THE SUICIDE GHOST
Sparrow and Canary stood a short distance away, watching Autumn chat with the uniformed officer.
It was very close to noon, but the air in this place, Little Canvas, seemed to chill them with an odd kind of energy. The settlement, a cluster of vibrantly colored houses and whimsical sculptures, felt unnaturally cheerful against the backdrop of their grim task.
Sparrow felt the familiar tension settle in his shoulders. They were here to hunt something that lived beyond the veil of reality, something that drove people to end their own lives.
He adjusted the black eyepatch that concealed his artificial purple eye, the left side of his face pulling slightly at the scar that bisected bone and flesh. His right, dark green eye scanned the environment, cataloging every detail.
His mystery class,
Canary, his younger sister, fidgeted beside him. He could sense her suppressed anxiety. She seemed to experience the same stage jitter he felt. This was their first mission after all.
He reached out, his large hand briefly tousled her braided hair. "Tweety, relax," he murmured, using his nickname for her. His voice was a low rumble, but always comforting to Canary.
Canary wasn't fragile. Her small, delicate frame was not weak at all, testament to her years of dedication to gymnastics. Yet, her green eyes, so like his remaining one, darted nervously around the vibrant settlement.
"I don't like this, Birdbro. It feels… wrong."
Sparrow knew what she meant. Little Canvas was meant to be a haven of creativity, but the shadow of the 'Suicide Ghost', their mission target, tainted the cheerful façade. The suicides, three in as many nights, had cast a pall over the entire town of Soragant, not just this little haven.
Autumn returned, a grim expression etched on her beautiful face. Her dark-brown hair, cut short in a practical style, bounced as she walked.
"Alright, Cyclops, Pixie," she addressed them, using their codenames to show that this was serious. "The officer gave us the green light. We can check out the last suicide site."
Sparrow nodded, his silence a sign of his understanding. He rarely wasted words. "What did you learn?" he asked, his voice gravelly.
Autumn sighed. "The first one… the man with the debt and the wife who left him? That one's likely a genuine tragedy. But the other two… those reek of interference. MIST Union flagged it. The oracle types are picking up a blurred surreal signature in this Little Canvas, something not so powerful, but very nasty."
Canary's brow furrowed. "Oracle types?"
"The mystery agents whose class was the seventh of hearts," Autumn replied. "You know... your brother was second of spades, pugilist types. You are tenth of spades, marksman types. Got it?"
"Ugh, I've got to study this more when I'm back home. What are they saying, Li'l... er Aunt Starwitch?"
"Not much detail," Autumn explained. "That's the problem. They get vague impressions, enough to know something's out there, enough to give it a chilling name. But specific location? Powers? They don't get that. What the oracles did give us was the name 'Suicide Ghost' and that this 'creature' was getting stronger every night it got its fill of taking lives."
"So, we're dealing with a ghost?" Canary concluded, her voice tight. As an
"Very likely," Autumn confirmed. "Which is why we're going to tread carefully. Let's see what we can find at the last victim's house. Maybe it left some kind of residue, some clue."
---ooo---ooo---ooo---
The victim's house was a modest, single-story dwelling right in the center of Little Canvas. The bright colors of the settlement seemed to explode here, filling the place with chaotic mix of vibrant colors. A sense of vivid eccentricity hung in the air, a stark contrast to the horrors that had unfolded within.
The police had already processed the scene, but Autumn, with her MIST Union credentials, was able to persuade them to allow a more thorough search.
They entered the house, the air thick with the lingering scent of cleaning products and something else… a faint, metallic tang that made Sparrow's artificial eye throb.
The victim's bedroom was a typical room of a painter. Many varieties of paintings plastered the walls, a messy desk cluttered with oil paints and sketches, and a rumpled bed. The bottle of pills that had ended his life lay discarded on the bedside table.
Autumn, drawing upon her
"Aunt Starwitch! Pixie!" Sparrow suddenly called, making the two turned their heads to look at him. "My left eye should be useful this time, shouldn't it?"
