cHApTEr 6. collEcTivE minD (2 of 3)

Learning that he could detach his legs did not mean the end of the training session. Mioray continued his efforts to launch his limbs consciously until he finally succeeded in dropping his arm to the floor once. And then, he reached his limit.

It happened in an instant. Click – and it was morning already. He realized this by checking the time on his phone when he came back to his senses. Only Matt remained in his room, playing video games while waiting for Mioray to recover. Matt suggested he take a shower and change his clothes because, apparently, not even death could save someone from getting dirty.

Luckily, there was a shower installed in the storage facility, meaning he didn’t have to use Farah’s bathroom. Mioray took a quick shower and then changed into his own clothes, which he had brought from home – jeans, sneakers, a knit brown sweater, and a green coat with an attached sand-colored hoodie. When he returned to Matt’s room, he found the boy insisting on resuming training. It was amusing how seriously Matt took his role, furrowing his eyebrows into a checkmark shape and jutting his forehead forward in determination. How could Mioray turn him down after such an adorable display of perseverance?

And so, he lost control two more times, finally regaining consciousness in the evening, just in time to look for the Soul Collective. If his recovery had taken thirty minutes longer, he would have been left behind. Together with Matt and Terry, the latter having come over to check on them after working on his car, they headed to the neighborhood where Matt had heard about the Soul Collective's appearance.

On the way, Mioray learned that no one had checked on him while he was unconscious. Farah and Mia both had day jobs – they continued working even after death. Kevin did as well, though he worked remotely and kept his name unknown. Similar to Terry’s situation, too many people were aware of his death. As for Erinel… perhaps she needed more rest than Mioray had imagined. A naive thought, maybe, but it was better than assuming she simply wasn’t interested in his progress.

Farah was the first to arrive at their meeting spot, waiting by the corner of a grocery store. It was a warm evening for early October, yet she still wore her black puffer coat, thick tights, and milk-colored boots. She was listening to music through her orange headphones, staring into the distance, lost in thought. When she noticed Mioray and the others approaching, she greeted them with her usual gloomy expression, took off her headphones, and tucked them into a small backpack.

“What’s with the look?” she asked skeptically, eyeing Mioray.

He pursed his lips, though no one could see it. Along with his outfit, he had also brought a black face mask and cap from home, which he now wore. He had several reasons for this. First, running into his parents after telling them he was leaving the city would be awkward. Second, being recognized by detectives would be inconvenient. And third, encountering the Dismantler on the streets would be disastrous. If the serial killer turned out to be Impact Corpse, he might blow up everything in the vicinity. If he was human, he would likely continue stalking Mioray, as discreet as he had been up until his latest kill.

And what did Mioray get for his caution? Laughter from Matt and Terry. Now, Farah was eyeing him with disapproval. Since she worked in a clothing store, she probably knew a thing or two about fashion. Judging by her reaction, Mioray had sacrificed too many style points for the sake of keeping his identity hidden.

“Perfect. I see everyone has gathered.”

A sweet, angelic voice drifted through the light breeze. Mioray turned to see Erinel approaching. As always, Kevin followed closely behind Erinel, playing the role of her ever-loyal knight. She was the dark angel, dressed in a short-sleeved black dress. With them was Mia, this time in a simple gray tracksuit. She seemed to prefer sporty attire.

“What were you talking about?” Erinel tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Under the city’s night lights, her black hair shone with a violet hue more than ever.

“Nothing much,” Mioray blurted out.

“Is that so?” Her gaze locked onto him, her eyes glimmering with surprise. A wave of insecurity pressed down on him. Had he made the wrong choice after all? “I’ve never seen humans going out looking like that. Is there another change in fashion?”

Another round of laughter erupted. Even Farah snorted, savoring every second of his embarrassment. Her grudge was that strong, huh?

Only Kevin remained stone-faced, while Erinel simply smiled politely. She was genuinely curious about Mioray’s attire, not understanding what the others found so funny.

What was he supposed to say? There weren’t exactly guidelines on how to dress for a ghost hunt. Sure, people didn’t normally hide their faces behind a mask when meeting up with others, but that was beside the point. Maybe if they were sick, but that didn’t apply to Mioray anymore.

