Whispers of the Damned

The night was unnervingly silent as Varek, Knox, and Vikas approached the ruins where Banshee, the Rank 1 Ghost Vault user, was said to reside. The air was thick with an eerie chill, unnatural even for the cold of night. Shadows twisted along the broken stone walls, whispering voices slipping through the cracks like echoes from the dead.

Varek clenched his fists, the weight of Dicio's death still fresh in his mind. He could feel it—a presence unlike any they had faced before. This was no ordinary demon.

Vikas exhaled, forming a thin mist in the cold air. "We go in together. No splitting up."

Knox twirled a dagger between his fingers. "Agreed. Let's finish this."

As they stepped forward, a wailing cry pierced the night, sending a sharp pain through their skulls. Varek dropped to one knee, gripping his head as the air itself seemed to vibrate.

A figure materialized before them—Banshee.

His form was half-solid, half-ethereal, shifting between existence and nothingness. Hisneyes, hollow voids, fixated on them with amusement. His voice echoed inside their minds rather than through the air.

"Three left. How tragic. I expected four."

Varek's jaw tightened. He could still see the blood on his hands, still hear Dicio's voice in his head.

"I wonder... Do you hear him calling for you?" Banshee whispered.

Suddenly, the air filled with Dicio's voice—laughing, shouting, crying out in pain. It was all around them.

Knox gritted his teeth. "Damn it, don't listen to his tricks!"

Vikas formed ice along his arms, steadying himself. "he's in our heads. We need to silence him."

But as they moved to attack, their surroundings changed.

They were no longer in the ruins.

They stood in the house they used to share with Dicio. The air smelled of cooked food, the table set as if for another one of their joke competitions. Dicio stood by the fire, his back turned to them.

"Dicio?" Varek whispered.

Dicio turned around with empty, hollow eyes. His face twisted into a ghostly grin.

"Why did you let me die?"

Banshee's laughter filled the illusion. "Let's see how long before you break."

The illusion around them wavered, twisting between reality and the fabricated past. Knox clenched his fists, his dagger-formed hands glowing faintly with mana. The weight of Dicio's death lingered, but right now, he had only one goal—silencing Banshee.

Banshee's formless body hovered midair, shifting between solid and ghostly mist. His hollow eyes fixated on Knox.

"Ah… the funny one. Let's see if you can joke your way out of death."

Knox exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Nah. I only joke when I know someone's walking out of this alive."

Banshee's form flickered, and suddenly—he vanished.

Knox barely had time to react before a cold presence materialized behind him.

A scream erupted in his ear.

It wasn't a sound—it was pain. The wail drilled into his skull like a blade, sending him to one knee. His vision blurred, and whispers flooded his mind—Dicio's voice.

"You left me."

"You could've saved me."

Knox clenched his teeth. He knew this wasn't real.

With a sudden jerk, he slashed backward.

His dagger hands cut through mist—but then found resistance.

Banshee's form solidified just enough to take a hit. The demon let out a shrill, distorted cry as Knox's mana-infused blades tore across his chest.

Knox flipped back, shaking off the last of the illusion's effect. "You really should've done your research," he muttered, shaking his hands. "I don't rely on my brain for fighting anyway."

Banshee's form flickered, fading in and out. His chest wound oozed a strange black mist instead of blood.

"Tch. Your mind is annoyingly stubborn."

Knox grinned. "Guess that's why I'm still alive."

With a sudden burst of speed, Knox lunged forward, his daggered hands flashing in the dark.

Banshee raised his hands, and a wave of spectral energy exploded outward.

The ruined battlefield was nothing but cold stone and eerie mist, yet the weight of the fight had just begun.

Knox dashed forward first, his dagger-formed hands gleaming with mana. He slashed at Banshee, but the demon vanished, its form turning into mist. Behind.

Knox ducked. A spectral hand phased through the air where his head had been, but even as he rolled away, his vision warped. The battlefield twisted—he wasn't in ruins anymore.

He was… home?

Dicio stood there.

Alive. Smirking. Arms crossed.

"You're late for training," Dicio said casually, as if the past few days hadn't happened.

Knox froze. His hands twitched, his breath uneven. Was this real?

A shiver ran down his spine.

"No."

His vision flickered—Banshee was watching him. The illusion cracked, revealing the ghostly figure hovering nearby.

Knox's fist clenched.

"You think I'm that easy?"

With a burst of mana, he sliced through the illusion—his dagger hands tearing the fake world apart. The battlefield snapped back into reality.

Banshee chuckled. "You're amusing."

Knox spun his dagger hands, rolling his shoulders. "Keep talking. I'll carve that laugh off your face."

Banshee lunged.

The two clashed—a flurry of speed and instinct.

Knox's dagger-hands struck first, aiming for the core of Banshee's misty form. But the demon phased through, circling Knox and grabbing his back.

A cold wave of energy surged through Knox's body. His mind fogged—another illusion.

But this time, Knox didn't fight it.

Instead, he adapted.

Through the illusion, he sensed movement—Banshee was getting closer, pressing in, trying to control him. A mistake.

Knox twisted and struck.

His daggered hand tore into Banshee's core, the demon screaming as he was forced into his solid form.

SLASH.

A deep cut tore across Banshee's torso.

The demon shrieked, backing away. He had underestimated Knox.

Knox wiped the sweat off his brow. "You're annoying."

Banshee grinned. "Then let's finish this."

A wave of spirits burst from Banshee's body.** Phantom arms reached for Knox.**

Knox jumped back, dodging, but his footing slipped—

A spirit latched onto his arm.

His vision turned dark.

A sharp whisper filled his head. "Let me in."

Knox's body tensed—Banshee was possessing him.

For the first time, Knox didn't fight it.

Instead…

He let him in.

The moment Banshee fully possessed his body, Knox grabbed the exorcism necklace from his belt.

The one he had found buried in the basement months ago.

With all his strength, Knox pressed the necklace against his own chest.

A blinding light erupted.

Banshee's scream tore through the air.

The exorcism ripped Banshee from his body. The demon's misty form was forced out, twisting, writhing—until, with one final shriek, Banshee vanished into nothing.

Silence.

Knox stood still, his breath heavy.

It was over.

He smirked. "Told you I'd carve that laugh off your face."