THE GHOST HUNTER .

Chapter 2: Chapter 2: A Fateful Encounter



The ghost let out a chilling laugh, her voice dripping with disdain.

"Hmm… and the gods call you their pride? How foolish of them."

With that, she vanished, her form dissolving into the air like smoke in the wind.

Emily, her heart pounding, forced her trembling legs to move. Step by step, she approached what remained of her parents. The sight sent a wave of nausea crashing over her—nothing but skeletons, stripped of flesh, brittle and lifeless. The ghost had consumed their bodies for mass, using them to sustain her physical form.

Tears welled up in Emily's eyes, blurring her vision. A strangled sob escaped her lips as she fell to her knees beside them, her fingers hesitantly reaching out but stopping short of touching the cold, empty bones.

Then, as if something inside her snapped, she turned toward him, rage replacing sorrow.

"Why didn't you help me?!" she screamed. "Why did you fear her so much? Haven't you killed ghosts before?! Why didn't you save them?!"

The man, who had been standing motionless, finally stirred, shaking off the uneasy air that had gripped him. His usual stoic demeanor was slightly cracked, as if the ghost's words had cut deeper than he let on. He exhaled, looking down at Emily, his voice steady but distant.

"They were already dead before we arrived, kid. There was nothing we could do."

"Liar!" she shouted. "Fine, I'll go myself and kill her!"

Without hesitation, she turned, ready to storm out and chase after the ghost. But before she could take more than two steps, the world around her spun violently. Her vision darkened, her body swayed, and within seconds, she collapsed to the ground.

---

Emily's eyes fluttered open. The soft creaking of wood and the scent of old timber filled her senses. She was lying on a simple bed, covered by a coarse but warm blanket. The room was small—just three sections divided by wooden beams, everything handmade and aged.

An old man sat nearby, meticulously sharpening a sword on a grindstone. His beard was thick, streaked with gray, and his weathered hands spoke of years of craftsmanship.

Noticing her stirring, he glanced at her with an amused expression. "Ah, finally awake, huh?"

Emily groaned, pushing herself upright. "Who are you?" she demanded.

The old man chuckled. "Just a humble blacksmith, kiddo. I forge your savior's swords."

Her expression darkened. "He is not my savior," she muttered, shoving off the blanket and swinging her legs over the bed. "I don't need him. I will kill them myself."

The blacksmith raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You mean the ghosts?"

She ignored his mocking tone and pushed herself to her feet, only for her knees to buckle slightly. Before she could fall, he was already beside her, steadying her with surprising strength for his age.

"Rest," he said, gently forcing her back onto the bed. "You need it. And besides, old man here is making a new sword."

Emily clenched her fists. "He didn't save me. He let my parents die. Let me go—I'll kill them myself!"

The old man sighed, sitting back down and resuming his work on the blade. "Listen, kid," he said. "That guy is the strongest in this world. If anyone can get your revenge, it's him. So stay put. This kingdom is rich and peaceful. You don't have to worry about anything."

"No!" she snapped. "I will go with him! I won't just sit here!"

"No means no."

With that, the blacksmith focused back on his work, leaving her fuming.

Later that evening, as the old man continued hammering away at the sword, he spoke again. "Kid, why do you persist so much?"

Emily sat near the fire, her arms crossed. She didn't look at him as she answered, "Haven't you noticed? When he said he'd get my revenge… his eyes said something else. He's afraid of her."

The blacksmith paused. Then, a knowing smile crossed his face. "Hmm… he's not one to fear ghosts. Ohhh… is that so."

Emily's eyes narrowed. "Wait. You know something, don't you?"

The old man chuckled. "Nah, just thinking aloud. Alright, I'll talk to him. Maybe he'll take you with him after all."

---

Present Day

The aroma of freshly cooked noodles filled the air as steam curled around their bowls. The two of them sat at a small wooden table in the middle of an inn, the atmosphere lively but calm.

Emily slurped up a mouthful of noodles before grinning. "Mmm, tasty! Even better when it's a treat from you, my Ray."

Across from her, the man now known as Rayan Volksikin Vex—or simply Ray—barely reacted. He continued eating in silence.

"Hmph. Still acting cold," she teased. "It's been three years since we last met, and you took care of me every single day and night. Thank you, my guardian angel."

Ray's chopsticks paused mid-air. "Don't be sentimental," he muttered.

Emily laughed softly before finishing the last of her meal.

Their journey had brought them back together, and today, they were leaving the kingdom behind. Emily carried a large bag, refusing any help, while Ray walked beside her with his usual composed stride.

Their destination was clear—a new town, a new haunting, and another mystery waiting to be unraveled.

---

The Kingdom of Astravane

Astravane was vast, its lands stretching from golden plains to deep forests. Among its many territories lay towns, villages, and even the infamous Forest of Despair—a cursed woodland feared by all.

Yet, amidst the darkness, there was a place unlike any other. At the very heart of the forest lay an expanse grander than the kingdom itself.

Here, it was said, the Goddess of Fortune resided.

Unlike the rest of the forest, where darkness reigned and spirits roamed freely, this sacred land flourished with life. Towering trees bore golden fruit, waterfalls shimmered like liquid crystal, and eternal daylight bathed the realm in warmth. It was the source of Astravane's wealth—a place that produced resources without end.

At the edge of this sacred land stood Miravale and Eldermere—twin towns that thrived under the kingdom's rule. Miravale was home to artisans, poets, and scholars, a hub of creativity where knowledge flourished. Eldermere, on the other hand, was known for its craftsmanship, where the finest weapons and armor were forged.

And now, these very towns had been plagued by a new ghostly presence.

Emily and Ray had arrived.

The hunt had begun.


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