SSS-Rank Engineer: Only I Can Create Legendary Weapons

Percy watched the shadow silently grow to encompass the room. Its silhouette stretched across the ribbed columns of the roof, arms spreading along the walls.

"That's… very not good," he muttered. He didn't start casting, casting would tank his focus, but he knew spirits couldn't be affected by physical attacks anyway.

What kind of spirit was this? It wasn't a normal Dark spirit, It was fully manifested without being summoned by a Spiritmancer.

But it didn't feel like an Evil spirit either. Evil spirits distorted the world around them, sent waves of nausea and dread through the body. This one only loomed.

So, he decided to ask.

"Uhm… What are you, great spirit? Did you kill Jones? Were you trapped here by the Basker family?"

The moment he mentioned the Baskers, it went berserk. Thin shadowy hands whipped through the air, sending piles of junk flying across the attic. Percy ducked, shielding his head.

CRASH!

He rose slowly, edging toward the ladder. He needed to get downstairs and find Thalos. Then they both needed to get out of here.

"You seem to have some grievances with the stuff up here, so… I'll just leave you to it."

The shadow's hand snaked across the floor and latched onto his ankle. Percy froze, leg rooted to the floor. The grip felt solid as steel, yet when he looked down, it was only touching his shadow.

He didn't even have time to curse. The spirit yanked him up and slammed him into the wall with a groaning crack.

The wind left his lungs and burned with blinding pain, even though he instinctively reinforced his back with Fighting Spirit.

This should've been a moment of celebration. I'm finally using spirit instinctively in combat, but nope. Looks like all I get is dying in some creepy attic.

He scrambled upright, raising his hands, trying to think of a way to appease the spirit.

"Hey, man. I don't even want to be in this creepy house. I can take my leave and you'll never see me again. Hell, you won't even see my shadow in town"

Was this the spirit that had taken Ramona Basker's twin brother Philip? It didn't seem interested in talking. But no one really wanted to talk when the fight started. Even though he couldn't remember using any fighting words.

He shut his eyes, sinking into the void he used to contact spirits. Maybe if he understood more about the spirit, he could find the right words.

In his spirit sense, fire and wind spirits flickered nearby, but something else lingered in the dark.

His heart stuttered, as he looked up at the spirit. This one was vast, towering over the others. Its form was uniquely disturbing.

It was upside down cone of dirt just floating in the darkness with him. And sticking out of the bottom soil, were pale human parts,

White hairless faces with milky eyes. Hands and feet jutting at odd angles. Eyeballs, lips, noses, chopped-up fragments scattered through the dirt.

It wasn't an evil spirit by definition, but its aura was forged like a weapon. Malicious, single-minded. It wanted carnage, mutilation, and for its victims to sink into the soil and never be found again.

His eyes snapped open, wide with horror and he was in the attic again. He needed to leave, not just the house, but the land itself. This whole area was alive, swallowing people for who knows how long.

He glanced at the ladder, then back to the attic. The shadow was gone, Something made him look down. He searched the entire room for a moment, the scattered boxes and broken furniture.

Then he looked down at his own shadow, it was normal. So he tried leaving, sliding sideways along the wall, only for invisible hands to seize his legs. He kicked, snarling under his breath.

"Fucking George. I'm gonna slap him, his wife, and all nine of his children."

Then his own shadow moved. A hand lifted and clamped over his mouth. Pain lanced through his lips as blood welled.

He groaned wordlessly, red-hot agony tearing at his face. He clawed at the air over his mouth, but nothing was there. He managed to lift one leg with enhanced strength and the shadow didn't like that.

Its other hand coiled around his throat. His shadow strangled itself and the real force clamped on his neck.

He could immediately feel the steel wrapped around his throat. He clawed at his throat, feeling deep grooves of fingers sinking into his skin.

Even while being choked, his mind ran at lightspeed, considering options and dismissing the useless ones just as quick. Maybe it was the fear that hadn't caused him to realise the answer sooner.

He let go of his neck with a roar of effort and pointed his hand at the shadow. It didn't seem very worried as he couldn't speak so he couldn't cast spells.

But it didn't know Percy wasn't just any Spiritmancer.

A sleek white crossbow appeared in his hand with a flash of light. Percy wasted no time and squeezed the trigger.

The Spellbolt lit up and fired a lethal shot of blue mana right into the shadow. For a terrible moment he imagined the attack passing through without dealing damage.

But it instead slammed into the shadow and started crackling like a live wire. The shadow spasmed and vibrated like it was in terrible pain.

Its grip on his throat and feet faded and he stumbled away gasping for air , eyes red with tears. He turned back to the shadow and saw the arrow still trying to pierce it.

The human-like shape it took on faded, replaced by a rippling pool of darkness on the attic floor.

The shadow then disappeared like a trick of light. The bolt of mana slammed into the hardwood with a ringing bang that shook the floor.

His heart was still beating like a drum when he heard footsteps finally running towards the attic.

"What the actually hell is this?"