(POV Shift: First Person)
I hung up the phone. The echo of Ed Warren's transatlantic panic still resonated in my ear. I looked at Judy. The Warrens' daughter stood in the middle of the kitchen, a small, fragile epicenter of a supernatural earthquake, looking at me as if I were both her savior and the strangest monster she'd seen on a night already packed with them. The Bride's manifestation was gone, but the tension in the house was a Gordian knot.
"Hey," I said softly, my voice sounding strange after the brusqueness of the call. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, a barely perceptible movement.
"Good." I walked to the sink, turned on the tap, and splashed water on my face. It was cold and real. "Your parents are fine. They're... worried. But they're okay. And they're going to figure out a way to get back soon."
"Who are you?" she whispered, her first direct question.
I dried my face with a dishtowel. Who was I? The streamer. The hunter. The fool. The reluctant prophet. The guy with the ghost gun.
"I'm... tech support," I decided. "Your parents called because they've got a really bad virus on their system. I'm the one they sent to clean it up."
The analogy seemed to work. She didn't smile, but the fear in her eyes dimmed a little, replaced by curiosity. I led her to the living room, made sure she was sitting on the couch furthest from the dark doors and hallways, and draped a blanket over her.
"Stay here. Don't move," I told her. "The tech guy needs to run a system diagnostic. I'll be back soon."
I sat in the armchair from before, the same one where I had decided to start this madness, and finally allowed myself to look at my interface. To look at the chat. And I realized that the legend of "ZeroCool_x" had undergone a transformation.
(POV Shift: First Person - Focus on Chat)
The chat was no longer just a torrent of capital letters. It was a living, breathing organism that had witnessed a miracle. It was exploding. People were creating clips of the moment: "The Interruption," they called it. Someone had already made an emote of a phone with a pistol next to it. Others, of my line: "It's rude..." I had gone from being a horror streamer to the protagonist of the greatest ARG (Alternate Reality Game) in history, and now, to something else entirely.
xX_GamerGod_Xx: YOU SAW IT!!! HE TOLD A DEMON "HOLD ON A SECOND"!!! A SECOND!!! THIS MAN IS MY RELIGION NOW!!! LaChicaGamer92: I'm torn between absolute panic for his safety and the deepest admiration I've ever felt for a human being. How can he be so calm?! TacoDestroyer: I'm calling it the "Tech Support Shot." Problem: ghost interrupts call. Solution: bang. Problem solved. Next ticket. LoreMaster_77: The implication that Valak is using Annabelle as a repeater is game-changing lore. This connects the whole universe in a way even the movies hadn't explicitly done! We need more info!
The respect was new. The admiration was new. They weren't just cheering me on as a gamer anymore. They were listening to me as a source. They had seen me predict the future, and now, they had seen me treat the supernatural with the disdain of a bored bureaucrat. The power that conferred upon me was immense. And terrifying.
I decided to use it. It was time to stop being the only one with a plan. It was time to use my army.
I put the chat in slow mode and typed a message, projecting it onto my HUD for all to see.
ZeroCool_x: Okay, team. Diagnostic. The "Bride" virus has been quarantined. But the main malware, "Annabelle," is still active and hidden on the network. This is its server, its house. You know the lore, you've seen the movies, you've read the wikis. Forget for a moment that this is real and think like players. Where would it hide? What is its objective? Start the brainstorm. I need all theories.
The response was an avalanche. The chat turned into the world's largest strategy room.
Theorist_Prime: The piano! In the first movie, she lures Judy with the piano. It's a musical nexus, like Bathsheba's music box. GhostHunter_PRO: Negative. Too obvious. She'd seek out a place with residual power. Near another artifact in the artifact room. The samurai. Uses a strong anchor to mask her own signal. Mod_Sandra: Look for Judy's weak points. Her room. Her bed. She always goes for children. Attacks innocence.
I read the theories, absorbing them. They were good. Logical, within the nightmare logic of this world. As my hive mind worked for me, a massive, blinking notification filled my vision, eclipsing the chat. It wasn't a donation. It was from the System.
