Chapter 46
Nille woke slowly, sitting up from his bed as awareness returned fully to him.
Yesterday had been heavy, too many revelations, too many shifts in understanding, and too many things that no longer fit neatly into how he once saw the world. Yet as he looked around his small room, he felt something different this morning.
Rested.
Clearer.
Recharged in a way that went beyond physical recovery.
The space itself felt warmer than before. The warehouse-like structure he had been staying in was no longer silent; faint voices and movement echoed through it, as if life had gradually returned while he slept. It wasn't chaotic, it was alive in a steady, communal way that made waking up feel less isolated.
He let out a quiet breath.
"Waking up like this… isn't bad," he murmured to himself.
Nille stood, stretching lightly before stepping out of his small corner room. It faced the area where Granny Amparo's rocking chair was located, a quiet reminder that even in change, some things remained constant.
He moved with routine discipline, tidying his bed, adjusting his space, and preparing himself for the day ahead. His habits had not changed, even if everything else around him seemed to be shifting.
Outside, he noticed movement.
Natty and Lualhati were already up, tending to the indoor farm. Their coordination was steady—practical, familiar, almost peaceful in contrast to everything that had happened recently. Lualhati's presence there felt more natural now, as if she had already begun adjusting to this space rather than resisting it.
Nille observed quietly for a moment before continuing his morning routine.
He had overslept.
Something uncommon for him.
But yesterday had been different, hectic, layered with too many truths unfolding at once. Even Granny Amparo had noticed. Before resting herself, she had told him firmly, not as a command but as care, to take a proper break.
Not because he was weak.
But because he was processing too much at once.
Nille paused briefly in thought.
He understood now.
It wasn't just exhaustion.
It was transition.
And for once, instead of rushing forward,
He allowed himself to move at the pace the moment required. Nille check his phone and saw he recieve a text message yesterday from Doctor Miyako Ueda , it has been a while since she message him, .
Doctor Miyako Ueda had been sending messages to Nille consistently right after hearing of Granny Amparo's passing. these news reach those who knew the two, among were Lin Yue Meiying, Doctor Jasmin Dizon, and Nurse Elira Santos, all of whom had personally come to pay their respects. Their presence had not been formal or ceremonial alone, it carried genuine acknowledgment of the life Granny Amparo had shaped and the impact she had left behind on those connected to her.
The recent message Nille received from Doctor Ueda was different from the earlier ones. It was no longer solely about condolences or updates and casual conversation of their day o day activities ,it was about direction.
It concerned the letter related to the Japanese International Academy.
The content indicated that his application, initially processed under unusual circumstances due to his background and prior arrangements, was now reaching a stage where confirmation and first review were required. The academy had acknowledged his potential evaluation pathway, and they were awaiting his response regarding formal entry procedures, scheduling, and placement considerations.
Unlike the chaos of recent events in his current environment, this message represented something structured, an external institution still moving forward, still waiting on his decision.
Nille read it in silence.
For a moment, the contrast was clear.
One part of his life was still tangled in shifting domains, Encanto hierarchies, and unresolved encounters.
The other was calling him toward something more defined, education, structure, and a path that did not revolve entirely around survival or conflict.
And for the first time in a while, he wasn't forced to choose immediately.
He simply had to acknowledge that both paths existed, and that eventually, he would need to decide which direction his life would lean toward next.
Nille picked up the satellite phone and dialed without hesitation. After a few moments, the call connected.
"Doctor Ueda," he said calmly.
A brief pause, then Miyako Ueda's voice came through, clear, composed, but carrying a hint of relief.
"Nille. It's good to hear from you."
"I've read the message," Nille continued. "I will proceed with the plan. I'll travel to Manila for the assessment."
There was a short silence on the other end, as if she was confirming the weight of what he just said.
"Understood," Miyako replied. "We've been expecting your decision."
Nille adjusted his grip on the phone slightly. "The academy evaluation… it's still valid?"
"Yes," she answered. "Everything is still in place. Your entry path is ready once you complete the assessment process."
