaking apart—revealing rows of jagged, malformed teeth.
Richard's stomach twisted.
Her eyes—they weren't even human anymore. Hollow, pitch-black voids stared at him, unblinking.
She let out a deep, guttural groan, her entire form shuddering violently as more bones jutted out from her spine.
Max tensed. "Shit," he muttered.
Then Emma screamed.
The sound ripped through Richard's skull, stabbing into his brain like a thousand burning needles.
His breath hitched.
His chest tightened.
His legs buckled.
The air around them felt thicker, heavier—like it was pressing down on his lungs, choking the oxygen from his body.
His vision blurred.
He saw Jackson.
For a moment, he was back in the warehouse.
Blood.
Screams.
Jackson reaching for him—his face melting away, his body crumbling into nothing but blood and dust.
Richard's fingers dug into his scalp. His breathing grew erratic, his body trembling violently. He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't think.
This wasn't real.
It wasn't real.
But it was.
It was.
His fault.
All of it.
His knees hit the ground.
His vision swam.
Somewhere in the distance, Max was shouting his name, but his voice sounded distant—like an echo from a different world.
Richard didn't move.
He couldn't.
Because standing in front of him wasn't Emma anymore.
It was something else.
A grotesque, misshapen thing that barely resembled the girl he once knew.
Her entire body twitched unnaturally, like she was being held up by invisible strings. Her arms, once human, were now razor-sharp blades of bone, dripping with her own blood.
Her voice came out distorted, layered—like multiple voices speaking over each other.
Max grabbed Richard's shoulder. "Richard, snap out of it!"
No response.
Max clicked his tongue in frustration.
"Guess it's just me, then."
Emma's head jerked toward Max.
Her hollow eyes locked onto him.
Max raised his pistol.
Emma charged.
Max moved.
A faint blue aura flickered around him as he placed three quick triggers in the space between them.
Emma's foot hit the ground—
Her movement jerked unnaturally.
For a brief second, she was off balance.
Max fired.
The bullet ripped into her side, but she barely flinched.
She corrected her movement almost instantly—this time faster than before.
Max clicked his tongue.
Richard was still frozen.
"Shit," Max muttered.
Emma lunged again—this time, Max had no room to dodge.
Her blade swung straight for his chest.
Max tried to move.
But he was too slow.