Liam stared at Peter, who was now trapped inside the glass bottle. Peter's body looked weak, but his wounds were slowly closing thanks to the warm mist enveloping his limp form. Liam glanced around the trashed room, the smell of blood lingering faintly in the air. Chaos lay everywhere—broken furniture scattered, and the metallic scent mixed with damp soil stung his nose.
Without hesitation, Liam slipped the glass bottle into the pocket of his coat and stepped toward the woman's severed body parts. The only thing left of the woman he'd seen earlier that afternoon was her hand.
None of it made sense. The report he received only mentioned strange screams coming from one of the villagers' houses every night. Not a single clue about the horror Peter had just experienced. Liam inhaled deeply, swallowing both irritation and worry. Even though he hadn't witnessed the full incident, the lingering aura in the room spoke clearly enough: the wild spirit Peter faced wasn't ordinary. It was a tier two creature, almost reaching tier three.
Fortunately, the captain always prepared healing artifacts for him. Without them, saving Peter in such a half-dead, severely wounded state would've been impossible. Liam tapped the pocket of his coat, where the glass bottle glimmered faintly.
"Sometimes I hate how the captain spoils Peter too much" he muttered under his breath, his voice almost lost to the night wind. "But seeing him so badly hurt, facing a wild spirit alone without asking for my help… there's this strange feeling I can't explain."
A loud crow's cry echoed outside, breaking the silence. It signaled that there might be another victim nearby—likely the woman whose severed hand remained now. Liam lowered his gaze, staring at what was left of the corpse, wondering why the village chief hadn't issued any warning. The report about the strange screams should've come from him. Was it intentionally concealed?
Liam's thoughts were still tangled when small footsteps echoed around him. Slowly, he turned, and his eyes caught an eerie figure: a wild spirit shaped like a child, but headless, moving toward him with steps too soft for the creaking wooden floor. Liam stiffened. The shadow hovered in the air, its movements unnatural, as though its own warped gravity pulled it forward. His breathing grew heavier, his hand lifting in preparation for a new threat, though his body remained tense, watching every movement of the creature approaching closer…
"Damn, I hate dealing with children," Liam grumbled in annoyance while unsheathing his sword, his breath heavy with tension.
The spirits surged forward, leaping and floating with unnatural movements. They swiped their tiny claws at Liam with ferocity. Swing after swing, his sword sliced through the air, severing small hands dripping black blood that splattered across the floor and walls. Liam moved skillfully, dodging attack after attack, each motion fluid yet decisive. One by one the spirits fell beneath his blade, yet they kept coming—endlessly—filling the room like a swarm of vicious insects.
One of the small spirits leaped onto Liam's shoulder, its claws gripping his head as if trying to tear it off. Liam straightened with a furious growl, yanking the creature off and slamming it onto the floor. Without hesitation, he drove his sword through its chest, ending its movement instantly.
But Liam knew defeating one didn't mean victory. More kept coming, faster, thicker, filling the air with a rotten stench like freshly unearthed corpses. Every breath Liam took felt heavy, the air thick with death and oppressive dark energy. His sword spun and sliced every threat in reach, but exhaustion crept into his limbs.
The spirits showed no signs of tiring. They swarmed Liam from every direction. Each swing of his sword bought him only a moment before the next attack. Their small bodies floated and lunged with startling strength for beings their size. Liam clenched his jaw, frustrated—realizing this wasn't a simple fight. He had to keep moving, keep blocking, keep thinking of a way to eliminate them one by one.
The air thickened, their stench grew more piercing, making each step harder. Liam swallowed hard, his sword dancing through the air, cutting and evading, his body tightening every time a spirit lunged from an unexpected angle. A single mistake could be fatal.
Yes, Liam knew this job would drain him, and the reward would be huge. Although these spirits were of a lower tier than he was, their numbers were overwhelming. His energy was nearly depleted—and he hadn't even examined the whole room. That sleeping brat wasn't in his thoughts at all. Still fast asleep in his lovely dreamland, though the captain had said Peter had a unique ability. Liam had even considered they might work well together someday.
More than fifteen minutes passed. Liam kept swinging his sword, yet the spirits kept coming. Each strike only delayed the next wave, and Liam thought bitterly that he might die foolishly at this rate. Imagine a tier-six spirit hunter dying to tier-one spirits. The newspapers would ridicule him, and his little sister would laugh at him mercilessly.