Another brief pause followed.
Then her tone softened slightly.
"Do your best on the test, Nille."
He didn't respond immediately.
"It's not just about passing," she added. "It's about showing them who you are. That will matter more than anything on paper."
Nille exhaled quietly. "I understand."
A faint sound of movement came from her side, like papers shifting or someone calling her name in the background.
"I wish I could be there in person to guide you through it," she said, her voice turning slightly apologetic, "but things have been very busy on my end lately."
"It's fine," Nille replied.
A small pause.
"Still," she continued, a lighter tone returning, "if everything goes well, we can meet face to face again after this."
Nille nodded slightly, even though she couldn't see it.
"I'll complete it," he said simply.
"I believe you will," Miyako responded without hesitation. "Take care on your way to Manila. And Nille…"
"Yes?"
"…don't rush through this part of your life. It matters more than you think."
There was a brief silence.
Then Nille answered softly.
"I won't."
"Good," she said with a faint, reassuring tone. "I'll be waiting for your update after the assessment."
The call ended shortly after.
Nille lowered the satellite phone slowly, standing still for a moment.
Manila.
The assessment.
A new step forward.
And this time, he was not walking into it blindly.
He had two days.
Nille checked the message on his satellite phone again, confirming the exact date and time of the Japanese assessment. The details were clear now, structured, precise, something he could prepare for without uncertainty.
For the first time, the idea settled firmly in his mind.
He could have another life.
Not just as a shaman.
Not just as someone who hunted and responded to things hidden in the dark.
He glanced toward the others, toward the fairies moving through the space in their human forms, tending, organizing, adapting. They were capable. More than capable.
He understood it now.
He could leave.
Not abandon, but entrust.
This place, this land, could stand without him for a time.
But before anything else
He needed to understand himself.
What had changed.
What had begun.
Nille stepped slightly aside, his focus turning inward.
"…Scarf," he said quietly.
There was a brief pause.
Then, for the first time,
The response came differently.
Clearer.
More refined.
"Yes, Nille," the scarf replied.
He stilled.
The voice was no longer fragmented or purely reactive. It carried structure now—articulate, controlled, almost… aware in a deeper sense.
Nille's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You've changed," he observed.
"Correct," the scarf answered without delay. "My processing capability has improved following the recent absorption and your internal synchronization."
Nille took that in.
"Then explain," he said. "What's happening to me?"
A brief pause, not hesitation, but calculation.
"You have initiated an internal convergence," the scarf replied. "Your primary core and secondary core are no longer operating independently. Energy flow has begun to unify, resulting in increased efficiency, stability, and potential output."
Nille remained still, listening.
"This is not a completed evolution," the scarf continued. "It is the beginning phase of what can be classified as 'Awakened Self.'"
Nille exhaled slowly.
"So I'm not stronger yet."
"You are," the scarf corrected calmly. "But not in raw output alone. Your control has increased. Your decision-making latency has decreased. Your energy distribution is more precise."
A short pause.
"You are becoming… optimized. you are a level 20 now"
Nille glanced down at his hand, flexing it slightly.
"And my abilities?"
"They remain the same in structure," the scarf said, "but their execution has improved. Specifically—your underutilized skill: object manipulation. spell casting and activation"
Nille's gaze sharpened.
"The butterfly knife, and the fire orbs " he said.
"Yes," the scarf replied. "Your previous limitation was cognitive overload, splitting focus between defense and telekinetic control."
Another brief pause.
"That limitation is now reduced."
Nille understood immediately.
"I can run both at the same time," he said.
"Correct," the scarf confirmed. "With practice, you can establish a dual-layer combat system—physical and external manipulation operating simultaneously."
" you can wiled your weapon physically and the other telepathically , and switch to spell casting and vise versa"
Silence followed.
Then the scarf added one more thing.
"And there is another change."
Nille looked up slightly.
"What?"
"You are no longer reacting to situations alone," the scarf said. "You are beginning to define them."
