The silence of the forest slowly returned after the vibrating air after the ritual.
Ken, Courtney and Norman stood at the edge of the clearing, their hearts still pounding from shock, but the shared experience created a kind of connection between them. In the succubus hell, because of the faceless creature, but also because the Succubus had pulled him with her charm curse magic.
However, something new had happened. In the city, in the darker streets, an invisible spiritual presence began to move.
The sound of a low, almost parodic chuckle echoed off the walls of the empty alleys. It was the spirit of Martin Hale. His aura was hidden, so it was invisible and undetectable to mortals, and the inhabitants of the city noticed nothing of the strange phenomena.
Martin was no longer the old, powerful manipulator. After the ritual, something must have happened in his death: as a disembodied, but still present spirit, he tried to find people whose minds were weak.
"Oh, that's impossible…" he whispered to himself as he watched a little boy pushing a bicycle. "A little more brain wouldn't hurt… But no… everyone is weak!"
The boy simply drove away, and Martin threw up his arms in annoyance. "Compared to my original body, this… this… this is comical!" he blurted out. "Who has such a weak brain? No, no… I have to start all over again!"
Wandering around the city like a ghost, Martin examined every weak mind: geeks, shy kids, flu sufferers… they were all unsuitable. His attempts lasted for months, because the normal, strong minds were all too alert.
"One… two… three…" he counted out loud while trying to possess an old man, who immediately sneezed and turned away. "You say you're the perfect victim… you're a sick geek, this is not good!"
Meanwhile, Martin Hale's ghost had become more and more of a comical figure. Despite his past experiences, the weak minds of mortals played tricks on him.
After each attempt, he would stomp furiously as he searched the quiet alleys of the city, and instead of screams, he would be greeted only by soft laughter and sneezing.
Ken and Norman, who occasionally worked in other parts of the city, still did not know about the ghost. His aura was hidden, so he remained completely invisible to them.
Only Martin felt his own shortcomings flawlessly as he wandered the city, trying to find anyone he could take over.
Courtney would occasionally send Ken a small text message: -Listen... if something strange happens, DO NOT TOUCH IT. Just... don't.
And Ken understood that there was some new, invisible danger in the city, but they knew nothing about it specifically.
This thread would drag on for months.
Martin, as a ghost, impatiently searched for the ideal target, while Ken, Norman and Courtney tried to deduce from the clues: the dark energies of the city had not subsided after the victim of the faceless creature.
There was something new in the air, something unexpected, and the young people did not yet know that this would be the return of Martin's ghost, but for now they only kept their safety in mind.
After a month of irritating searching...
For Martin Hale, death was... a disappointment.
Not because of the pain—he was over that.
Not because of the succubus—the memory was both humiliating and fatal. But because as a ghost, he had far less power than he had expected.
He could float.
He could walk through walls, yes.
He could create cold drafts? Sometimes.
But controlling a human?
It proved ridiculously difficult.
He drifted over the city like a misguided balloon as he tried again and again. A young man with glasses leaned over his laptop—Martin tried to reach into his mind. The result: the man suddenly looked up, sneezed, and then returned to the anime forum.
"Really?" Martin growled. "Is that all you have?"
Another attempt ended in a hospital waiting room.
The sick man sitting there had a mind so weak that Martin had slipped into it… and then fallen out immediately when the man fell asleep and began to snore.
"This… this is insulting," Martin hissed. "I am meant for more than that."
He didn't dare go near children. Some instinctive, deep prohibition repelled him from them. It was as if the world itself had said no.
And so he drifted out into the woods.
The southwest part of Blithe Hollow was quiet, old, and dense. There were no streetlights here, only moonlight and the deep, slow breathing of the trees.
At first Martin had only wandered angrily when he sensed it.
Not an aura.
Not a ghost.
But… emptiness.
A huge body lay deep in the woods, next to a fallen tree. An old grizzly bear. Its fur was gray, its chest rising and falling slowly. It was no longer hunting. He wasn't fighting. He was just living. Peace was all around him.
Martin stopped above him.
"You…" he whispered. "You're not thinking, are you?"
He ventured closer. There was no resistance. No mental wall. Just dull, slow instincts: sleep, memories, smells, the forest.
Martin laughed to himself. His voice echoed distortedly through the trees. "This… this is perfect."
When he slid into the body, there was no explosion. There was no pain. There was no struggle. The bear just trembled, growled in its sleep… then it was quiet.
Martin felt the weight.
The muscles.
The claws.
"Hahaha…" – the voice was deep now, throaty, animalistic. "Look… look how strong I've become."
