Ghosttown's Gatekeeper
— Ghosttown.
A place that exists and yet does not. That is Ghosttown.
Straddling the boundary between the world of the living and the realm of the dead, it is a spirit realm the living should never enter.
It was, quite literally, a city of ghosts.
Figures appeared here and there. Even calling them people felt wrong. They were hazy, dark silhouettes whose facial features were almost impossible to make out. Nothing but faint outlines remained—shadows. The spectral crowds of a spectral city.
The dead…
It was in that place that Solomon walked, gas mask strapped over his face, the guide fairy perched on his shoulder.
“How long have we been in here? Feels like two centuries… Fuck, I’m dying for some fairy dust. No, not that way. That’s the road to the underworld. Hotel Snark is over there.”
The fairy, who had emerged from its cage to sit on Solomon’s shoulder, pointed ahead.
“Turn around and walk back.”
They had only been inside for a few dozen minutes, yet the fairy was already showing withdrawal symptoms—sweating bullets, wings and limbs trembling violently.
“There. We’re still alive, right? Good. Let’s go! By the way, that path leads straight to the afterlife.”
“……”
“I’ve been curious about this place for ages. Perfect timing. Life’s been so damn boring lately.”
Even so, Solomon felt the value of this junkie fairy on his shoulder more clearly than ever before.
The paths of Ghosttown cannot be explained by the logic of the living. Take a few steps, shift your angle by a few degrees, and you’ll accidentally step into an irreversible place…
At first there had only been one path.
But just as the fairy said, after a few steps the road had split into two forks without him even noticing.
One of them was a path from which he could never return to this world. The road to the afterlife.
Only then did he realize it. What looked like a city at first glance was actually an incomprehensible collection of forks dividing life from death.
Take the wrong path and there is no turning back.
“Ah, from here on the power of logic grows stronger. No need to worry about getting lost anymore.”
“The power of logic grew stronger?”
“It’s proof that the influence of the living has increased.”
The meaning was not hard to grasp.
“…Which means we’re almost at Hotel Snark.”
“Yeah. From now on there’s only one thing we need to be careful of.”
“What is it?”
Solomon’s mind filled with images of vengeful spirits craving the spark of life, wandering corpses, and all manner of horrors. The fairy answered.
“The living.”
“What?”
“Why are you acting like it’s someone else’s problem? I’m talking about you.”
Solomon found the fairy’s words even more absurd.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“For example… Hmm, can you see that?”
The fairy pointed as it spoke.
“It’s becoming visible now, right? We’re practically on top of it.”
“…What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?”
The air of death that wrapped around Ghosttown like smog, combined with the gas mask he wore as a countermeasure, made it hard to see clearly.
“Nothing special. Just specters that go crazy and charge the moment they spot a living person.”
“!”
It was very special. Solomon hurriedly focused his mind and drew the Ghostwhale Bone Blade.
Beyond the black fog that had grown hazy, a swarm of dark, wavering silhouettes was rushing straight toward them.
Not on two legs—floating specters that glowed with a dim, dark light as they drifted through the air.
They soared like acrobatic pilots before diving in. Solomon steadied his stance and swung his blade.
Slash!
The Ghostwhale Bone Blade. True to its name, the weapon that could not even scratch these entities with ordinary arms sank cleanly into the specter and exerted its influence.
“Kiiieeeeek!”
The specter’s scream rang out. Immediately Solomon twisted to face another one diving from above like an eagle and swung again.
Once more the Ghostwhale Bone Blade cut through. The silhouette turned transparent and unraveled like a loosened ribbon knot. That made two.
At that point the remaining specters hovering in the air backed off, frightened, and no longer dared to attack.
Feels like I’m about to hit level three soon…
Disappointed that the flying experience points were disappearing, Solomon clicked his tongue in silence.
“See? Someone who’s drowned plenty of people knows how to do it right.”
The fairy muttered as if it had nothing to do with them.
“It’s not like those things have ever drowned anyone while they were alive. But judging by your face, you’ve sunk more than a few. Even meat tastes better when you’ve had it before.”
“There must be other things I should be wary of.”
“That’s what I told you earlier. Watch out for the living.”
The fairy shrugged.
“Whoops, looks like there’s another one right over there.”
“—”
When the fairy pointed, a someone could be seen moving among the ghost-like crowd. It was not far. Close enough to see clearly with the naked eye.
But not in the death-filled air that saturated Ghosttown.
“In our line of work, we say anyone who still has their head attached has basically survived.”
“What the…”
“Have you ever heard the term living corpse?”
Even Solomon’s senses, heightened to take every possible advantage in the dark, were useless here. The gas mask that further blocked his vision made it worse.
That was why Solomon did not hesitate.
.
A spell that could pierce through barriers and see beyond even in darkness.
The hazy landscape sharpened as if he were wearing night-vision goggles, revealing clear outlines and shapes.
The ghosts standing blankly appeared as faint as air, but among them one figure moved with unmistakable life.
A clear human silhouette. On its back it carried something large enough to hold a person with room to spare.
An unmistakable symbol of death, the mark of a funeral.
A coffin?!
At the same time, the smell hit him. A piercing stench. The odor of a rotting, decaying corpse.
A zombie!
