CHAPTER 255: VENGEFUL SPIRIT

Kael took a step back, gasping, watching the grotesque creature absorb his sword as if it were just another piece of flesh to devour. The pulsating mass of flesh, bones, and agonizing faces writhed and trembled, emitting a wet, sickening noise, like flesh being crushed from within. The light he had summoned was already beginning to flicker, weakened by the suffocating presence of that entity.

"Are you serious?" he repeated, still stunned, his hands empty and his heart racing.

But there was no time for panic. He clenched his fists, closing his eyes for a brief moment and concentrating.

Fire. Destruction. Purification.

Heat began to radiate from within him. Kael drew in a sharp breath and channeled his magical energy. His skin began to glow with an amber hue, as if embers were coursing through his veins. In a firm gesture, he raised his hands and, with a guttural cry, enveloped them in living flames.

The flames were not ordinary—they were shades of deep red and incandescent orange, burning with an almost spiritual intensity, as if they carried the fury of his soul.

"You want to feed on faith and repentance? Then you will taste the fire of wrath!"

Kael charged at the creature.

The first burst of fire struck the monster’s misshapen torso directly. The flesh and twisted roots contracted in violent spasms, releasing a shrill squeal that did not seem to come from a single mouth — it was as if all the faces glued to the creature were screaming at once, a chorus of pain that reverberated through the underground hall.

Kael didn’t stop. He twisted his body, causing the flame in his right hand to mold itself into a curved, flaming blade. He struck again, opening a burning gash in the creature’s side.

But as the flames hit it, something strange began to happen.

The creature seemed to become more agile, more frenzied. As if the pain strengthened it, feeding it with accumulated suffering. And then... it began to murmur.

The voices were not its own—they were many, overlapping, dissonant. Whispers coming from the faces stuck to the creature’s back and arms.

"Sinner... she betrayed her sister... stole bread from the orphans... killed her husband with herbs from the forest..."

"Liar... handed his friend over to the soldiers for a few coins..."

"Fornicator... cursed his own blood before drowning himself in wine..."

Each murmur was a story. A sin. A confession. As if the creature were reliving the miseries of each devoured soul.

Kael’s mind began to cloud. The voices intruded on his thoughts, like thin blades tearing at his focus. He felt doubt, guilt, and anger rising.

These are not my sins, he tried to remind himself. They are not mine...

"Kael."

Ahri’s soft, steady voice cut through the mental fog. She spoke directly to his mind, clear as crystal water.

"This is no ordinary demon. This is a vengeful spirit... a corrupted shinzai. You must find the object where it was sealed. It is the only way to destroy it."

Kael narrowly dodged a tentacle that struck the ground, shattering the stone where it had been seconds before.

"You want me to look for a magic seal in the middle of this hell while it tries to crush me? Easy!" he shouted, spinning in the air and throwing a flaming sphere that exploded on the creature’s flank, causing the faces to scream in unison.

"I can’t help you directly, Kael..." Ahri replied, her voice tinged with regret. "My power has been exhausted since the battle in the Elven Kingdom. I gave everything to you in that fight."

Another voice emerged shortly after, deep and shrouded in shadows: "And I... can’t do anything here either." It was Umbra. "This place... this chamber... is filled with corrupted light. My powers are useless on this unholy ground."

Kael spun his body, dodging two more tentacles that came from opposite sides. One of them grazed his side, tearing a piece of his cloak and leaving a painful burn.

He fell to his knees, breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his face. The flames in his hands flickered for a moment, but did not go out.

"What? You bring me to the depths of hell and decide to become spectators?!"

He stood up, his eyes flashing with fury and fire, staring at the monster that now roared, each face vibrating like soundless mouths.

"Then listen carefully: since you’re not going to help me directly, keep an eye out. Let me know if anything tries to surround me. I’ll take care of this!"

"Understood," said Umbra, with the tone of an attentive hunter.

"I’ll keep an eye on the ceilings and sides. He’s not alone."

"I’ll watch the corridors, Kael," added Ahri, more calmly. "But promise me you won’t let this hatred take over you."

Kael didn’t respond. His eyes were fixed on the creature, which now writhed as if it sensed that something inside it had been exposed.

