Chapter 59: Spiritual Residue

Makun stood infront of apartment 3B, shocked by what he saw.

It was exactly as described by Mark reported. Even worse. There was dried blood on the ground, cracks in the hallway behind him, The furniture was torn. The table he sat across Zuri for the readings was destroyed, while the shells she used were scattered on the floor.

He could see the remaining torn hair Cheryl’s porcelain doll had not swallowed on the floor as if pulled from someone skull.

What happened here?

The situation was worse than what he could have imagined. Something really did happen to zuri. He was not even sure she was alive to know what had happened and if it was related to him.

He looked to the side at Jorg who slowly walked into the apartment.

Jorg looked around as if searching for something. He could feel the residual spiritual energy lingering in the room.

Adepts. He concluded.

When mystics fight, they do not just throw punches. They impose their will on reality itself, flooding the surrounding space with Ashe and intent. Every strike, every manipulation of atoms, every imprint of identity on the external world leaves a mark

Ashe saturates the air, the ground, the walls. It clings to surfaces like residue because the mystic has forced those atoms to recognize them, to obey them, to vibrate at their frequency.

The stronger the mystic, the deeper the imprint.

An initiate might leave faint traces that dissipate in hours. A Grade 3 adept like Jorg can warp the atomic structure of a space so thoroughly that the residue lingers for days, even weeks.

And other mystics could fill it.

He knew it. There was a fight between Adepts in this room. But there seemed to be more.

Jorg closed his eyes and reached outward with his will. Slowly, deliberately, he extended his Ashe into the air around him, saturating the atoms with his intent. He compressed them. Made them denser. Heavier. Each atom pulled tighter into itself, mass increasing, weight accumulating. The gravity in the room thickened. The floor groaned beneath him. Dust particles hung suspended, struggling against the pull.

He felt it.

The weight around the wall was bizarre. It was like the gravity there was different from the rest of the room. Everywhere else, atoms responded uniformly. They compressed. They obeyed. But near the wall, the resistance was uneven.It is Inconsistent. Like trying to walk on Earth and suddenly stepping into a patch of Jupiter’s gravity

There was something different about that place.

Jorg walked slowly toward the section of wall where the distortion was strongest. He stood there, feet planted, and exerted even more pressure. His Ashe flooded the space. He densified the atoms further, pushing past the residual imprint, forcing them to acknowledge him instead.

The air shimmered.

A frequency distortion charm.

it seems they were after someone, while someone was protecting someone who had hidden behind a frequency distortion charm, probably a phase veil charm. Jorg concluded.

His accuracy was excellent. Well, that was only normal for someone who had worked for the MIO before.

He slowly turned and looked at Makun.

“Is this where your friend lived?” he asked.

Makun trembled internally. After seeing the scene, he wanted nothing to do with this.

“No. It is this building, but not this apartment,” he denied.

Jorg remained silent. His eye stayed fixed on Makun for a moment longer, reading him. Then he turned back toward the door.

It was already nighttime. He could not knock around questioning neighbors. And Jorg only knew one place where he could find information about this in the city.

“Follow me,” Jorg instructed.

Makun quickly followed. He could not stop now. He needed information. He had to know whether this was related to him or not. If Zuri had never had that urgency she did when chasing him away, saying she would not be involved with him, he would not be so stressed.

He had just begun his mystic journey, and they were already after him.

The Presence had warned him.

….

The damp air of Naija City clung to the skin, thick with the smell of secrets and brine.

Jorg led the way, his heavy steps making thuds that seemed too loud in the quiet street. He advanced confidently, as if nothing could faze him.

“Are we there soon?” Makun asked from behind. He was used to bizarre situations, however this time he was a bit nervous. Jorg had said nothing about where they were going. They had walked in silence the whole time.

He concluded Jorg was someone calm and controlled. Someone might have thought differently when looking at his build.

“It’s the building right in front of us.” He pointed at a three-story building.

It was made of brick, old red clay worn smooth by decades of salt air and Gulf storms. The design was ancient, something from before the city had been renamed. Tall arched windows lined the second floor, their glass fogged and cracked in places. Iron lanterns hung on either side of the entrance, flickering with dim yellow light.

Above the heavy wooden door, a weathered sign swung gently in the breeze: Ston Bar. The letters were carved deep into a slab of granite, edges chipped but still legible.

Then Jorg turned and reached into his pocket. He pulled out three small pieces of paper, each folded neatly, covered in tight, precise script. Charms.

He handed them to Makun.

“This is the phase Veil Charm,” Jorg said, tapping the first one. “Protection charm”

He tapped the second. “Phase Bastion Charm. Creates a barrier around you. Blocks one hit. Maybe two if it’s weak.”

He tapped the third. “Healing Charm. Closes wounds. Not fast, but enough to keep you from bleeding out.”

Makun stared at the charms in his hand. They felt warm. Almost alive. This was very precíous and that scared him.

Luck scared him. What was going on? what will come after him for him to get this thing?

“Circulate your Ashe through those when in need and it will do what I told you,” Jorg said.

Makun swallowed. “Why are you giving me these?”

Jorg did not answer, he turned and walked toward the entrance of Ston Bar.

Makun followed, gripping the charms tightly.

They entered the bar.

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