SHAMAN PROTOCOL
Chapter 65: Talisman Circle

Chapter 65: Talisman Circle

Mikel sat on a stack of wooden planks in the corner, quietly sorting nails into separate trays so the ghosts wouldn’t waste time figuring out which ones to use. It was the only thing he could do, given that his Recovery Protocol hadn’t finished working its magic yet.

Meanwhile, the sounds of cheering and laughter from the shrine kept the ruins from falling into total silence.

"Mikel."

He glanced up as Arthur joined him, sitting beside him with a small smile.

"How’s everything going?" Arthur asked. "Once you’re out of here — everything good?"

"Mhm." Mikel hummed casually, returning his focus to the nails. "I’m not dead and still refusing to die, so yeah — everything’s good."

A flicker of worry passed through Arthur’s eyes. Mikel might’ve had the reputation of a delinquent, but after spending time with him as a ghost, Arthur had realized there was more to the boy than that. Mikel might look intimidating for his age, but it was only because life had forced him to grow up too soon.

And despite it all, he was kind, just not in ways most people noticed.

"I’m okay, Arthur," Mikel said again, still not looking up. "I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t."

Then, he tilted his head slightly toward him. "Anyway, those two ghosts who used to come with me on nightly errands? They’re gone. Don’t go looking for them."

"You already helped them cross over before their contracts ended?" Arthur asked, brows knitting.

[They died. Twice.]

They died. Twice.

Mikel’s brow twitched at the perfect sync between Doom’s dry system message and his own thoughts.

"Well... yeah. You could say that," he said, dropping the last nail into a different tray. He stood up and picked up the containers.

Arthur stood too. "Should we hire more, then?"

"No," Mikel said, clicking his tongue. "I told you—I’m not hiring more ghosts for the renovation. Besides, I figured out a new trick to keep everyone from losing their physical abilities after four days."

"A new trick?" Arthur asked, brows lifting with cautious curiosity.

Mikel just grinned. "Gather everyone after break. I’ll explain it later."

"And your night errands? Does this mean you’ve finished those?"

Finished?

Mikel nearly laughed. He wished. But as long as the cursed bracelet was still latched onto his wrist—and Doom kept feeding him tasks like some bureaucratic poltergeist—he wouldn’t be done any time soon.

"No, not yet," he said. "But I don’t need help anymore."

He started walking away and waved over his shoulder. "Tell the others about the meeting."

Arthur watched him go and sighed softly. "Sometimes, I wish he were a little less emotionally avoidant."

****

From the beginning, Mikel had been destructively reckless, arrogant, and too defiant for his own good. It blinded him to the other options, support, and reason, because he’d been too busy fighting the system and Doom. Not that he ever planned to let it dictate his life. But he wasn’t about to make the same mistakes twice.

So, even if he’d left the Headmaster’s protection twice, he hadn’t done so without a plan.

One of them? Squeezing every advantage he could from the Protocol and its rewards.

"I know most of you already know this, but just in case—these are talismans." Mikel held up a few slips of paper between his fingers, addressing the crowd of gathered ghosts. "They’ll help extend your spiritual stability. You’ll last longer than four days. Maybe even beyond your original contracts."

Confused murmurs rippled through the crowd. Ghosts glanced at each other, then back at Mikel.

"What does that mean?"

"It means, according to a real shaman I spoke to," he said, repeating the Headmaster’s explanation word for word, "one reason your physical abilities don’t last long is the lack of ambient spiritual energy. Especially when you’re outdoors, your abilities leak out into the air."

He raised one brow. "Think of it like smoking a cigarette. You inhale, puff it out, and the smoke disappears into the wind. Your spiritual energy works the same way. You’re puffing it out just by existing."

He paused as his eyes swept across the group.

"These talismans will create a boundary around the site to contain that energy, so it doesn’t just...poof into nothing. But it also means you can’t leave that circle while they’re active. I’ll remove them before your shifts end."

"And since this technically extends your contracts..." He trailed off, eyeing a few ghosts whose faces already soured at the idea of staying longer in the mortal world. "...I’m also upgrading your offerings. Better work conditions. Premium incense. Premium cakes. Ghost of the Week gets a commemorative badge and exclusive offerings."

