I Loaded the Occult Panel

Ghouls possessed no intellect.

The host’s memories, personality, and emotions ceased to exist, leaving nothing but basic predatory instinct.

They fed on life force, possessed strength far beyond a normal human’s, and were highly resistant to physical damage.

Severing a ghoul’s arm wouldn’t slow it down, and piercing its heart wouldn’t stop it.

On the occult danger scale, ghouls sat at the very bottom.

But Richard clearly remembered a later note in Appendix C:

”The bottom tier is merely a relative measure among us Practitioners; to ordinary people, even the lowest-tier evil creature is an absolute catastrophe.”

The souls of those killed by an evil creature could not enter the normal cycle of the Spirit Realm.

The ether pollution lingering at the site of death anchored the soul in place, preventing it from leaving.

Appendix C had a specific term for this—the death echo.Vox Mortis, the voice of the dead.

Unlike wandering spirits, which retained a high degree of self-awareness, death echoes had none.

A death echo was a videotape stuck on repeat. The terror, agony, and fury of the exact moment of death were carved into the ether field, forming a persistent source of interference.

They lacked consciousness and could not be reasoned with, but they still affected the minds of the living.

If Warren’s story was true, ghoul remains and several death echoes were sealed beneath the foundation.

That made the ground beneath the athletic field a miniature supernatural pollution zone.

”What do you think, man?” Warren leaned in, bumping his shoulder against Richard.

”Newspaper accounts usually aren’t very accurate,” Richard said. ”The specifics might be off, but the core event is probably true. The transcript your cousin found is a much better reference.”

”You believe in ghosts?” Mason chimed in.

”I believe some things are hard to explain.”

Warren laughed, stuffed the photocopies back into his pocket, and got up to pour tea.

Beside him, Grey glanced at Richard.

Throughout the story, everyone else’s reaction had been fear, curiosity, or dismissal.

Only Richard sat quietly in thought.

...

After school that day, Richard returned home, shut his bedroom door, and began to brainstorm.

The most critical question was: what had provoked them?

The seal had held for over forty years. Without external interference, the death echoes inside should be decaying.

Lacking an energy source, they would only grow weaker until they dissipated completely.

He looked at the Copper Pendant on his desk and suddenly thought of the Spirit Board Warren had brought.

Before Richard drained it, Warren had spent the entire day carrying the Spirit Board across half the campus in a Cloth Bag.

The Cloth Bag offered no ether-shielding properties; it was just ordinary coarse fabric.

If the Spirit Board had leaked even a microscopic trace of ether during that journey, it would have been food for the death echoes.

Within the perception range of death echoes that had been sealed away and starved for decades, a single trace of leaked ether was enough to trigger a reaction.

After briefly being ”fed” a single bite, they became active again.

He had drained the Spirit Board, preventing a larger leak.

But before he absorbed it, the minute seepage along Warren’s route might have been enough.

It was also possible that none of this was related, and he was just overthinking things.

The seal itself had a lifespan; once it started decaying, the interior naturally grew restless, making the two events a mere coincidence in timing.

He didn’t have enough information to make a judgment, so he set the matter aside for now.

Another matter lingered in his mind, one he hadn’t yet had the opportunity to verify.

So far, he had only obtained available points on his Panel from three items: the Copper Pendant, the Spirit Board, and the Sphinx Oil Lamp from Clement Antique Shop.

The three items had one thing in common.

They were all antique artifacts, and they all contained sealed remnants of supernatural power.

But he still hadn’t figured out one crucial question: could he absorb any ether remnant, or did he have to absorb it through an antiquity?

If it was the former, he should be able to gain points in environments where ether was dispersed in the air.

If it was the latter, his ability had a strict limitation:

He had to find and physically touch antiquities containing supernatural remnants to obtain points.

The answer would directly dictate his future strategy for acquiring points.

Unfortunately, there was no way to verify it right now—unless he could visit a place with an ether concentration noticeably higher than normal.

Such as... the basement.

He shook his head, shelving the thought.

...

After history class the next day, Mr. Hutton called out to Richard just as he was about to leave.

”Williams, stay behind for a moment.”

The footsteps and laughter in the corridor gradually faded.

Mr. Hutton waited until the last student disappeared around the corner before standing up to close the classroom door.

He walked back to the podium and leaned against the edge, slowly twirling an unlit pipe between his fingers.

”There are rumors going around school lately about the basement being haunted. You’ve heard them.”

It wasn’t a question.

”I have.”

”That story your friend Warren told about what happened fifty years ago—do you believe it?”

”Half of it.”

”Which half?”

”The part about something being sealed down there. I believe that.”

Richard weighed his words, deciding not to hide it anymore.

”Ghouls and death echoes sealed in the old foundation beneath the athletic field would explain the recent anomalies in the basement. But the details in Warren’s story, like the wording in the newspapers, are likely exaggerated.”

Mr. Hutton’s eyebrows twitched. He noted that Richard hadn’t used words like ”ghost” and ”monster.”

The boy’s adept use of terms like ghoul, death echo, and seal proved he was genuinely interested in the occult and had been studying it seriously.

He shifted the pipe to his other hand, slowly turning it.

”Williams, there is indeed a seal beneath the foundation of this school.”

”The things sealed inside roughly match what Warren said. There are ghoul remains and several anchored death echoes.

”The textile factory completely shut down because of this. The land was abandoned for over a decade, and when Greenwood expanded, it swallowed up the original site.”

”The seal was established forty-three years ago by professionals. It was made with silver-inlaid engravings and holy-water sealing wax. It’s very sturdy.”

”But not permanent.”

Richard understood what he meant. ”It needs regular reinforcement.”

Mr. Hutton nodded.

”Correct. Every once in a while, someone needs to inspect and reinforce the seal.

”The silver engravings fade over time, and the holy-water wax slowly degrades in the damp underground environment.

”Without regular maintenance, the seal’s effectiveness drops year by year.”

He pulled a Pocket Watch from his pocket, checked the time, and snapped it shut.

”I go down to reinforce it every year around the start of winter.

”This year’s situation is a bit special. The death echoes inside the seal have become more active than in previous years, which you’ve probably deduced from recent events.”

”I plan to handle it this Friday night.”

The old gentleman put away his pipe. He spoke as casually as if he were talking about fixing a leaky pipe this Friday night:

”Do you want to come along and take a look?”