With a cry of pure determination, Kael advanced. The flames in his hands condensed into living projectiles, each burning with the heat of his anger, his faith, his will to survive.

He struck fast, attacking at unpredictable angles. The creature fought back savagely, but now it hesitated in the face of the flames. Each impact burned its putrid flesh, made its faces cry fire, its roots wither with a sharp, nauseating sound.

But time was against him.

Kael realized this when his chest began to feel heavy, not from physical exhaustion, but from the pressure of that cursed place. It was as if the more he fought, the more that spirit studied him—as if the monster knew he couldn’t go on forever.

It was then, in the middle of a spin to avoid a brutal charge, that Kael saw something.

Behind the creature, on a small mound made of bones and stones, there was an object stuck in a makeshift altar. A stone mask, cracked in half, covered in dried blood. The mask’s hollow eyes pulsed with the same dark energy that surrounded the creature.

Kael felt a sharp pang of clarity, as if for an instant, the fog and chaos gave way to naked truth. That. The mask on the altar. Cracked, covered in dried blood, pulsing with energy equal to that of the creature.

The link. The seal. The vessel.

"Ahri! The mask, behind the altar! That’s it, isn’t it?!"

"Yes!" Her voice echoed urgently in his mind. "Hurry, before it devours you whole!"

Kael did not hesitate.

In one swift motion, he channeled all the fiery energy around him. An explosion roared in front of him, pushing the creature back violently. Fragments of bone and stone were thrown into the air, clearing enough space for him to advance.

Tentacles reached out to grab him, but he set the ground ahead ablaze with a living trail of fire, turning the path into a wall of embers and flames. The heat burned his skin, but he ignored it—nothing hurt more than the presence of that thing.

With a cry, he leaped onto the pile of bones. His feet slipped on dried blood and fragments, but he steadied himself. He reached out. His fingers touched the mask.

A wave of searing energy shot through his arm. The burn was instantaneous, as if he had touched the sun itself. But he did not let go.

The creature let out an unnatural roar—a guttural sound mixed with human voices—a hellish symphony of souls in torment. Its twisted mass began to waver, as if pulled by invisible chains. It was being dragged back to the place it should never have left.

Kael screamed, raising the mask above his head. His burning hands wrapped around the object, the embers crackling with fury.

"Go to hell and stay there!"

With all his remaining strength, he smashed the mask against the stone of the altar.

It shattered into a thousand fragments, scattering black sparks through the air like ashes from a forbidden fire.

The creature screamed.

Tentacles lashed the air in desperation, striking the walls with fury. The faces glued to its grotesque flesh screamed in unison, melting like wax under the sun. Their forms dissolved into a shapeless mass, imploding with a dry crack, as if the air around them had been ripped away.

And then... silence.

Absolute silence.

There were no more murmurs. No more corrupted prayers. No more moans.

The chamber seemed to contain time itself.

Kael fell to his knees, panting, exhausted. His hands still burned like embers, dimly illuminating the remains of the altar and the shards of the mask.

The smell of burnt flesh and steaming stone filled the air.

"You did it, Kael," said Ahri, with a tenderness she hadn’t shown in a long time. There was pride in her voice—and relief.

"No hunter could withstand a vengeful spirit for so long," added Umbra, her voice denser than usual. "You are growing stronger."

Kael kept his eyes fixed on the remains of what had once been a living nightmare.

For a moment, everything seemed too quiet. Too empty.

As if the world were just waiting for the next horror to emerge from the darkness.

He gasped, feeling the heat of the flames finally subside.

Slowly, the embers in his hands went out, leaving only reddened skin trembling with exhaustion.

"Great..." he muttered, with a tired half-smile. "But next time... bring reinforcements."

No response. Only the slow sound of his breathing and the echo of his own footsteps, still alive on the walls of that cursed place.

With effort, he lay down on his back on the hard floor of the chamber, his eyes turned to the stone ceiling covered with dark moss and dry roots. The smell of dried blood, earth, and burnt magic surrounded him.

Just when he thought he could rest a little...

KABOOOOOOOOOOOMM!!!!

"KAEL COME HERE!!!"