TICK… TICK… TICK…
The sound wasn't real.
It was inside Ayan's skull — like the system was a clock counting down to Lyra's death.
Rain had thinned to a cold mist over Ridgeview City. Neon lights reflected across the pavement like fractured memories. Ayan stood alone in that alley, chest heaving, clothes soaked, mark dimming like a dying ember.
He whispered into the emptiness,
"Lyra? Say something… please."
Only silence answered.
The power that saved him now threatened to destroy the one who gave it.
24 hours — no more.
Ayan clenched his fist, teeth grinding as determination hardened inside him. He couldn't lose her — not after everything they survived.
He stepped onto the main street.
Rain drummed softly. Cars blurred past like ghosts. Life continued — unaware a boy was racing against death and unreal forces.
Ayan walked, unsteady but driven.
He needed answers.
SYSTEM INTERFACE: FIRST CLUE
A faint chime echoed in his mind.
[SYSTEM ASSIST MODE – ACTIVE]
REQUEST: LOCATION OF SPIRIT ANCHOR
SEARCHING…
RESULT: PARTIAL DATA FOUND
Ayan stopped under a flickering streetlamp.
"Show me."
A map unfolded across his vision — city districts glowing faintly. A red point blinked like a heartbeat on the upper side of Ridgeview.
Ridgeview Public Cemetery.
Ayan swallowed.
Cold crawled up his spine like frost.
Lyra's anchor was in a cemetery.
He whispered, voice cracking, "Lyra… were you…?"
Dead.
The word hung, heavy and bitter.
But he had no time to break.
He walked — then ran — then sprinted through wet asphalt streets and neon haze. Every breath screamed urgency. Every step echoed the ticking clock.
23 hours, 31 minutes left.
THE GATE OF WHISPERS
The cemetery gates loomed tall and rusted. Iron bars twisted like ribs of some dead creature. Pale fog pooled around gravestones, swallowing sound.
Each step inside was swallowed by silence.
No wind.
No birds.
No city noise.
Just the sound of his breath and the faint ticking in his mind.
TICK… TICK…
The system pulsed.
[WARNING: PARANORMAL ZONE DETECTED]
Spiritual Corruption: Mild–Rising
Host Vitality Drain: 2% per minute
Recommendation: Proceed with Caution
The air felt colder than winter. His fingers numb. Breath visible.
Lyra's voice flickered through him — faint and trembling:
"Ayan… don't be afraid."
His heart clenched.
"You're still with me?"
"Barely… I'm fading… but I'm here."
He swallowed. Pain. Relief. Hope.
"How do I find your anchor?"
"My grave… but not just mine. Something was taken from me. A memory. A name. Without it… I'm incomplete."
Ayan froze.
"You don't know how you died?"
"No… I don't even remember who I was."
The thought hit him harder than any exorcist or aberration ever could.
Lyra wasn't just disappearing —
She was losing herself.
Piece by piece.
THE FIRST GRAVE
Gravestones stretched like broken teeth across the earth. Names etched into stone — lives, forgotten.
He followed the system's faint pulsing guidance deeper. The cemetery thickened with fog, like stepping into another realm.
Finally, he found it:
LYRA V. — 2007–2021
Beloved daughter. Lost too soon.
Ayan's breath hitched.
"This is you."
Lyra's figure flickered into existence — faint, ghostlike, kneeling before her own grave.
Her hand passed through the stone.
She trembled.
"I don't remember this place… I don't remember living… or dying…"
Ayan knelt beside her.
"It doesn't matter. You're here now — and I'm not letting you fade."
She looked at him — eyes soft, unsure, searching.
Before she could speak —
the fog shifted.
Something moved between gravestones.
Shadows — thin, crawling, whispering.
Voices like cracked glass murmured:
"Contractor… trespasser…"
"Spirit-bound…"
"Unfinished soul…"
Ayan stood, fists tightening.
"Who's there?"
No answer — but movement. Faint shapes drifting between graves — neither human nor fully ghost.
Lyra's tone sharpened with dread.
"Soul Wraiths. They feed on broken spirits — and anchors. They want me."
The wraiths turned.
Multiple.
Many.
Hollow eyes reflecting hunger.
Ayan took a step back.
His system flared:
[COMBAT ENGAGED: SOUL WRAITH SWARM]
Count: 11
Threat Level: High
Recommendation: Avoid Swarm Consumption — Spirit Loss Permanent
Ayan grit his teeth.
He wouldn't let them take her.
THE FIGHT FOR HER MEMORY
Three wraiths rushed first — silent, fast, claws like smoke-blades.
