Ghostbane

Richard sprinted toward the abandoned factory, his breath ragged, his body screaming in protest. His legs ached, his lungs burned, but he couldn't stop—not now. Not when that thing was closing in on him. The cold air felt heavier, suffocating, as if the world itself was pressing down on him.

Bhind him, the ghost pursued with unnatural speed. It no longer floated—it ran, its grotesque limbs moving in ways that defied logic. Each step it took made a sickening, crunching sound, as if bones were breaking and reforming with every movement. Its presence alone sent a wave of nausea crashing over Richard, but he gritted his teeth and kept going.

A sudden whistling sound tore through the air. Instinct screamed at him—move! Richard threw himself to the side just in time to see a dark mass shoot past him, slamming into the ground with a deafening thud. The impact sent dirt and debris flying. Whatever it was, it would have killed him if he had been just a second slower.

Richard barely had time to recover before another projectile came hurtling toward him. He twisted his body, narrowly avoiding it, but the sheer force of the attack sent him stumbling. His foot caught on a root, and he crashed to the ground, rolling down a small incline.

Get up. Keep running.

Panic fueled his movements. He scrambled to his feet and kept running. The factory was in sight now, a towering, skeletal structure that loomed over the hill like a forgotten ruin. Its rusted metal doors were slightly ajar, swaying with the wind, as if beckoning him inside.

The ghost was faster than before—more aggressive, more relentless. Richard felt it gaining on him. He could hear its raspy breathing, its unnatural gurgling noises growing louder. A cold hand swiped at his back, barely missing him.

Almost there—just a few more steps!

Richard pushed himself harder. His fingers grasped the cold metal of the factory door. He threw his weight against it, forcing it open just enough to slip inside.

As soon as he was in, he spun around and slammed the door shut behind him.

Silence.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears. His breath came in short, uneven gasps. For a moment, he thought—Did I lose it?

Then the door shook violently.

A deafening bang echoed through the factory as the ghost slammed into the metal, denting it inward. Dust rained from the ceiling. The entire building trembled from the impact.

Richard staggered backward. His eyes darted around the factory, searching for anything useful. The inside was vast and empty, filled with rusted machinery, broken pipes, and scattered debris. Dim moonlight filtered through shattered windows, casting eerie shadows across the walls.

Another bang. The door wouldn't hold for long.

Richard clenched his fists, his body trembling. He had made it inside—but now he was trapped with nowhere left to run.

BANG!

The factory doors trembled again, the metal groaning under the impact. Richard stumbled backward, heart pounding. His mind raced—Think, think, think! He needed a weapon, an escape route, anything that could give him even the smallest chance of surviving this.

The inside of the factory was a graveyard of rusted machinery and shattered glass. Conveyor belts sat motionless, their gears long since corroded. Large metal hooks dangled from the ceiling, swaying slightly in the breeze that seeped through the broken windows.

What the hell did they even make here?

The door let out a long, high-pitched screech as it bent inward, its hinges snapping one by one. Richard clenched his teeth and gripped the handle of his grandfather's sword tighter.

Then—silence.

For a moment, nothing happened. The world stood still.

And then, with a deafening crash, the doors were ripped from their hinges and flung across the factory. They skidded across the floor, sparks flying as they ground against concrete. Dust and debris swirled through the air.

Richard shielded his face from the cloud of dust, coughing. His body trembled—not from exhaustion, but from the sheer presence of the entity standing before him.

The ghost stepped into the factory.

Its form was shifting, unstable—its shape flickered between grotesque distortions of a human figure. Sometimes tall, sometimes hunched over, its movements erratic, unnatural. Its hollow eyes locked onto Richard, and for the first time, he saw its full face.

Or what was left of it.

The ghost had no flesh—its head was an open wound, a maw of darkness where a face should have been. Its mouth gaped unnaturally wide, stretching far beyond what was humanly possible, revealing rows of jagged, uneven teeth. Its fingers elongated, cracking and breaking as they twisted into sharp, claw-like appendages.

Richard felt the weight of its gaze. A suffocating pressure settled over him, crushing, overwhelming. His breath hitched, his limbs locked in place. Move, damn it! But he couldn't. The ghost wasn't just looking at him—it was inside his mind, clawing at his thoughts, poisoning his will to resist.

A deep, guttural noise rumbled from the ghost's throat. Then—

It lunged.

Richard barely had time to react. He threw himself to the side as the ghost's claws swiped at him, raking through the air where his head had been just seconds before. The sheer force of the swing sent a gust of wind through the factory, knocking over loose debris.

Richard hit the ground hard, pain jolting through his ribs. He groaned, forcing himself up—No time to rest! He gripped his sword and turned, raising it just in time to block another attack.

CLANG!

The impact sent a violent tremor through his arms. His knees nearly buckled under the strength of the strike. The ghost's claws scraped against the blade, producing a horrible screeching sound.

Richard gritted his teeth and pushed back with everything he had. The ghost withdrew its claws and let out a guttural, distorted growl. Then it struck again.

