Voices of the Dead

Ghouls possess no intellect.

The memories, personality, and emotions that once belonged to the host are all gone; all that remains is the most basic predatory instinct.

They also feed on life force, possess strength far exceeding that of an ordinary person, and have extremely high resistance to physical damage.

Severing an arm cannot stop them from moving, and piercing their heart will not make them stop.

In the danger classification of the occult, ghouls are categorized at the very bottom.

But Richard remembers the remarks in Appendix C very clearly:

"The bottom tier is only a relative comparison among us practitioners; for ordinary people, even the lowest-tier evil entity is an unsolvable disaster."

The souls of those killed by evil entities cannot enter the normal cycle of the Spirit Realm.

The Aether contamination remaining at the site of death anchors the soul in place, making it unable to leave.

Appendix C has a specific term for this—Vox Mortis.

Vox Mortis, the voice of the dead.

Unlike a Wandering Soul, which possesses a high degree of self-awareness, Vox Mortis does not.

Vox Mortis is a video tape played on a loop; the fear, pain, and anger of the moment of death are carved into the Aether field, forming a persistent source of interference.

They have no consciousness and cannot communicate, but they exert an influence on the minds of the living.

If what Warren said is true, the remains of a ghoul and several Vox Mortis are sealed beneath the foundation.

Then the area under the playground is a small-scale supernatural contamination zone.

"Buddy, what do you think?" Warren leaned in, bumping his shoulder against him.

"Newspaper reports are usually not very accurate," Richard said. "The specifics might be off, but the core event should be true. The transcript your cousin found has more reference value."

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Mason interjected.

"I believe some things are hard to explain."

Warren laughed, stuffed the photocopy back into his pocket, and got up to pour some tea.

Gray glanced at Richard from the side.

Throughout the entire story, the reactions of everyone present were fear, curiosity, or dismissal.

Only Richard was quietly thinking.

After school that day, Richard returned home, closed his bedroom door, and began to brainstorm.

The most critical question now is: what stimulated them?

The seal had been maintained for over forty years; if there were no external factors involved, the internal Vox Mortis should have been in a state of decay.

They had no energy source and would only grow weaker until they dissipated completely.

He looked at the copper ornament on the table and suddenly thought of the God-Descending Disk Warren had brought.

Before he drained the God-Descending Disk, Warren had carried it in a cloth bag across half the campus for an entire day.

The cloth bag had no function to shield Aether; it was just a piece of ordinary coarse cloth.

If the God-Descending Disk leaked even a trace amount of Aether during that journey, it would be food for the Vox Mortis.

Within the perception range of Vox Mortis, which had been sealed for decades and in a state of constant starvation, a trace of Aether leakage was enough to trigger a reaction.

After being briefly "fed," they became active again.

He had drained the God-Descending Disk, preventing a larger leak.

But before the absorption, the trace leakage during that journey might have been enough.

Or perhaps it had nothing to do with this at all, and he was just overthinking it.

The seal itself had a lifespan; once it reached the age of decay, the interior began to stir, and the two events were just a coincidence in timing.

He did not have enough information to make a judgment, so he could only set it aside for now.

There was one more thing that had been weighing on his mind, which he had not had the chance to verify.

The available points on his panel had only been obtained from three things so far: the copper ornament, the God-Descending Disk, and the Sphinx Oil Lamp from Clement Antiques.

The three items had one thing in common.

They were all ancient artifacts, and they all contained remnants of supernatural power.

But he had never figured out one question: is it possible to absorb Aether as long as there are remnants, or must it be absorbed through the medium of an antique?

If it were the former, he should also be able to obtain points in an environment where Aether is diffused in the air.

If it were the latter, then his cheat had a clear limiting condition:

He must find and touch antiques containing supernatural remnants to obtain points.

This question would directly determine his strategy for obtaining points in the future.

It was a pity that he couldn't verify it for now, unless he could go to a place where the Aether concentration was significantly higher than usual to test it out.

For instance... the basement.

He shook his head, shelving that thought in a corner of his mind.

After the history class ended the next day, Mr. Hutton called out to Richard, who was just about to leave.

"Williams, stay for a moment."

The sound of footsteps and laughter in the hallway gradually faded away.

Mr. Hutton waited until the figure of the last student disappeared around the corner before standing up to close the classroom door.

He walked back to the podium, leaned against its edge, and slowly spun the unlit pipe in his fingers.

"There's a rumor going around the school about the basement being haunted. You've heard it."

It wasn't a question.

"I've heard it."

"Do you believe the story your friend Warren told, the one about what happened fifty years ago?"

"I believe half of it."

"Which half?"

"The part about something being sealed down there—I believe that."

Richard weighed his words, deciding to stop holding back.

"The Ghoul and the Vox Mortis being sealed in the old foundation beneath the playground could explain the anomalies in the basement lately. But the details in Warren's story, like the wording in the newspapers, are usually exaggerated."

Mr. Hutton's eyebrows twitched; he noticed that Richard didn't use words like "ghost" or "monster."

The fluent use of terms like Ghoul, Vox Mortis, and seal suggested that the boy was genuinely interested in the occult and had been studying it diligently.

He moved the pipe from one hand to the other and slowly turned it around.

"Williams, there is indeed a seal beneath the foundation of this school."

"What's sealed inside matches what Warren said for the most part: remains of a Ghoul and several anchored Vox Mortis.

The textile mill shut down completely because of this, and the land sat abandoned for over a decade before Greenwood absorbed the original site during its expansion."

"The seal was set forty-three years ago by professionals, using silver-based inscriptions and holy water wax seals. It's very sturdy."

"But it isn't permanent."

Richard understood what he meant: "It needs regular reinforcement."

Mr. Hutton nodded:

"Correct. Every so often, someone needs to go down and check on the seal.

The silver-based inscriptions fade over time, and the holy water wax seals slowly degrade in the damp underground environment.

If not maintained regularly, the effectiveness of the seal will decline year by year."

He pulled a pocket watch from his pocket, glanced at it, and snapped it shut.

"I go to reinforce it every year around the start of winter.

This year is a bit special; the Vox Mortis within the seal have become more active than in previous years, which you've likely deduced from those incidents."

"I plan to go handle it this Friday night."

The old gentleman put away his pipe, as casually as if he were talking about fixing a leaky pipe:

"Would you like to come along and see?"