Chapter 11
1943 Words
The ghostly pale hand scraped across the hood, leaving dried bloodstains and claw marks. The vengeful spirit slowly crawled up from beneath the car, its translucent body showing multiple fractures, its horrifying visage enough to silence crying children.
The specter had no head—just a grayish-white bleeding neck stump. The children weren't crying because they'd already fainted from terror.
In an instant, Wayne's face turned paler than the ghost: "s**t, s**t… this car's been in an accident. The victim's come for revenge."
“G-g-ghost…”
As Wayne saw the apparition, William in the passenger seat naturally saw it too. He frantically pointed forward, attempting to repel the spirit with warmth-radiating light.
He failed.
Veronica placed a hand on William's shoulder, interrupting his spellcasting: "Not a victim. It's a trap set by Deathwalkers. Using magic would alert them and jeopardize our capture operation."
Veronica didn't want William to alert the enemy. She was done with curses and determined to capture the Deathwalker this time. As for those horrifying-looking ghosts, they were harmless scare tactics that would disappear once the car left the spell's range.
So, be brave. Nothing bad will happen.
William made a disgusted face. He knew Veronica was right, but…
“Easy for you to say! Why don't you open your eyes then!”
“……”
Veronica didn't respond, turning to look out the window instead. With a thud, another ghostly hand slapped against the window, startling her so badly her face turned pale and she shivered instantly.
Coming to her senses, Veronica secretly peeked again through narrowed eyelids.
Scared, but still wanting to look.
“They can't touch us, just pretend they're not there. Just slow down a bit. Besides, ghosts are transparent—they won't affect driving.”
Monica said with her eyes closed.
“You open your eyes too!”
William shouted angrily. Seeing the beautiful girl and cat huddled together tightly in the backseat, he desperately wanted to join them.
Unfortunately, he couldn't—he was in the front seat and could only hug Wayne.
Turning his head, he saw Wayne slowing down the car… with his eyes closed.
“Damn it, you're driving!”
William wasn't scared to death by ghosts, but was thoroughly frightened by Wayne. He hastily rolled up the side window and roared at Wayne to keep his eyes on the road and drive safely.
It took William a full two years to get his driver's license. As a self-aware road hazard, he strictly restrained himself from ever touching the steering wheel. He also deeply understood one truth: whether a car gets into an accident or hits someone depends entirely on whether the driver follows traffic rules.
To give an example, even if a pedestrian obeyed all traffic rules and was watching TV on their sofa at home, separated from the road by a small garden, William was confident he could still run them over.
Being overly self-aware, William feared car accidents more than ghosts. Seeing Wayne driving with his eyes closed, his voice even turned effeminate with fear: "Veronica, maybe we should just kill them, I'm scared."
“Shame on you, a believer of the Sun Goddess, actually being afraid of ghosts.”
“So what？ Is there any rule saying followers of the Sun Goddess can't be afraid of ghosts？!”
William was nearly in tears: "Besides, I'm not afraid of ghosts, I'm afraid of Wayne - he's driving without looking at the road, with his eyes closed."
“……”
In the back seat, Veronica and Monica finally realized the seriousness of the situation and began scolding loudly with harsh words.
In the distance, the blue sedan covered with translucent ghosts was shaking violently.
……
A moment later, the blue family car resumed normal driving. Just as Veronica had said, once they drove beyond a certain range, the ghosts would leave on their own.
Wayne in the driver's seat requested a change of drivers, but was vetoed. Everyone in the car was afraid of ghosts, and no one was willing to open the door and get out.
William was the quickest to shake off his fear. Seeing Wayne still traumatized, he couldn't help but warn: "Wayne, I never thought you'd be afraid of ghosts. Trust me, you'll encounter similar situations many times in the future. Get used to it quickly and don't embarrass us mages."
You've already completely embarrassed the reputation of mages!
Wayne snorted in response, defending himself: "I'm a conservative. Ghosts and such are too avant-garde for my tastes, I can't accept them."
“Give it up, you're clearly just afraid of ghosts.”
William got mischievous and chuckled: "Alright then, how about I tell you a few ghost romance stories to help you overcome your fear？"
“Are they decent？ If they're decent then forget it.”
Wayne glanced at William, knowing he was trying to scare him, and said with a cold face: "Speaking of horror stories, I actually have a terrifying one here. From childhood till now, I've spent the first half of my life relying on this story to scare myself."
“Let's hear it.”
William swallowed hard in a low voice.
In the back seat, Veronica leaned in to listen—afraid, but eager to hear.
“It was a silent moonless night. A child said to their mother, 'Mom, there's a child under the bed…'”
Wayne narrated the story with dramatic pauses: "The mother looked under the bed, and sure enough, there was a child—an exact copy of the one on the bed. The child said… 'Mom, there's a child on the bed!'"
“And then？”
William's face paled as he shakily pressed against the car window. In the back, Veronica held her breath and clutched the black cat Monica tightly.
The cat felt suffocated.
“And then…”
Wayne slowed the car, first giving William a meaningful look before saying solemnly: "The mother spanked the twin sibling."