A living corpse that moved on two legs despite its rotting flesh. And it was even carrying a coffin on its back.
It really was a living corpse.
“Whoa, it’s still pretty fresh. Could probably slice it up for sashimi.”
Some decay had set in, but the bones were not yet exposed. Its equipment was still intact. It was not simply wearing rags…
Bang!
The moment he realized it, something fired. A killing intent ran down his spine. Solomon threw himself aside on pure instinct.
Auto crossbow!
A bolt of death grazed his cheek by a hair. The aim had been precise.
Rolling across the ground, Solomon drew the Nightfall auto crossbow he had stored in his quick-loader belt.
Click. Clack.
From its compact form designed to fit on a belt, gears, mechanisms, and the main frame expanded and locked into place one after another.
Clack.
Once the crossbow’s frame and drive components seated themselves, the ratchet wheel engaged with a sharp sound. Solomon slipped his finger onto the trigger and pulled.
Bang!
Only after firing did he realize that such attacks would not work against a living corpse.
“Grrrrraaaah…”
A standoff at a considerable distance.
From the creature’s own throat came a real voice, a human vocalization.
It was not slow and sluggish like the zombies people usually imagined. It was fast. It even handled the auto crossbow with skill beyond that of an ordinary person.
Fast. This is no ordinary zombie.
The unmistakable appearance of a fellow professional. A hunter.
Solomon dashed through the crowd of ghosts standing in a daze. Thanks to that, spotting the zombie hidden among them was not difficult.
Unlike the Ghostwhale Bone Blade, the Nightfall auto crossbow had no ability to strike specters. Therefore the bolts flew past the ghostly crowd filling Ghosttown and flew toward the moving corpse.
The bolts fired by the zombie’s own crossbow were no exception.
While bolts rained from both sides, Solomon sprinted between the ghostly crowds, steadily closing the distance.
Thud!
Then the zombie slammed the object on its back onto the ground.
What’s it going to do with that coffin?!
The container meant to hold a corpse. The zombie that should be inside it was doing something strange, but his curiosity was soon answered.
The irregular rectangular structure split wide open to both sides, and from the gap emerged countless mechanical arms that stretched out like spider legs. Not a corpse.
It was a telescopic expansion structure where multiple layers of folded mechanical devices unfolded all at once.
Crossbow turret…!
From the structure that had transformed into a turret, numerous mechanical arms all aimed at Solomon at once. Each arm was designed to fire bolts on the spot.
No time to hesitate. Not even a single second.
.
The moment he chanted the spell, Solomon’s shadow rose behind the zombie that had planted the turret. But before the shadow could even mimic his movements, Solomon recited another spell.
.
What Solomon aimed for was never an attack to begin with. The second spell activated, and in the blink of an eye the positions of Solomon and his shadow mimic were swapped.
Ratatatatat!!
The terrifying barrage from the turret pierced Solomon’s shadow as easily as it pierced the ghostly crowd. The rain of death only skewered those who were already dead.
In that moment Solomon, having changed places, stood face to face with the zombie.
He instantly pulled the hidden thread device under his sleeve and drew the Ghostwhale Bone Blade. The zombie, too, smoothly closed the distance, drew its weapon, and met him.
A rapier?!
Blade met blade. This was not a surprise attack from behind. It was a one-on-one duel with no advantage on his side whatsoever. Even in that situation the zombie’s movements showed not the slightest sluggishness.
Clang!
The blades clashed. After several exchanges that flowed from one into another, Solomon parried the rapier’s thrust like flowing water and counterattacked. Like two snakes aiming for each other’s tails.
“Ah… Pardon me.”
“!”
Immediately afterward the zombie created distance and dodged the swinging Ghostwhale Bone Blade. It raised both arms as if it had no intention of fighting.
What was even more surprising was the human voice that followed. It was not the zombie’s groan from before.
“Your skill has been verified. I hope you will forgive my sudden rudeness… grrrraaaah.”
“The zombie… is talking?”
“Oh, grrr… That is an existentially violent definition of form—discrimination, I say.”
The zombie continued speaking to the bewildered Solomon. It shouldered its coffin once more.
“To one such as I—a Woker—that is… grrrraaaah… not a very pleasant word.”
In the silence the fairy broke in casually.
“Hm. Do you know what we call the nonsense people like you spout?”
“Tell me.”
“Fairy bullshit.”
“Your rudeness shows no sign of changing even after several centuries.”
While Solomon maintained a cautious silence, the zombie spoke again.
“The path to Hotel Snark is this way, young contractor.”
“Who… exactly are you?”
“I am the gatekeeper of this place and… grrr… the hotel’s exclusive undertaker.”
The hotel’s gatekeeper and exclusive undertaker said.
“You have safely passed the test and earned the right to enter through the door.”
Experience is not necessarily obtained by killing someone. Sometimes, simply passing a test and proving your qualification before another is enough… Congratulations! You have reached Level 3!
“Welcome to Hotel Snark.”
The air of the dead that had filled the area vanished like a lie. The ghostly crowds that had saturated Ghosttown had also disappeared before he knew it.
Then, beyond the gray fog that had previously hidden everything from view, a towering hotel came into sight.
As if it would only reveal itself once the being before him granted permission.
“The Faceless One awaits you.”