"Are you sure? It won't be a nice thing to see." Autumn's voice, filled with concern, cut through the silence that happened after Sparrow's suggestion.
Sparrow simply nodded. His face, already etched with a permanent tranquility that belied his eighteen years, remained calm. He reached up and took off the black eyepatch that concealed his artificial left eye. The air in the room seemed to thicken as the purple orb, a stark contrast to his natural green eye, was revealed.
"Bird... Cyclops Bro, be careful," Canary warned, her tone less confident than usual.
Sparrow nodded and activated the [Retrocognitive Vision], the artifact ability of his artificial eye implant. The world around him dissolved, the present fading away like a watercolor painting in the rain. The room shimmered, then solidified, revealing a pallid scene from the midnight of the previous day.
He watched as the painter, his face pale and gaunt, shakily poured a handful of pills into his palm. Despair radiated from him in palpable waves. His eyes flickered in reddish glow. He swallowed the pills.
Sparrow focused his vision more and looked further back in time. Then, he saw it. A flicker, a distortion in the air. A figure coalescing from the shadows, its eyes burning with malevolent red light.
It lunged, its form ethereal yet undeniably solid, and plunged directly into the painter's sleeping body. The painter's body convulsed for a few seconds before he opened his despaired eyes.
Sparrow fast-forwarded. He witnessed the final, agonizing moments of the painter's life. He watched the light leave his eyes, the life drain from his face. Then, as the body lay still, a wispy, translucent form detached itself and drifted towards the wall. It shimmered, bypassed the solid barrier, and vanished.
Sparrow closed his left eyelid, manually deactivated the [Retrocognitive Vision] by doing so. The room snapped back into focus in his remaining eye. He hadn't replaced the eyepatch yet, as he might still need to use his artificial eye. The weight of what he had witnessed settled upon him.
"Ghost possession," he stated, his voice a low rumble. "It bypassed the wall after he died. It's still out there."
"What did it look like, Row?" Autumn asked, her hand instinctively reaching for the small pockets containing her elemental shards.
"Red eyes," Sparrow replied, his gaze fixed on the wall the ghost had passed through. "Definitely a Vicious Red. Come on."
They left the apartment, Sparrow taking the lead, his senses heightened, alert for any sign of the ethereal creatures. Canary, despite her initial apprehension, kept pace with her brother, her hands unzipping her aviator jacket, revealing a pair of semi-automatic handguns tucked in the side holsters.
Sparrow's left eye was opened again, focused. He concentrated on the lingering traces of the ghost's energy signature, following the faint time-bound trail like a bloodhound.
It led them through the labyrinthine streets of Little Canvas, past vibrant murals and bizarre sculptures, past cafes filled with artists and dreamers. The juxtaposition of such dark, sinister evil against the backdrop of joyful artistic expression was jarring.
Finally, the trail led them to a small, unassuming house just a few blocks away from the muralist's apartment. The house was surrounded by a garden filled with clay figures, ranging from whimsical gnomes to grotesque gargoyles.
A middle-aged woman with tired eyes and stained hands was meticulously sculpting a grotesque figure from a block of clay.
"He's there," Sparrow said, stopping abruptly.
Autumn and Canary exchanged worried glances. The woman appeared perfectly normal, if they were not taking the creepy shape of clay she was making into account.
"Pixie! Combo Alpha!" Sparrow gave a whispered instruction. He activated his [Greater Appraisal], focusing his inner energy on the woman's aura. The world shimmered once more, and a wealth of information flooded his mind.
At almost the same time, he felt his mind linked to his aunt and sister. Canary had also used her [Mind Power] to connect them.
Information quickly surged in rapid waves within their mind.
Suicide Ghost was a vicious surreal entity (Vicious Red). It possessed the dead body of a psychotic gambler who blamed the world for his misfortune. The man had committed suicide because his wife had left him for his best friend, he lost everything he had, and he could not pay for his debt.
