The ugly face of the oxygen-mask spirit slowly emerged from Quinn's shoulder.
A twisted grin spread across its features.
One claw gently stroked Quinn's body while its dark eyes locked onto Lucien.
Its meaning couldn't have been more obvious.
I have a hostage.
What can you do now?
Elise's expression darkened instantly.
Anger burned inside her.
Yet because Quinn's soul was still trapped in the monster's hands, she could do nothing except glare helplessly.
At the same time—
dark shadows began crawling from every corner of the room.
The walls.
The ceiling.
The floor.
Twisted figures slowly emerged from the darkness.
An ambush.
The spirit had prepared an ambush from the very beginning.
A rasping laugh echoed through the room.
"Hssss..."
The oxygen-mask spirit pointed at the crowbar in Lucien's hand.
Then it tightened its grip around Quinn's neck.
The vacant-eyed girl suddenly spoke.
But the voice wasn't hers.
It was his.
"Drop the weapon."
"Or I'll destroy her soul."
The spirit laughed.
"You are strong, exorcist."
"You killed Parker."
"You killed Parker's mother."
"But even you cannot escape my grasp."
Quinn's body trembled like a puppet as the spirit used her mouth to continue speaking.
"I've never owned an exorcist before."
The heavy breathing grew louder.
Colder.
More disturbing.
"When I take your soul..."
"I'll put a collar around your neck."
"And chain you beside my door."
"You'll guard it forever."
Elise struggled violently against the ghostly restraints binding her body.
The black hands tightened further.
No matter how hard she fought—
she couldn't break free.
Meanwhile—
more spirits emerged from the shadows.
Closing in around Lucien.
The situation looked hopeless.
Even Lucien seemed to lower the crowbar slightly.
A fierce determination flashed across Elise's eyes.
Lucien was the most talented exorcist she had ever met.
The strongest.
The youngest.
The most ridiculous.
If someone had to die here—
it should be her.
Not him.
"If I fail to save you..."
Elise whispered.
"Then I'll stay here with you forever, Quinn..."
But before she could do anything—
a cold sneer interrupted her.
"Idiot."
The room froze.
Everyone looked toward Lucien.
He stared at the oxygen-mask spirit as if it were stupid.
"Why would I put down my weapon?"
"You captured her."
"What does that have to do with me?"
Silence.
The oxygen-mask spirit froze.
Elise froze.
Even Quinn's puppet-like body froze.
What?
Wasn't he here to rescue her?
For one brief moment—
the spirit's mind completely stalled.
And that moment was enough.
Lucien raised one hand.
"Come here."
The instant those words left his mouth—
the oxygen-mask spirit's body flew forward uncontrollably.
Along with Quinn.
The spirit's eyes widened.
It suddenly realized something horrifying.
Lucien had already raised the crowbar.
Fear exploded inside it.
Everything it relied upon—
its hostage.
Its threats.
Its confidence.
All vanished instantly.
The spirit released Quinn and desperately attempted to transform into mist.
To escape.
To run.
Too late.
A black blur flashed through the darkness.
CRACK!
The sharpened end of the crowbar pierced directly through its forehead.
The spirit's thoughts stopped.
Its body froze.
A single question remained.
When...
did the crowbar leave his hand?
The next second—
its head exploded.
The body crashed into the floor.
But the attack wasn't over.
The crowbar continued flying.
As though alive.
As though guided by an invisible hand.
It dragged the spirit's corpse through the room and tore through the darkness beyond.
One evil spirit.
Then another.
Then another.
Miserable screams echoed endlessly.
A long-haired ghost watched the massacre in horror.
Then immediately turned and fled.
Run.
Run!
Run!
That was the only thought left in its mind.
Fortunately—
a door stood nearby.
Without hesitation, it grabbed the handle and threw it open.
The ghost rushed through.
Then—
THUD!
A crowbar pierced straight through its skull.
The spirit dispersed instantly.