"If anyone doesn’t want to stay longer, now’s your chance to opt out." He smiled with a surprisingly gentle smile. "But for those sticking around, this is your new standard."

"Premium...cakes?" one ghost whispered, visibly shaken by the sheer decadence.

"We’ve been rewarding ourselves with fake badges...but are we actually getting one?" another asked, awe creeping into their tone.

One ghost shot his hand up. "How about a bulletin board? I want a picture with a ’Best Ghost’ caption!"

Mikel’s face twitched, but he rolled with it.

"Sure," he said, snapping his fingers like a reluctant game show host. "Photos might be impossible—cameras don’t work on spirits—but names and a gold star sticker? Absolutely."

"YEAH!!" several ghosts cheered.

"We want a suggestion jar for offerings!" a voice from the back shouted. "If we’re working longer, we want to taste everything before we pass!"

"Done," Mikel said, snapping again. "What else?"

Requests flew from every corner of the crowd. Some were impossible, others outright deranged—but Mikel nodded at a few. He’d started this madness. He might as well manage it.

Beside him, Doom’s interface flickered like it had just rolled its metaphorical eyes.

[A rise in spiritual excitement detected.]

[Suggestion: A Mass Exorcism.]

*

*

*

Dealing with ghosts was exhausting, but in a very different way from fighting malevolent spirits.

After fielding a barrage of "reasonable" requests for a better work environment, Arthur finally stepped in and shut it down. The ghost engineer and a couple of others, including Gregory, backed him up.

With that, the ghosts returned to work, and Mikel got to setting up the talismans around the site.

He had a few talismans from the system, but not enough to form a full boundary, not after he had used some to protect the scouting team. Fortunately, the Headmaster, amused by the idea of a ghost-run renovation site, had provided him with extras. The man had plenty lying around his mansion anyway.

If the Headmaster’s treating this like entertainment, then he can pay the damn ticket price with talismans.

Mikel tied the last talisman to the stretch of plastic twine that ringed the site.

It had taken him longer than it should have to realize that talismans had more uses than just concealment or protection. And of course, he wouldn’t have figured that out without Doom—his allegedly helpful system guide—finally bothering to explain it.

Once everything was set, he looked over at the entrance where Arthur and his daughter stood. He gave a small nod. They nodded back.

Arthur extended his hand forward, and it stopped against something invisible. His daughter tried as well, and the air shimmered slightly under her touch.

[Talisman Boundary — Success.]

[System Suggestion: Do not take down the talisman boundary.]

[Pros: The renovation’s estimated time of completion will increase by thirty percent.]

Mikel just ignored Doom like usual, aware of Doom’s passionate dislike toward the ghosts.

"It’s working," Arthur said, turning to Mikel as he approached. "Is this okay?"

Mikel nodded, satisfied. "Of course. I’ll remove them in the morning. Don’t worry—while they trap spiritual energy inside, that same energy will actually keep you from tiring out."

"Oh," Arthur said, nodding thoughtfully. "I didn’t think that’s possible."

"You won’t feel it right away," Mikel added. "But stay inside long enough, and you’ll notice."

Arthur let out a shallow chuckle. "You’re sounding more and more like a shaman these days."

"Huh?" Mikel blinked, only to glance down as the little girl cheered.

"Big Brother is super cool! Shamans are the best!"

"Heh..." A reluctant chuckle escaped him before he brushed it off with a shrug.

He ducked under the plastic twine, already changing the topic to his plans for the following days. He had no plans of idling—not with a phantom contract waiting. And he still needed to have a separate talk with the lookouts and scouting team.

With that, he wrapped up the last of the renovation work and turned his focus to more pressing concerns.

*

*

*

A day later...

Mikel sat in the back of a bus headed toward Blackpineville, where the spirit known as Haleth was rumored to reside. His elbow rested on the windowsill, jaw propped against his palm as he stared out at the blur of scenery.

"Doom," he muttered, giving the screen beside him a sideways glance, "how many hours left on recovery?"

[Estimated time until full recovery: 4 hours.]

[Hopefully, the legend of Haleth is not a reject like the rest.]

"Mhm." He turned back to the window. "If it is, I just wasted another day."