Losing Control
952 Words
Ye Sha felt his chest tighten with unease, as if an unbearable truth was about to unfold.
From behind the broadcast room door, a familiar figure emerged. She still wore her high ponytail and alluringly tight athletic outfit. But the enchanting spark in her eyes was gone, replaced by a lifeless, shadowy gray.
Liu Yuning’s presence was suffocating. Black mist roiled around her, emanating a crushing aura far beyond the grotesque stitched monster from moments earlier.
Ye Sha’s nose twitched, and his emerald-green wolf eyes welled with uncontrollable tears. His chest ached as though gripped by an unseen hand, leaving him gasping for air.
“If I hadn’t brought you with me… would you have been safer?”
He muttered to himself, his voice trembling. His mind replayed their promises from the night before, now cruelly shattered by the cruel division of life and death.
“Ahhhh!”
Grief turned to fury, igniting an inferno of rage. Ye Sha, in his werewolf form, threw back his head and howled at the ceiling. The sound shattered nearby storefront windows, sending shards flying everywhere.
His muscles bulged, veins snaking across his fur-covered body. Drool dripped from his elongated jaws as reason slipped further and further away.
From the speakers, the eerie broadcast laughed maniacally, its voice laced with glee. “Hehehe… This is perfect! The best toy I’ve ever had!”
Yet even as Ye Sha descended into madness, a flicker of restraint remained. He didn’t attack Liu Yuning. Instead, his nose twitched furiously, sniffing the air as though desperately searching for something.
Controlled by the dark mist, Liu Yuning struck first. Waves of black energy surged toward Ye Sha with destructive force.
Refusing to fight back, Ye Sha evaded clumsily, darting and dodging the relentless barrage. The once-lustrous fur on his werewolf form grew scruffy and dull under the relentless onslaught. His movements, though frantic, carried a purpose—he was still searching.
Outside the mall, a police barricade surrounded the building, keeping civilians at bay.
Thick black mist engulfed the entire structure, far denser than what had enveloped the gym yesterday.
Police captain Wang Yanjin stood at the forefront, his expression grim. In recent days, the number of eerie incidents in Jiangyang City had escalated sharply. Two incidents in two days—if this trend continued, the city might fall into chaos, much like Jiangyin.
Behind him, a figure dressed in black approached, carrying a long sword on their back. The newcomer exuded a calm yet commanding presence.
Wang Yanjin had only met this man earlier that morning. He was an elite operative from Jiangyin City’s frontline, taking a brief “vacation” from his duties—or so it was claimed.
The man glanced at the building and spoke in a low voice. “The aura of corruption is overwhelming.”
Wang Yanjin nodded solemnly, having worked alongside operatives from the Exorcist Bureau before. They called the sinister black mist corruption aura, and its density and spread were indicators of an incident's severity.
“Team Leader Li, what’s your assessment? Should we act?” asked Wang Yanjin’s superior, who had joined them.
Li Chengfeng, the man with the sword, offered a faint smile. “We don’t have a choice. The aura is already this dense. If we give it time to grow stronger, it could become catastrophic.”
He sighed inwardly. Just days ago, he’d been in Jiangyin, dealing with similarly devastating incidents. Now, in Jiangyang, the nightmare continued.
Still, they were Exorcists, the first and final line of defense for humanity against the paranormal. Their motto was simple: As long as evil persists, we fight to the end.
Wang Yanjin’s gaze lingered on the sword strapped to Li Chengfeng’s back. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy.
He wished for power—the kind that could protect people. But as an ordinary police officer, his role was limited to support, a harsh truth he’d long come to terms with.
He also understood the cost of wielding such power. Exorcists were not born; they were forged.
Rumor had it that the tools of an Exorcist—known as Ethereal Weapons—were created from objects tainted by corruption. Only those who could tame these artifacts without losing their humanity could become Exorcists.
The process, however, was fraught with peril. Many failed, consumed by the very corruption they sought to wield.
Li Chengfeng’s sword, for instance, was called General Qilian. It had been unearthed from an ancient general’s tomb, where it had lain dormant for centuries.
Li’s journey to becoming an Exorcist had begun there. He was part of a national archaeological team when the tomb’s corruption was unleashed. The team was massacred by a phantom general.
In a desperate bid to save his mentor, Li had grabbed a sword lying near the coffin and stabbed the phantom with reckless abandon. To everyone’s shock, the weapon worked.
Since that day, Li had become a hunter of corruption, his blade growing stronger with each battle. Ethereal Weapons, it seemed, thrived on consuming the very corruption they spawned from—a paradoxical cycle of destruction and growth.
Now, standing before the mall, General Qilian quivered on his back. It was hungry.
Li Chengfeng chuckled softly, placing a steadying hand on the hilt.
“Comrades,” he addressed the gathered officers and Exorcists, his voice firm. “Today’s mission is perilous. Some of us may not return. But we have no choice. The people are counting on us, and we cannot falter. Move out!”
“Yes, sir!”
The unified response echoed with resolve. It was the cry of those who refused to yield, a song of defiance against the encroaching darkness.
- Writer