Kevin cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

“For what it’s worth, we wouldn’t want the attacker from the university spotting Mioray without us knowing. Hiding his face makes sense.”

“Oh, so that’s what it is,” Erinel nodded, her expression thoughtful. “True, it does make sense.”

Receiving praise from her, Mioray brightened. A satisfied smile formed on his face, hidden from everyone’s sight, of course. Ha, take that, everyone! It was a clever idea after all! Good thing I thought of it.

After some idle chatter and exchanging stories about their day, Erinel extended her fingers, transforming them into slender tree branches, just like last time. She gently pierced each of them through the heart. Watching the ritual for the second time, Mioray was still impressed. It was clearly something beyond human comprehension. The branches passed through their clothes and flesh, straight into their hearts, yet left no marks, no holes in their wake. And yet, the transformation was immediate.

With his otherworldly sight activated, Mioray saw the greenish aura above the others like him, including himself. If last time was any indication, he would also be able to see the souls of the dead, if any were nearby. He wondered what the Soul Collective would look like.

“Matt, do you know where the Soul Collective is?” Erinel asked. So the name was going to be official, then?

“No, Miss Erinel,” when speaking to her, Matt always used a polite tone. He pulled a lollipop from his pocket. “It was getting dark, and people would get suspicious if they saw a kid wandering alone at night. And I didn’t want to risk it seeing me.”

“It’s okay, Matt. You did well,” Erinel patted him on the head. “In that case, we should split up and search the area. If you find it and it’s not dangerous, just guide it through to the realm between realms. Otherwise, call the others on these things people are so attached to.”

Mioray slipped a hand into his pocket. The phone. She meant the phone, right?

“Matt, you go with Terry and Mia. I’ll go with Kevin,” as she spoke, Erinel pointed at each person. Mioray nearly groaned when he realized what fate – or rather, Erinel – had in store for him. “Mioray, you go with Farah.”

“Why her?” he asked.

“Why him?!” Farah snapped.

“No reason,” Erinel said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s just how I decided. Is there a problem with that?”

Mioray hung his head, unwilling to argue with her. He was surprised Farah didn’t push back further, though. Given her attitude, he had expected a full-blown protest. Clearly, Erinel’s authority was absolute.

It made sense. They were only here because of her, after all. The alternative was rotting in the ground. Another thing to remember was that Erinel was old. Centuries, maybe even millennia. She deserved the respect she commanded.

Still, this pairing was a bummer. Farah was one of the last people Mioray wanted to be stuck with, Kevin being her only real competition.

With their assignments set, the group split up, scattering into the neighborhood’s branching streets in search of the Soul Collective. Mioray found himself alone with Farah. She entered a narrow alley, scanning her surroundings for anything unusual. Without acknowledging him, she kept moving, forcing Mioray to hurry and catch up. It was irritating, but he kept his cool. He knew why he was here.

Though, he’d forgotten to mention the possibility of the Dismantler being Impact Corpse. Again.

Gray clouds stretched across the sky, and Mioray prayed it wouldn’t start raining. He checked every nook and cranny, even though Farah had done so just seconds before. Nothing. The only thing they disturbed was a cat, sleeping peacefully on a gate.

The area was a mix of buildings: some were single-story homes, while others were apartment complexes no taller than five stories. Most windows glowed with warm light, signaling that people had returned home for dinner. At this hour, Mioray would usually be having dinner with his parents, too. Not a thought he wanted in his head right now.

“I heard you work during the day,” he said, breaking the silence. Since the Soul Collective was nowhere to be seen, Mioray figured he might as well try to get a conversation going. What was the worst that could happen? Farah would get mad? It wouldn’t be worse than the tension they already had. Besides, they’d be seeing each other more often from now on. Might as well get to know each other a little better and forget about that embarrassing accident in the bathroom.

“Yeah, so?” Farah shot him a disdainful glance.

Mioray sighed. Well, at least she hadn’t told him to go to hell. He’d take that as a win. A weak one, but a win nonetheless.

