When Martha saw the two espers mowing everything down, she realized the nature of the story had suddenly changed.
A horror tale of ghosts slaughtering humans had turned into a bizarre adventure where top-tier psychics joined forces against a cocky ghost-loli.
Richard's spirit body produced a chainsaw that could attack souls, slashing again and again at Martha's essence, and Martha dodged continuously, gradually realizing that her battered flesh was limiting her. Though she adored the cute little doll-like body, it was already ruined; there was no point clinging to it. She decisively abandoned her corporeal form and became a huge blue wraith, slapping Richard's spirit away with one palm.
Martha's true form finally appeared—a gigantic girl with dishevelled hair, deep-blue skin, and a bloodstained hospital gown. Everywhere her body showed the marks of humiliation and abuse: bruises, whip scars, burns—all clearly visible.
The entire Toy Factory shook; endless resentment poured in from every corner of the plant, converging on her. She was calling back the power she had spread throughout the factory.
With each bit of power Martha reclaimed, part of the factory revealed its true, decayed face. The tidy place Richard and Eleven had seen was an illusion; the building was long since rust-eaten and on the verge of collapse—an obvious death-trap.
Richard's spirit returned to his flesh. He scooped up his backpack and ran. Martha's swelling body was squeezing his living space; if this kept up he would either plunge into a bottomless chasm or be crushed by the steel and concrete.
He sprinted back toward the steel door they had entered. Richard pulled out Giraffe's key card, ready to swipe it, when several heavy thuds rang out against the metal. The fifteen-centimetre-thick door buckled under the impact.
"Eleven?" Only she could pull off something that insane.
His guess was confirmed a moment later: another boom, and the warped steel door crashed down. Outside stood Eleven and the others.
"Run!" Richard shouted, no joy in his voice, only cold reason.
No one needed the warning; the sight of the glowing blue giant girl right behind him made every instinct scream to flee.
At his shout they spun and bolted.
Richard was fastest and quickly caught up with Eleven at the front, joining the rest on a suspended metal catwalk.
"Martha won't let you leave." Effortlessly she smashed through the wall painted with valley-elephant flowers, grabbed one end of the catwalk, and yanked. The group felt the deck vanish beneath them, terror and weightlessness surging through their stomachs.
Eleven shouted, unleashing her telekinesis to catch everyone before they slammed into the ground ten metres below, setting them down gently. She knelt, one hand on the floor, the other guiding an invisible giant hand to wrestle Martha.
"Shit!" Hopper scrambled to his feet. The giant girl had punched through the factory roof; one step shattered the floor. Moonlight bathed her youthful yet evil face.
"What the hell is that thing?" Ricky was dumbstruck—he had never seen anything so insane.
"You know what a ghost is?" Richard rolled his neck. Even with Eleven's cushion he'd taken a jolt. From his pack he pulled a sweat-softened chocolate bar and spoke between bites. "This girl was probably born an esper like Eleven—immense psychic power. After experiments, she became something like the king of ghosts."
"Thanks for the explanation. Sounds crazy, but it makes sense." Ricky helped the twin girls up. "So how do we fight her?"
Fuelled by the chocolate, Richard's injuries mended quickly. He looked at Jamie, who bore a "9" tattoo. "Jamie, try burning her."
"…Okay, I'll try." Jamie shot Richard a stunned glance—how did a stranger know her name?—but now wasn't the time. She gathered every scrap of her power and released it at the giant.
The next instant Martha felt an unfamiliar burn and howled in agony. Her huge form flickered, toggling between solid and translucent as a searing fireball expanded inside her.
"It works!" everyone cheered.
"Eleven, pin her. Jamie, keep weakening her. I'll finish her—" Richard's plan was cut short.
Carly spoke up, dead serious: "I'm helping. If this is her real body, I can hit her—I feel it!" Her eyes blazed with hatred; at last she had a chance for revenge.
"Fine." Richard locked gazes with her for a moment and nodded.
Carly's ability projected illusions straight into the mind—another form of psychic attack. Martha wasn't like the deranged Shante; her mind was intact, so Carly's power should have some effect.
Carly gave a grateful smile, then turned and screamed at Martha, who was glaring at Eleven: "Hey, you piece of shit!"
Martha glanced over to see Carly's face twisted in fury, blood seeping from her facial orifices. "Burn in hell!" she roared.
If love amplified Eleven, then rage and vengeance powered Carly. Now, with revenge finally within reach, her emotions erupted. Memories of her friends' deaths and her own torment in The Lab crashed over her like a tsunami of fury that slammed into Martha.
In an instant Martha's surroundings changed: she stood in a lake of fire, chains binding her, half-submerged in lava. A devil with a pitchfork grinned and pronounced sentence: "You will suffer forever in this hell!"
