SUP Chapter 14: Evil Spirit Invasion, Battle of Wits

Inside the ruined wooden house, a black shadow, wrapped in biting cold and rolling thick fog, lunged at Ian.

"Damn it! How'd it escape so fast?" Constantine, standing in front of Ian, paled and reached into his trench coat, trying to pull out something to fend off the evil spirit.

But the shadow was too quick, too fast for any effective reaction. Like a speeding truck, it sent Constantine flying.

His body arced through the air, crashing into Charles, who was running over with a water bottle. The two slammed into a flimsy wall, collapsing in a heap.

"Come, be my nourishment! Delicious child!" The evil spirit, ravenous for a youth like Ian, plunged into his chest, passing right through.

"Constantine really is an unreliable jinx!" Ian only had time to curse before the world spun dizzyingly around him.

At the same time, his system's feedback chimed in his mind.

[Under attack by a special soul, Berserker occupation experience +1]

With the prompt, Ian successfully leveled up his [Berserker] occupation, clearly feeling a boost in his abilities.

[Strength: 3.5 → 5.6]

[Constitution: 3.0 → 4.5]

[Intelligence: 2.3 → 2.4]

[Mental: 2.7 → 2.9]

[Level-up reward: Occupation Skill Point +1, World Recognition weight increased]

This should have been cause for celebration, but Ian couldn't muster joy, too distracted to ponder what "World Recognition weight increased" meant.

"Where am I?"

When his vision cleared, Ian found himself in a strange, eerie room, the temperature below freezing. Black veins crawled across the walls, pulsing with a bizarre rhythm. Outside, the darkness was thick as unyielding ink, boundless, as if nothing existed or everything had been consumed, oppressive and heavy. This was clearly no longer a real-world space.

Ian couldn't open the windows; they seemed 3D-printed onto the wall. Smashing the glass produced only a dull thud, like hitting stone.

Something felt off.

"A dimension of mind and soul?"

Ian looked up at the ceiling, where scarlet droplets, like blood, seeped through cracks, dripping slowly and heavily to the floor.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Ian wiped a sticky droplet from his forehead. The air reeked of rust, and the blood pooling on the floor formed terrifying puddles.

"Pretty creepy."

Ian thought he should feel fear, but his body seemed to enter a rebellious phase, not only failing to make him afraid but stoking his anger instead.

A [Berserker] trait, perhaps? Ian figured it wasn't his fault. He had some psychological issues, but surely not this twisted.

"I'm a pure boy who loves Teletubbies and In the Night Garden!" Under his gaze, the translucent [Anger Value] bar in the bottom right slowly rose.

Simultaneously, his four-dimensional attributes gained a boost.

The [Bloodforge Fury] effect still worked in this mental and soul realm, likely proof that Ian was under continuous attack from the evil spirit.

"Mental attack?"

Ian scanned the room.

The room's only wooden door creaked open slowly.

A black shadow stood in the darkness.

It was an evil spirit in a tattered nun's habit, its pale face grotesquely distorted, mouth torn to the ears, black eye sockets oozing pus and blood.

It flashed Ian a malicious, toothy grin, dark brown blood dripping from its fangs. Even from a distance, Ian caught a nauseating stench of decay.

"How long since you brushed your teeth?"

Ian swallowed hard.

His [Anger Value] ticked up slightly. Suddenly, the room's light flickered, alternating between bright and dark, heightening the tension.

With each flicker, the nun spirit edged closer to Ian.

It was like teleportation.

In a blink, it appeared right in front of him, skeletal hands clamping onto his neck, squeezing with immense force.

"Suffer! Wail!" The nun spirit's voice was shrill and menacing, dripping with malice. Yet, the supposed terror felt oddly awkward and stiff.

No choice.

Ian wasn't playing along with struggling.

"Are you stupid?" Ian's expression twisted as he swung a fist at the spirit's face. "Think I need to breathe? We're free of fleshly burdens here!"

Punch after punch.

The spirit staggered back, its already hideous face caving in, pus and blood splattering, flesh flying, half its head reduced to fragments.

"What's happening?" The spirit looked shocked.

It seemed unable to fathom its own weakness. After Ian kicked it to the ground, it finally seemed to understand.

"I didn't feed on your fear! Impossible! Where's your fear?" The nun spirit let out a piercing screech, its roar filled with confusion.

It tried to flee and hide.

But Ian stomped on its head.

"Yeah! Where'd you hide my fear? Give it back!" Ian turned the tables, his fists raining down.

The spirit's head was smashed into a pancake. Yet, it remained defiant, snarling venomously at Ian despite its dire state.

"This is just your last struggle. In the real world, your life is fading fast! No human body can withstand my poison!"

"Five minutes! That's all you have left!" It clearly aimed to provoke Ian's fear, its mangled form cackling maniacally.

"Hm?"

Ian paused his punches.

But the spirit strangely found no trace of fear to feed on.

"Five minutes to deal with you..." Ian felt the urgency, his 2.4 intelligence racing.

Trusting Constantine outside was less reliable than trusting himself.

Five minutes.

How could he save himself?

"Human... you can't destroy me..." The spirit laughed arrogantly, but before it could finish, Ian lunged onto it.

Instantly, its mocking words halted. The nun spirit became the one gripped by fear.

"Ah! What are you doing!?"

Not just fear.

Panic.

Its wails echoed through the mental realm.

[NEXT CHAPTER]