“Just curious,” he said with a shrug. “From what I understand, we’re financially secure thanks to Terry’s fortune. It’s not like you have to work.”

“How arrogant of you to say that,” she stopped beneath a streetlamp, turning to face him. The golden glow illuminated her auburn hair, making it look like fire, in stark contrast to her green eyes, cold as arctic ice. “I do work to earn a living. Or a ‘deathing,’ whichever term is more appropriate for our existence. You know, like a responsible adult should. I don’t need to rely on someone else’s money.”

“But you have a room in the storage facility, don’t you?”

“Well, I’m entitled to it, aren’t I?” she huffed. “We don’t get paid for guiding souls to the afterlife, so having some form of compensation isn’t hypocritical. I’m not doing this for free. I guide the souls – I don’t pay rent. Seems fair to me. Once I save enough, I’ll buy my own apartment and be done with it. I’m not planning to do Erinel’s job for all eternity.”

Given real estate prices, that sounded like a pipe dream. Mioray’s apartment belonged to his parents, and only because his mom had inherited it. He himself had never considered buying a place. What was the point? He didn’t want to be tied down. It was easier to move around and rent as needed.

“That’s going to take a while,” he remarked.

“Guess I’m in luck, then.” Farah smirked. “Time isn’t an issue for me anymore. Oh, and I don’t need to buy groceries, which helps my savings. Ten years at most, and then I can forget about these late-night soul hunts with the likes of you.”

There it was. He’d tried to keep the conversation civil, but she just had to take a jab at him.

Fine. To each their own.

Mioray stepped past her and focused on searching the nearby bushes. He had no idea what the Soul Collective looked like, but he figured it would stand out. Better to finish this quickly or hope someone else found it and called them with good news. Either way, he had no intention of speaking to Farah again. If she was that eager to take shots at him, it wasn’t worth the effort.

“Don’t take me wrong, Mioray. I’m glad you guys are having the time of your deaths, but I’m not like you.”

Mioray jumped, startled. He wasn’t expecting that. Farah was talking of her own accord, without him prying words from her mouth?

“I didn’t ask for this, you know,” she said, moving forward.

That wasn’t fair. She had been mean all this time, hiding behind a wall of bitter anger. Why would she open up now? Mioray didn’t know how to respond. In a sense, she was more exposed now than when he had accidentally seen her in the bath. Farah had shared something from deep within her soul. Maybe unintentionally, but he couldn’t ignore it.

Whatever he said or did next would shape the future of their relationship. They could become friends or remain rivals forever.

Mioray wasn’t prepared for this. He stood there, half-bent near the bushes, frozen in indecision.

A wild scream from around the corner shattered the moment.

Mioray and Farah shared a glance. They both came to the same conclusion. Someone was under attack, and there was a high chance it was the Soul Collective’s doing. Without hesitation, they ran toward the source of the scream.

As soon as they turned onto the next street, they saw a man – a regular human – flailing his arms desperately, trying to fend off something attacking him. Mioray struggled to comprehend what he was looking at. It had the outline of a person, its form translucent and glimmering with a greenish hue, just like a soul was supposed to. But at the same time, it didn’t look human at all.

Unlike Andrew, the soul Mioray had encountered the night before, which had clearly once been a person, this thing barely resembled anything human. It looked like a ghost from a child’s scary story, ironically enough. For lack of a better description, it was as if it was covered in a white sheet with holes for eyes and a mouth. In any other situation, Mioray might have laughed, so absurd and out of place it was. A literal ghost covered in a sheet.

But this wasn’t a child’s story.

The creature – the Soul Collective, surely – was attacking the man, draining the color from his face. The man struggled, but his resistance was useless. With every passing second, he grew more sluggish.

“Get away from him!” Farah yelled, sprinting toward the man, Mioray close behind.

The ghost paused its feeding – the only word Mioray could think of – and turned to look at them. Then, as if startled, it released the man and fled, slipping through the walls of a nearby house.

