Ghostbane

Richard's vision blurred, his breath uneven as he struggled to remain standing. His body was broken, muscles torn, and his flames had started to flicker. He had pushed himself beyond his limits, yet the ghost still stood. Its grotesque body loomed over him, pulsing and twitching like a glitch in reality. At first, Richard thought it was injured, that his attacks had done more damage than he realized. But then—

It moved.

Not in any way a living thing should. Its limbs twisted at angles that defied physics, stretching and contorting like a reflection in shattered glass. The air itself seemed to bend around it, warping as if rejecting its very existence. Richard's breath hitched as a chilling realization crept into his mind—

The ghost was changing.

And then it hit him. Something his grandfather had always told him but he never truly understood until now.

"Ghosts have two forms, Richard. Their physical form and their spiritual form. A physical form is limited, bound by the remnants of the world they left behind. But their spiritual form? That's where their true power lies. If you ever face a spirit that fully transcends, pray you don't live to see what comes next."

Richard's blood ran cold. This ghost, the one he was barely surviving against in its physical state—was now breaking free.

"I was barely keeping up before…"

The ghost let out a sound—not a scream, not a growl, but something else entirely. It was as if a thousand voices screamed at once, layered on top of each other, yet also hollow, like an echo from the void. Richard clutched his ears, his knees buckling beneath him. It wasn't just sound—it was pressure, crushing him, pushing against his chest like an invisible weight.

Cracks began to form along the ground. The air vibrated with unnatural energy. Then—

The ghost exploded into its true form.

It no longer had a definite shape. It was constantly shifting, its body flickering between different grotesque figures—some human, some not, some unrecognizable altogether. One moment it had elongated arms covered in eyes, the next it was a mass of writhing limbs, then a gaping maw of endless teeth.

Richard's mind could not comprehend it. His eyes burned just from looking at it, his brain screaming in protest, rejecting the very existence of what stood before him.

His legs gave out. His vision darkened.

For the first time since the battle began, he felt fear.

And then—his body collapsed, his mind sinking into oblivion.

But as Richard's consciousness faded, something deep inside him—something not human—stirred.

Darkness swallowed Richard's mind, drowning him in a void where no thoughts, no pain, no awareness existed.

His body, however, moved on its own.

A deep, guttural growl escaped his throat as blue fire poured from his mouth. His body twitched, his fingers clenched and unclenched, as if possessed by something far more primal than human will.

Then—he vanished.

In a flash, Richard's body reappeared inches away from the ghost, his flaming fist smashing into its writhing, ever-shifting form. The impact detonated like a bomb. The entire factory trembled as the ghost was blasted backward, crashing into the far wall with a sickening, distorted howl.

The wall collapsed. Steel and concrete shattered, debris raining down as a section of the factory's ceiling gave way, sending metal beams plunging into the ground.

But it wasn't over.

Richard followed.

Before the entity could recover, Richard was on it again, his body moving with terrifying, inhuman speed. His hands grabbed onto the ghost's shifting arms, forcing them apart, blue flames bursting from his fingers. The fire didn't just burn—it devoured.

The ghost screamed.

Its twisted form convulsed, parts of it burning away into nothing. But this spirit was not so easily destroyed.

Its body morphed in an instant, its arms retracting, its entire form compressing into something new.

Then—it exploded outward.

A sudden wave of energy blasted Richard back, sending him hurtling through a stack of rusted metal pipes. They shattered against his body, leaving deep gashes across his arms and legs. His back slammed against a concrete pillar, cracking it on impact.

Blood dripped from his forehead, mixing with the dirt and soot covering his face.

The ghost had changed.

No longer resembling a human form, its body had expanded, becoming a towering mass of writhing darkness, tendrils whipping violently in every direction. Its featureless face now had something resembling a jaw—a horrific, vertical split down the center, lined with jagged, shadowy teeth.

And then—it lunged.

Richard's body dodged instinctively, shifting just before the creature's enormous tendril slammed into the floor where he stood. The impact shattered the ground, sending shockwaves through the entire factory. The tremors ripped through the walls, causing support beams to snap and metal structures to collapse like dominos.

But Richard didn't just dodge—his body countered.

He twisted midair, flames coiling around his arm like a serpent, before swinging downward.

BOOM!

