SHAMAN PROTOCOL
Chapter 61: He Survived, But The World Still Rots

Chapter 61: He Survived, But The World Still Rots

"Is that... is that a human ear?"

Mikel’s voice cracked in horror as he looked down at what he had just thrown up. It wasn’t even the bland chicken breast he was served earlier, but a large, chewed-up, almost unidentifiable lump of flesh.

"There’s no way this came out of me," he blurted, sickened at the thought of having harbored that inside him.

Amon quietly walked over to the glob of ectoplasm, spotting a human ear embedded within it. Squatting down, he tilted his head and examined it calmly.

Mikel glanced at him, waiting for a reaction. But what came next almost triggered his gag reflex.

Amon reached into the ectoplasm, rubbing the slime between his thumb and fingers. Then, without hesitation, he brought his hand to his nose for a sniff, and licked his fingertip to taste it.

"Ick—" Mikel recoiled in disgust, his face twisting. He stared at the man in disbelief.

Sniffing it was one thing, but tasting it?

If Amon threw up next, Mikel figured it wouldn’t just be stomach acid—it’d be powdered bone.

"It’s strange," Amon finally said, glancing between Mikel and Danika. "It seems the Type X planted a part of itself inside him."

Danika, still pale, managed to recompose herself. "Planted a part of itself in him?"

Her gaze shifted to Mikel, her brows furrowing.

"That is indeed strange," she muttered. "Why would it do that?"

They’d seen possessions leave remnants behind before—but not like this. Not this large. Not this intact.

And this was a Type X.

Those monsters didn’t need to do anything elaborate to curse someone. All it took was a whisper.

Meanwhile, Mikel furrowed his brows.

Type X?

He slowly turned his attention back to the glob of ectoplasm, scanning it more closely. Then, a memory suddenly hit him. He remembered the fight with the tank top Type X.

Hadn’t he burned off half that bastard’s head?

Don’t tell me...

His pupils dilated as realization hit him like a truck.

This... this is the Imprint?!

Mikel mentally gasped, and for a moment, he could’ve sworn he felt the Book of the Dead smirking.

He looked around, but Doom’s screen wasn’t there. It had gone offline the moment Amon and Danika appeared. Another safety parameter to hide its presence from them.

"We’ll take this to the lab," Danika said after a beat, shifting her sharp gaze to Mikel. "And you..."

She trailed off, eyes narrowing as she assessed him from head to toe. She couldn’t sense anything abnormal. Then again, she hadn’t sensed anything even before the exorcism.

She pushed the thought aside for now.

They had drawn out the lingering residue and she trusted her smoke to have purged everything.

"The doctor says you’re miraculously fine and can go home. But I advise you to stay until you’ve fully recovered," she continued, voice calm yet sharp. "We’ve set up a safety perimeter around the hospital. So, rest in peace."

Rest in peace? I sometimes wish I could.

"Uh." Mikel tilted his head slightly, choosing not to dwell on the way she phrased that. Instead, he looked over at Amon, who was already sealing the ectoplasm into a specimen bag.

Once he finished, Amon rose, and Danika had already turned to leave. She stopped a few paces ahead, glancing over her shoulder at Mikel.

"Also—the headmaster heard about your home renovation," she said. "He wants you to visit him. He’s betting you won’t stay here until your cast is off."

With that, she walked away, and Amon turned to give Mikel a short nod, still holding the transparent bag of ectoplasm.

Is he just going to walk around carrying that?

Mikel shook his head, brushing the thought aside.

"Wait!" he called out. Their steps slowed as they both looked back at him.

"You’re right. I’m not staying. But... can you give me a ride to the headmaster’s home tonight?"

He raised his cast with an awkward smile. "I could use a little help here. Heh."

*

*

*

"Damn those two," Mikel grumbled, slouched in an empty bus, frowning deeply.

Earlier, he had asked if they (Danika and Amon) could drive him to the headmaster’s home. And him, sitting on public transport in the middle of the night with his cast, said it all.

They had refused.

They had processed his discharge, though—but not before Amon asked, more than once, if he was absolutely sure. Danger was still out there. The Type X could come back to finish the job.

Mikel insisted. And since he wasn’t officially under the academy’s or Zone Zero’s umbrella yet, they didn’t have the authority to stop him. They had already helped him as much as they could, and couldn’t be bothered to babysit him.

"Tsk." He clicked his tongue.

Then, Doom’s system screen flickered back to life.

[I am back, Master.]

He stared at the screen flatly, mouth opening, then closing again. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what to say—he just wondered if it was worth saying out loud.

"Say, Doom," he muttered, leaning back. "You saw what happened back there, didn’t you? Even if you were offline."

[...Yes.]

"Figured." He turned his eyes to the window.

[Do you need an explanation about the ectoplasm you threw up?]

"No." He sighed. "At this point, I’m not even angry at the book for putting that inside me."

The ectoplasm was disgusting, but it was what kept him alive. He wasn’t grateful, but... it had bought him time. It had gotten him out of the hospital.

Not necessarily a good thing. Leaving the hospital wasn’t an escape. It was just the beginning of the next phase.

He glanced at Doom. "If I’m right, the Imprint’s gone now, right?"

[Yes. You would’ve expelled it yourself the same way once its essence was depleted.]

[It is not meant to stay.]

Mikel’s eye twitched. "So I’m not dying, even though it’s out of me?"

[The Recovery Protocol can take over from here—unless you encounter another lethal threat.]

"I see." He leaned into the seat again, letting silence fill the space.

Doom didn’t ask him where he was going. It already knew.

Mikel had survived, but the world was still rotting.

He still had a home to rebuild. And soon, people would begin entering the sealed-off South Block of District 5 to scavenge or inspect what was left. Once that began, the renovation would be impossible to finish before school started.

The Blood Chain would grow hungry again.

And there was still that crystal waiting to be filled, and a Phantom Contract to seal.

He couldn’t afford to idle.

He had to grit his teeth and push forward—for his home, for the Protocol, and for his survival.

---

Over an hour later, Mikel stepped into the familiar study—only to be greeted by the floating ghost blanket yelling into a telephone in a pitchy, childlike voice.

"Basil! Milk for Mikey! A gallon! It’ll fix his broken arm!"

Mikel deadpanned, shaking his head slightly.

I’ve seen him before, but... this headmaster is seriously ridiculous.

[I don’t like him.]

Yeah. Get in line.

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