Cracking the Manual Ghost Story
He mulled over the Manual Ghost Story. Everything he'd seen, heard, and experienced during his night patrols so far. Piecing together all those 'observations', reflecting on them, inferring from them to uncover the hidden truth. A clue that just might resolve the Manual Ghost Story. And where that clue was located. It wasn't on the first floor. Nor the second. Not the third, and certainly not the fourth. If there were any hints to解ing the Manual Ghost Story, they had to be inside the manual itself, obviously. The bizarre phenomena unfolding in the actual academy were mere side branches.
Just like he'd done once before, he imagined the Manual Ghost Story as a product. So, what was the core selling point of the Manual Ghost Story? The central staircase that devoured people? The classroom on the first floor that must never be opened? The music room on the second floor? The pool of blood on the third? No. It was the manual itself. That manual was the heart of what made the Manual Ghost Story what it was. No matter how much the Manual Ghost Story strengthened itself, toyed with space, or mocked time, as long as it remained the Manual Ghost Story, its limits and weaknesses were hidden within the manual.
The current manual's night survival rules could be divided into two categories. The more detailed rules newly added as his understanding of ghost stories grew. And the rules that hadn't changed despite thorough exploration. The unchanged ones weren't worth scrutinizing. The rules updated via Observation were ones he'd consciously or unconsciously gleaned useful info from during his night patrols.
Conversely, rules that hadn't updated either meant there were no notable peculiarities—or if there were, he hadn't noticed them. Either way, they were meaningless to him now. He'd already spent three hours patrolling the academy, repeating circuits multiple times to investigate thoroughly. No further updates after three hours meant the odds of more were low, no matter how much longer he invested.
So, what he needed to focus on wasn't the unupdated rules that might or might not change, but the ones that had already updated. Of course, as he'd sorted out earlier, most of that updated info was just things he already knew, merely textualized. But among them were bits he hadn't consciously realized—info lingering only in his unconscious.
For example, the detail that the music room's singing lasted five minutes was something he hadn't remembered amid the chaos back then. In the same vein, other rules that seemed at first glance like mere rehashes of known facts might, upon closer reading, harbor not just consciously known knowledge, but new truths slumbering in his unconscious that he hadn't yet grasped.
That was probably the true power of Observation. Not some magical status window or omnipotent AI spoon-feeding answers to his curiosities. Not digging up brand-new info he didn't know. But reorganizing memories he'd seen and heard yet overlooked, helping him infer new facts from them. Bringing info from the 'unconscious' realm into the 'conscious' one!
Realizing that, he reviewed the updated list again: out of 13 total rules, 9 had been updated (excluding 4 unchanged ones), right up to the last. Just in case he'd missed something. And there, he found two suspicious rules. They didn't outright explain new facts but merely hinted at new possibilities—though to him, who'd been utterly defeated by the Manual Ghost Story so far, even that much was a godsend.
Thus, he headed to the central staircase.
"Finally got a death wish, huh?"
"Ahh, Mr. Allen. If you're gonna throw yourself off there to die, wouldn't it be better to let us kill you?"
"Right you are. We'll make it feel good. Hehehehehe!"
The ghosts mocking him relentlessly from the side. But he hadn't come to the central staircase now to commit suicide, as they taunted. Ignoring them, he flipped open the duty log's night patrol rules page.
"The suspicious ones were two: numbers 2 and 8."
"...."
The ghosts who'd been jeering shut their mouths, ears perked in case he was addressing them. Sorry, but this was just musing aloud.
"The added content to rule 2 and rule 8 was as follows."
2. The night patrolman's movement range is limited to the academy map areas listed on the previous page of the duty log; escaping outside is physically impossible.
8. Reaching the fifth floor is physically impossible.
Sentences that merely restricted the night duty person's movement in either case, info proven through actual experience in the realm of 'consciousness'. But what caught his eye was a single word in those sentences: 'physically'.
As if saying that non-physical methods might make it possible.
Of course, even realizing that, it meant nothing to most people. Ordinary folks moved physically—so what, teleport? And the same went for him and the other Paranormal Investigation Club students. Their gifts were just superior mental fortitude, better athleticism, purer personalities compared to normals. Nothing that could transcend physical laws. Him included.
Unless, say, they resolved some ghost story later and got a relic granting physics-defying movement—but for now, impossible.