That… made him pause.
Because that wasn't just a change in ability.
It was a change in how he existed within a fight.
Nille closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again.
Two days.
A new path waiting in Manila.
And something inside him,
Finally beginning to take shape.
Nille took the time to settle everything before he left.
He moved with quiet efficiency, mentally noting the changes within him while staying grounded in what needed to be done. The fairies living in his warehouse were given clear instructions—maintain the routine, keep the land stable, and if people came looking for him, they were to respond as hired human caretakers managing the property in his absence.
It was a simple cover.
But a necessary one.
Nille didn't leave it at that. He went personally to the town chairman and spoke with his nearby neighbors, explaining the arrangement in a direct and practical manner. There was no room for misunderstanding. He signed legal documents, formally stating that these individuals were authorized to temporarily manage his land under his consent and binding agreement.
Everything was placed in order.
Not rushed.
Not forced.
Deliberate.
But the moment his external responsibilities were secured, the other side of his life surged forward.
Within those two days, his interaction with the supernatural doubled.
Requests came.
Disturbances surfaced.
And Nille did not ignore them.
One in particular stood out.
An elusive Maligno, a creature known as a Tyanak.
A changeling.
Unlike other entities, this one did not confront directly. It hid behind the most fragile disguise possible, the form of an innocent baby. Its cries were used as bait, drawing in those who still responded with instinct and compassion.
That was what made it dangerous.
It didn't rely on strength.
It relied on hesitation.
Killing it was difficult, not because it couldn't be destroyed, but because it forced its target to question their own action at the critical moment.
Nille stood at the edge of a quiet, isolated area where the reports had been coming from. The faint sound of a baby crying echoed through the air, soft… convincing.
A perfect imitation.
But Nille did not move immediately.
His expression remained calm.
He listened.
Not to the sound,
But to what was behind it.
The hesitation that would have once slowed him down… was no longer there in the same way.
Not because he had become cold.
But because he now understood something deeper.
Not everything that looked human…
Was meant to be saved.
After eliminating the Tiyanak, Nille did not return home immediately.
Ramil Dela Cruz met him along the roadside, his expression a mix of relief and urgency. Mang Thomas, once the one who handled these matters, was no longer capable of facing what lurked beyond ordinary sight. Age had caught up to him, and the unseen world did not show mercy to the unprepared.
So Ramil stepped in.
And now, so did Nille.
The two had grown closer over time. Not through long conversations, but through shared understanding. Ramil didn't fully grasp everything Nille dealt with, but he trusted him enough to ask for help when it mattered most.
"This is my first and last request, Nille thank you for accepting it " Ramil said, starting his motorcycle.
Nille nodded , and didn't ask for details, he knew already .
He simply got on.
They rode through dimly lit roads, the engine humming steadily as they made their way toward a subdivision about half a mile from Ramil's home. The place was known, quiet, well-kept, owned under the name of a prominent politician. On the surface, it was the kind of neighborhood people worked years to live in.
But not everything inside it was peaceful.
"The girl's name is Lisa Fuentes," Ramil said over the sound of the wind. "Her father worked in Saudi for ten years. Truck driver. He saved enough to buy them that house after he retired."
Nille listened.
"They didn't know," Ramil continued. "No one would've guessed."
The house now sheltered eight family members.
And something else.
Ramil tightened his grip on the handle.
"I met her through our parents," he added. "My mother and her mom were classmates. We started talking after that… just simple things at first."
A brief pause.
"Then the problems started."
His voice lowered.
"We stopped seeing each other in person. Just calls. Texts. I thought… maybe something was following me. I didn't want to drag her into it."
Nille glanced at him briefly.
"But she didn't say anything at first," Ramil added. "Not until later."
Another pause.
"She's been dealing with the same thing."
The motorcycle slowed as they entered the subdivision, the air shifting, still, heavy, wrong in a way that didn't belong to the quiet streets and orderly houses. Ramil pointed ahead, his voice low. "That's their place." The lights were on inside, and from the outside, the house looked normal, lived in, safe, but Nille could already feel it. Something vile lingered within.
