Chapter Twenty-Two

Steven remembered spinning through the air several times. He remembered first being carried into the kitchen by the mist, then tumbling down a flight of stairs, and finally crashing onto the unyielding floor. Lani’s experience, as he recalled, was almost identical to his own, and she had landed right beside him. That was enough for him to deduce what the "soft, squishy thing" he was clutching actually was. So, feigning a struggle, he forced himself into a sitting position, making sure to rub his hand against whatever it was a few more times.

But when Steven sat upright, he saw only Lani's back. Glancing down, he realized that what he’d been holding was nothing more than a handmade doll.

“Damn it,” Steven muttered, flinging the doll away.

The basement was thick with white mist, the air heavy with the scent of decaying, damp earth.

The fog was so dense that Steven could barely make out Lani’s silhouette, though she was only a few steps away.

“So, what’s the plan?” Steven asked, standing up.

Lani walked back toward him and raised a hand. A faint flicker of orange light shimmered above her palm, but it never fully took shape.

“I can't channel spirits,” Lani said. “I’m afraid you can’t either.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions.” Steven raised his hand to the side; the doll he’d thrown came whizzing back into his grasp. “See? It’s just your technique that’s lacking.”

“I mean we can’t channel spirits in this fog,” Lani replied. “If something jumps out at us, are you planning to beat it to death with that doll?”

A blue flash of light swept toward Lani’s face, but it dissipated into the mist long before reaching her.

“This is strange,” Steven said. “Have you ever encountered anything like this before?”

“Only once—in the kitchen above us,” Lani replied. “Remember the blade of light you conjured?”

“All I remember is the shoe the Asian kid threw,” Steven said.

“Look at this,” Lani raised her hand again. “This is Alpha Fifteen’s expression level.”

Just as before, a sphere of orange light flickered into existence, shimmered, then vanished.

“This time it’s Beta Fifteen,” Lani said. “Watch the difference.”

Another orange sphere appeared, only to be instantly absorbed by the surrounding fog.

“Do you understand now?” Lani asked.

“Yeah. You failed twice in a row,” Steven replied. “Three times, counting the first.”

“All right,” Lani shook her head. “Shut your mouth and listen.” She held her wrist device’s screen up to Steven’s eyes. “Alpha means a positive expression, Beta is negative. Spirits can generally only perform negative expressions, so we use positive ones to counteract them. But when channeling spirits, no one really pays attention to these details. Someone throws something at you, you create a blade of light to smash it, not caring what mood you're in while making it.”

“You sound just like the guy hiding in the van,” Steven interjected.

“Let me finish,” Lani said. “This time, things might be different. While positive expressions can still harm that spirit, negative expressions might be absorbed and used by it. That could explain why it wants to keep us alive. If you’re frightened or in pain, the expression level when you channel will be negative, and your consciousness will be absorbed by the spirit.”

“Wait, absorb consciousness?!” Steven was taken aback. “Is that really possible?”

“You must have thought about it—your father couldn’t have been lured here by a mere ordinary spirit,” Lani said. “I actually have more direct evidence. Both Emilia and I were attacked by blue light blades, and that spirit controlled some leaves using the same paper-talisman technique as Zi’ang.”

“So you’re saying, when I channel, I have to keep thinking happy thoughts?” Steven pointed to Lani’s face. “Then we’d better do something about that of yours.”

“Even if you can maintain a positive expression,” Lani ignored his jab, “you still can’t channel in this mist. The important thing is, under no circumstances should you channel with a negative expression. Otherwise, the spirit will only grow stronger.”

“Like food,” another voice said from within the mist.

Kelly appeared in the fog to Lani’s side, most of her body still shrouded, making her seem insubstantial.

Behind Kelly, a humanoid silhouette emerged, flanked by two sharp, horizontal appendages.

“He demands I remain in mourning,” Kelly continued, “so he can keep drawing what he wants from me. But who would have thought—even after losing the most important thing, it’s impossible to stay sad forever. Physical pain is much more direct, by comparison.”

Lani glanced at the figure behind Kelly. “There’s no need for anything else to hurt you,” she said, extending a hand toward Kelly. “Come over to us.”

“You should have left long ago,” Kelly replied. “You can’t help me, and now, you can’t even help yourselves.”

Steven hurled the doll in his hand, striking the humanoid silhouette in the head.

Lani turned and shot Steven a look.

“Better than throwing a shoe, at least,” Steven said.

The humanoid figure retreated, vanishing into the dense mist.

“So, back to the original question,” Steven said. “Do we have a plan?”

“You mean, is there a way to stay positive after getting beaten half to death?” Lani scanned the surroundings with a mocking tone.

“Of course there is,” Steven replied. “I'll beat you half to death.”

A figure flashed past Lani’s side.

She tried to dodge the other way, but had barely glimpsed a ragged cloth and a few tufts of exposed straw when pain flared across her back.

The scarecrow’s strike tore through Lani’s shirt, leaving a gash across her back.

“How about this—you knock me out, and then I’ll knock you out?” Steven glanced at her wound, then turned his back to her, standing behind. “If we’re unconscious, there can’t be any negative expressions, right?”

A wooden stick shot out of the fog, striking Steven’s already injured leg.

He cried out and collapsed, clutching his leg. “Damn it, I swear…” Something in his pocket dug into his side, cutting off his curse. He pulled it out, looked at it, then glanced at the blood trickling from Lani’s wound.

“Lani, there’s something I want to say to you.” Steven hauled himself up, stepped forward, and seized her hand. “You… don’t mess things up for me! I’ll handle it alone.” He paused, then winked at her. “Why do I feel like it’s my hand that got pricked?!”

Lani pushed Steven’s outstretched hand aside, driving the syringe he held into his other hand.

“Can’t I just look cool for once?” Steven’s words began to slur.

“I have a better idea,” Lani replied. “The scarecrow is that spirit’s puppet—I can’t control it. The doll is too small and soft to do any damage. But there’s something else… Shall I go on?”

Steven frowned, then a look of realization dawned. “You bas—” His slackening facial muscles cut him off. He went limp and collapsed to the ground.

A layer of orange light shimmered over Steven, and he suddenly straightened, rising to his feet.

Lani looked at Steven, standing rigidly with eyes closed, and had to press her lips together to stifle a laugh.

The scarecrow lunged from the mist, but this time, before it could get close, Steven charged to meet it. He seized its arm, and the orange light imbued his grip with strength, allowing him to wrench the limb clean off. He toppled the scarecrow, pinning it to the floor, then raised the sharp stick that had been its arm and drove it into the scarecrow’s chest. With his other hand, he tore at its head, ripping it free from the body. He knelt there, one hand gripping the stick, the other the scarecrow’s head, arms spread wide, arching his back in a victorious howl. His face, still paralyzed, left his mouth gaping and his eyelids rolled upward, crafting a thoroughly ridiculous expression.

The scarecrow didn’t move again.

Gradually, the dense fog in the basement began to thin.

Steven collapsed face-first onto the ground, his forehead cracking against the floor with a loud thud. A faint snore soon drifted from his open mouth.

The mist dissipated completely, plunging the basement into darkness.

Lani conjured a sphere of light, then turned to Kelly, who stood not far away. “I’ll ask you one last time,” she said. “Are you ready to leave this place?”