SHAMAN PROTOCOL
Chapter 62: A Glimpse Of The Lantern

Chapter 62: A Glimpse Of The Lantern

"Milk, Sir Mikel."

Butler Basil held the tray close to Mikel, offering the young man a welcoming smile.

"Thank you." Mikel took the milk carton and watched Butler Basil walk toward the desk.

"Headmaster, Sir Mikel came here to discuss something important," Butler Basil said as he adjusted the chair properly. "Please, stop hovering beside him."

"Ack—" The headmaster, who was the blanket ghost, flinched as both Mikel and Butler Basil turned to him.

There he was again with his ghostly fabric uncomfortably pressed against Mikel’s cheek.

"But I’m checking Mikey’s injury!" the headmaster protested, quickly retreating from Mikel’s personal space. "I heard he was cursed! I want to help him after he drinks his milk!"

Butler Basil said nothing as he quietly dragged the chair back a bit. The headmaster didn’t speak either, but his movement gave the impression of a sigh before he reluctantly floated to the seat.

Why is he sitting down? He’s a blanket, Mikel thought, watching the headmaster position himself across the desk.

"Sir Mikel," Butler Basil said, gesturing to the chair. "Please take a seat."

Mikel glanced at the chair and nodded, sitting across from the headmaster. As soon as he sat down, he stared at the ghostly blanket in front of him.

The headmaster dipped out of view for a moment, then floated up again. The sleeping mask over his hallowed eye had changed. Earlier, it showed a cartoonishly dilated eye; now it was squinting. Somehow, these printed sleeping masks conveyed expression—ridiculous, but surprisingly effective.

Still absurd... but Mikel was getting used to the absurdity of this world.

He drew a deep breath, his expression turning stern. "Headmaster, before anything else—thank you. For covering the hospital costs and sending Danika and Amon to do a welfare check."

"That is nothing!" the headmaster waved under his blanket. "You’re my student, of course I’ll check on you! Stefan just left you there out cold, so I was worried! I’m still glad he didn’t kill you! He probably liked you!"

"..." Mikel’s mind briefly drifted to Stefan. He glanced at Butler Basil, then at the headmaster, and thought of Danika and Amon.

He had come here with a request he didn’t expect to be granted. But another reason was to gauge how much the headmaster knew—whether Stefan had told them more than just that Mikel had been ambushed.

More specifically, if they knew about the cursed relics.

So far, it didn’t seem like they did.

"You see, Stefan is quite cold—unlike Danika and Amon! He’s a real headache!" the headmaster rambled on. "Not very polite, but very reliable! It’s a good thing he found you before the Type X killed one of my students again!"

He continued babbling until Butler Basil knocked on the desk.

"Ick—" the headmaster paused and turned to Butler Basil, who stood silently beside him.

"Headmaster," Butler Basil said with a pleasant smile.

"Ahem!" The headmaster cleared his throat and faced Mikel. "What I’m saying is, you’ve faced a Type X—and hopefully, you now understand the danger they carry. Even a fraction of their power is devastating. Even Zone Zero has to deploy elite teams to confront them."

His tone shifted, growing solemn. "It may be impressive that you survived, but I hope you now understand—they are not to be underestimated."

Mikel remained silent, but mentally agreed. The last time he was here, the headmaster had already mentioned the Type X. Back then, Mikel had dismissed it. After all, he took down a Blighted, and the Blighted tier was supposedly close to Type X.

But now, he knew better.

Even if the tiers looked close on paper, the real power of a Type X was on a whole different level. The gap was enormous.

"And now," the headmaster continued, "their danger has escalated. Even with the blessing I gave you to avoid being hunted... even with students being kept in safe spaces—they still found you, them."

Mikel’s eyes widened. "Others were hurt too?"

"I told you before, Mikey. They’re hunting young shamans," the headmaster’s tone darkened. His blanket hands folded in front of him. "Zone Zero is investigating the phenomenon with too many factors to consider. The night they attacked you, there were simultaneous attacks around the world."

He paused. Despite the cartoonish squint of his sleeping mask, Mikel could feel the weight of his gaze.

"We’re on high alert, Mikey. But that’s not your burden right now. Your focus should be your own safety."

"I suggest you stay here for the time being," he added. "You survived this time. But next time... you might not. The inks on your skin may have hidden you from lower-tiered Type X, but now I’m certain—it’s no longer enough."

Silence settled over the room. Both the headmaster and Butler Basil kept their eyes on Mikel.

He stared back.

"I can’t," Mikel finally said. "Headmaster, I have a home to finish. And ghosts I made a promise to."

He exhaled, slowly and fully. "I know you’ll ask me to stay, but I can’t abandon ship. That house is all I have left from my grandmother. I can’t walk away from it—not when she left it in my care."

"Mikey, you’ve met a Type X," the headmaster repeated. "We can’t always be there to protect you."

"I’ll be careful."

"Do you think being careful will stop them?"

No... but...

Mikel’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes glinting with resolve. "Headmaster, what is a shaman’s role—aside from exorcising malevolent spirits and fighting Type X monsters?"

Silence.

Neither the headmaster nor Butler Basil answered. They only stared at the young man, whose eyes still burned with determination, even after surviving hell.

"I might have deeper reasons for joining the academy now... but I want to finish what I started first," Mikel said, his resolve unwavering. "Please. Let me complete my home. Let me keep my promise to those ghosts."

Again, the headmaster didn’t respond immediately. He studied Mikel, as if waiting for the boy’s resolve to crack.

"Mikey." After a beat, the headmaster’s childlike yet solemn voice echoed. "You will die."

Mikel didn’t flinch. He didn’t react, as if the words meant nothing to him.

"Luck is an illusion," the headmaster continued. "And coincidence is not the way of the world."

"What happened to you will happen again—maybe seconds from now, maybe days. We don’t know when they’ll strike. All we can do is prepare... and try to reduce the casualties."

Another moment passed in silence, the tension heavy in the air.

"If I let you walk out of here... it might be the last time we speak," the headmaster warned. "They will come. They always do. Are you willing to take that risk?"

Mikel’s answer didn’t come right away. He thought of everything that had happened. Then, he nodded. This time, he made his choice with full awareness of its weight.

"Yes," he whispered. "I’m willing to take that risk. If it means I can move forward without carrying the guilt of breaking my word, not just to the ghosts, but to my grandmother’s grave."

"..." The headmaster stared at him. Then, at last, he sighed. "Well... if that’s the decision you’re going to make, then I have no reason to keep you here."

"Thank you."

"So?" the headmaster hummed. "If not for refuge, why have you come?"

Mikel straightened. "Danika mentioned you were aware of the ghost labor. And I heard the rescue team plans to reopen the South Block. If they do, I won’t make it before school starts. The ghosts working night shifts aren’t the problem—it’s smuggling in construction materials that’ll become difficult."

"What I’m asking is... can you stop it from happening? Can you stop them from opening the South Block?"

The headmaster didn’t reply.

But the hinges of the windows rattled at the howling of the night breeze.

And in that wind, in the silence between words, Mikel knew deep down — it was their last warning.

Whether he would live to see the academy’s gates... or end up like so many others...

It was a result of the decision he made tonight.

---

Meanwhile, in a ruined chapel nestled deep in the quiet countryside...

Somewhere nearby, an old, rusty lantern flickered to life—its flame sparking in the darkness, with only the wind as witness to its silent glow.