Outside the hospital building.
Lucian Graves' uncle, Commander Elias Graves, had arrived in person, leading an elite squad of exorcists. Though he had heard tales of ghosts appearing in broad daylight, he never expected such a phenomenon to occur in a city like Havenport.
"In Jinyuan City, it was only a low-tier specter. This one should be similar," Elias muttered to himself. "The Graves brothers should be able to handle it."
But even as he tried to reassure himself, a gnawing unease lingered deep within his chest—an ominous sense that something far worse was coming.
Just as Elias stepped onto the hospital grounds—
CRASH!
A window shattered.
A torrent of ghostly energy exploded into the sky like a storm, shrouding even the clear blue heavens in darkness.
"An A-Rank wraith?!" Elias' expression changed dramatically.
On his shoulder, a tattooed ghostly hand writhed to life, reacting to the overwhelming malice in the air.
This wasn't a mere haunting.
This was a calamity in the making.
If that ghost made it into the densely populated downtown area, the consequences for all of Havenport would be unthinkable.
Cold sweat streamed down Elias' back.
"We must stop that ghost—no matter what it takes!"
He sprinted toward the crumbling hospital, his cloak whipping in the wind. Four or five elite exorcists exchanged glances behind him, reading the same grim resolve in one another's eyes.
They had no choice.
This wraith could not be allowed to roam free.
Dark energy surged around them as they charged in unison toward the source.
"GRAAAHHHH!!"The wraith—dubbed the Shatter Ghost for the way it fragmented reality around it—roared as the exorcists approached. It raised a massive, clawed hand, ripples of power distorting the air.
The targeted exorcist felt his heart stop.
But then—something impossible happened.
The Shatter Ghost froze.
Completely.
Despite the raging ghostly energy flooding from its body, its hand remained suspended mid-air, unmoving, as if shackled by some invisible force.
The exorcists stared in disbelief.
Even Elias couldn't comprehend what he was seeing.
And then—
BOOM.
Two overwhelming auras erupted from within the hospital.
Ghostly pressure surged like a tidal wave, painting the skies pitch-black, as though the sun had vanished behind a veil of death.
Two figures emerged.
One tall, one short.One cloaked in black, the other in white.
Their mere presence struck the exorcists like divine judgment. Their eyes—calm, ancient, indifferent—swept over them, and the warriors who had faced countless horrors felt their courage wither.
Even the Shatter Ghost, who had moments ago reigned like a demon god, cowered like a rat before a cat, trembling beneath the gaze of these spectral entities.
Clink... clink... clink...
The black-robed figure—Black Warden—lifted a chain that slithered like a serpent, coiling through the air and binding the wraith in a flash.
The mighty A-Rank ghost struggled like a child in the grip of a titan.
Below, the growing crowd looked up in awe.
Phones were raised, cameras clicked. Some whispered prayers, others burst into tears. A few even called their families to stream the scene live.
In the midst of them stood a young girl—Mandy Yu—eyes bright with joy.
"See?! I told you I wasn't lying!" she shouted, shaking the arm of the stunned exorcist beside her, Jason Chiang.
"Not only did we see Black Warden again—but White Warden is here too!"
"Gods are real! The Netherworld is real! They've come to save us!"
Jason could only gape at the sky, muttering, "So... the Netherworld really does exist..."
Black Warden. White Warden.The twin reapers of legend—the Netherworld's enforcers.
"I-It's the Black and White Wardens!"
"No way—are the legends true?!"
"Gods walk among us!"
The crowd grew ecstatic.
In a world plagued by ghostly resurgence, humanity had prayed again and again for divine intervention. And now—those ancient spirits had descended from myth into reality.
But not everyone was celebrating.
Among the exorcists, a chilling silence had fallen. Cold sweat drenched their uniforms.
Only those who had felt the power of the Wardens firsthand knew what true fear was.
Their mere presence silenced every malicious ghost lurking within.
Black Warden, face obscured by a shroud of shadows, hoisted the bound ghost like a sack of grain.
CRACK!
White Warden, smiling like a painted doll, lashed the wraith again and again with a silver chain. Each blow echoed like a thunderclap.
The once-proud Shatter Ghost writhed on the ground like a maggot, shrieking in agony.
Strike after strike—
Ten lashes.
Fifteen.
With each blow, its power dwindled until it was but a flickering ember.
Then White Warden halted.
Their frigid gaze swept across the mortals below.
"A mere wraith dares to run amok under the protection of the City God of Havenport?" the voice was cold, divine, absolute.
"Its sentence... is death."
BOOM!!
With a final tug of the chain, the ghost was torn asunder.
It vanished into smoke—erased from existence.
Silence.
High above, the Wardens stared down at the crowd like gods judging mortal sin.
The once-cheering crowd fell into hushed reverence.
A suffocating weight settled over them—like a mountain pressing against their very souls.
For the Netherworld is not a place of joy.
It is a realm of awe.
A realm of judgment.
A realm to be feared.
Whether mortal...
Or ghost.
Time passed.
No one spoke.
Silence reigned.
Until finally, Elias Graves shouted to his team—
"Lucian! Nathan! Get to the hospital—now!"
And like that, the world moved again.