The hologram of the Tenement of Whispers rotated slowly above the workbench in the Foundry.
It was a four-story apartment complex, typical of the pre-System architecture in the Slums. But in the projection, the building was shrouded in a red fog.
"Level 15," Silas read the dossier, his voice trembling. "Type: Poltergeist / Apparition. Status: Uncleared for ten years. Elian, this is a suicide pact, not a job."
Elian ignored him. He was using his Blueprint Sight on the hologram.
The building wasn't just haunted; it was infested. The mana readings showed high concentrations of NecroticEnergy on the third and fourth floors.
"Ghosts are immune to physical damage," Goran grunted, sharpening his new acid-axe. "I can swing this thing all day, but if they don't have bodies, I'm just cutting air."
"Correct," Elian said. "Standard steel passes right through them. To hurt a ghost, you need Silver, Holy Magic, or a weapon enchanted with Spirit Touch."
"We don't have a Priest," Kara noted. "And we definitely don't have silver. The Guilds hoard it."
Elian picked up one of the Logic Cores he had salvaged from Vane's robot wolves.
"We don't need silver," Elian said. "Ghosts are just mana constructs held together by a specific frequency—usually an emotion like rage or sorrow. If you disrupt the frequency, the construct collapses."
He looked at his team.
"We're not going to exorcise them. We're going to jam their signal."
The Salt and the Circuit
Elian spent the next six hours turning the Foundry into a chemistry lab.
He sent Silas to the market with a very specific shopping list: Industrial Rock Salt, Copper Wire, and Quartz Crystals.
When Silas returned, complaining about the weight of the salt sacks, Elian got to work.
[Class Skill: Material Synthesis]
[Base: Iron Filings]
[Additive: Rock Salt]
[Catalyst: Robot Logic Core (Grinded)]
Elian mixed the ingredients in a crucible heated by the Mana Furnace. The result was a fine, shimmering grey dust.
"What is that?" Goran asked, peering into the bowl.
"Null-Dust," Elian explained. "Salt disrupts spiritual energy. The Logic Core fragments act as a conductor. If you coat your weapons in this, they will interact with Ethereal forms."
He took Goran's axe and applied the paste to the blade. It sizzled, drying into a jagged, grey coating over the green acid resin.
"It's brittle," Elian warned. "It will wear off after a few hits. You have to make them count."
For Kara, he made Null-Bombs—small pouches filled with the dust and a tiny explosive charge.
"Throw these at clusters," Elian instructed. "It's like an EMP for ghosts. It won't kill them, but it will stun them and force them to manifest physically. Then Goran hits them."
"And for you?" Kara asked.
Elian picked up his railgun-pipe. He had modified the ammunition. Instead of solid slugs, he had loaded canister shells filled with rock salt and mana crystals.
"Shotgun shells," Elian grinned. "Maximum dispersion."
Night fell over Sector 4.
They sat around the fire barrel one last time before the raid. The atmosphere was heavy. Raiding a goblin cave was one thing; walking into a haunted house was primal fear.
"I know that building," Kara said quietly, staring into the flames.
The others looked at her.
"Before the System," Kara continued, hugging her knees. "My grandmother lived there. It was called the 'Sunrise Apartments'. When the mana wave hit... the building didn't collapse. But the people inside... they didn't get out."
She poked the fire with a stick.
"The story goes that a Rift opened in the basement. A Void-Leech. It didn't eat their bodies. It ate their minds. trapped them in a loop of their final moments. That's why it's called the Tenement of Whispers. You hear them... re-living the day they died."
Silas shuddered, pulling his cloak tighter. "That is horrifying. Can we go back to the rats? I liked the rats."
"We're doing them a favor," Elian said softly. "They aren't people anymore, Kara. They're echoes. Pain looking for a release. Clearing the dungeon sets them free."
Kara looked up at him. "Do you really believe that? Or is that just what you tell yourself to sleep?"
Elian thought about Kaelen. He thought about the memory of Kaelen dying, over and over again, in different timelines.
"I have to believe it," Elian said. "Because if death isn't the end... then we're all in trouble."
He stood up, kicking dirt over the fire.
"Gear up. We leave in ten minutes."
The Tenement of Whispers sat on 4th Street like a tombstone.
The surrounding buildings were inhabited—squatters peering out of broken windows, neon signs flickering for noodle bars. But the Tenement sat in a dead zone. The streetlights around it were shattered. A chain-link fence erected by the Merchant's Union surrounded the perimeter, covered in "DANGER" signs.
The building itself was four stories of grey brick. The windows were boarded up, but a faint, sickly blue light pulsed from the cracks.
"It's cold," Goran breathed, his breath misting in the air. "I can feel it from here."
Elian checked his Blueprint Sight.
[Dungeon: Tenement of Whispers]
[Structure Integrity: 60%]
[Mana Density: High (Necrotic)]
[Threat: Level 15]
"Silas, you're on perimeter," Elian ordered. "Stay by the fence. If the Union sends anyone to check on us, stall them."
"Gladly," Silas sighed with relief. "I will guard this fence with my life."
"Goran, Kara, on me."
Elian cut the chain-link fence with wire cutters. They stepped into the overgrown courtyard. The dead grass crunched loudly under their boots.
They reached the front door. It was a heavy wooden double-door, surprisingly intact.
Elian placed his hand on the wood.
[Edit Mode: Unlock]
The lock clicked.
The door creaked open, revealing a dark lobby.
"Flashlights," Elian whispered.
They clicked their lights on. The beams cut through the dusty air.
The lobby looked frozen in time. A reception desk covered in dust. A faded calendar on the wall from ten years ago. A child's tricycle overturned near the elevator.
And the sound.
Ssssss... help... sssss... cold...
It wasn't wind. It was hundreds of voices whispering at once, layering over each other until it sounded like static.
"Steady," Elian commanded, raising his railgun. "Formation."
Goran stepped in front, shield raised. Kara took the flank. Elian covered the rear.
They walked toward the stairs. The elevator was a death trap in a place like this.
As Goran placed his boot on the first step, the temperature plummeted.
The flashlight beams flickered.
"Get out..." a voice hissed, right next to Elian's ear.
Elian spun around. Nothing.
"Elian," Kara's voice was tight. "Look at the walls."
Elian looked.
The peeling wallpaper was shifting. Faces were pushing through the paper, stretching it like elastic. Mouths opening in silent screams. Hands reaching out.
[Trap Activated: Wall of the Damned]
[Effect: Fear Aura]
Don't look at them!" Elian shouted. It's an illusion! Keep moving!
They rushed up the stairs.
CRASH.
The front door slammed shut behind them. The lock turned with a loud, final click.
We're locked in, Goran grunted, looking back.
No, Elian corrected, looking up the dark stairwell to the second floor. We're locked out of the exit. The only way out is up.
He checked his ammo count.
Null-Shells: 20.
Null-Dust: 100%.
Floor One is clear, Elian said. The real dungeon starts on Two.
He racked the slide of his railgun.
Let's go say hello to the neighbors.