SHAMAN PROTOCOL
Chapter 64: Union Protocol, Section 666

Chapter 64: Union Protocol, Section 666

The tale of Haleth, the boy with a lantern, was one of the oldest ghost stories from the early days of the Church. He was said to have been a young seminarian who guided the lost through the misty forests near Blackpineville, a province six hours away from District 5.

There wasn’t much information about Haleth aside from the fact that he had died in a fire.

Even now, local articles claimed that Haleth’s spirit had yet to find rest.

Some described getting lost in the forest, only to glimpse a flicker of lantern light in the distance. When they followed it, they somehow found their way back to safety. The details varied, but the theme remained the same.

Hence, the old saying:

"If lost, search for the lantern. It will guide you to the riverbank where you’ll find your way out."

"Hmm." Mikel cupped his face in his hands, eyes fixed on the monitor displaying the article. "What do you think, Doom? Is it worth checking out?"

[I cannot analyze a spirit based on hearsay, Master. But if it were right in front of you, I could.]

"Then how come you crashed when those homunculi ambushed me?"

He cast a sideways glance at Doom’s screen, but it offered no reply. He didn’t push the question—if Doom wanted to explain, it would have. Or maybe it wasn’t allowed to.

Returning his attention to the screen, Mikel cocked his head slightly.

"A spirit that helps the living, huh?" he muttered. "I thought they were all malicious."

After encountering more than a handful of ghosts and spirits, Mikel had come to appreciate the rare ones—like Maria, the river ghost. Dangerous, sure—she drowned dozens of men—but at least she was powerful.

But since Maria’s story was also on this online thread, it gave him some hope that this place might have other... candidates.

[Not all spirits with strength are malevolent. Some have resisted spiritual corruption. There’s a variety of them, just like with ghosts, Master.]

"Do you think Haleth is even real?"

The question hung in the air for a while until Doom’s answer came dry and detached.

[Hopefully.]

It would be a six-hour ride to Blackpineville. Twelve, round trip. He could send out his scouts, but he was already planning to restructure his feeding routine for the Blood Chain. He couldn’t afford to lose more ghosts by letting them tag along.

Mikel glanced down at the cast concealing his bracelet.

"He’s not hungry yet."

But he could feel it. In a few days, the gnawing would begin again.

"How long until the Recovery Protocol finishes fixing me?"

[Estimated time until full recovery: 34 hours.]

"A day and a half."

Mikel rocked his head slightly, then turned back to the screen. His eyes lingered on the illustration of the misty forest... and the faint light glowing within it.

"That’s probably enough time to fix some things here before I go chasing a damn lantern."

Mikel skimmed a few more horror threads, scribbling notes with his weaker hand. He marked those within the province—places he could actually reach. Though the legend of Haleth intrigued him the most, there was always the chance the spirit would turn out to be just another useless ghost story.

Once he finished, he decided to take a short nap before heading out to buy some new offerings and returning to the construction site.

*

*

*

Tak... tak...

The soft sound of hammering echoed faintly in Mikel’s ears as he limped down the street toward his home. He glanced up, his face twitching at the sight of long wooden planks spinning over the half-built structure.

"This is why I want this place sealed off," he muttered. "Anyone who sees that, and my house is the next haunted entry on that dumb website."

[Perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, Master.]

"Well, yeah... I mean, this area’s the poorest in District 5, and while that’s not my fault, these ruins are," he grumbled, resuming his slow limp forward, one step at a time. He held a plastic bag full of offerings in one hand and a small cake box in the other.

"I’m not gonna be the reason this neighborhood becomes known for ghost infestations."

Soon, Mikel arrived at the renovation site.

Standing at the entrance, he raised his brows at the scene in front of him.

"More wood here!" one ghost shouted. "Come on—just throw it!"

A wooden plank came flying like it weighed nothing. The ghost who had shouted caught it with one hand, likely the same one responsible for the plank Mikel had seen earlier.

But that wasn’t all.

Everyone was busy—working in sync, with purpose and energy. It wasn’t the usual chaotic mess where some ghosts hid, idled, or worked reluctantly.

Even after unionizing, they hadn’t shown this level of enthusiasm.

"Hey! What’s the hold-up? We need more cement here—"

The ghost working inside halted as a child’s voice cut through the site.

"Big brother!"

Everyone stopped. All the ghosts turned toward the sound. Those too far to see shuffled over curiously.

"Big brother!"

Arthur’s daughter ran up and latched onto Mikel’s leg. When she looked up, excitement and relief shone in her wide, glowing eyes.

She beamed at him. "Big brother is back!"

Mikel just stared down at the ghost child. He forced a small smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched, barely able to show the expression.

Thankfully, before it twisted into something awkward or grim, a familiar voice reached him.

"Mikel."

He turned toward the voice quickly, spotting Arthur.

Arthur just stood there, silently studying him from head to toe. His gaze lingered on Mikel’s casted arm, not even acknowledging the plastic bags he carried.

"I’m glad you made it back," Arthur said with a short smile, not even asking what had happened. The cast said it all.

"Yeah." Mikel nodded. "Me too. Glad I made it back."

Then he looked around. "Anyway, what’s going on here?"

"Haha!" The old ghost engineer laughed as he approached. "All of them have been competing to see who could do the most work, since we figured you wouldn’t be back this soon."

"I can’t just not come back when I’ve got a house to rebuild and ghosts to give offerings to," Mikel replied dryly, then raised his voice to the crowd. "Hey, everyone! I brought new offerings. Come get them on your break!"

"I see a cake!" one ghost clapped his hands, but didn’t move.

"Just in time for a fresh batch!"

"That plastic bag’s huge—what else did he bring?"

Despite their excitement, none of the ghosts rushed over. They stayed in place, continuing their work while chatting eagerly about the new offerings.

Confused, Mikel tilted his head. "They’re not going to try and check what I brought like usual?"

"Haha! Gregory’s been imposing strict rules since you were last here," the ghost engineer explained, chuckling as Mikel turned to him. "The union is currently under martial law. No one’s allowed to approach the shrine unless it’s officially break time."

"..." Mikel’s face twitched.

These guys really evolved in terms of their afterlife bureaucracy.

"Mikel, how about I walk you through our current progress while you’re here?" the ghost engineer offered.

"Sure," Mikel said, smacking his lips. "Let me just drop these off at the shrine first. I’ll come right back."

The ghost engineer nodded. He and Arthur watched as Mikel limped away, carrying the bags.

The engineer’s smile slowly faded. His eyes dropped to Mikel’s ankle, then to the curve of the young man’s back.

He wasn’t the only one watching.

Ghosts all around the site turned subtly, their chatter quieting as their eyes followed Mikel. Each of them was silently watching their boss limp away. A flicker of worry appeared in their hollowed eyes as their mouths curved down.

"Let’s not embarrass the boss," whispered a ghost.

"Yeah, no chaos until after cement duty."

Meanwhile, Mikel just continued until the hovering screen appeared before him.

[They pity you — how atrocious.]

That’s why I’m not looking back. They’re really not good at hiding things.

Mikel ignored the gazes on his back, not welcoming the pity from these ghosts. Pity was the last thing he wanted from them, when they were even more pitiful than he was.

Let’s just get some things done here before I make that twelve-hour trip. The lantern could wait. The ghosts couldn’t.

[Should I log this under "offering expenditure," or "desperate bribery"?]

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