Not chaotic like the Tiyanak. This one was rooted. Patient. Far more personal. Ramil killed the engine, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Then he spoke quietly, "I just want her safe." Nille stepped off the bike, his gaze fixed on the house. "I know," he said, and without hesitation, he started walking toward it. Ramil didn't follow right away, he remained beside his bike, his hand still resting on the handle as if grounding himself, before finally speaking again, softer this time.
"Nille… I have a small request."
Nille paused but didn't turn fully.
"Many of their relatives think they're losing their minds," Ramil continued. "They don't believe them. They think it's stress… or imagination."
He exhaled slowly.
"Unlike in our family… we grew up with this. My parents can feel them, sometimes see them. We know what's out there. But them…" He glanced toward the house. "They don't have that."
There was a brief silence.
Then Nille turned slightly, his expression calm, steady.
"That's normal," he said.
Ramil looked at him.
"People reject what they don't understand," Nille continued. "They'll call it fear, illness… anything that makes it easier to accept."
He shifted his gaze toward the house.
"But that only lasts until they face it themselves."
His tone didn't carry judgment.
Only certainty.
"The reality is," Nille went on, "we're not alone in this world. We never were. There are things far older than us… things that learned how to stay hidden long before we learned how to look."
Ramil listened quietly.
"They just need time," Nille added. "Time to accept it."
A small pause followed.
"But they can't stay stuck denying it either," he said. "Moving forward is the only way. If they keep holding on to what they think the world should be… they'll break when they see what it actually is."
Ramil lowered his gaze slightly, taking that in.
Then he nodded.
"…Yeah."
Nille looked back at the house, his focus sharpening again.
"Let's deal with what's inside first," he said.
Ramil straightened up, stepping away from the bike.
The air around the house felt heavier now.
Waiting.
And whatever was inside,
It had already noticed them.
All eight members of the Fuentes family were already on edge.
Ramil had informed them ahead of time that someone would come, someone who could help, but anticipation did little to ease the tension that had settled over the house.
Lisa Fuentes stood just outside their two-storey home, her posture composed but her eyes alert. She had been waiting. Not nervously, but expectantly, as if she had already accepted that whatever was happening inside their home was real, and that help had finally arrived.
Behind her, her mother and grandmother sat inside the parked car, choosing not to remain inside the house any longer than necessary. Their faces carried quiet exhaustion, days, maybe weeks, of unrest and sleepless nights showing through their expressions.
The rest of the family gathered near the garage, close enough to the house to stay together, but far enough to feel some distance from whatever lingered within its walls.
Unlike Ramil's home, which shared the open, grounded feel of Nille's own place, the Fuentes residence stood within a tight subdivision. The houses were built close to one another, separated only by narrow spaces, their walls almost parallel. The road in front was clean and paved, but narrow, just enough for two vehicles to pass carefully.
It was the kind of place meant for comfort, for stability, for families trying to build something better. But now it felt confined, as if something unseen had settled within and made the space smaller than it should be. Lisa stepped forward slightly as Ramil and Nille approached, her eyes meeting Nille's. For a moment, she said nothing, then quietly spoke, "You're the one he told us about." It wasn't a question, but a statement, because deep down, she already knew. And as Nille came into full view, he was met with doubtful eyes, just as expected.
He looked young, no older than Lisa, who was already twenty. There was nothing outwardly imposing about him, nothing that immediately justified the stories Ramil had shared. And yet, because he came recommended by Ramil's parents, and because he asked for no payment—the Fuentes family allowed him to stand there, hoping, at the very least, that things would not get any worse.
Daniel Fuentes, Lisa's father, stood near the entrance of the house, his posture guarded. He carried the weight of someone trying to protect his family without fully understanding what he was facing. Not far from him, Lolo Fuentes remained beside his wife, who stayed seated in the car, unwilling to step back inside after everything they had endured.
