SHAMAN PROTOCOL
Chapter 74: Refined Arts Begins

Chapter 74: Refined Arts Begins

[Master, you’ll be late for school. Wake up.]

Ring... ring — clack!

The alarm clock on the bedside table shut up the moment a hand swatted it.

Mikel opened his eyes; the bags under them were dark as hell. Exhaustion clung to his face, not a great look for someone who was supposedly rested.

He stared at the hovering screen above his face, not at all pleased by it.

[Good morning, master.]

"Does it look like a good morning to you, Doom?" He groaned, dragging a hand across his face before pulling himself into a sitting position. Seated at the edge of the bed, he rested his arms on his legs.

Noises outside his home—construction sounds—made the walls vibrate slightly. Not surprising, considering South Block was being rebuilt after months since the so-called "earthquake" hit the area.

"Damn," he muttered, stretching his neck from one side to the other. "I didn’t get proper sleep because of those ghosts."

[Good news. You will not deal with them anymore, master. And neither will I.]

He arched a brow, staring at the pulsing glow of the system screen. "Well, I guess we’re both happy about that."

With that, Mikel pushed himself off the bed and dragged his feet to the bathroom downstairs.

It had been a full month since his home renovation was completed. And just when Mikel thought he could finally focus on fulfilling his objectives, he was wrong.

More ghosts kept showing up at his doorstep, night after night, asking for help. Some offered labor in exchange. A few—clearly unhinged—offered other "special services."

But Mikel didn’t want to work with ghosts anymore.

At least, not with that many ghosts anymore.

And so, they rallied outside his home every night, trying to force him to agree.

Hence, the nightly disturbances.

"I swear... I’ll feed them to the Blood Chain if I have to stay here any longer," he grumbled, wiping his face with a towel.

He looked up at the mirror and stared at his reflection. He didn’t look as haggard, but definitely not the same Mikel from eight months ago.

He clicked his tongue, shook his head, and stepped into the small first floor of his home already in uniform.

He casually walked past a broom sweeping the floor on its own, a cloth wiping down furniture, a ghost washing the dishes, and some plates with breakfast being placed on the table. Mikel sat down at the dining table, where a full breakfast had already been prepared for him.

"Good morning, boss!" four ghosts chirped in unison, rushing to his side.

Mikel, still groggy, looked up at the diligent spirits he’d hired to maintain his home: a slightly elderly man, a middle-aged auntie, a girl around thirteen, and a chubby ghost about his own age. He hadn’t realized it before, but it now looked like he had a little ghostly family.

And he swore he didn’t do this on purpose.

He was leaving for the dorms today, and even if he didn’t want to work with ghosts anymore, he’d hired these four to look after the house in his absence.

"The rebuilding of South Block is in full swing," he said casually as he began forking up scrambled eggs. "While I’m gone, just haunt the area a bit. It might convince people to leave more offerings at the shrine I set up."

"Yes, boss!" the middle-aged auntie clapped, the same one who had followed him from that countryside errand for the system. "We already went out haunting last night, and this morning the shrine had way more offerings!"

The other three nodded eagerly.

"The sign you put up helped too," the girl added, hugging the broom close to her. "Now they know what we like, and some even leave prayers!"

The others chimed in with their own proud reports, but all Mikel could think was,

"So that’s why you weren’t here last night, huh?" he scoffed, shaking his head as he continued eating. "Anyway, I already asked someone to make regular offerings at the shrine. Our deal’s still in place. So, the shrine won’t just dry up. Unless, of course, he decides to scam me — then just haunt him."

The four ghosts beamed as they watched him eat the breakfast the auntie ghost had made. She leaned in slightly.

"Boss, are you really staying in the dorms for the whole school year?" she asked, making Mikel raise a brow.

He glanced at the others, then back at her. "What are you four planning?"

"Nothing!" she said quickly. "We’ll just... miss you, that’s all!"

"She’s right!" the plump ghost nodded. "We’ll really miss you!"

"We’re not planning anything! We’ll work hard!" the girl insisted.

"Mikel, don’t worry about the house," the old man added reassuringly. "We’ve got this. Just focus on school. Don’t fail it."

