I Am The Strongest Ghost Hunter

Chapter 3

Steel crashed against claw.

Sparks exploded like fireworks in the pitch black.

And there she was—a female figure materializing right out of the flash, blocking that death blow inches from Raito’s face.

She planted herself between him and the monster, fitted black suit hugging her like she was born for this, dagger gripped tight. The blade still sizzled from the impact, sparks dying slow in the dark.

Raito’s eyes went wide. Breath stuck in his throat.

‘It’s… her.’

No way.

The same young teacher—Peace—who’d snapped him awake in class earlier.

She looked bored, almost lazy, as she lifted the dagger and slid it between her teeth like a cigarette. Then, calm as hell, she started rolling up her sleeves—one, then the other—like she was clocking in for a regular shift.

“What a hassle,” she muttered, voice dripping annoyance. “Thought you were one of the chill ghosts—y’know, the type that just likes creeping people out with a little claw brush.”

Thin, dangerous smile.

“Guess I was wrong.”

Room went dead still.

Then the ghost spoke—voice twisted, female, echoing like it came from the bottom of a well.

“Sooo… you could see me this whole time?”

Peace chuckled around the dagger, yanked it free, and twirled it into a proper grip.

“Sorry,” she said, light and sweet, eyes shining with crazy. “I don’t do small talk with ghosts.”

Her grin split wide—sharp, unhinged, pure chaos.

“I kill them. Hahaha!”

She exploded forward in a blur, dagger first, laughter pouring out like she was the damn villain.

The ghost snapped back—claws slashing in a vicious X that should’ve shredded her to ribbons.

She slipped through it like smoke.

Moves too fast, too clean—dodging strikes before they even started, body flowing like she’d memorized the script.

She launched upward, flipped mid-air, twisting so she faced down. Sharp breath out—dagger plunging straight for the ghost’s skull.

The ghost threw up its claw just in time—metal screeched against whatever unholy thing its body was made of.

Then it whipped the other arm around in a brutal counter, claws aiming to gut her mid-air.

She laughed—wild, loud, loving every second.

Her body twisted like physics owed her favors, bending impossible angles to slip the strike. Heel slammed into the ghost’s chest with a thunder-crack.

BOOM.

The thing flew backward, crashing through desks like they were cardboard.

Raito huddled deeper behind his overturned shield, shaking hard, trying to shrink out of existence.

‘How the hell is she moving that fast?’ he whispered, voice barely air.

The ghost scraped itself off the floor, aura flickering rage.

“Impossible,” it hissed, voice warping the air like heat off pavement. “No living human moves like that. What the hell are you?”

Peace rolled her shoulders, loose and cocky, dagger spinning lazy in her grip.

“Oh, come on,” she taunted, grinning like a maniac. “Don’t cry just ‘cause a human’s kicking your ghostly ass. Hit me with your best shot, yeah?”

The air around the ghost twisted, warped, went sick-dark.

“Don’t get cocky,” it snarled, fury dripping from every syllable. “You’re still fragile meat. And I’m gonna break you.”

Then—poof.

Gone.

Vanished.

Or so it looked.

“Invisibility, huh? Cute trick,” Peace muttered under her breath, eyes narrowing.

Before she could finish the thought—

A razor-thin claw shot out of nowhere—nearly invisible, stretched like deadly wire.

It sliced the air behind her, carving clean through desks, walls, and straight through Raito’s hiding spot.

Wood exploded. Plaster rained.

Raito screamed inside, curling tighter.

The speed was straight-up unfair.

Peace twisted at the last possible heartbeat, not quite dodging clean. Metal screamed as she threw her dagger up—block barely in time.

But the force? Monstrous.

It launched her like a ragdoll, slamming her spine-first into the wall.

CRACK.

Plaster exploded. The whole surface spider-webbed behind her.

Dust rained down slow.

She slid to the floor, boots scraping, then pushed herself up—no rush, like she had all day. Grip tightened on the dagger, knuckles white.

Then she laughed.

Loud. Wild. Zero regrets.

“Is that all you got, you old hag?” she taunted, wiping a smear of blood from her lip with the back of her hand. Grinning like it tasted good.

The invisible ghost lost its damn mind.

“I’M GOING TO BREAK YOU!”

SWISH.

Another thread-claw ripped through the air, invisible death racing straight for her throat.

But this time?

She saw it coming.

“Hehe.” Smirk sharp enough to cut.

One smooth sidestep—effortless, like dancing with an old friend—and in the same breath, she flung the dagger.

It shot forward like a bullet, screaming through the dark.

THUD.

Blade buried deep in the far wall.

And then—

The ghost snapped into view, solid and furious.

A thin, glowing slash carved across its cheek, blue aura leaking out like blood from a fresh wound. The dagger had kissed its face on the way past, right before pinning the wall.

“No more hide-and-seek,” Peace said, voice dripping with bored menace.

She flicked her wrist—casual, like swatting a fly.

The dagger ripped itself free from the wall with a vicious screech, yanked by some invisible force. It shot forward like a missile, screaming through the air, dead set on splitting the ghost in half.

The ghost swung fast—claw batting it aside with a clang.

The blade spun wild once… then curved mid-air like a damn boomerang, slapping neatly back into Peace’s waiting hand.

“Don’t even bother going invisible again,” she said, smirking. “It won’t work on me.”

“WHY WON’T YOU BREAK?!” the ghost shrieked, losing whatever was left of its mind.

Threadlike claws exploded from its arms—dozens, hundreds—slashing wild, shredding desks into splinters, carving gashes in the walls like butter.

Peace danced through the storm, weaving, slipping, closing the gap inch by inch.

But the ghost spammed harder, desperate, keeping her just out of reach.

Then she spotted it—the aura flickering, shifting from blue to white.

“Well,” she said, casual as hell while ducking a claw that missed her throat by a hair, “thought I could wrap this up at five percent.”

Another slash whistled past her ear.

“But I’m not risking you going white in here,” she added, tone sharpening like her blade. “So guess I’ll end this now.”

She stopped dodging.

Stood still.

The ghost saw the opening and took it—greedy, furious.

Dozens of claws rushed in at once, a deadly net closing from every side.

Peace just raised her dagger.

“Ten percent.”

And then she vanished.

Not dodged.

Not jumped.

Vanished.

Faster than eyes could track, faster than thought—she blew straight through the claw storm and popped up behind the ghost, already turned the other way.

For one dumb second, the ghost kept swinging.

Again.

Again.

Body on autopilot.

Even as its head slid clean off its shoulders and thumped to the floor.

“Impossible…” it whispered, voice fading.

Then—crumble.

The whole thing collapsed into gray dust, swirling once before dissolving into nothing.

Air shifted. Darkness peeled back like a bad dream.

Room snapped back to normal—fluorescent lights buzzing, desks wrecked, but no blood, no bodies, no Ralph, no goons.

Raito was wedged under a different desk now, shaking like a leaf.

“No drops,” Peace muttered, kicking at the dust pile with mild disgust. “Blue ghosts are as useless as always.”

She turned, spotted him, and strolled over.

“You can come out now, scaredy-cat.”

Raito crawled out slow, eyes darting everywhere. Just him and her. Like the massacre never happened.

“Thank you for—”

Thwack.

Sharp chop to the back of his neck.

World went black.

Again.