Chapter 75:

Ghostly Words

[ Command recognized! Scanning surroundings... ]

"That's promising," I said.

"What is?" Stephen asked. "I really wish I had one of those things."

"No, you don't," we all three said.

Stephen laughed nervously. "Yeah, maybe not..."

"What's your mask doing, Darce?" Netta asked.

"It's scanning for ghosts and—whoa!"

The mask jerked me up and I stood on the table and jumped down. A reticle filled my vision, giant at first but it shrunk, honing in on something deeper inside the writing nook.

[ Lifeform detected! Possibly lacking... In life! ]

What a weird way of phrasing the search but, whatever. I gestured to the others.

"There's one here. Maybe."

Everyone got to their feet at once. Stephen got to my side the quickest, which surprised me. The Stephen of a few months ago definitely wouldn't be this bold. But he also didn't see what an Interverse ghost looked like first hand. It looked like we were about to change that, the reading just kept getting stronger as I approached a counter along the far wall.

"Here!?" Stephen asked. "How is that possible, I haven't seen any haunted happenings."

"I don't think that's how it works," I said. "They stay dormant, building energy."

"The masks release em," Dowser said, already brandishing his big axe.

"Well, how about we don't do that? At least not here? Darcy?" Stephen pleaded but I wasn't listening.

I crept closer, to the source of the reading: an old typewriter.

"Stephen, what's the history of that?" I pointed to it.

"What even is it?" Dowser asked.

"It's a typewriter," Stephen explained. "Like an early keyboard. It's a recreation of the original owner of this place's first typewriter. He used it for most of his writing life and, so I heard, he would even continue to use it here in the Interverse. You're telling me the reading is coming from it?"

I nodded. The reticle got even smaller and spun around and around, the typewriter beginning to glow that unfortunately familiar sickly green.

[ Release the ghost? ]

Netta grabbed my hand. "Wait. We should prepare first."

"Yeah, by taking it the hell out of here!" Stephen yelled.

I listened to Netta and backed away from the typewriter for the time being. And then turned to Stephen. "Dude, this place is expensive as hell, yeah? I know you must have the feature to return it all to its default state if it gets messed up, right?"

Stephen went quiet. "Maybe..."

"So this is the perfect spot to fight it," I said. "I mean where else can we take it?"

"Kenzo's training room," he offered.

I was mid-retort when it dawned on me that that was actually a pretty good idea. We didn't know what the ghost was capable of exactly if we released it here...

"Do you think the ghost could travel between the layers of a location?" I asked.

Stephen snapped his fingers. "That's exactly what I was thinking!"

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

I rolled my eyes. He was totally more concerned with his shit getting wrecked. But it's possible that thought about the layers hadn't even occurred to him, or the others. They all looked a little sheepish.

"Okay, well, let's assume it can. We need to take it somewhere safer." I went to pick it up and add it to my inventory... But it wouldn't budge.

Dowser saw me struggling and cracked his knuckles. "Let me try."

I got out of his way as he grabbed both sides of the typewriter and lifted. It didn't budge a bit. He tried a few more times.

"That thing isn't going anywhere," Dowser said, deadpanned, taking his defeat much better than I thought he would. He returned to his spot beside Netta without another word.

Stephen gave me a look and I instinctively knew what it meant: we should try our mental powers. I nodded and he did the honors, staring at the typewriter, gathering his energy around it, and flicking his head back.

It didn't budge.

"Well, that settles it," I said. "It has to be fought here."

Stephen sighed. "I'll start booting the people in the other layers. It's getting late anyway." His eyes glazed over as he went to do just that.

"Darcy, I found something helpful," Netta said. She'd been awfully quiet. "Check this out."

She shared her view with me, showing the inside of her mask, which was filled with a bunch of words.

[ Perks of forming a Skull Party:

> You will look very cool.

> You can make friends with other members.

> You can choose the number of spoils that will go to who, per ghost caught. ]

My eyes went wide. "Does that mean what I think it does?"