Annoyed beyond patience, Liam decided to take a risk. He jumped onto a table, using the scattered furniture as stepping stones. With agile movements, he launched himself again, using a wall as support before grabbing onto the hanging lamp. A candle flame nearly touched him, but Liam twisted away with a quick reflex despite his heavy, sluggish movements.
In an instant, he grabbed a candle hanging near the lamp. A reckless idea flashed through his mind: throw the candle downward, perhaps burning one of the spirits roaming below. It was unlikely to work, but at least it reduced the risk of setting himself on fire while dangling. His breath raced, blue eyes locked on the creatures below, his body tight and ready to react within a fraction of a second.
The night air inside the inn thickened, the spirits' stench seeping into every pore, their tiny footfalls scraping against the wooden floor with eerie echoes. Liam felt the tension in every muscle, adrenaline flooding his veins. This wasn't just a fight—this was a dance between life and death, between skill and endless enemy numbers.
"Once again, I failed to get it because of all this trash," a voice echoed, hoarse yet firm, cutting through the suffocating tension. The eyes staring down at the mangled corpse of a blond man were filled with frustration and pent-up fury. Each flick of the person's hand cast long shadows across the wall, emphasizing the emptiness and destruction around them. The room was silent, with only the faint whisper of night wind slipping through the window cracks bearing witness to the chaos that had just unfolded.
"Captain, all the reports about the incident in Rifoyd village are missing. Only your analysis notes remain on that blank paper," a soft voice of a girl spoke—calm yet urgent. Her words made the white-haired man sitting near the old wooden table turn slightly, his expression thoughtful and tired.
His hand moved slowly, brushing against the glass bottle before him. Inside, Peter's limp body lay, his wounds fading as if treated by something beyond human logic. The captain's eyes fixed on the young man inside, his face slightly tightening, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Peter…
He stared at the bottle with mixed relief and worry he could not hide. Every inch of Peter's slowly recovering body seemed to testify how fragile humans were before wild spirits—that even if the body remained intact, the soul could still be threatened.
"Send a letter to that person to search for Liam," the captain finally said—calm, yet commanding. The girl behind him bowed slightly in response, stepping back quietly, hiding the anxiety laced in her movements.
"Yes, Captain," she replied, her voice nearly cracking but still steady. She glanced once more at the glass bottle before disappearing down the dim corridor, her steps echoing softly.
The captain remained standing, eyes drifting toward the window, gazing at the night-cloaked city. Distant lights flickered, shadows of buildings and old towers sharpening the tense atmosphere. The night breeze swept the thin curtain aside, carrying the damp scent of night and wax from the ever-burning street lamps. He let out a long breath.
"Even time can be manipulated, huh?" he murmured, almost whispering to himself.
I don't know how, but suddenly I'm in the office—or more precisely, the captain's workspace. All my wounds are gone, and embarrassingly enough, I'm still inside this glass bottle. Uhh… yeah, it's pretty cramped in here.
I looked up, seeing the dark mist of my remaining spiritual wounds swirling inside this tier-three artifact. Ah, right… what happened with the mission? Did Liam finish everything? Seems like he did. Once again, I didn't help at all, huh? This mission was supposed to be important for me… at least a chance to prove to the Captain that I'm not a burden. But here I am, stuck sleeping inside a healing artifact for I don't know how long.
A moment later, the sound of the door sliding open echoed. The captain entered, carrying neatly folded clothes in his hands. He approached the table where my bottle was placed, each of his steps making the glass vibrate slightly.
He lifted the bottle, shaking my entire body gently.
"Congratulations on completing your task well," he said cheerfully.
Of course my hair stood on end, as usual. The captain smiled widely, eyes narrowing with satisfaction, as if he had no sin in the world.
Without giving me a chance to protest, he pulled the bottle's lid open. The dark mist drifted out slowly, and my body felt lighter, like I'd been pulled from thick mud. Finally my feet touched the floor steadily.
And I could breathe freely again.
I quickly grabbed the clothes from the captain's hands. Well… sorry for the rudeness, but clearly the healing artifact didn't just melt my wounds—my clothes were gone too. I wrapped the white robe around myself quickly, adjusted the collar, and fastened the tie at my waist. At least I didn't look embarrassing now.
"Captain, how about Senior Liam?" I asked quietly.
But the captain didn't answer immediately. He only glanced at me once before patting my shoulder lightly—but firmly enough to make me stop moving.
"You may rest for a few days," he said gently. "No need to come to the office. Just focus on your recovery."
