Anime 07 Ghost Novels & Stories

she whispered. Vincent’s claws shook with tension. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he bared his fangs at the ghost. “You’ll never take her,” he said sternly. The ghost tilted its head slightly. “She already belongs to me, and soon…you will too.” Camela screamed, her voice breaking. “Vincent!” Without hesitation, Vincent lunged forward, driving his claws deep into the shadowy figure’s chest. The ghost let out a shriek as its form began to dissolve into smoke.

And the ghost inside was waiting for her to turn the lock. (Watch out for Chapter 7) 💬 Add to library | Vote | Comment

It sounded peaceful. Arte didn't want to search anymore. She was tired. So cold. Her chest felt icy and hollow. Suddenly, a thought came to her mind. "Hey..." She said, trailing off. "Who is she talking to?" Raven asked, an eyebrow raised. The other three were equally clueless. "I should give you a name, right? I thought of one," Arte whispered. Ayame's eyes flew wide open, and she lunged forward, grabbing Ghost's wrist "Turn it off quickly! She's going to name her spirit!" She exclaimed. Herrington panicked, Ghost was confused, as was Raven. They didn't know anything about a spirit. But it was too late. "Tempest"

Instead, he muttered to himself again and again, "Where's my cheat ability? Why did it disappear? Why can't I see the future anymore?! What's going on?!" His expression was twisted with madness, like a rabid dog gone out of control. [That skill was a limited-time quirk for the newbie male lead, and it was bound to be retracted after a week.] [Even if he stocked the wrong supplies, he should've at least gotten food too. But this guy stocked only ice?] [Another brain-dead male lead, abandoned by the system.] At that moment, the signal cut off. I shrugged again, before continuing to eat my grilled meat.

She put down the picture and ran to the sofa, her eyes sparkling with hope. “Mommy, you’re being lazy again! I’m going back to our old home to get the music box. Then, I can wake you up!” Seeing her determined to leave, I instinctively reached out for an umbrella, wanting to remind her that it was raining outside. Alas, my hand passed right through her body! In that instant, I suddenly remembered—I was dead. I could never protect her like before.

The sound reverberates through the Throat of Echoes like thunder, like prophecy, like the final word of a god: “The war has already been won.” Every version of me—Tyrant, Martyr, Warrior, Sage, even the flickering Ghost—falls to their knees. The compulsion is absolute, inevitable, written into the very structure of reality. We are moths before a sun that wears our own face. Only Ghost-me remains standing, and she's smiling. "Finally," she whispers, her form growing more solid even as the others fade. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

Leon panted, scanning the dim corridor as his breath came in uneven bursts. Suddenly, a faint figure emerged out of the shadows—the female ghost. Her face was blurred and indistinct, her presence otherworldly. She didn’t speak but raised a hand that glowed faintly blue, pointing silently in a specific direction. Leon froze, instinctively stepping back half a pace. But time was slipping through his fingers, and hesitation was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Clenching his jaw, he forced himself to follow the ghost’s lead.

Seras takes one look at me and her eyes go full orange. Seras: “Who do I need to burn?” Celeste (hoarse laugh): “Myself, apparently.” Kayo’s tails flicker visible for half a second. Kayo (soft, dangerous): “The Forty-Eighth made contact.” Not a question. We don’t go home. We go downstairs. The Ohio Club basement is packed even at 2 a.m. Ghosts part like water when they see my face. Al Capone is behind the bar, polishing a glass that doesn’t exist.

Ghost to her? “Do not cry anymore. I will go find Ms. Ghost for you, all right? My good little girl, be good and stop crying. It hurts me too much to see you like this… But why still can I not see your face? No. Do not go!” “Do not go!” Adrian shouted and jolted upright. Sweat poured down his forehead as he gasped for air, his chest rising and falling uncontrollably. It took a long while before his breathing finally steadied.

Adam lamented. “I’m just wondering if maybe we should get him inside and bolt the door. This might not be the safest place for him after all. She’s getting a might closer and some of those zombie spirits look like they’re coming back to life in a not too friendly way.” He studied the spirits who were once so animated but were now acting dazed and confused. A few of them were losing that dazed look. It was being replaced by one of intelligence and… Anger? Hate? He couldn’t tell.