The possessed body later gave birth to a vicious ethereal ghost with the ability to possess the bodies of people who were just a little bit down and depressed and forced them at midnight to commit suicide.
It was elusive, troublesome, and hard to detect. However, it was weak against light and holy water when it possessed other's body; and weak against lightning when it was in ethereal form.
'Pixie, holy water!' Autumn's voice reverberated in the siblings' minds. 'Cyclops, try to distract her.'
Sparrow nodded, in agreement with the logic of the task assignment. He knew the reasoning behind the strategy. He was the least stealthy among them, and he was also the one with the greatest survival chance in close range. No one would be more suitable as distraction other than him.
He stepped forward, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over the sculptor.
"Excuse me, ma'am," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Are you feeling alright?"
The woman looked up, her eyes dull and lifeless. A flicker of something unnatural flashed behind them, a hint of the red malice that Sparrow had seen in the painter's apartment.
"I'm… fine," she said, her voice raspy and strained. "Just a little tired."
"Maybe you should rest," Sparrow suggested, taking another step closer. "You look like you could use it."
The woman's grip tightened on the clay. "I have to finish this," she said, her voice taking on a sharper edge. "I have to."
Sparrow knew he was running out of time. The ghost was gaining control. He needed to act fast.
He feigned a stumble, knocking into the woman's workstation. The ugly clay figure toppled to the ground, shattering into pieces.
The woman screamed, a sound filled with anguish and despair. "No! My work! You ruined it!"
That was the opening.
Autumn acted with lightning speed. She took out a card and crushed it. A shimmering tentacles of light sprouted from the floor and entangled the woman, momentarily disrupting the ghost's control.
"Now, Pixie!" she yelled.
Canary took out a vial of holy water in one hand and a water shard in the other hand. Simultaneously, she uncorked the vial and crushed the shard. The holy water came out of the vial and formed a floating water-ball.
"Holy Waterball," she named her move in a strange tone. Then, she flicked her hand.
The water-ball struck the woman's face, surprisingly not wetting her skin but miraculously seeping into her skin, flesh, and bone. The woman cried out, writhing in agony. The red light within her eyes intensified, then flickered and died.
The woman collapsed, unconscious.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, a translucent figure, barely visible to the naked eye, detached itself from the woman's body. It was the ghost, its red eyes burning with furious hatred.
It shrieked in rage, its voice a distorted whisper that seemed to claw at their minds.
Sparrow appeared behind it with a hand raised, a bolt of pure lightning crackling, coating his already coated eldritch fist. He had crushed a lightning shard.
"Shut up!" he growl.
The eldritch lightning fist struck the ghost with extreme brutality, searing its ethereal form. The ghost screamed, a sound that echoed through the streets of Little Canvas, before dissipating into nothingness.
Sparrow grinned. "Mixing the [Eldritch Energy Coating] and lightning shard magic seemed to be very effective," he concluded in satisfied tone.
"This was too easy," Canary complained unreasonably. "Waaay much easier than the ones in the realmgate. I haven't even use my new guns."
Autumn sighed. "Just wait until you face more surreal creatures. You'll wish every encounter will be this easy later on."
"Well, anyway..." Sparrow opened his hand and showed them a pair of red surreal stones, the drops from the ghost. "How should we divide this?"
"You two can take it," Autumn easily decided. "Both of my mystery classes have maxed up levels. These things are useless for me. Besides..."
Her words were stopped midway. The unconscious woman stirred, groaning softly. She blinked, her eyes regaining their normal, tired expression.
"What… what happened?" she asked, her voice confused.
Autumn knelt beside her, offering a comforting smile. "You're alright now. Just rest."
Sparrow stood guard, his gaze sweeping the surroundings, ensuring that the ghost was truly gone. The fight was over, for now. But he knew, with a chilling certainty, that it was only a temporary victory. The surreal horrors were always lurking in this world, waiting for a chance to strike.