Nille glanced at them briefly, then asked calmly,
"Who's inside the house right now?"
Daniel hesitated before answering.
"No one," he said. "We don't stay in there anymore unless we have to."
The tension in his voice made it clear, this wasn't fear alone.
It was exhaustion.
The three younger siblings had already been sent to a neighbor's house. It was safer that way. The constant noise, the sudden crashes, the shouting that echoed from inside their home had become too much for them to witness.
From the outside, it looked like a normal family house.
But to the neighborhood, it had become something else.
Rumors had spread quickly.
People thought the family was constantly fighting. Arguments, shouting, things being thrown, day after day. Even during times when the house should have been quiet, the noise didn't stop.
At one point, the Fuentes family left for a short vacation, hoping distance would give them peace.
It didn't.
For three days, in the middle of broad daylight, the house continued to erupt with sound, screams, banging, something like pain echoing through empty rooms. Neighbors reported it. The homeowners association even came to check.
They found the house empty.
And that only made things worse.
When the family returned, the situation escalated.
It wasn't just noise anymore.
It became physical.
Each member began experiencing direct attacks, scratches, bruises, being pushed, dragged, hurt in ways that could no longer be dismissed as coincidence or stress.
That was when Ramil got involved.
A few days ago, he had come with his mother to visit. At first, it was just concern, checking on old acquaintances.
But he saw it.
Firsthand.
He witnessed what the Fuentes family had been enduring.
And that was when he knew,
They needed someone like Nille.
Now, standing in front of the same house, Nille remained quiet for a moment.
Listening.
Not to the people.
But to the space itself.
Nille turned back toward the Fuentes family and raised his voice just enough for all of them to hear clearly.
"Come with me," he said calmly. "No harm will come to you."
The moment he spoke, the house reacted.
A sudden eruption of sound burst from within, shouting, crashing, and distorted screaming that seemed to ripple through the walls themselves. The Fuentes family flinched instinctively, fear tightening their posture as the noise intensified, as if the house was trying to push them away before they even stepped inside.
But Nille didn't react to the intimidation.
Instead, he exhaled slowly.
"It's just making a scene," he said, his tone steady, almost clinical. "It wants you scared. That's all."
He glanced at them briefly.
"It has no real power over you unless you give it one thing, your fear."
The sounds inside the house rose again, louder, more aggressive, as if responding to his words. The pressure in the air increased, trying to push outward, trying to dominate perception.
But Nille took a step forward anyway.
"So don't feed it," he continued. "Stand tall. Walk in."
A pause.
Then, something shifted.
The air around him tightened, not in a threatening way, but in a controlled presence that hadn't been there before. It was subtle, but undeniable. The noise from the house faltered for a fraction of a second, as if something inside had hesitated.
Nille's eyes narrowed slightly.
This was different from before.
He could feel it now, the structure of what was inside. Not just malice, but fragmented presence. Low-level spirits layered over something deeper, reacting instinctively rather than intelligently.
And for the first time, he didn't just sense them.
He responded to them.
A quiet command formed in his awareness, not spoken loudly, not forced, but asserted with clarity.
Enough.
The disturbance inside the house wavered.
The screaming did not stop immediately, but its rhythm broke, as if the presence generating it had lost coherence for a moment.
Ramil noticed it first.
"…It's quieter," he muttered.
Nille stepped closer to the entrance.
Within him, something newly awakened settled into place, not fully understood, but undeniably present.
Kalis Mulayari.
Not just power.
But recognition of structure.
Authority over lesser spiritual disturbances, not through force alone, but through alignment and dominance of will.
The house's presence resisted for a moment longer,
Then weakened again.
Nille didn't look back at the Fuentes family.
"Stay behind me," he said simply.
And for the first time since the ordeal began, the house no longer felt like it was winning the moment.
It was waiting for him to enter.
As the Fuentes family settled into their main living room—now stripped of the younger children's presence, the atmosphere inside the house felt heavier than before. Even without direct contact, the noise from within the structure continued to seep through the walls: faint scratching, distant shouting, and irregular thuds that seemed to shift location without logic.
