The Heir's Dominance

6

“Find the object in which the spirit resides!” commanded the Spirit of the Padlock. “A being of this caliber requires a physical vessel in the real world. A stamp? A pen? Or the printing press in this room?”

Harry swept his gaze around the chaotic room. He focused his inner eye to see deeper. Lines of a blackish-purple aura could be seen spreading from every corner of the fourth floor, seeping out from the cracks in the tiles and converging at a single point in the center of the room.

The stamp was carved in the shape of a small dragon’s head with a fragile black wooden handle, giving off a pungent smell of rotting ink.

“That’s it!” cried Harry.

However, realizing his secret had been uncovered, Mr. Thomas—who was still in a trance—roared loudly. His voice shook the window panes on the fourth floor until they rattled.

The red ink gushing from his body now formed a gigantic wave. Sheets of paper scattered through the air were sucked into the wave of ink, transforming into sharp strips of paper that whirled like a miniature tornado.

"Don’t let him get near the financial statements!" roared the evil spirit through Mr. Thomas’s mouth. A storm of sharp pieces of paper rained down on Harry.

"Harry! Get down!" shouted a voice from the glass door on the fourth floor.

BANG!

The metal door to the emergency staircase suddenly burst open. Jack appeared, panting heavily; his face was deathly pale, yet his eyes burned with reckless determination. In both hands, he clutched a large fire extinguisher.

Without wasting a moment, Jack pulled out the safety pin and aimed the nozzle of the extinguisher directly at the wave of ink and storm of paper bearing down on Harry.

PSSSSSSHHH!

Thick white foam sprayed vigorously, cutting through the dark air, striking the swirl of red ink and causing it to congeal instantly. The sharp sheets of paper, now covered in fire-extinguishing foam, suddenly lost their mystical power and fell scattering across the floor like ordinary rubbish.

“Jack?!” Harry stared in disbelief. “I told you to wait in the lobby!”

“I’m not mad; I was just waiting in the lobby!” Jack shouted back amidst the billowing foam. “I heard the sound of a table shattering from downstairs! How could I possibly let you die here all on your own?!”

“Watch out, Jack!”

"O-Oh my God... Mr Thomas, why’s your head spinning like that?!" Jack screamed hysterically, his legs shaking so violently that he nearly dropped the fire extinguisher.

This was Harry's golden opportunity.

Taking advantage of the creature’s momentary distraction caused by Jack’s arrival, Harry ran and leapt over the shattered desk.

“Boy! Smash the base of the stamp! That’s the fulcrum of the seal!” shouted the Spirit of the Padlock, flying alongside him.

Harry gripped the Silver Dragon Dagger with both hands, aiming the blade—which glinted with a silvery sheen—directly at the copper dragon seal on the round table.

Mr. Thomas realized the danger and tried to turn away, but it was too late.

“Get out of this office!” Harry bellowed.

CRASH!

The blade of the Silver Dragon Dagger pierced right through the center of the seal. The fourth floor was instantly bathed in a blinding silvery light. A piercing, ear-splitting scream echoed from within the seal, which had split in two.

Thick, black ink spurted out like blood from a gaping wound.

“NOOOO!”

The evil spirit’s final scream slowly faded, evaporating into a wisp of smoke that vanished, swallowed up by the night air. At the same time, the dark purple mist that had enveloped the entire fourth-floor room suddenly dissipated without a trace.

CRASH!

Mr Thomas’s body collapsed onto the floor, returning to its normal anatomical position. The pen in his hand slipped from his grasp, and his eyes were tightly shut.

Harry sat on the floor, panting heavily, sweat soaking through his clothes. The Silver Dragon Dagger in his hand dimmed, reverting to an ordinary old dagger, as if it had lost its power.

Jack walked slowly towards Harry, his eyes still wide as he stared at Mr. Thomas, who lay there helplessly.

“Harry?… is Mr Thomas dead?”

“No, he’s just fainted,” replied Harry, catching his breath. Jack let out a sharp exhale upon hearing Harry's words. He felt a sense of relief, then turned his gaze to the dagger in his friend’s hand.

"Harry..." Jack’s voice trembled violently. "What... what on earth are you keeping? And... where did you get that dagger from?"

Harry took a deep breath, then looked at the Spirit of the Padlock, which was now floating leisurely above the table with its arms crossed over its chest, giving him a faint smile.

“It’s a long story, Jack,” Harry muttered wearily. “But one thing’s for sure… it looks like we’ll have to retype our financial reports from scratch.”

The silvery smoke from the shattered copper dragon seal on the table had not yet completely cleared. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, wiping his forehead with the back of his trembling hand. In front of him, Mr. Thomas, who had earlier collapsed, slowly began to move his fingers.

However, that sense of relief did not last long.

“It’s not over yet, lad! Don’t relax just yet!” cried the Spirit of the Padlock suddenly, his shrill voice shattering the silence on the fourth floor.

“What now?!” Harry screamed in panic.

“Look at your boss with your sixth sense!”

Harry focused his gaze. His Level 1 Inner Eye automatically sprang into action once more. Just as he’d suspected! Inside Mr. Thomas’s chest, the blue glow of life—which had previously been dim—was now growing fainter, rapidly being sucked away through the strands of blackish-red aura embedded in his neck.

All those aura threads converged at a single point: the antique gold-tipped pen clenched tightly in Mr. Thomas’s right hand!

It seemed that the shattered dragon seal had merely been an outer physical vessel. The core of its malevolent energy had escaped and locked itself inside that old black wooden pen!

Sssshhh!