…Hm?
Why did that sound like… he was hiding something?
But I shook my head internally. No, no… maybe I'm overthinking it. Maybe Liam was also given leave early. Yes, I can visit him later. I need to thank him… and also apologize for being useless.
"Oh, right," I murmured, lifting my head. "Um, Captain… what about the mission this time?"
"You completed it."
That was all he said.
"…I see. Alright, then."
I let out a short breath. The captain was the type who wouldn't explain anything no matter how much I asked. Not like this was the first time.
"Alright, go home," he said, grabbing my arm and pushing me out of the room. "And don't go anywhere during your rest."
The door shut hard in front of my face.
I blinked a few times, standing still in the hallway, then rubbed the back of my neck. Shhh… whatever. As always, the captain has his own ways. Maybe after he finishes everything, he'll explain.
Or… yeah. Maybe not. The captain is the captain.
I decided to head home for real. I walked away from the captain's room, down the long cold hallway that always felt chilly even at noon. Some seniors greeted me briefly, some juniors waved nervously—either out of respect or fear of talking to an old member like me. I nodded back lightly and kept walking until I reached the main door.
Yes, a break. Finally I can—
The thought halted when my hand grasped the door handle and pulled it open.
A BOOM—like a deafening echo—shook everything. And suddenly… the world went silent.
A silence that stabbed. A silence that made no sense.
My eyes trembled at the sight before me.
Red. So much red.
People who had been walking suddenly froze like statues. Their breaths stopped mid-air, their eyes locked forward, their last steps halted in unnatural poses. The ground… wet. Not from rain, but from pools of blood that were too thick, too sticky—so thick my boots stuck to the ground as soon as I stepped half an inch forward.
I didn't even get the chance to step back when something touched my neck.
Thin. Cold. But strong—too strong.
It felt like a silk thread wrapped in steel, tightening around my neck in one swift motion. My skin tore instantly. So fast the pain didn't even arrive on time.
Cold sweat streamed down my temples. I froze. My heart hammered my ribs as if trying to escape.
Then the face appeared.
Upside down. As if gravity had given up on it. Its hair hung downward like dead tree roots. Its eyes—two glowing red dots—pierced straight through my skull. Its lips curled into a wide smile—too wide—like its cheeks were going to tear open any second.
Ah– Damn. I'm terrified.
I forced my body to remain still, pretending not to notice it like the frozen people around me. Not blinking, not breathing too loudly… just standing.
But the thread around my neck tightened.
Hard.
So hard I didn't manage to scream. The sensation of my skin splitting open sent me crashing to my knees. My hands grabbed my neck on instinct and… warm. Wet. Slippery. My own blood seeped between my fingers, dripping down my arms, leaving thick red trails on the stone floor.
My vision blurred. My neck felt sawed open.
"Hehehe… hello, handsome~"
The voice was so close. So close I could feel its cold breath against my cheek.
My body was shoved to the floor, rolling into the cold, coagulated pool of blood. It soaked into my robe instantly.
The spirit sat on my stomach. Its small, pale legs were covered in black stains like rotten ink, and I could feel its bony limbs pressing down on me as if it had no flesh.
Its smile… Widened. So far that its jaw cracked.
More blood spilled onto the floor.
I… couldn't move at all.
Its hand shot toward my neck so fast I couldn't react, gripping me with a force that felt like it might crush my skull from below.
The pressure slammed into me like a hammer. My neck felt ready to burst. My breath came out in a choking gasp of pain.
Its nails were long, sharp, bent like rusted knives. When it pressed into my skin, I felt the tips pierce through. Not just skin—it tore into muscle.
The burning agony made my whole body shake violently. Tears streamed down uncontrollably—whether from pain, fear, or both, I didn't know. My hands rose on instinct, grabbing its wrists, trying to pry its claws away from my throat.
But nothing. Its strength… was unreal. Far beyond human.
Ah… right. It was a high-tier spirit. Much higher than me.
Captain… please help… My thoughts scrambled. My consciousness dangled at the edge, darkness creeping into my vision. For a moment I wondered—
Is this how I die?
Suddenly its grip vanished. So fast my body bounced off the floor like a limp doll. Air rushed into my lungs harshly, my chest burning as if ignited from within.
My whole body felt weak, like jelly barely holding shape. Every breath made my torn neck feel like it would snap apart.
"No wonder he's so obsessed with you. You truly are delicious~"
Its voice was strange. Different. Yet for some reason… I understood it perfectly.