The man staggered, nearly collapsing, but Farah caught him and helped him stay upright.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He was dazed, swaying slightly like a drunkard, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. Farah told him to go straight home, and he nodded numbly, too shocked to argue. Maybe it was the terror of being attacked by a mysterious creature that had drained something vital from him.

“It feeds on soul energy,” Farah said once the man had disappeared into the night.

She crossed her arms, thinking aloud.

“Soul Collectives are unstable. They burn through energy too quickly, so they need to replenish it constantly. The problem is, if they drain too much, there’s nothing left. The victim dies, their soul is depleted, and what’s left gets assimilated into the Collective.”

She tapped her fingers against her arm.

“This one isn’t too dangerous. Three souls merged, maybe. Four, at worst. We should be able to handle it alone, but call the others, just in case.”

Mioray pulled out his phone, dialing as he kept an eye on Farah.

For the first time, he saw her in a new light. He didn’t expect her to be so competent, not when she hated this job so much. Farah’s bitterness made sense in retrospect. watching a newcomer settle in, come to terms with being dead, and take on the job with ease. He had adapted quickly to his new reality, but he never stopped to consider that it might not have been so easy for others.

The house the Soul Collective had fled into was... abandoned. It was two stories high, and its broken windows gaped like empty eye sockets. The roof sagged, partly collapsed, and the lawn was overgrown with weeds and crooked shrubs. Garbage littered the ground. The front door had been ripped from its hinges and lay rotting on the porch, the entrance haphazardly sealed with wooden planks.

“Holy Mirabelle, what a cliché,” Farah muttered, brushing stray hair from her face. “What did the others say?”

“They’re on their way,” Mioray replied. “So, what’s the plan?”

“We go inside, make a portal, and force the Soul Collective into it. Easy.”

With that, she stepped onto the porch and kicked the wooden planks clean off the doorway. Mioray shuddered. He hoped he’d never be on the receiving end of that kick.

The interior was pitch dark, forcing them to use their phone flashlights. The entrance hall was filled with debris, but otherwise empty. Everything of value had long since been looted or stolen. It was rare to see a house this ruined. Normally, if a place was abandoned, real estate developers or squatters would have claimed it by now.

“You think the Soul Collective haunts this place?” Mioray asked. “Maybe that’s why no one’s moved in.”

“I doubt it.” Farah stepped into the living room at the end of the hall. It was just as barren, with no sign of the Soul Collective.

“Soul Collectives don’t have personalities, but they inherit habits from the souls they’re made of. They’re drawn to places that were important to them in life. Maybe one of the souls had a connection to this house, which is why it ended up here.”

She scanned the room thoughtfully.

“If it had been hiding here long-term, we’d have dealt with it already. Erinel has a way of sensing them. If she didn’t notice this one, that means it only appeared recently–”

“Farah,” Mioray interrupted, voice tight. “It’s behind you.”

She froze in place, standing motionless in the center of the living room. The Soul Collective, a being that looked like a ghost draped in white sheets, floated behind her, eerily still. It didn’t seem interested in its pursuers. Or rather, it didn’t need to be. It knew that Mioray and Farah had stepped into its domain, and it knew they were powerless against it.

Mioray swallowed hard.

It was impossible to tell what the Soul Collective was thinking or if it even could think. As a being formed from multiple human souls, did it have a mind of its own? Or was it merely an instinct-driven entity, as Farah and the others believed?

They spoke as if Soul Collectives were nothing more than mindless husks, hollowed-out remnants of the souls they consumed. But Mioray wasn’t convinced. This was his first time encountering one, and the idea that the minds of its victims simply vanished unsettled him. Did the people absorbed into it truly cease to exist?

Before, the Soul Collective had been feeding on the man in the street, draining his soul energy. Farah had said that if it had succeeded, the man would have died, and his soul would have been assimilated.

But what about them?

They were already dead. Corpses animated by their own souls. Could the Soul Collective consume a soul that had already been severed from life? No one had mentioned that possibility, and Mioray had never thought to ask.

Logically, it seemed possible.

Which meant he and Farah had walked straight into a trap. One that could erase them completely.

Then, before Mioray could say another word, a second Soul Collective flickered into existence beside the first, glowing with the same eerie green light.