"No!" Martha fought back. Her own immense psyche exploded outward, making Carly's illusion flicker. The scene flipped between burning factory and burning hell—now a horned demon roaring, now Marcy and Eleven screaming in rage.
Faced with the scene before her, Martha broke down; it was as though the people who had once dragged her off for experiments were circling her again, toying with her as if she were nothing but a plaything.
A sudden jolt—like lightning striking her skull—blazed through her mind, and the world flared white.
"Come with me, Martha." A boy in a blue shirt reached out to her, smiling warmly, the Hellfire roaring ahead of him.
It should have been terrifying, yet Martha felt a strange calm.
She remembered the first time she met Shante—he'd smiled just like this, wearing the orphanage uniform he had dyed bright blue with poster paint, utterly distinctive.
When she was delivered to Orfan Orphanage only three children remained; on her very first day a girl hugged a teddy bear, beamed at her new parents, and skipped out the gate. Watching that joy, Martha burned with envy—and sank with loss.
How wonderful, she thought, to have parents like that who would take you away.
Her own parents had been vicious, beating and cursing her until, while they slept, she set the house ablaze. The fire sent her here, to wait for someone new to claim her.
But how long would the waiting last?
She crouched under a table, heart heavy, until Shante lifted the cloth and found her. Sunlight in his smile, he asked to be her friend, pulled her firmly by the hand, and led her to the yard. Together they trapped crawly things in boxes and dissected a few each day—orphanage toys, the only kind they had.
They spent happy hours together. Shante was smooth-tongued and sweet, forever praising her red hair: "It's like a sunset soaked in blood—I love it."
One day during hide-and-seek Martha slipped into the director's office and, inside a cabinet, discovered mountains of files. They revealed the orphanage's secret: every "adopted" child was taken to a hidden wing for horrific experiments—and she was next on the list.
Martha shattered, then realized the door had locked behind her. Footsteps echoed down the corridor—Shante's stride, unmistakable.
Through the wood he whispered, "Escape through the vent shaft—it leads outside."
In that instant she understood: Shante was a kindred monster, yet his promise of love had been real. He'd known The Lab's secrets all along, knew she was slated for the table, and was helping her flee.
When the staff couldn't find Martha they took the last remaining child—Shante—for the experiment instead.
Martha disobeyed him; she never left the office. Days later they found her and dragged her to The Lab. The procedure worked—unlike the others she did not become a failed specimen but emerged with terrible power.
She seized the orphanage and slaughtered every soul within.
Shante was left a mindless shell who could no longer understand her, but it didn't matter. Martha remembered his dream: real toys, a vast Toy Factory. If she built it, perhaps he would wake and play with her again.
With her new strength she reshaped the orphanage into a Toy Factory, fashioning ridiculous puppets from the souls of the dead—sure Shante would delight in such amusements.
But Shante had become a complete idiot, remembering only his name and the director's final order: guard the orphanage. He killed every intruder just as he once dissected bugs.
Heartbroken, Martha curled inside a cupboard and waited—for someone to kill the joyless Shante, or to become her new friend, or to lead her to ruin.
"Ah, my one and only friend could only ever be you," she laughed as Richard's spectral chainsaw, born of the Phantom Zone, chewed through her skull. Just before her head parted from her neck she felt her fingers close around a hand that had long since vanished.
[You have decoded an Anomaly: Bad-Seed Doll.]
[Bad-Seed Doll 005—When an innate monster becomes a vengeful spirit, can it still be saved? No. Lock the pair together and send them where they belong; let them never set foot in the human world again.]
[You have perfectly decoded five Anomaly events without losing your reason or judgment. You are now a qualified Investigator.]
[Your Investigator rank has been raised to Grade E.]
[New skill-level ceiling unlocked: maximum rank is now A+.]
As the giant doll faded, the group exhaled in relief—until the orphanage itself began to collapse. Walls cracked, beams groaned, and the survivors had to drag their exhausted bodies out of the crumbling death-trap.
Yet in the disintegrating building no one could find a safe route; the way they had come was buried, ceilings had fallen, and every corridor might lead nowhere.
They darted through the collapsing ruin like ants on a hot griddle; their ordeal was far from over.
"This way." Richard heard the whisper beside him and saw four tiny motes of light.
"Dottie, Lekong, Axel, Mick." He named the dead as he recognized them.
Without a word the spirits pointed the path; Richard trusted them and ran.
Hearing the names, Carly's eyes reddened and she sprinted after him.
Led by the dead, they burst out of the falling Toy Factory and collapsed beyond the wall just as the Orfan sign split and crashed to earth.
Dawn was breaking. Richard watched the four bright souls drift toward the light.
"Will... will they go to Heaven?" Carly seized his sleeve, tears brimming.
Richard only smiled. "They left happy. They want you to live."
Carly fell to her knees, sobbing apologies over and over again.