Chapter 7
Chapter 7
School Ghost Stories Five
The moment the slime collapsed over my body, the core shattered at the same time.
A distorted groan echoed out.
The slime’s body twisted violently, then began to evaporate.
A system message appeared, stating the clear condition.
Clear condition: Resolve the five major ghost stories of Inshin Middle School.
One, statue, completed.
Two, murderer.
Three, human specimen, completed.
Four, janitor, completed.
Five, female student.
Unknown.
The condition had clearly updated again. So it really was the human specimen.
“Phew.”
My legs trembled from the heavy consumption of inner energy.
Fortunately, it seemed like everything related to the formalin was treated as part of the anomaly. The foul stench and the liquid soaking the science room floor vanished like a mirage. Even the liquid covering my body disappeared.
“Wow… that’s overwhelming force again.”
The girl had already walked up beside me, eyes sparkling.
“It’s not like that.”
She looked at me like I was some kind of superhero, but this time too, it had been close. If I had failed to pierce the core properly, I would have become a formalin soaked specimen myself.
“If you’re strong, life is easier, right? Fits you perfectly.”
“That just means you’re calling me dumb.”
“You could be strong and smart too.”
“Fair point. I’m going to meditate for a bit.”
“Meditate?”
“Something like breathing training.”
“Wow… okay.”
I sat down cross legged. My energy was nearly depleted from nonstop fighting.
Whatever came next, I wouldn’t even be able to beat the janitor ghost in this condition.
I closed my eyes.
The core of the Heavenly Demon Art was divided into seven stages.
The first stage, Flame Core, focused on awakening dormant essence and absorbing external energy to strengthen the flame.
In the darkness, I could see a small flame burning. It was much weaker than before.
But a weakened flame could always be rebuilt.
A chill thought passed through my mind.
The Heavenly Demon Art really was the strongest martial art in existence.
I had never learned any other techniques, but instinctively I understood that statement was not wrong.
Energy began to swirl around me violently.
The technique devoured surrounding energy greedily.
Warmth filled my lower dantian.
Time passed.
When I opened my eyes again, I felt about eighty percent recovered.
And right in front of me was the girl’s face.
She was staring at me from inches away.
The moment I opened my eyes, she quickly stepped back and pretended to draw something on the floor with her finger.
What is she doing.
If I had to deal with her as a ghost story too, how would I even handle it.
Would I have to cut her down like the others.
I stopped that thought.
“Done already?” she asked casually.
“Yes.”
“Where next?”
“Fourth floor.”
“Uh…”
She hesitated.
“The classroom you said you used to imitate the ghost story. We go there.”
“Haah…”
She sighed deeply, then nodded.
“Let’s go.”
Her steps were heavier than before.
We climbed to the fourth floor in silence.
“There it is. Class 2 1.”
She pointed to a classroom door.
“Wait here.”
“If you trigger trauma, who knows what comes out.”
“Okay.”
I approached the slightly open door.
Inside, I saw another girl sitting neatly at a desk, writing something diligently.
She looked exactly like the girl behind me.
The sound of a pen scratching paper echoed through the room.
Unlike the ghost girl, this one had a physical body.
I stepped inside.
Even though I was within striking distance, she did not react.
On the desk, I saw a notebook filled with strange symbols, completely blacked out.
“Stop.”
I spoke.
Her neck snapped violently.
Her face was wrong. There were no eyes, only black symbols where her features should have been.
Her mouth tore open.
“Not… finished…”
She returned to writing in the notebook.
This is annoying.
At close range, I was certain now.
This was a living human body.
Possessed by the ghost story.
If that was the case, killing her would be simple.
But I didn’t want to do that unless I had no choice.
I looked around the classroom.
There it was. A seating chart on the teacher’s desk.
Hyun Seoa.
So that was her name.
A sharp wind suddenly cut past my cheek.
In an instant, she was right in front of me.
“Do not interfere.”
Her voice scraped like dry sand.
“Why.”
“That name is mine.”
“It isn’t yours. Return it to its owner. The body too.”
“No.”
Her face twisted violently.
“Hyun Seoa.”
“Stop!”
She slammed the desk.
I dodged and moved toward where she had been sitting.
A pen.
The pen she had been using.
This kind of thing is always important in ghost stories.
And then it happened.
A distorted message appeared in my mind, like reality itself was breaking apart.
A being descends, carrying a name that should not be spoken.
You have died.
Returning to the waiting room.
I blinked.
White walls.
The waiting room.
So that wasn’t a dream.
I really died. From a pen.
I massaged my temple.
The forum would have answers.
Title: I died from picking up a pen? Is this real?
Author: 8.8
I picked up a ghost pen and some entity descended and I instantly died.
A reply came within seconds.
Blood Demon: Foolish mistake. You should never touch a medium of descent carelessly. If it caused instant death, it must be something at divine level.
Another message followed quickly.
8.8: It didn’t even hurt.
Blood Demon: That is the difference in existence.
A strange conversation unfolded.
The more I read, the clearer it became.
There were rules to ghost stories.
Break the rules, and you die.
The girl in the classroom said something similar.
But I had already broken it.
Or rather, I had died.
Then another message appeared.
A user called Kawaisuki Girl explained that such mediums should be destroyed immediately.
The Blood Demon agreed reluctantly.
Then a file was uploaded.
Blood Demon’s Meridian Opening Method.
I opened it.
It was surprisingly readable.
The technique was simple.
Forcefully open all eight extraordinary meridians and use them.
In other words.
A self destruct technique.
A suicide method disguised as martial arts.