Mysterious Awakening

“Hold onto one another’s hands tightly and stay close behind me. It’s essential that we don’t lose each other. I’m confident I can guide us safely out of this maze-like building.” Miles instructed while leading the way. Suddenly, he addressed his friend, William, with a puzzled look. “Hold on, William, why are your palms so excessively damp?” He asked after coming into contact with his friend’s moist hand.

With a deadpan expression, William responded, “Sweat? No, you’re quite off track, Miles. It’s actually virgin urine, an age-old tradition intended to repel malicious spirits. It’s still notably warm, fresh from its source not long ago. Here, experience it for yourself.”

With these words, he took Miles’s hand and generously smeared the unusual substance all over it.

“Ewww! Back off, William!” Miles recoiled in disgust.

“Why the overly dramatic reaction? If I, the one carrying it around, am not bothered, why should you be? It’s simply a small amount of urine, nothing more. You can wash your hands as soon as we escape,” William reasoned in an attempt to alleviate the situation.

Interrupting their exchange, Grace, who was trailing behind them, queried, “Miles, do you genuinely possess a plan to guide us out of this sinister place?”

Navigating their way down the spiraling staircase without any signs of uncertainty, Miles confidently replied, “Indeed, I’ve begun to decipher this haunted realm to some extent. It’s cloaked in oppressive darkness, effortlessly conjuring illusions for any unfortunate soul who dares to venture within. However, there are still puzzling elements that I can’t quite comprehend. If our luck holds, our escape shouldn’t pose much of a challenge. Wait, there’s something ahead.”

Abruptly, he halted and let out a startled shout.

At the entrance of the first-floor stairway, he spotted a handful of their classmates standing rigid, reminiscent of petrified wooden statues. These were the individuals who had earlier departed in Jing’s company.

Nevertheless, only a fraction of the entire group was present.

“Isn’t that Zhao Qiang?” Miles’s attention was instantly drawn to a familiar male figure.

Zhao Qiang was one of the instigators who, along with Jing, Duan Peng, and Zheng Fei, shoved him into the bathroom earlier.

“Jing is absent. Could he have deserted these people?” Deep in thought with a furrowed brow, Miles deduced, “Jing is evidently employing his usual tactics, hoping to use the lives of these innocent students as a diversion against the ghost.”

If his speculation was accurate, it was a fitting case of poetic justice.

Approaching Zhao Qiang, he gently tapped him, intending to glean information regarding their predicament.

With his back turned to Miles, Zhao Qiang began rotating his head in an unnaturally eerie manner, twisting a full 180 degrees to reveal his vacant eyes staring directly at Miles.

Stunned, Miles recoiled, taking several steps backward.

Could he be dead? Yet, why does he retain some semblance of movement?

Was it possible that he was also transforming into a ghost?

An intense wave of apprehension washed over Miles, heightening his anxiety.

If more ghosts were to emerge, their prospects of survival would be bleak.

However, Zhao Qiang’s body remained rigid, demonstrating no additional signs of movement. Slowly, he rotated his head back to its original position, facing away from the group once again.

“No reaction. It appears he’s harmless, at least for now,” Miles muttered under his breath. He felt a slight easing of the tension knotting his stomach after evaluating the situation.

“William, let’s proceed in this direction,” he suggested, leading the others towards a different path. “Something seems to be obstructing our original route. We’ll need to detour slightly.”

Observing Zhao Qiang in this eerie state, Miles felt the bitterness of past transgressions fading away. A life had been tragically lost; it seemed that the universe had already exacted its toll.

Nevertheless, the primary offender, Jing, remained. That particular score was yet to be settled.

Suddenly, a bone-chilling wail echoed throughout the stairwell. The unsettling sound pierced through the shroud of darkness, blatantly disregarding the barrier of the phantom realm and rattling everyone’s nerves.

“Wh-What was that? It sounded somewhat like a baby’s cry, yet somehow distorted,” a classmate stuttered, visibly shaken by the sound.

“Perhaps your mother is summoning you for dinner,” William quipped sarcastically.

“That might be how your mother beckons you. I’m certain it’s a ghost.”

“Why inquire if you already possess the answer?”