Richard dodged, barely escaping the next swipe. He swung his sword in retaliation, aiming for its torso. The blade passed through the ghost's body—but instead of cutting, it felt like slicing through thick air. There was resistance, but not enough to do any real damage.

Shit, I can't even hurt it like this.

The ghost's arm twisted at an unnatural angle, its elbow bending backward as it lunged again. Richard ducked, rolling across the factory floor as claws tore through the space he had just occupied. He gasped, sweat dripping down his face.

This wasn't a fight—it was survival.

And right now, he was losing.

Richard was fading. His vision blurred, his body screaming in pain. Every breath felt like he was inhaling shattered glass. Blood dripped from his wounds, soaking into the dirt beneath him. His fingers barely twitched. His mind was slipping into the dark void of unconsciousness.

But then—

A spark ignited deep within his chest.

At first, it was small, barely noticeable against the overwhelming agony. But it grew, spreading like wildfire, consuming every nerve, every cell in his body. It wasn't just heat. It was rage. It was fury. It was something ancient and primal.

And then—

BOOM!

A violent shockwave erupted from Richard's body, sending a burst of blue flames in all directions. The ghost screeched, its monstrous form recoiling as the fire engulfed its twisted shape. The entire factory rattled, metal groaning under the heat as Richard's flames set the world ablaze.

Richard gasped, his body jerking upright. His pupils contracted into pinpricks, his breath coming in sharp, animalistic rasps. The flames coiled around his arms like hungry serpents, licking at his skin without burning him.

And then—he moved.

No hesitation. No thought. Just pure, uncontrollable instinct.

Richard lunged at the ghost with a snarl, faster than ever before. The ghost barely had time to react before his fist, wreathed in blue fire, collided with its face. The impact sent the creature flying, crashing through rusted metal beams with an ear-piercing shriek.

But Richard wasn't done.

Before the ghost could recover, he pounced, gripping its shifting, shadowy form with both hands. The flames around his fingers flared, burning straight through the entity's body. The ghost howled, writhing in agony.

But then—

The ghost fought back.

A black tendril shot from its form, wrapping around Richard's throat like a vice.

Before he could react, another tendril plunged straight through his shoulder.

Richard's body jerked as searing pain shot through him. Blood spilled from the wound, staining his clothes as the ghost lifted him off the ground. His flames flickered, sputtering for the first time.

The ghost, though weakened, glared at him with those empty void-like eyes.

It wasn't just some mindless spirit. It was intelligent.

It knew how to fight.

With a snarl, the ghost whipped Richard across the factory, sending him crashing into a pile of broken machinery. A loud crack echoed as something snapped in his ribs.

Richard coughed up blood, his vision swimming. His body twitched—the flames flickering erratically around him.

But before he could get his bearings—

SLASH!

The ghost rushed him, moving like a shadowed blur. Its claws ripped through his chest, tearing deep wounds into his flesh. Blood splattered onto the concrete floor.

Richard let out a choked gasp, staggering backward as pain exploded through his body. The ghost didn't stop—it rammed him, sending him skidding across the ground.

He tried to stand, but his legs buckled. His entire body was trembling, blood pouring from his wounds. His blue flames sputtered, unstable.

And then—

The ghost laughed.

A guttural, distorted chuckle that echoed through the burning factory.

Richard gritted his teeth, but something inside him was shifting.

The fire wasn't enough.

He needed to hurt it.

No.

He needed to burn it alive.

A twisted grin spread across his bloodied lips. His blue flames flared violently, but this time—they weren't just flames.

They were hungry.

They wanted destruction.

The ghost lunged at him again, but Richard met it halfway.

This time, he didn't dodge.

He let its claws sink into his flesh—

And then, with a feral growl, he grabbed the ghost's face with both hands.

The flames exploded.

The ghost screamed as Richard's blue fire poured into its body, setting its very essence ablaze.

But Richard didn't stop.

He dug his fingers in deeper, pressing into its shadowy flesh. His flames crawled up the creature's body, devouring it inch by inch.

The ghost thrashed, trying to escape. But Richard held on tighter, forcing his flames deeper.

More.

More.

MORE.

He could feel it suffering.

And he loved it.

A dark laugh bubbled from Richard's throat—low and unhinged, a laugh that wasn't entirely his own.

The ghost let out an ear-piercing wail, its body starting to disintegrate.

But before Richard could finish it—

A voice.

"Richard, STOP!"

Everything froze.

His flames flickered. His vision blurred.

For a moment, the uncontrollable hunger inside him—vanished.

The factory lurched back into focus.

The ghost, now barely holding itself together, crawled away, black mist dripping from its wounds. The entire factory was wrecked—walls charred, metal twisted from the sheer heat.

Richard's hands trembled.

His body still craved more destruction.

But his mind…

His mind was his own again.

He staggered backward, chest heaving, staring at his own hands—at the carnage he had just unleashed.

What…

What the hell was he becoming?

The flames crackled one last time—

Then faded.

Richard collapsed to his knees.