Nille raised a hand slightly, drawing their attention.
"Stay calm," he said firmly but without panic. "Ignore the noise you're hearing."
He scanned their faces briefly, making sure they were listening.
"It will get worse if you react to it. That's how it pulls you in. It will try to make you question what is real and what isn't."
Lisa's mother tightened her grip on her hands, while Daniel Fuentes sat rigidly, clearly fighting the instinct to look toward every sound. Even Lolo Fuentes, though experienced in life's hardships, remained unusually silent—aware that this was beyond anything physical or familiar.
Nille turned his attention to Ramil.
"Go to the others," he instructed. "Be with the three kids at the neighbor's house. Stay with them until I come for you."
Ramil hesitated for a moment. "What about here?"
"They'll try to distort perception," Nille said calmly. "Make you second-guess what you see. But I can distinguish what's real and what's not."
His eyes sharpened slightly.
"So don't interfere. Don't investigate. Just stay with them. Watch over them."
A brief pause.
"And don't react to anything unusual they might say or do."
Ramil nodded slowly, understanding enough not to question further.
"…Got it."
Without wasting time, he left the house and headed toward the neighboring home where the three younger Fuentes children were being kept safe. The neighbors had already agreed to watch over them, though even they had begun to witness strange disturbances from a distance—lights flickering, unexplained sounds echoing faintly from the Fuentes residence, and a lingering tension in the air that made even simple conversation feel uneasy.
Outside, Ramil joined them, taking position beside the children and the neighbors, grounding them with presence rather than explanation. He didn't tell them everything—only that someone was handling it, and they needed to stay calm.
Meanwhile, inside the Fuentes house, Nille remained seated with the family.
The noise continued.
But now it was different.
It wasn't random anymore.
It was watching.
Waiting for reaction.
And Nille, unmoving, continued to observe it as well, his awareness no longer scattered, but focused, as he prepared to separate illusion from intent.
Nille stood up slowly, his movement calm despite the escalating chaos around him. From his pocket, he took out a small candle and lit it without a match. The flame appeared instantly, steady and unwavering, as if it had obeyed him rather than been created by ordinary means.
Lisa's eyes widened in disbelief at what she had just seen.
Around them, the atmosphere shifted violently.
The noise inside the house grew louder, no longer distant or muffled, but sharp and intrusive, as if the entire structure itself was reacting. Kitchen utensils clattered and then lifted into the air, spinning unnaturally. Plates slid off surfaces and launched across the room without warning. Tables creaked as they shifted from their positions, and chairs scraped violently against the floor as if dragged by invisible hands.
Even the sofa the Fuentes family was seated on trembled, then moved slightly, as though something beneath it was trying to pull it out of place.
Panic flickered across their faces, but they held back, remembering Nille's earlier warning not to react.
The house was no longer just noisy.
It was alive with forceful intent.
And in the middle of it all, Nille remained steady, holding the candle as its flame burned brighter against the growing darkness. He scanned the area slowly, his eyes narrowing as he stepped forward, moving deliberately toward the center of the house, right between the kitchen and the main living room. Everyone followed his movement with anxious eyes, unsure of what he was seeing, but unable to look away.
His gaze locked onto a single point in the air.
Without hesitation, he continued forward.
The furniture around them shifted again, but Nille did not stop. He reached the back of the sofa where the Fuentes family was seated, and in one sudden, precise motion, he extended his arm and grabbed something that no one else could see.
The moment his hand closed,
The candlelight flickered violently.
The entire room plunged into a distorted wave of pressure, as if reality itself had been struck.
A deep, guttural growl erupted through the space, low, layered, and inhuman. It wasn't just sound; it felt like something massive was forcing its presence into the room, resisting capture, resisting recognition.
The air thickened.
And for the first time, the Fuentes family understood,
Nille had found it.