[They are planning to idle when you’re not around, master.]

[Suggestion: Apply the new techniques you learned from the Book of the Dead for labor efficiency.]

Mikel’s face twitched as he glanced at Doom’s suggestion.

New technique, huh?

He looked at the four of them. He had been considering it—one of the new techniques he’d learned from the Book of the Dead was supposed to be more efficient. But he hadn’t mastered it yet, and the last thing he wanted was to come back to another destroyed house.

He hadn’t recovered financially from the last time, after all.

"Whatever the four of you are planning," he said, pointing his fork at them, "you better make sure this home stays intact. Otherwise, I’m not sending you to Paradise. Not even hell."

"You hear me?" he said, stabbing his fork in the air for emphasis.

The four ghosts straightened up and cleared their throats.

"Of-of course!" the old male ghost laughed nervously. "Why would we destroy the house?"

"He’s right... ha ha..." The other three laughed just as awkwardly.

Mikel didn’t bother replying as he just kept eating.

---

"Bye, boss!"

"Take care on your way!"

"Call us when you reach the dorm!"

[I suggest, don’t.]

Mikel looked back at the entrance, where the ghosts were waving and shouting their farewells. He raised a hand lazily, waving over his shoulder as he stepped out of his home.

But instead of heading straight off, he paused to glance at the still-ruined homes surrounding his own.

"Oh, well."

He shrugged and kept walking through the broken streets of South Block. He passed construction workers hauling concrete blocks from nearby houses, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t need to.

While everyone else was just starting to rebuild their lives, Mikel was starting a new one.

Not exactly a peaceful one.

Today marked his first day as a student of the Refined Arts Academy — the school for shamans.

And from today onward, Mikel would officially operate under the umbrella of Zone Zero, with one goal in mind:

Find those two—the tank top guy and the blindfolded woman—and settle the score.

Ready or not... it’s either him or them.

[System Notice: New Phase Logged: Education, suffering, potential expulsion.]

****

[Host: Mikel Graves]

[Level: 50]

[Class: Protocol Warden]

[Class Evolution: Protocol Upholder -> Protocol Warden.]

[Description: Host now oversees—not merely upholds—the Protocol. Authority is no longer passive in some areas. Enforcement now includes judgment.]

[New Protocols Unlocked: Spirit Judgement, Relic Containment, Ritual Override]

[Weapon: Blood Chain — Bound]

-> Current Curse Affinity with Host: 49%

[Weapon: Book of the Dead — Active]

-> Current Curse Affinity with Host: 40%

[Spirit Absorption/Skills (5), Phantom Contract (2), Ghost Index (Available), Chapter Three (Updated)]

[System Mall Additions:]

Phantom Ink – Ectoplasm/powdered soul ink. Allows you to write ghost-visible commands. (60 Soul Credits)

Shadow Parcel – Mystery box. May contain a rare relic component... or nothing. (100 Soul Credits)

Warden Coin – Warden-exclusive. Unseals or obliterates a higher spirit form. Conditions still apply. (500 Soul Credits – 1 available)

Extra Inventory Slots – Increase carrying capacity. (150 Soul Credits)

Soul Credit: 750

[Main Objective: Summon your next cursed relic from the Thirteen Crimson Relics of the Ancient Cursed Order.]

[One Soul Required.]

[Refer to the Book of the Dead for the proper sacrificial rite.]

---

Mikel stepped out of the taxi.

The Refined Arts Academy stood just beyond the city—remote enough to stay hidden, close enough to touch everything that mattered.

He slung his black backpack over one shoulder as the taxi sped off in front of him, disappearing down the road without a second glance.

Across the street, the academy’s gates were wide open. A slow procession of gleaming luxury cars rolled through with brands he couldn’t name, but each one polished enough to blind him under the morning sun.

"Feels more like a school for the rich than a place for shamans," he muttered, thinking of the broken skyline back in South Block. Surely, this was different from the one he was used to.

"Do they even know what they’ve signed up for?"

[Master, even in history, shamans were held in far higher regard than the world prefers or allows to admit.]

He gave Doom’s hovering screen a dry glance and stepped off the curb.

"Well," he muttered, stepping forward, "Guess we’ll see."