But if it wasn't 'him' or 'them', but 'another ghost story', then maybe. That's why he'd come to the central staircase. Not the fourth, third, or second floor. The first floor's central staircase. This very place hiding the path to the outer god's seal!!
The academy floor plan before the patrol rules in the actual duty log had zero mention of the outer god's sealed location. If it wasn't in the manual, it wasn't part of the Manual Ghost Story's domain! Because that's what made it the Manual Ghost Story.
Nodding vigorously, he charged straight at the central staircase. Thick fog billowed up simultaneously, starting to engulf him from the ankles. But he didn't stop, pressing forward.
"Hahaha! You're dying to die!!"
He didn't stop. With each step, the fog wrapping his body grew heavier, but he couldn't halt.
"Look at that desperate flailing. Hohohoho!"
Proportional to his advance, the fog climbed his body faster, soon submerging everything below his neck.
"Fucking retard teacher. Kekekekeke!"
But,
"I win!! You ghost bastards!!"
"...."
"...."
"...."
He reached the 'other side' before the fog could devour him. The heavy pressure crushing his right foot—the one he'd stepped forward first—suddenly 'whoosh' vanished.
"Farewell! I'm shedding the chains of night duty and off to find my happiness! You find yours too!"
Dobby is free!
Just before the thick fog fully blinded him, all the weight pinning his body lifted in an instant, throwing off his balance as he tumbled to the floor.
Crash! Thud!
"Gaaah...."
It hurt. Come to think of it, the first time he'd arrived at this outer god's seal, he'd rolled like this too. Same as then, tumbling down an entire flight of stairs left his whole body aching. Probably a few bruises at least.
But even so, the satisfaction of finally landing a blow on the Manual Ghost Story outweighed the pain. Had he escaped the ghost story? Wonder if Observation could confirm escape.
That was when it happened.
"He recognizes us!!"
"Did you think we'd let you slip away!!"
"Ahh, finally we can tear you to shreds with our own hands!!"
The fake Paranormal Investigation Club ghosts had breached the academy's boundary.
"You could cross over, huh."
"Kekekekeke. Thought you could escape us?"
"...Then let's begin the final proof."
"...What're you on about?"
Provoking the ghosts by crossing the boundary between academy and seal wasn't careless complacency at the end. There was one last thing he wanted to verify. Could these fake student-mimicking ghosts operate beyond the Manual Ghost Story's domain? If so, what were their activity time and range limits? Beyond just escape methods, each bit of info would prove useful for tackling the Manual Ghost Story next round.
For starters, them crossing the academy boundary here was bad news. It meant he hadn't truly escaped the Manual Ghost Story's domain—or even if he had, he couldn't relax.
Damn. Not the info he wanted....
"Wh-where... where is this...."
"No. This isn't it. This isn't where we should be. We can't be here. No. No. No. No. No."
"KyaAAAAAHHH!!!"
...Huh?
But what happened next was utterly unforeseen. Before attacking him, the ghosts looked around—then their faces drained of color, trembling in terror.
Static crackle hiss Something was wrong. Very wrong.
"Aaaah...."
"Wait, waitwaitwait, no, nonononoNO!"
"KYAAAAH!! KYAAAAH!!! KYAAAAAAAAHHH!!!"
Hiss crackle static No. This wasn't the Manual Ghost Story's doing.
Noise overlaid the student ghosts, another image superimposing atop them. An indescribably horrific mass of tentacles and eyeballs—something so profane and grotesque that the ghosts looked cute by comparison.
As if something was overwriting reality. But another unknown force was pushing back against the erosion.
The two powers kept distorting reality, then restoring it, over and over.
Ah. He remembered this. Or rather, remembered reading about it. Only one thing could do this....
Reading the status window message belatedly, he tried to close his eyes—but right before he could, he locked eyes with 'it'.
. . . :: ■■ ■ ■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■ :: . . .
When he came to, it was all over.
[Ghost Story: Manual Ghost Story has been resolved.]
[Allen and ■■■■ resolved the ghost story, purifying the grotesquery and absorbing resentment.]
[You resolved the ghost story, purifying the grotesquery and absorbing resentment.]
[You resolved a particularly powerful ghost story, absorbing a greater than usual amount of resentment.]
[The total resentment absorbed has reached a threshold, enabling Gift strengthening.]
[Strengthen your Gift? Y/N]