[!!!SYSTEM UPDATE v3.0 COMPLETE!!!][ARSENAL EXPANDED & SKILLS UNLOCKED][Thank you for choosing G.O.D. (God of Divine Opportunities) as your provider of punishment and entertainment]
A f**king acronym. This god was a jerk with too much time on his hands. A new shop interface opened, and it was... beautiful. Sleek, with clear, well-defined tabs. The old green text shop had been replaced by an AAA game interface.
(POV Shift: First Person - Focus on Shop)
I mentally clicked on the new tabs. It was a weaponized paradise.
Under the [RIFLES] tab, the "Exorcist" looked like a simple handgun. Now there were assault rifles. One stood out: the [ "PEACEMAKER" AR-15 ]. The description was insane: "Adaptable assault rifle with fire selector. Fires consecrated, silver-cored 5.56 caliber ammunition. Ideal for spectral crowd control and mid-range engagements. Requires spiritual maintenance." It cost $1200.
I moved to [EXPLOSIVES]. My heart pounded. [ CONSECRATED FLASHBANG "LUX AETERNA" ]. "Detonates with a burst of pure holy light, disorienting and weakening all hostile entities within a 10-meter radius. Effective against shadow specters and lesser demons." Pack of three for $250. There was also [ SALT PROXIMITY MINE ], which created an explosion of consecrated salt upon detecting spectral movement.
Under [EQUIPMENT], I found vests. [ CHERUB PLATE - ANTI-POSSESSION VEST ]. "Lightweight vest woven with saintly relic filaments and blessed ceramic plates. Does not stop physical attacks, but provides significant resistance to mental influence and demonic possession attempts." It cost a fortune, but the idea of having a barrier between my mind and theirs... it was tempting.
But the last tab was what changed everything. [PERKS]. Passive abilities. Permanent upgrades for my "character." They were obscenely expensive, so much so that they seemed unattainable.
[IRON WILL] - Cost: $2500
Passive: Your Sanity bar drops 50% slower. You gain passive resistance to fear and supernatural intimidation.
[SPIRITUAL SPIDER SENSE] - Cost: $3000
Passive: You feel a tingling at the back of your neck when a hostile entity is about to manifest near you. Your HUD will show a directional threat indicator.
[CRUSADER RELOAD] - Cost: $1500
Active: Once per "mission," you can instantly reload your equipped weapon while reciting a brief prayer. (Requires faith... or at least saying it with conviction).
It was a skill tree. This god hadn't just given me a game, he was giving me a progression path. He was turning my punishment into a career. The idea was as horrifying as it was fascinating.
I closed the shop, my mind reeling with the new possibilities. The game had changed. The power I could achieve was immense, but the price... the price was to keep playing. To keep fighting. To keep entertaining.
(POV Shift: Third Person)
Alex rose from the armchair. His face no longer showed weariness, but a new, grim concentration. He had shifted from a mere survivor to a strategist. His chat's theories gave him a plan. The shop's update gave him a future.
He looked at Judy, who was curled up under the blanket and seemed to have fallen asleep, exhausted by fear. The sight of her fragile peace in the midst of the cursed house solidified his purpose. This wasn't about "perks." It wasn't about rifles. It was about her.
The chat continued to debate, but one theory gained traction: that Annabelle would use the house's largest, most storied object as her new throne. The piano.
Alex nodded to himself. It was a good starting point.
He walked over to the sleeping girl and, with great care, placed one of the salt grenades he could now afford on the floor, next to the couch. A small measure of protection. A trap for anything that tried to approach her while he was gone.
Then, with the "Exorcist" firmly in his hand, he turned. Not towards the front door, nor upstairs. He headed back towards the basement door. Towards the artifact room. If Annabelle wasn't there, it was the perfect place to start looking for clues. It was the center of the network.
He paused at the threshold of the stairs, looking into the familiar darkness. But this time, he wasn't an arrogant youth seeking a fight, nor a terrified kid running for his life. He was a professional with a job to do. An exterminator with access to a divine arsenal and an army of theorists whispering in his ear.
The hunt for Annabelle, the true hunt, was about to begin. And this time, he came prepared.