Ayan Phantom Stepped sideways — body flickering as claws sliced through where he stood.
He grabbed the nearest with Spectral Strangle, tendrils wrapping like crushing iron, ripping shrieks from the wraith as it dissolved into fading ash.
He gasped — already drained.
Lyra warned, "Spiritual zones weaken humans — don't overfight!"
He dodged left — too slow — claws grazed his shoulder.
Skin tore. Blood warm.
He staggered, vision spinning.
"No stopping — no time — I have to protect you."
Four more wraiths circled — moving in a synchronized, predatory rhythm.
Ayan steadied his breath, heart pounding.
He reached for Overdrive —
But stopped.
One Overdrive here could save Lyra —
or kill him before he reached her true anchor.
He needed another way.
The system pulsed.
[UNUSED SKILL POTENTIAL DETECTED]
Spirit Resonance — Locked
Requirement: Direct emotional synchronization with contracted spirit
Trigger Condition: Host acknowledgment
Ayan's jaw clenched.
Synchronization?
He turned to Lyra, breathing ragged.
"Lyra — I don't care who you were then. You're here with me now."
Her eyes widened.
"You're not fading to nothing. Not while I breathe."
He extended his hand to her spectral form.
Lyra reached back — trembling — her fingers slipping through his then finally connecting like cold lightning.
FLASH.
Light surged from the mark — blue, silver, shadow-tinted.
[NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED]
SPIRIT RESONANCE (LV.1)
Effect: Merges emotional energy into combat output
Bonus: Host & Spirit shared perception
Time Limit: 3 minutes
Power flowed through both — like two rivers pouring into one.
The wraiths lunged again.
Ayan didn't dodge this time.
He moved through them like shadow-light.
He struck — every motion a dance of instinct and spirit.
Wraith one — shattered.
Wraith two — torn clean.
Third — dissolved in screaming vapor.
Lyra's aura surged around him like wings, her voice echoing inside him.
We fight together now.
They moved as one.
Not human. Not ghost. Something new.
But the remaining wraiths stopped attacking.
Instead — they bowed.
Kneeling.
The fog parted —
and someone stepped forward.
THE GIRL WITH THE BLACK UMBRELLA
She stood like she'd been there all along.
A girl — maybe seventeen — holding a black umbrella under a sky with no rain.
White hair, cut to her jaw.
Eyes silver, emotionless.
Uniform dark as midnight — like a mourning dress tailored for war.
Her aura was wrong — too calm, too cold.
Lyra whispered inside Ayan:
"That's… not human."
The girl's voice was soft — yet it cut like a blade.
"You're the new contractor."
Ayan held stance, wary.
"And who are you?"
She didn't blink.
"I am ELYSIA.
Executor of the Requiem Division."
The world seemed to tense around her — even wraiths didn't breathe.
"You shouldn't be here, boy. Contracts come with price — you're not ready to pay."
Ayan grit his teeth.
"I don't care. I'm saving her."
Elysia tilted her head — studying him like a puzzle she might dismantle.
"You speak like her life matters. Ghosts are tools — not people."
Ayan flared.
"She's not a tool. She's my partner."
For the first time, Elysia's eyes flickered — interest? amusement?
"Then let's test that conviction."
Without warning — she flicked her umbrella.
WHOOMPH.
A wave of spiritual force hurled him backward like a truck impact.
Ayan hit marble slabs — breath crushed out of him.
He staggered up, coughing — Lyra stabilizing him with resonance energy.
Ayan gasped, "Why attack me!?"
Elysia lowered the umbrella slightly.
"Because only those who endure pain deserve power."
Her voice was too calm. Too sure.
"I can lead you to Lyra's true anchor —
if you survive me."
Ayan's pulse thundered.
Lyra inside him trembled.
"Ayan — she's serious. Her power… is beyond wraiths. Beyond exorcists."
He wiped blood from his lip, eyes burning.
"If she wants to fight — then let her."
Because Lyra's time ticked like a dying star
and no wall, no monster, no executioner would stop him.
Elysia smiled faintly.
Cold. Beautiful. Terrifying.
"Very well."
She snapped her fingers.
The sky turned black.
Graves split open.
Dozens — no — hundreds of spectral arms reached from the soil like a rising army.
Elysia spoke like a god passing sentence.
"Chapter Four ends here."
Ayan's heart hammered.
Lyra's whisper barely held form.
"Ayan… don't die…"
He stood, trembling, staring into an impossible storm of undead souls.
And he didn't flinch.
Next step would either save Lyra —
or bury him beside her.
END OF CHAPTER 4