Its face leaned in. Its long tongue—wet like slimy mucus—touched the wound on my neck, licking the blood.
Cold. Slippery. Disgusting.
"Hehehe look at this~"
Its hand moved lower. Feeling around my chest… as if searching for something.
Until— My eyes widened.
Something pierced my chest from inside.
A cold stab hit the center of my chest. For a moment—very briefly—something squeezed my heart. I felt my entire body seize. My breath cut short. My consciousness flickered like a dying lamp.
Had it lasted even a second longer… my heart would've been crushed entirely.
Footsteps echoed. The spirit froze. Its body twisted unnaturally, folding backward like an insect corpse, its waist snapping in an impossible angle, until its head aligned with its black floating feet.
"I forgot to mention you were being clung to by this creature."
The voice was cold… familiar.
The captain.
The white-haired man walked toward us as if this was nothing noteworthy. He crouched beside me, unbothered by the blood or horror, and extended a hand. His bright blue eyes stared directly into mine, unwavering.
Above us, the spirit laughed. Sharp giggles echoing like needles piercing my eardrums. Painful. So painful my head throbbed so intensely I almost vomited blood again.
The captain didn't blink. Didn't flinch. He stared at it like staring at garbage.
And I… Floated between life and death in my own blood.
"Hmm… how can a creature like you… not destroy the existence of this world?"
The captain only stared at it. Cold. Direct. As if the question meant nothing.
Silence.
As though the question itself was trivial.
The spirit scoffed, its voice sharp and flowing like black liquid through the room.
"Ahh… I've always hated beings like you~ Well then… see you again, handsome~"
Its hand flicked. The dark threads tightening around my neck loosened one by one. Each release brought relief, the pain fading as the blood flow returned properly.
My body weakened, but—relieved. The wounds on my neck, the claw marks, even the bite that tore my muscles… all slowly faded. As if… they never existed.
The spirit pulled the last blood-stained thread and licked it with its long, slimy tongue. I fought back nausea, unable to look away.
Then—suddenly—it vanished. In an instant. Almost as if swallowed by its own darkness.
The atmosphere shifted. People frozen in place outside began moving again, steps resuming, conversations surfacing faint and calm. The ticking of a clock, strangely loud during the incident, returned to its usual rhythm.
The captain grabbed my arm, helping me stand. My hands still trembled, my body still rigid, but the pain… gone. I touched my neck, my fingers brushing smooth skin. No scars. No marks. As if everything that just happened was an illusion.
I looked at the captain. His face remained calm, staring forward. As if the spirit had been nothing but dust wiped away.
I took a long breath, trying to steady my wild heartbeat. But one thing was clear… I would never forget that sensation. A high-tier spirit. Its long tongue. Its threads. That feeling… still clung to my bones, even if my body was whole again.
"Captain…" I called, my voice raspy, still wrapped in residual terror. I wanted to ask. To understand. But the captain's expression never changed. No cheerful grin. No glint in his eyes. Something… held him back from his usual reaction. Something heavy. Something serious.
"For now, stay under my supervision," he finally said, voice calm but sending a strange chill through me. "A tier-seven spirit… could kill you in a snap of its fingers."
A tier-seven spirit… I thought, my heart pounding even harder.
Impossible…
That explained everything. Its face looked human—too human. Usually, lower-tier spirits were misshapen, incomplete, monstrous but weak. But this one… was human. Too human.
"What did you mean by 'clung to me'?" I asked, voice trembling, my mind tangled in fear, curiosity, and frustration at my own helplessness.
The captain stared at me for several seconds, blinking slowly. His expression shifted, calming himself, as if closing a door on his own thoughts—hiding something he didn't want to share.
"Oh, that… Come inside. Vivian just returned with some cake," he finally said. His tone light, but… I could tell he was deflecting again.
Again. Always like this. Hiding something. Diverting the conversation with trivial things. Why? Was it because I asked about Senior Liam? Or because… of something that happened during this mission?
I exhaled slowly, my head heavy with unanswered questions. And despite all of that, every inch of my body still trembled-still haunted by the spirit's grip, its threads tightening around my throat, its long tongue licking my blood.
That sensation clung to me.
And... I wasn't just thinking about the spirit. I was also think about myself. How come i survived, and why... Why did captain looked so calm while im almost dead in front of him?
Those questions keeps spinning in my head, like a dark whirlpool that keeps dragging my mind down