Nille's hand closed firmly around the invisible pressure in the air, and in that instant, the room's distortion snapped into partial form. The candlelight flickered violently, stretching shadows across the walls like broken glass. The air itself seemed to thicken, resisting his grip, until something finally forced its presence into visibility.
What emerged was not fully physical at first, an unstable, writhing mass of darkened essence layered over a vaguely humanoid structure. The Busô manifested in fragments, as if reality itself struggled to tolerate its existence.
Its form was distorted and wrong.
The head was elongated, skull-like but unfinished, with jagged contours where features should have been. Its mouth opened wider than natural anatomy allowed, stretching in uneven, twitching layers as if several jaws were stacked inside one another. No eyes were clearly defined, only hollow impressions that pulsed with faint, sickly light, shifting between recognition and hunger.
Its body was thin yet unnaturally dense, like burned fabric stretched over something hardened underneath. Limbs bent at inconsistent angles, twitching as though the joints were not fixed but argued with themselves. The skin, or what resembled it, appeared charred, semi-translucent in places, revealing veins of dark spiritual residue flowing beneath like corrupted currents.
It writhed violently in Nille's grasp, emitting a sound that was not fully a voice, but a layered growl combined with fragmented human cries, echoes of something that had once mimicked life but no longer remembered how to remain stable.
The surrounding objects in the house shook again as it struggled, as if its existence alone was trying to rewrite the space around it.
But Nille's grip did not loosen.
He stared directly at it.
Calm.
Unmoved.
"So it was you," he said quietly.
And for the first time since the haunting began,
The Busô seemed to hesitate.
Nille's grip tightened, and the Busô immediately recoiled as if the air itself had turned into iron around it. Its distorted form shuddered violently, gasping in fragmented cries as its unstable essence struggled to hold shape.
"Stop what you're doing," Nille said coldly. "Release the wandering spirits. Now."
The Busô let out a broken, mocking laugh despite its pain, its hollow face twitching as if amusement and fear were fighting for control.
"You think I act alone?" it rasped. "Someone is protecting me… we are conducting a test. Feeding on the sins of mortals… to make us stronger."
Nille's expression did not change.
His grip only tightened further.
"Who is ordering you?" he asked quietly.
The creature's form flickered, trying to stabilize as it forced out words, desperate now to regain psychological leverage.
"Killing me means your end, mortal fool," it hissed. "I serve a powerful Encanto… a Pilandok."
For a brief moment, silence cut through the room.
Even the air felt heavier.
Then Nille spoke.
"Urto Dimas."
The Busô froze.
Its hollow features shifted, fear replacing defiance almost instantly.
"H-How do you know his name…?" it stammered.
Nille finally smiled faintly, but there was nothing warm in it.
"Do you know who I am?"
The creature tried to respond, but the scarf around Nille subtly reacted first, its presence tightening the surrounding spiritual flow, sealing off escape routes of essence and will. The pressure in the room shifted again, heavier now, like gravity had doubled only around the Busô.
Nille's spiritual energy surged.
Not chaotic.
Controlled.
Defined.
A wave of raw, structured force expanded from his core, and the Busô was suddenly felt it on its scaly skin, the mist like but unseen by mortal eyes was burning the Buso, not with fire, but with collapsing spiritual pressure. Its distorted body cracked and fragmented under the weight of his presence, as if reality itself was rejecting it.
The creature screamed, no longer mocking, no longer confident.
Its voice broke.
And in that moment of collapse, recognition finally surfaced in its fading consciousness.
"You… are the Lingkod Kamatayan!"
The words echoed through the house.
And then,
The Busô's form shattered under Nille's grip, its essence breaking apart like ash scattered by unseen winds. For a moment, the entire house fell into an unnatural silence, so complete it felt heavier than the chaos that came before it. the scarf tread quickly grab tehe Buso core bead and took it
Then, slowly, the pressure in the air began to lift.
One by one, faint shapes emerged around the room, transparent, drifting figures that had been bound and hidden within the Busô's corruption. These were the wandering spirits it had enslaved, distorted and fed upon for its own strength. Now freed, they no longer carried that twisted weight of suffering.