Its body scattered into mist.
And for a brief moment—
the scene beyond the doorway became visible.
It wasn't another section of the dark realm.
It was an attic.
A normal attic.
A young boy around ten years old stood atop a ladder reaching for something on a high shelf.
Suddenly seeing a ghost get skewered by a flying crowbar—
the boy screamed and fell backward.
Lucien met his gaze through the doorway.
The boy stared back.
The two looked at each other for a second.
Then Lucien casually pulled the crowbar back.
And slammed the door shut.
BANG.
The attic vanished.
Only the confused boy remained.
Downstairs—
a worried voice called out.
"Dalton!"
A moment later, his mother climbed into the attic.
Seeing him on the floor, she hurried over.
"Dalton!"
"Are you hurt?"
"Did you hit your head?"
The boy ignored her questions.
His eyes remained fixed on the place where the strange door had appeared.
A flying crowbar.
A terrifying young man.
And a ghost that exploded.
Had he imagined it?
Meanwhile—
inside the dark realm.
Lucien was far more interested in something else.
Swordsmanship.
Or more accurately—
sword control.
The ability to remotely control a weapon.
Whether it was a sword.
A spear.
Or apparently—
a crowbar.
A weapon was a weapon.
The oxygen-mask spirit thought a hostage would make him helpless.
Unfortunately—
it had unknowingly volunteered itself as a test subject.
Lucien examined the floating crowbar thoughtfully.
Not bad.
Much easier than expected.
Perhaps because his soul had grown stronger from hunting so many spirits.
Originally—
he had planned to use his attraction ability to compensate if his control wasn't precise enough.
Now it seemed unnecessary.
At that moment—
notifications appeared in his mind.
[You successfully used Sword Control to kill a powerful evil spirit.]
[Swordsmanship Proficiency +4]
[You killed an evil spirit using Sword Control.]
[Swordsmanship Proficiency +1]
[You killed an evil spirit using Sword Control.]
[Swordsmanship Proficiency +1]
Lucien's eyes brightened.
Interesting.
The crowbar immediately accelerated again.
Like a black lightning bolt.
Flying wherever his thoughts directed it.
The remaining spirits never even had the chance to scream.
One by one—
they were erased.
Minutes later—
silence returned.
The room was empty.
Every spirit had either been destroyed or fled.
The restraints binding Elise finally disappeared.
She slowly stood up.
Still somewhat dazed.
When she first met Lucien—
she thought he was simply a gifted young exorcist.
Strong.
Talented.
Promising.
Now?
Now she wasn't even sure what category he belonged to.
Astral projection.
Wind manipulation.
Illusion resistance.
Soul perception.
Remote weapon control.
And countless other abilities she couldn't even identify.
This mysterious antique-shop owner was unquestionably the strongest exorcist she had ever met.
Thinking back to her earlier resolve to sacrifice herself for him—
Elise suddenly felt a little embarrassed.
Perhaps she had worried unnecessarily.
"Lucien..."
Her voice carried genuine respect.
"It's an honor to have worked with you."
Lucien nodded.
Accepting the compliment without hesitation.
"Good."
"Now that we're finished."
"Let's go home."
"...Alright."
The two began retracing their steps.
Quinn's recovered soul followed beside them.
The journey back was unbelievably quiet.
Not a single spirit appeared.
Not one.
Every ghost hiding within the dark realm had learned the same lesson tonight.
If you saw Lucien—
run.
If you heard Lucien—
run.
If you saw a flying crowbar—
run faster.
Throughout the darkness, countless spirits hid silently and trembled.
Praying that the terrifying young exorcist would continue walking.
And never notice them.
Behind Lucien, Elise took a deep breath and followed.
For the first time in her entire life—
she had witnessed a scene where even a hundred ghosts fled in terror.
And at the center of it all—
walked a man carrying a crowbar.
As calmly as if he had merely taken an evening stroll.