THUD.
The sound slammed through Ayan's skull like a hammer.
The kind of sound that didn't just echo — it vibrated, rippling through the air, through his bones, through the pulsing mark on his palm.
THUD.
Closer.
Ayan's breath faltered. The alley was too quiet. No footsteps. No voices. Just the rain dripping rhythmically — like a timer counting down to something he couldn't see.
Lyra flickered beside him, her form dim and unstable — like a candle fighting wind.
"That sound…" her voice trembled, softer than rain, "it isn't human."
Ayan swallowed. Hard.
The mark on his palm glowed faintly, reacting to something nearby — something huge, ancient, watching.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
Like footsteps. But far heavier — as if something dragged the night itself with every step.
Ayan pressed his back against the cold wall, breath sharp, his mind replaying everything that happened:
The exorcists.
The system.
The contract.
The power.
And now… whatever this was.
He could run — but something in him refused.
He had survived once. He could survive again.
Or so he hoped.
The Monster in the Static
A ripple passed through the air, distorting reality like heat haze. The shadows warped, twisting, stretching toward him like they were alive.
The sound came again — louder, closer, right in front of him:
KRNNNNNKKKKK.
Like metal bending.
Like a bone snapping.
Ayan's pulse spiked.
"Lyra… what is that?"
She didn't answer immediately. Her eyes fixed ahead, wide, horrified.
"I thought they were only rumors," she whispered. "Entities without origin. Without rules. Not spirits. Not exorcists. Not even alive."
Ayan's throat tightened.
"Then… what are they?"
"Aberrations."
The word itself felt wrong — like it wasn't meant to be spoken.
A crack ran across the wall in front of him — long, jagged, splitting brick like paper.
Ayan's instincts screamed RUN, but his legs locked.
The wall peeled open.
Not broken. Opened.
Darkness oozed out like liquid shadow, thick and rippling, forming a shape — long limbs, too thin, joints bending the wrong way, eyes glowing with static instead of light.
Ayan's voice shattered into a whisper.
"Is that the unknown entity?"
Lyra nodded slowly. "And it knows you exist."
SYSTEM TRIGGER: FORCED QUEST
The system pinged — a sharp, mechanical tone that stabbed Ayan's ears.
[FORCED QUEST ACTIVATED]
ENTITY DETECTED: ABERRATION — CLASS UNKNOWN
OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE OR DIE
REWARDS: UNKNOWN
FAILURE: PERMANENT DEATH (NO REVIVAL)
Ayan felt his stomach drop.
Permanent death.
Not like a game.
Not like the exorcists.
Not like a mission reward screen.
This time, if he dies — he stays dead
The First Strike
The aberration twitched.
One moment it stood still.
The next —
SHKAAAAAAAA!!!
It blurred.
Disappeared.
Reappeared inches from his face.
Ayan yanked himself sideways, instincts screaming. Phantom Step activated automatically — his body flickered like smoke, his movement sharp and unnatural.
He barely escaped.
Barely.
The aberration's claw sliced the air where his head was, carving the brick wall like butter.
Ayan stumbled, adrenaline burning through his blood.
Lyra surged beside him, shadow form expanding, wrapping around his arm.
"Ayan — command me!"
"I DON'T KNOW HOW!"
"Then learn — fast!"
The aberration lunged again.
Ayan raised his hand on reflex.
"SHADOW GRIP!" he shouted.
The mark flared — black tendrils shot out, binding the creature — but only for a second.
It snapped free effortlessly.
Ayan's heart plummeted.
If Shadow Grip alone wasn't enough…
He needed more.
He needed something new.
The Mark Evolves
The aberration charged.
Ayan reacted without thinking — Phantom Step!
He flickered behind it, slipping through air like mist.
His body felt lighter, faster, more fluid.
Lyra's voice sharpened in his head:
Attack — don't only dodge. Fight back.
He gritted his teeth and lunged forward.
"SHADOW GRIP — FULL FORCE!"
The tendrils returned — thicker, darker, electric with energy — wrapping the aberration like chains. It convulsed, body crackling with distortion.
The mark burned white-hot.
[SKILL EVOLUTION TRIGGERED]
SHADOW GRIP → SPECTRAL STRANGLE
New Effect: Damage + Restraint
Bonus Effect: Fear Suppression Resistance
Power surged up Ayan's arm — terrifying, exhilarating.