“……”
Wayne's twist on horror stories wasn't groundbreaking, but for this era, it could be considered innovative - effectively ruining the atmosphere and making William's subsequent short stories seem utterly mundane.
Not scary at all.
————
The blue car crossed a stone bridge, rumbling along the uneven road as raindrops pattered against the windows.
Wayne turned on the windshield wipers, catching glimpses of the town's silhouette through the blur.
Under the gloomy sky, scattered lights appeared hazy through the mist. The rain failed to wash away the fog but dampened all noise, leaving the entire town eerily quiet except for occasional dog barks.
Wayne drove onto the town's main street, where most shops on either side were closed, with only the bars and inns remaining open.
At the street's end stood a church enclosed by fences, its rooftop cross standing firm against wind and rain - representing both Carfano Town and the orthodox faith of the entire Chosen Continent.
The Creator!
The faith in the Creator boasted a far longer history and more enduring resilience than those bizarre goddess cults. Wayne found it strange how these conflicting beliefs coexisted peacefully rather than erupting into bloody religious wars.
As the orthodox faith that determines the name of the Chosen Continent, the Church worships the Heavenly Father who created all things, firmly grasping the highest power of the entire world in the name of God. Followers of other deities are branded as heretics, and beauties like Veronica would be labeled as witches, completing the trilogy of prison, basement, and stake.
This is how the Chosen Continent should be in Wayne's mind. The current chaotic situation with multiple coexisting faiths defies logic and cannot be rationally explained.
The Chosen Continent has magic, and gods truly exist, proving that the Heavenly Father Creator is indeed a real deity.
If you're the Creator, naturally you'd be supreme. What status do these minor gods have to sit at the same table with me, competing for the faith in my bowl？
But if the Creator doesn't actually exist, merely being a fabricated virtual idol, how could he defeat other gods to become the orthodox faith？ How could he dominate and oppress royal families across nations？
The contradiction puzzles Wayne, who speculates whether the goddesses might be paying the Heavenly Father Creator with s****l favors.
But upon reconsideration, that seems unlikely. If s*x could make the Creator turn a blind eye, the male gods who missed their payments would have been wiped out long ago.
Unless the Creator is a benevolent god who sees men and women as equals in his eyes.
Boom!!!
A thunderclap erupted as torrential rain began to fall, interrupting Wayne's shameless reasoning. He opened the car door and unfurled an umbrella.
“Hmph!”
Veronica in the back seat cleared her throat pointedly. Assuming his driver role, Wayne opened the rear door to shield her with the umbrella.
Veronica perfectly played the part of a wealthy young lady, cradling her black cat as she walked toward the inn without uttering a word, leaving all communication to Wayne.
At the reception counter, Wayne closed his umbrella while quickly scanning the first-floor layout. His eyes landed on two plainly dressed young women seated on the right-side bench.
Heavy makeup, plunging necklines, and very white necklaces.
Under Veronica's slightly disdainful gaze, Wayne skillfully exchanged glances—first reaching silent understanding with one woman, then the other.
He wanted them both!
Wayne booked three rooms. When the overly familiar innkeeper inquired, he briefly explained their predicament.
Passing through, nightfall, rain… needing rest…
His polite words carried such exhaustion that even the nosy innkeeper couldn't press further, simply leading the group upstairs and sending up dinner.
After the innkeeper left, the two ladies knocked on Wayne's door. Upon entering, they saw an eager William and Veronica sitting by the bed with a black cat in her arms.
“Sir, this situation calls for an extra fee.”
"Don't worry, the payment will satisfy you." Wayne nodded, indicating everything was negotiable.
The scene shifts—the two ladies huddle together, their bodies limp as if drained of soul, drool dripping from their slackened lips, their eyes dull and unfocused.
Needless to say, they had eaten the mushrooms.
Veronica's method of gathering intel remained straightforward and brutal. Swift and decisive, she disliked wasting time and went straight to the point, asking about Bloody Mike's whereabouts.
The town of Cafono wasn't large. Due to the impact of industrialization, many young laborers had long since flocked to cities, causing the town's population to decline yearly. Finding traces of Bloody Mike wouldn't be difficult.
Veronica knew Deathwalker's full name—Mike Nelson—and that he was preparing for marriage soon. In a dwindling town like this, such an event was undoubtedly a lively occasion. She was confident she could find out his home address.
Logically this should have worked, but Bloody Mike turned out to have strong moral principles—he didn't invite the local girls to any bachelor party, causing Veronica's plan to fail again as she couldn't extract any information.
The scene shifts again, this time to the hotel owner in a dazed state. He, however, was well-informed and knew where Mike Nelson lived.
“Drive west, through Oak Tree Lane. That's where the Nelson family estate is located.”
“Estate？!”
Veronica frowned: "What kind of estate？ Is his family very wealthy？"
“They used to be extremely rich. The town of Carvorno was actually named by the Nelson family ancestors. Back then, all the land in town belonged to the Nelsons—until one night…”
“Everyone went mad!”
- Writer