They stabilized gently in the air, their forms becoming clearer, softer, no longer aggressive or fractured.
And then, as if guided by a shared understanding, they turned toward Nille.
All of them bowed.
Not in fear.
But in gratitude.
A quiet, collective acknowledgment of release.
The moment lingered.
The heavy resentment that had been clinging to the house, built from fear, confusion, and lingering spiritual pressure, began to dissolve. It didn't vanish violently; it faded like fog burned away by morning light.
Inside the living room, the Fuentes family felt it immediately.
Lisa let out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her mother's tense shoulders slowly eased. Even Daniel Fuentes lowered his gaze slightly, as if something unseen had finally stopped pressing against his thoughts.
The house no longer felt like it was watching them.
It felt empty.
But in a clean way.
A restored kind of emptiness.
Lisa looked around cautiously, then back at Nille, her voice barely above a whisper.
"…It's gone."
Nille didn't respond immediately.
He simply observed the space where the Busô had been, confirming the absence, sensing the residual traces fading completely.
Then he spoke calmly.
"It's resolved."
Outside, even the air around the house seemed lighter now, like something that had been choking the space for days had finally been removed.
But Nille's expression remained focused.
Because while this presence was gone…
He knew this was not the only one connected to it.
And somewhere beyond this house,
Urto Dimas' influence had already been confirmed, but the full picture was still incomplete. Nille understood that the Busô was not acting alone, and whatever experiment it had mentioned was tied to something larger—something organized, deliberate, and still in motion.
But for now, he set that thought aside.
The immediate threat had been dealt with.
The house was cleared.
His task here was complete.
Nille turned his attention back to Lisa Fuentes, his tone calm but firm.
"Get Ramil," he said. "And bring your siblings here."
Lisa hesitated for a moment, still processing everything that had just happened, but she nodded quickly and moved to comply. The weight in the house had shifted enough that even simple movement felt easier now.
Within moments, Ramil and the three younger siblings were brought back into the house. Ramil's expression changed immediately as he entered—he could feel it too. The oppressive presence was gone, replaced by a strange, quiet stillness that felt almost unreal after everything they had endured.
Nille looked at all of them.
His gaze was steady, measured.
"There is one final step," he said.
Lisa frowned slightly. "Final step?"
Nille nodded.
"The Busô's energy lingered here long enough to interfere with perception. In some cases, it can force premature awakening of spiritual sensitivity—what some call the 'third eye.'"
A pause.
"That kind of forced opening is unstable. It doesn't grant clarity. It causes confusion, distortion, and lingering psychological residue."
Ramil stepped forward slightly. "So what do we do?"
Nille raised his hand calmly.
"I will close your senses temporarily," he said. "Not permanently. This will stabilize your perception and prevent residual spiritual imprinting from affecting you."
Lisa looked uncertain. "We'll… lose awareness?"
"Only for a short time," Nille replied. "Think of it as resetting your perception. What you experienced here was not natural exposure."
He glanced briefly at the room.
"It was contamination."
The word settled heavily in the silence.
Then Nille stepped closer, his presence calm but unmistakably precise. The scarf shifted slightly, reacting to his intent, not aggressively, but in coordination, as if preparing to assist.
One by one, he began to focus his energy outward, not to attack, but to stabilize. A controlled spiritual field spread gently through the room, soft and measured, like pressure equalizing after a storm.
The lingering Busô residue, along with the unstable spiritual impressions, began to compress and fade.
No one screamed.
No one resisted.
Instead, the Fuentes family slowly felt their awareness settle, like something chaotic inside their perception was being gently sealed and placed back into order.
Nille's voice remained steady as he finished the process.
"When you wake up from this state," he said, "everything will feel normal again."
A brief pause.
"But you will remember what happened."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"And you will understand that it was real."
Then the final wave of stabilization passed through the room.
And the house, finally, returned to silence, not haunted, not heavy…