I Am The Strongest Ghost Hunter

Chapter 8

“A cursed weapon hands you power no human body was ever built to handle,” Peace went on, voice steady, like she was reading a death sentence. “Every ability it has? Straight from the ghost’s obsession—the thing that kept it chained here.”

Her fingers tightened around the dagger, knuckles whitening.

“This one dropped from a white-aura ghost. Serial killer. Max the Butcher.”

She said it calm, like naming the weather.

“His obsession wasn’t the kill itself. Nah. He poisoned his blades, stabbed his victims, then sat back and watched. Timed how long they fought. How they broke. How they begged.”

She lowered the dagger slow.

“That sick fascination? Became the weapon’s soul.”

Raito felt ice crawl up his arms, prickling his skin.

“When a ghost levels up from blue to white,” Peace continued, “the object they loved most in life shows up with them. From then on, it’s part of them—almost invisible to regular people.”

She locked eyes with him.

“And only a cursed weapon can actually hurt a ghost.”

Hank folded his arms, leaning against a pillar. “Bullets? Knives? Fire? Forget it. Might as well try stabbing fog—if you can even see the damn thing.”

Peace nodded.

“A cursed weapon doesn’t cut flesh. It cuts the obsession holding the ghost together.”

She exhaled slow.

“But humans? We were never meant to touch these things.”

Raito tensed hard.

“An awakened human can push about fifty percent power safely,” she said. “Below that? You pay in exhaustion. Pain. Years shaved off your life.”

Her gaze turned stone-cold.

“Anything over fifty percent…”

Pause. Heavy.

“…permanent damage. No undo button.”

Raito’s mind flashed back to the fight.

‘Ten percent.’

“And the last rule,” Peace said, straightening up, authority slamming back into place.

“To legally carry or use a cursed weapon, you must register and become a member with the Ghost Hunters Organization—GHO.”

She stepped closer.

“Membership’s not a badge. It’s a contract.”

Closer still.

“A cursed weapon feeds on your soul. Slow. Constant. Always hungry.”

Raito’s breath caught.

“Join the GHO?” she said quietly. “You sign up for that price.”

Eyes never leaving his.

“And when a wielder dies… that’s it. No Stillflow. No ghost. No second shot. We protect the world from anything that threatens it.”

Voice dropped to a whisper.

“Nothing waits after.”

The hall went dead still. You could hear hearts beating.

Then Peace asked, calm but loaded—like she was offering a loaded gun.

“Raito…”

She held his gaze, testing how heavy his answer would be.

“Want to join the GHO?”

Raito stood frozen, like the whole hall was holding him in place. Tears slipped down his cheeks in total silence—hot, stubborn, refusing to stop.

His mind was a full-on storm: guilt crashing against despair, wave after wave, drowning him.

‘What comes after this?’ he thought, chest aching so bad it felt like it might crack open. ‘I’m too weak. I’ve always been too damn weak. Megumi threw her life away that night just to keep me breathing, and what the hell have I done with it? Nothing. Zilch. I’ve spent three years hiding in corners, pretending the world wasn’t falling apart around me, letting ghosts creep closer while I stayed small and quiet and completely useless. If I join them… if I pick up one of those cursed weapons and start hunting… what if I screw it all up again? What if someone else ends up dead because I wasn’t strong enough to protect them? I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to drag innocent people into this nightmare. I just… I just want her sacrifice to mean something—anything—without costing another life.’

The idea of wrapping his fingers around a cursed weapon, stepping straight into the same darkness that swallowed Megumi whole, twisted his stomach into knots. He wasn’t ready. Couldn’t imagine becoming another link in that endless chain of death.

“No,” he whispered, the word slipping out raw, before his brain could slam the brakes. Voice cracked, small, hoarse, barely there. “I… I can’t.”

The second “No” slipped out of Raito’s mouth, steel sang free from its sheath.

Hank’s sword flashed up, edge kissing the skin of Raito’s throat—cold, steady, hungry.

“Hold it, Hank,” Peace said, calm as a graveyard, hand raised.

Hank froze, but the blade didn’t budge an inch.

She turned to Raito, eyes sharp enough to cut bone.

“Looks like you still don’t get the mess you’re in, Raito.” Voice quiet, almost soft, but it carried the weight of a death sentence. “Two choices on the table: join us… or die.”

Die.

The word slammed into him like ice water straight down his spine. Breath snagged in his chest.

“We can’t just let you stroll out of here,” she went on, stepping closer, boots echoing slow. “Our job’s keeping people safe from anything that brings harm—especially ghosts. And you? You’re a walking neon sign screaming ‘free meal.’ Your aura drags them in like moths to a bonfire. Every day you’re loose out there, innocent people end up in the crossfire.”

She let it hang, watching the color drain from his face.

“Hank could finish it right here,” she said, softer now. “Quiet. Clean. Painless. One swing and your problems disappear.”

Raito’s hands shook hard at his sides. Mouth opened—no words.

Peace tilted her head, faint, humorless smile curling.

“And here’s the part you really gotta hear. If we kill you now—and my theory’s right—Megumi dies too. Permanent. No Stillflow. No peace. No trace of her left anywhere… not even in your memories. She gets erased. Completely.”

Raito’s heart flat-out stopped.

Peace leaned in just a fraction, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Maybe you’re thinking, ‘Go ahead, kill me—I’ll come back as a ghost and get even.’ Cute fantasy.” Short, sharp laugh. “But listen close: die by a cursed weapon? That’s game over. No ghost. No revenge. No second act. Just the end. Full stop.”

She straightened, arms folding, stare drilling holes.

“So. What’s it gonna be, Raito? Choose smart.”

The hall turned suffocating—air thick, silent, crushing.

Raito’s knees almost gave out. The thought of Megumi—his Megumi—wiped clean from existence, not even a whisper left because of him again?

Unbearable.

Worse than any claw. Worse than three years of hiding.

Tears blurred everything. Shoulders shook with a silent, choking sob.

“I’ll…” Voice shattered. He swallowed, forced it out. “I’ll join.”

He looked up at Peace—eyes red, raw, pleading.

“Please… just don’t hurt Megumi.”