The fire engulfed the tendril, searing it clean off. The ghost shrieked in agony as its severed limb disintegrated into nothingness. But Richard's body didn't stop—it didn't let up.

He rushed forward, his fist colliding with the ghost's core.

Another explosion.

A massive shockwave tore through the factory, blowing out the remaining walls. Flames roared, consuming everything in their path. The outside hilltop trembled, and trees surrounding the factory were set ablaze.

Yet—the ghost was still alive.

It adapted.

Instead of trying to overpower Richard, it changed its strategy.

It let Richard hit it. Let the flames consume its outer shell—because it was already reforming.

Richard's body didn't notice. It wasn't thinking.

The flames raged brighter, his strength overwhelming—but the ghost had already begun wrapping around him.

Before his body could react, tendrils shot forward, impaling his limbs.

Richard's body jerked, but it didn't stop moving. The flames didn't weaken. But the ghost wasn't aiming to kill him—it was restraining him.

The tendrils tightened, crushing him, trying to snuff out the flames. His ribs cracked, pain shooting through his body—not that he felt it. His mind was gone.

The factory groaned, metal bending, the entire structure threatening to collapse.

And then—Richard's eyes opened.

Not as himself.

Not as a human.

But as something else.

And the flames erupted.

The tendrils holding him? Gone. Vaporized in an instant.

The ghost let out a distorted scream, trying to retreat—but Richard's flames were faster.

His body lunged forward, fire consuming the ghost's core. The flames weren't just burning the entity—they were devouring its very existence.

But the ghost—it wasn't done yet.

Because Richard wasn't in control anymore.

The ghost twitched violently, its body distorting as Richard's flames gnawed at its form. It had no mouth, no face, yet its screams still pierced the air, rattling the collapsing factory.

But Richard wasn't done.

His body jerked forward violently, lunging at the ghost like a rabid beast. His arms moved on their own, gripping, ripping, tearing. His teeth clenched together, and from his throat came a low, guttural growl—not human, not natural.

The ghost lashed out, desperate.

One of its many limbs stretched outward, forming a massive claw, dripping with darkness. It swung wildly, slicing through the air—

CRACK.

The blow connected.

Richard's body launched backward, smashing through the ground, his ribs snapping. Blood splattered the dirt as he rolled violently, his body slamming against the remains of the factory walls.

But the flames didn't go out.

Even as his body was torn apart, the fire only grew stronger.

Richard's hands dug into the dirt, his fingers crushing rock as he forced himself up. His head tilted unnaturally to the side, his neck letting out a sickening pop. The flames in his eyes flickered erratically, filled with rage.

And then—he charged again.

The ghost twisted, shifting into a monstrous form, its many hands stretching outward, each one forming a different attack. Some sharpened into blades, some morphed into massive fists, others turned into gaping mouths lined with jagged teeth.

Richard didn't care.

A barrage of attacks flew toward him, each one deadly enough to kill a normal human in an instant.

But Richard wasn't normal anymore.

He moved unnaturally, his body jerking and twisting in ways that made no sense. Some attacks barely missed as he weaved through them with inhuman precision. Others tore into him, ripping chunks from his flesh—but it didn't matter. The flames replaced whatever was lost.

Then—he reached the ghost.

With one violent motion, Richard grabbed the ghost's core.

The ghost let out a horrific screech, its many limbs thrashing, writhing, trying to pull away—

But Richard's grip tightened.

And then—he bit down.

His teeth sank into the ghost's form, and blue flames erupted violently.

The ghost convulsed, its entire body flaring up like dry paper in a fire.

Richard devoured it.

Piece by piece.

Its howls grew weaker.

Its limbs crumbled into ash.

Its existence was being erased.

And then—

BOOOOOOM!

A violent explosion of energy erupted as the ghost was consumed entirely. The shockwave ripped through the entire hill, sending debris flying for miles.

The factory collapsed completely, its remains swallowed by blue flames.

The surrounding trees were incinerated instantly.

The ground cracked apart, swallowed by an unnatural force.

And in the center of the destruction—

Richard stood.

His flames still burning.

His body motionless.

But something was wrong.

The flames didn't stop.

They continued to spread outward, uncontrolled, tearing through everything in their path.

Richard's body twitched violently. His breath came out in ragged gasps. His hands clawed at the ground, trembling.

Something was still inside him.

Something was still burning.