Fear dulled, replaced by cold clarity.
"This… this is mine."
He pulled the spectral chains tighter. The aberration screeched — a glitching, broken sound like static warping speakers.
GHHHHKKKK—HHHRRRRAAA—
Reality flickered around it. The alley bent, neon twisted into spirals — the world itself glitching.
Lyra gasped. "It's warping the barrier between realms — stop it before—"
Too late.
The aberration split into two.
No — three.
All glitching.
All wrong.
All hungry.
Survival Becomes Impossible
Ayan's pulse crashed. He barely survived one — how could he handle three?
[SYSTEM WARNING]
MULTIPLE HOSTILES — THREAT LEVEL EXCEEDS USER CAPABILITY
RECOMMENDATION: RETREAT IMMEDIATELY
Lyra gripped his arm.
"Ayan — this is death. We need to escape."
"I know — but how?"
Her eyes locked to his.
Bright. Determined.
More alive than ever.
"There is one more ability — one you haven't unlocked."
The aberrations crawled closer, limbs bending like broken marionettes.
Ayan whispered, "Tell me."
Lyra floated upward, her form unraveling like smoke into his palm.
"Use me completely."
Before he could ask what she meant, she merged into him — not physically, but through the mark — flooding his mind with light, darkness, rain, memories that weren't his.
Ayan screamed — but only for a second — because suddenly he understood.
A new ability flared inside him like ignition.
[NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED]
SPIRIT OVERDRIVE (LV.1)
Effect: Temporarily merges spirit & host power
Duration: 45 seconds
Cooldown: 24 hours
Warning: Overuse may cause death
Ayan opened his eyes.
The world slowed.
His heartbeat thundered once — then steadied like war drums.
He felt Lyra's power in his veins — cold, sharp, limitless.
The aberrations lunged.
And Ayan didn't move aside this time.
He moved through them.
The Overdrive Awakened
His body blurred — not Phantom Step, something beyond it — a fusion of spirit and human. Ayan struck with Spectral Strangle, tendrils like blades instead of chains, slicing through glitching distortions.
First aberration — shattered.
Second — melted in static.
Third — resisted. Larger. Deadlier.
It roared — reality cracked like glass.
Ayan grinned through the adrenaline.
"Come on then."
He launched forward — Overdrive power exploding — spectral wings forming behind him like streaks of shadow-fire.
He collided with the aberration —
BOOM!!
Neon light exploded outward. Rain turned to shards of pure energy.
His mark blazed like a star, consuming Lyra's power and his own.
Then — silence.
The aberration dissolved into black static, vanishing completely.
Ayan fell to his knees —
Overdrive ended.
Chest heaving. Vision blurred. Cold sweat down his spine.
He lived.
But Lyra…
Was gone.
The Cost of Power
The alley was quiet again.
Too quiet.
Ayan stared at his palm — the mark dim, nearly extinguished.
"Lyra…? Lyra!"
No response.
No voice in his head.
No spectral glow.
Just emptiness.
He realized then — Overdrive wasn't free.
It burned spirit energy like fuel.
He had used Lyra to survive.
And now she was fading.
A whisper finally answered — weak, distant, like wind behind a closed door.
"Ayan… help me…"
His chest tightened like a fist.
"How? Tell me — what do I do?"
She barely had strength to speak.
"Find… my anchor… before I disappear…"
The mark flickered — dangerously low, like a dying pulse.
Lyra could vanish forever.
And he had 24 hours to save her.
Or she would never return.
Chapter 3 End — Next Mission Trigger
[SYSTEM MISSION UPDATED]
MAIN QUEST: SAVE YOUR SPIRIT
Time Limit: 24 Hours
Objective: Locate Lyra's Anchor
Failure Result: Spirit Death — Contract Break — System Collapse
Ayan stood slowly, rain washing over him.
His body ached. His mind burned.
He survived the aberration — but winning felt like losing.
Because now, he was alone.
And somewhere in Ridgeview City, Lyra's anchor waited —
hidden, guarded, impossible.
He clenched his fist.
"I'll find you, Lyra. I swear."
Lightning split the night sky.
And high above a rooftop —
someone watched him.
A silhouette.
Tall. Still. Smiling with knowledge.
As if they knew where the anchor was.
As if they expected him.
As if they wanted him to come.
The figure whispered into the rain — too soft to hear — but Ayan felt it in his bones.
"Let the game begin."