"If you're thinking it means that we will be able to give you our won Stats then, yes!"

I got a bit emotional. That she was willing to fight for me and give me all the Stats. How did such a nice person come to join the Skulls?

"I'm sure Dowser will be willing to give up his points, too!" She nudged him with her elbow.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but sure!" Dowser said with a big smile.

I laughed. "Thank you, guys. I'll make it up to you somehow."

Dowser shook his head vigorously. "No, remember, we are already in your debt."

"Right." I smiled and sent invites to them both. They accepted and our masks flashed with their icy blue flames.

"Why does literally everything the mask does have to cause us pain?" I asked with a wince.

Stephen returned before either of them could reply.

"Okay, people weren't too happy about it, but I closed the place down. It's just us, in all the layers."

We all turned to stare at the typewriter. A collective breath was taken. And then I locked onto it with the mask again.

[ Release the ghost?

YES/NO ]

[ YES ]

#

A green hand was the first to breach the surface of the typewriter. It reached forward, hitting the surface of the counter with a wave of sickly energy.

"Oh, my God," Stephen said.

"You can see it?" I asked. Up until now, I wasn't sure if the masks were the only way to see them.

"I can. Oh, fuck why does it look like that?"

Another hand smacked onto the counter and pulled itself forward, a head popping out next.

"THERE YOU ARE YOU LITTLE FUCKER!!" The ghost screamed, a finger pointed at... Stephen?

"M-me??" Stephen stammered. "What did I do!?"

"What DIDN'T you do!?" The ghost screamed again, green spittle going everywhere.

If it wasn't for the green, he would have been a normal authorly kind of older gentleman. Long white beard, a balding head with the remnants of hair, and dressed in a full suit. Which we got to see more of as he continued to pull himself out from inside the typewriter.

I equipped my fishbowl helmet and stepped in front of Stephen. "Let's kill it as fast as possible," I said, putting the intention in my fists as Netta and Dowser joined my side, both brandishing their own weapons.

I led the charge, punching the monster right in the face. Netta stuck her spear down his throat when he opened it to scream in pain, and Dowser came down with his axe, aiming to sever his hands clean off. But the ghost recoiled back into the typewriter, narrowly avoiding the attack.

Netta's spear came out covered in green ectoplasm.

"Did that do it?" Stephen asked, peeking over my shoulder. "Is it dead?"

No way it would be that easy. As if reacting to my thought, the ghost roared and exploded from the typewriter all in one go, giving us the first glimpse of his full form which... Wasn't too impressive, honestly. He was just an angry-looking old guy, floating and glowing. He was nowhere near as terrifying as the last one.

We fell back, preparing for it to charge. Instead, it did something much worse. It plunged its hand into the typewriter and its green glow spread, encasing the device in the glow. He hoisted it up in front of him and he took up formation like he was sitting in a chair, just hovering above us.

Dowser was the first to realize we probably shouldn't let him finish what he was doing. "Hey, you fuck, put that down!" He switched to his rocket launcher and all three of us freaked out.

"No more explosions, dude!" I exclaimed.

"We almost died last time!" Netta said.

He sighed. "Fiiiine... I really wish you guys would forget about that..."

The distraction made us completely miss our chance to attack the ghost before setting up his attack. By the time I turned back to face him he was in full writer mode, slamming away at the keys.

"What's he doing?" Dowser asked. "Fuck, I don't care, shoot him!"

He switched to a shotgun and laid into the ghost. But a wave of green rushed out and pushed the bullets back. The green wave slowly took a form, becoming... Letters?

"He's using the words as a weapon," Stephen said.

I think we could all see that was happening and we launched attacks at him. The ghost flew around, dodging our attacks, and counting to mash at the keyboard. Head-sized letters shot straight for us.

Or, that's what I thought. I brought my fist into the one nearest me and it started around me. I spun around in time to see more letters dodging the others too and going straight for the worst possible target.

They converged on Stephen, going through our line of defense like it was nothing. He screamed as they covered him and hoisted him into the air.