“Or perhaps it’s a beautiful woman inviting you on a date? Remember, we’re in a horror film, not a school,” William retorted, demonstrating a streak of irate outbursts.

“Enough with the banter. Let’s move quickly. It’s the spectral infant; it’s on our tail,” Miles warned urgently, his face instantly darkening with anxiety.

This was the apparition that had emerged from Right’s body, referred to as the “Ghost Baby.”

Although its level of threat was ambiguous, it was undeniably menacing.

“Damn, it genuinely appeared when we mentioned it. Even death requires a moment’s respite,” William murmured, his voice trembling as he hastily scampered off.

Led by Miles, the group picked up their pace, desperate to escape the confounding building as swiftly as possible.

As they finally seemed to be on the brink of breaking free from the labyrinthine staircase, a sliver of hope was in sight. But just then, a nightmarish scene unfolded: a grotesque, dark green infant began crawling up the wall at an alarmingly rapid pace, much like a spider.

Its large, eerily pitch-black eyes, devoid of any human-like emotion, bore into the group with a chilling intensity.

The creature appeared to recognize Miles at the forefront and stretched its disproportionately elongated arm out, attempting to ensnare him. The thin, infantile limb seemed to extend impossibly quickly within the dimly lit surroundings.

Being at the front of the group, Miles was naturally oblivious to the imminent danger. However, he suddenly became aware of a brisk, chilly gust fast approaching from behind – an ominous sensation chillingly reminiscent of the spectral assault in the restroom.

Just as he was about to turn his head to investigate, an agonizingly sharp pain abruptly surged through the back of his skull. His scalp seemed to split open, revealing a crimson eye that whirled around ominously before emerging fully into view.

“Ahh!” The sudden, excruciating pain caused Miles to stagger, barely managing to stay upright by bracing himself against the wall.

An uncanny cry resonated in tandem, and the ghost baby’s outstretched arm that had been lunging towards him through the darkness came to an abrupt halt.

A blood-red eye had surfaced at the back of Miles’s head, its gaze locked onto the ghost baby’s palm. The eye emitted a faint, eerie red light, which seemingly forced the ghost baby to suspend its attack.

Baffled, the ghost baby rotated its head halfway around, casting a bewildered glance at Miles before retracting its extended arm.

“Miles, why did you stop?” someone inquired, concern lacing their voice.

As the searing pain began to ebb, Miles drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “No, it’s nothing. The ghost baby attacked me just now, but I’m unscathed.”

Subconsciously, he reached up to feel the back of his head, fingers meeting the newly formed eyeball. An image from behind him was immediately projected into his mind, providing a view of what was happening in the rear without him having to physically turn around.

“Did this entity save me?” Miles mused to himself, recalling Right’s earlier words. “This eye is also a spectral being. It’s gradually reviving under continuous stimulation. Once it reaches a certain threshold, I’ll be killed by this specter, just like Right.”

Is this the paradoxical fate of a ghost tamer?

The dubious privilege of harnessing the power of malevolent ghosts while simultaneously being manipulated by them?

A wry smile tugged at the corners of Miles’s mouth.

What was this, then?

The hefty price for invoking the strength of malignant ghosts?

Or a sinister countdown to his inevitable demise?

The ghost baby’s initial assault on Miles had failed, but it showed no signs of abandoning its pursuit. Instead, it hastily scrambled down from the stairwell, moving at an unnaturally swift pace. Ultimately, it vaulted up from the ground, abruptly fastening itself onto a female classmate from behind. Its spindly arms wrapped tightly around the girl’s throat.

The girl’s eyes bulged with terror, and her face contorted in sheer horror as she screamed out in desperation. She frantically grasped at the arm strangling her, attempting to dislodge the ghost baby.

“Coral, are you alright?”

Her classmates, paralyzed with fear, hastily illuminated Coral with the light from their phones.

Under the harsh light, the ghost baby’s head twisted unnaturally to stare at the group. Its thin arm displayed a disturbing strength beyond human capability, gripping Coral’s neck so tightly it seemed intent on choking her. At this moment, Coral was incapable of uttering a word. She tilted her head back, her face reddening from lack of oxygen, her eyes reflecting intense suffering. Even more unsettling was the fact that wherever the baby’s skin made contact with Coral’s, it seemed to be slowly melding together.