The fight grew savage. Chris launched himself forward, his telekinesis now more focused, grabbing the intruder's wrist mid-swing, twisting it painfully, while his other hand formed a spectral blade of pure energy. The blade sliced through the air, forcing the specter back. But it retaliated, flipping the hourglass to release a burst of temporal distortion that slowed Chris's movements, making each strike feel like wading through molasses.
The specter pressed the advantage, striking with brutal precision. His fists, glowing with the hourglass's power, connected with bone-crushing force. Chris absorbed the blows, his healing barely keeping pace with the damage. Yet, with every hit he took, Chris's resolve hardened.
Summoning all his strength, Chris created a massive illusion—a phantom battlefield filled with countless versions of himself, each attacking from every direction. The intruder's eyes widened as he was surrounded, forced to defend against a relentless onslaught. But its connection to the hourglass allowed him to see through the deception, shattering illusions with focused bursts of energy.
The deck beneath them groaned and cracked from the ferocity of their battle. Splinters flew, lanterns shattered, and the air was thick with the scent of ozone and burning wood.
Chris reached deep within, extending his telekinetic reach to lift the specter off its feet, suspending it in the air. The hourglass spun wildly in the specter's grasp, sands swirling faster than ever. With a roar, it unleashed a shockwave, breaking free and slamming Chris against the railing.
Breath ragged, Chris staggered but refused to yield. He summoned a glowing shield of spiritual energy just in time to block a devastating strike from the intruder's fist, the impact sending vibrations through his bones.
The battle's momentum swung like a pendulum. Neither man could claim dominance; each attack met with an equal counter, and a cunning evasion or brutal retaliation matched each defense.
Finally, the intruder saw his moment. With a swift, brutal motion, he shattered Chris's shield and landed a crushing blow to his side. Chris gasped, pain blooming, his healing faltering under the relentless assault.
It pressed forward, his hands glowing with dark energy as he channeled the hourglass's power to bind Chris's limbs with spectral chains. Chris struggled, but the chains tightened, sapping his strength.
With Chris neutralized, the specter's eyes burned with grim triumph. He turned toward the path leading to Deck Zero, the ultimate prize within reach.
The final step leading to the forbidden deck loomed before him, but a figure blocked his path—Cecilia, standing firm, her eyes blazing with unwavering determination. "I'll be damned if I let you take one more step," she declared.
The specter's tense stance softened, a chilling calm washing over him. "You will let me pass, little one," his voice dropped to a whisper, laced with an unsettling certainty. "And you will do it… of your own accord."
"Like hell I will!" Cecilia shot back, defiance igniting her every word.
"Let me pass, child..." In a slow, deliberate motion, the specter pulled back his hood, revealing a face both familiar and fractured by time. "...so I could bring your mother and grandfather back to life," he said softly, eyes shimmering with tears.
Cecilia's breath caught, her heart pounding wildly as recognition crashed over her. "Dad?" Her voice cracked, a fragile mix of disbelief and hope.
"Cee, my child," John's voice trembled with longing, tears streaming down his spectral cheeks. "I have dreamed of this moment for so long—of reuniting our family. Now that you are here, we are one step closer."
"But Mom and Pops… they've already moved on," Cecilia whispered, pain threading through her words. "Their souls aren't here anymore."
John's gaze hardened, yet his voice remained resolute. "It does not matter. If a name is erased from the Book… they can be brought back."
The weight of his words crushed Cecilia's resolve. "Are you sure, Dad? Can you really bring them back? Can this… work?"
John extended his hand, hope and desperation entwined. "Yes, my child. Not just them, but everyone we've lost—family, friends. All can return. But I need your help. You were granted passage to Deck Zero. I must borrow your body to make this possible."
"Why me?" Cecilia's voice wavered, torn between fear and yearning.
"You are the key, Cee. Without you, the Book remains beyond reach."
Suddenly, Chris's voice shattered the fragile moment. "Don't believe him!" he shouted, urgency and pain raw in his tone. "You know that's a lie. You know what he's asking will cost you everything."
Cecilia turned to Chris, lips trembling. "But… this is my chance. To make my family whole again. I have to know for myself."
A heavy silence fell. Then, to Chris's shock, Cecilia reached out and took her father's hand. An unseen force lifted her into the air, her body arching as a blinding light burst from her eyes and mouth. Then, as suddenly as it came, the light faded, and Cecilia was gently lowered.
Chris, with a deep bellow and a burst of strength, shattered the chains binding him. He approached cautiously, heart pounding. Cecilia's head hung low, her body swaying softly. "Cecilia?" he whispered, reaching for her hand.
Suddenly, her eyes snapped open—no longer hers but John's. "You dare touch my daughter without permission?" The voice was cold, commanding. With terrifying strength, she seized Chris by the neck and hoisted him effortlessly. "I'll show you what happens to those who think they can claim my precious child!"
With a brutal throw, Chris crashed onto the golden deck, his body twisting painfully. He grunted, clutching his ribs, eyes locked on the possessed form of Cecilia.
John, inhabiting Cecilia's body, turned toward Deck Zero with a sinister smile. He lifted his left foot and stepped onto the forbidden deck, feeling the protection Cecilia's body granted him. Confidence surged through his veins.
Below, Chris's body convulsed violently, bones snapping and muscles wrenching as his healing powers fought to restore him. Every breath was a grunt of pain, but his eyes never left the golden hall, burning with fierce determination.