He stood up. A little awkwardly. He tripped over a root and almost fell back. "Okay, good… this takes more practice."
The bear body moved slowly, awkwardly, but it was obedient. It didn't ask. It didn't fight. Martin finally stayed inside.
But behind the comic, there was something else.
When the bear's eyes opened, for a moment they weren't brown, but empty, dull gray. Martin sensed something he hadn't before: he was being watched.
Not Norman.
Not Ken.
Something old. Something deep beneath the forest.
"Calm down," the bear growled. "I'm just… learning."
The body moved inward, toward the thickest part of the forest, where even the moonlight didn't reach. The undergrowth crackled at its footsteps, birds flew up in alarm.
Martin Hale was finally not helpless.
But he still wasn't dangerous.
And it… annoyed him.
Far away in the city, Ken suddenly stopped for a moment, for no reason.
Courtney looked at him.
"What is it?" she asked.
Ken shook his head. "Nothing. It's just… it seems like the forest is louder today."
Norman didn't say anything. He just looked out the window.
And he noted a very faint, barely perceptible vibration in his notebook.
Not an aura.
Not a ghost.
Something… weight.
The forest was unusually quiet the next morning.
It wasn't the quiet of calm, but the kind where the animals had already decided it was best not to speak.
Ken walked ahead, Courtney walked behind him, Norman a little behind, watching the ground as if the ground itself was telling him.
"Okay…" Courtney spoke as she stopped. "Now I can officially say that this is not a normal forest walk."
Ken looked down at his feet.
The ground was deeply rutted.
Not scratching.
Not hunting.
Footsteps.
Huge. Slow. Unusually… uncertain.
"Bear?" Ken asked instinctively.
Norman crouched down, touched the edge of the track. His eyebrows furrowed.
"Yes. But…" he trailed off. "These tracks aren't fresh. And yet… it's as if he'd been walking backwards at some point."
Courtney stifled a laugh. "A bear walking backwards. Great. All that's missing is a pair of skates."
Ken wasn't smiling. Something didn't add up. There were deeper depressions in the tracks, where the weight was misaligned—as if the body didn't know exactly how to move at all.
"It's like—" Ken began, then stopped.
"It's like someone's learning their body," Norman finished quietly.
The air moved around them. Not like an aura—just a gentle draft, as if the forest had exhaled.
Far, far away, in the thicket of trees—
Martin Hale had fallen.
The bear's body was huge. Strong. But Martin still thought of it as a human. He tried to turn gracefully, which ended in him crashing into a log and then falling sideways.
"This… this is terrible planning," he growled, his voice deep and hoarse. "Who thought of giving him four legs?"
He scrambled to his feet. His body was obedient but impatient. Instincts took over at times: he followed scents, watched for bugs, for a moment almost searched for honey in a fallen tree trunk.
"No. No. No!" Martin muttered. "Focus. Manipulation. Fear. Power."
The bear sneezed then.
With such force that a bush literally disappeared in front of him.
Martin fell silent. "…good. I like that."
He tried to be scary. He reared up, roared—the sound echoed through the forest, dozens of birds flew up.
Then a squirrel fell from a branch, looked at him… and ran away.
"THAT'S IT?!" Martin yelled. "WHAT IS A BEAR WORTH?!"
The Kens froze.
"Did you hear that?" Courtney asked.
A deep, distorted roar echoed through the trees.
"That wasn't an attack," Norman said slowly. "It's… frustration."
Ken swallowed hard. "A frustrated bear is worse than an aggressive one."
They moved on, but neither of them noticed that the tracks had begun to circle. They weren't tracing a hunting pattern, but… experimentation. As if the creature was trying to figure out where it left a mark and where it didn't.
Meanwhile, Martin sat down in a clearing. He literally sat down. The bear didn't understand why, but he did.
"Let's think," he murmured. "If I… say… walked into town right now…"
An instinct pulled him back immediately.
No.
"Okay. Then not," he sighed. "This body is too conspicuous."
He looked up at the sky. In the light filtering through the treetops, the world suddenly seemed… too peaceful.
"Temporary," he decided. "We'll practice. We'll learn. Then… we'll find something else."
The bear slowly disappeared into the thickest part of the forest.
The Kens stopped at a point where the tracks suddenly disappeared.
"It's like… it was absorbed," Courtney said.
Norman took notes silently. "It wasn't absorbed. It learned where not to leave a trace."
Ken looked back at the forest. He felt no aura. No threat.
And that was the worst part.
Somewhere deep in the trees, a veteran grizzly lay peacefully…
and a dead man waited patiently.