The man ran through the first floor, his footsteps echoing in the large hall as the echo of his movements reverberated off the walls. Every so often, he turned his head, making sure the spirit was following him.
Breathing heavily and pain stabbing through his side, he considered his options. He had tried casting an elemental spell and materializing a physical weapon, but it had all been in vain. It was as if the being was made of a substance that could not be reached by the forces of this world.
"What are you?" he thought, frustrated. "How can something exist that doesn't respond to any form of attack?"
Pausing for a moment, the man cast a spell of light that erupted in a blinding flash. The spirit twisted, unable to bear the intensity of the brightness. Taking advantage of that opening, he materialized a sword of pure energy, a radiant blade that seemed to vibrate with the same essence as the primordial forces of nature.
He lunged at the creature, hoping that this time it would be different, that the blade would cut through the dark figure. But, the sword dissipated as soon as it touched the silhouette, as if the energy itself was absorbed and dissolved into nothingness.
A scream of rage and frustration escaped from his throat. The spirit, as if understanding his desperation, launched a brutal attack with its dark claws that struck him and threw him against the wall. The force of the impact made him let out a loud scream and he felt a sharp pain running through his body.
His daughter, hearing all the noise and her father's screams, whispered from inside the closet where she was hiding: "Dad?"
However, her father did not listen to her.
The man, on the other hand, paused for a moment, his heart racing, but the pain and adrenaline made him focus again on the approaching creature, as if it savored his desperation. With difficulty, he stood up, his thoughts racing as fast as his heartbeat. Out of all the types of attacks he had performed, none had worked, but something inside him told him there had to be another way.
At that moment, a memory struck him like a bolt of lightning.
He felt the coldness of a hospital room again, the dim light reflecting off the walls as he and other magicians and scientists frantically debated the strange case of his wife, who suffered from Vital Inertia. Even though her body was unharmed and her vital signs seemed normal, something invisible was slowly consuming her. It was then that they discovered the vital essence, an energy that flowed in all beings, beyond the physical.
They understood that her soul, her very essence, was wounded, like a river that slowly loses water through a crack in its channel.
They tried to use their knowledge to repair those wounds, materializing fragments of the essence in a desperate effort to save it. But it was all in vain; the soul, that vital energy, was unique and could not be replicated or integrated with imperfect copies.
Each attempt at repair was like trying to put together puzzle pieces that never fit. The failure was devastating, and the knowledge they gained was sealed under strict confidentiality. They couldn't risk opening a door they didn't fully understand.
Back in the present, his thoughts aligned. Perhaps, the spirit he was facing was not simply a magical entity or a physical manifestation. Perhaps it was something deeper, an entity composed of that same life essence they had discovered. If that was true, then the only way to harm it would be to use an energy that interacted on the same plane as it: its own life essence.
But lost in his thoughts, he did not see the entity approaching and was unable to avoid it. The entity caught his neck in its hand with sharp claws and began to choke him.
Knowing that this would be his last chance to defeat the spirit, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the flow of energy running through his body, that subtle pulse that every living being possessed. He visualized himself, not as a physical body, but as a source of light, a spark that vibrated with the essence of his being.
Slowly, he channeled that energy into his hand, visualizing a sword that was not simply a weapon, but an imperfect replica of his soul. When he opened his eyes, he felt the blade vibrate in his hand, a warmth familiar and, at the same time, strange.
The man with a cry of determination raised his sword and plunged it into the arm of the being that was strangling him. The impact was immediate: a heart-rending scream filled the room, and the spirit's arm was torn off, disintegrating in the air in a whirlwind of shadows. The creature writhed, as if it had finally found something that could hurt its true nature.
"Go back to hell," the man whispered, his voice filled with bitterness.
With a final move, he severed the spirit's head. The creature vanished into thin air, leaving only an echo of its scream in the void. Exhausted, with every muscle in his body screaming in pain, the man slowly made his way towards the stairs. But as he turned, his gaze met another dark figure, a new spirit emerging from the shadows.
He prepared to fight again, his eyes fixed on the threat. But then, from upstairs, he heard the voice of his daughter, who had come out of her room, worried that her father would not answer her first call. Hearing his daughter's voice made his heart stop.
Before he could react, the spirit, faster and unhindered by any wounds, launched itself up the stairs. The man ran after him, but the pain and exhaustion caused him to lose ground. He climbed the stairs with desperation tightening his chest, and at that moment, his daughter's screams pierced him like a knife.
He arrived too late. The spirit had reached his daughter, invading her small body. The dark energy began to consume her, weakening her life rapidly.
The light in her eyes began to fade, and in a barely audible whisper, the girl stammered: "Da-d..."
The man fell to his knees, his mind and heart shattered into a thousand pieces. He tried to use all his knowledge, everything he had learned in his years of study and combat, but nothing worked.
The dark energy consuming his daughter was more powerful than he had ever imagined, something that could not be expelled or contained. As his hands trembled over the girl's fragile body, a flood of memories flooded through him, taking him back to the days when he lost his wife. He remembered watching her slowly fade away, her life essence slipping away before his eyes with no way to stop it, no cure in existence.
The same pain, the same helplessness that consumed him then caught up with him now, as he saw fate repeat itself. But this time, it was an evil spirit tearing at his daughter's life from within, devouring her essence. He felt fragile and powerless, like the man who once held his wife's hand as her light faded forever.
"Someone, please… someone, save her!" he cried, his voice breaking with desperate sobs. "I can't lose her, not again! Please, whoever, help me!"
His hands shook as he held his daughter tightly, clinging to the last hope, even though he knew no one would come to his call.
"I would do anything, I would give my life if necessary, but don't let her die!"
His tears fell uncontrollably, and his voice became a muffled whisper.
"Not to her... not like to her mother."
But when silence seemed to be the only answer, a voice rose, soft and whispering, like an echo in the darkness.
"Your daughter is dying. And there is nothing in this world that can save her... except me."
The man looked up, his eyes meeting a dark presence that observed the scene with an eerie calm. The eyes of the figure that seemed to be a woman glowed like embers, cold and calculating, while the smile on her lips promised a pact that would change everything.