CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Goodwill Hunting, Part 2

All that remained of that phantom was a single gold coin Sam recognized right away as a golden drachma of Olympus.

Spoils of war… A gift from the gods who watched your battle and enjoyed the show.

Sam knew that this golden drachma along with money earned from a horror’s corpse was a major source of income for heroes. It was part of the reason so many of them eagerly braved haunted zones across the world. Not to help those communities that were affected by a haunted zone’s proximity, but to earn a living that didn’t quite justify the many sacrifices done in the name of the drachma.

“One coin’s…all I get, huh…”

Be grateful they even sent you one. The gods aren’t known for being generous.

In his mind, Sam didn’t feel grateful. If the gods were truly watching his battle, then they could have offered him some form of assistance instead of enjoying his struggle like he was just entertainment in their eyes.

He recalled the words of the priestess from last Saturday’s temple worship, “The gods only help those who help themselves…”

Besides, it was because the gods existed and gifted the descendants of their descendants with power that Sam could even get a second chance at being a hero. It wasn’t right to question, he knew, only to believe.

In the five seconds it took for Sam’s brain to rationalize the intentions of the gods, the more powerful female phantom had begun to glide toward him once more. It didn’t look too damaged from his previous one-punch KO either.

“That ghost lady might be stronger than me.” The realization that he was the weaker one didn’t stop him from balling his hands into fists though. “But I still think I can do this.”

Sam was wary of this ghostly woman and its sudden ability to manifest in front of him, so he assumed being proactive might be the more optimal approach.

That’s right…it’s lesson number thirteen, kid —take initiative. Don’t wait for trouble to come to you. Meet it head-on with a song in your heart and a weapon in your hand.

Sam picked up the drachma and pocketed it before extending his hand for Cranium Smasher’s handle. All the while, the female phantom took its time gliding toward him. It was as if the ghostly woman was trying to intimidate him.

“Sorry, but I don’t get intimidated easily anymore…not after the Battle of the Bronx.”

He pulled his arm back, and after hardening the resolve in his heart, he flung Cranium Smasher at the approaching phantom.

Stop throwing your weapon around! It’s not like it’ll fly back to your hand afterward!

Sam didn’t have time to read Chiron’s message because he’d already started running after his hammer as it soared through the air at a speed that would have made his old self’s head spin. Well, old Sam might have gotten more shocked by new Sam’s sprint time. The long-haired phantom clearly was.

The sight of the ghostly woman skidding to a stop in obvious surprise at how quickly he was running across the hall boosted his confidence more.

Boom!

Cranium Smasher slammed into the ghostly woman’s chest, and the force of the blow caused them both to get blown back the way they’d come from.

Sam raised his hand, and in a feat of dexterity he’d never shown before, he plucked the hammer from the air as it spun his way. His mad dash didn’t slow down one bit, and pretty soon he’d bridged the distance between himself and the ghostly woman that had been staggered by his previous attack.

“I can”—he gripped Cranium Smasher with both hands, and with one last leap forward, drove the hammer’s brick-shaped end down onto the top of the phantom’s skull—“do this!”

He heard bones cracked, a sound that goaded him on.

One, two, three successive blows, each one to a separate part of the ghostly woman’s withering form for not all of it was incorporeal. Its bones were solid enough for the hammer’s enchanted iron to break.

The ghostly woman let out a gut-wrenching screech that nearly caused Sam to lose his focus because it reminded him so much of his worst nightmare; a mother in pain screaming and screaming for a relief that would never come.

Sam gritted his teeth and sent one final hammer smash into the ghostly woman’s chest, causing the phantom to get blown into the hall beyond the corridor they were in. Not willing to let go of his momentum, Sam rushed after it. He jumped right into another dark space that was much wider than the one he’d left behind. It was so dark here that his flashlight could barely shed light ten feet ahead of him.

Luckily for him, he didn’t need to look hard to find his prey. The glowing bones of the phantom lay sprawled on the floor just a few meters ahead. Its ghostly form flickered in and out of existence.

His old self would have looked upon that anguished feminine face and hesitated. This new and improved version of him wasn’t much different. Still, he carried enough resolve in his heart to raise his hammer high, and after offering the phantom words of comfort, “I hope you find peace in the afterlife,” Sam sent his hammer crashing down on its chest.

Seconds ticked by as the phantom’s bones dissolved into psychic residue. What was left behind after that were three golden drachmas and a small mound of dust that glowed with a faint green tinge.

Hades’ bottom! that was spectacular, kid!

Sam felt his cheeks flush from the first official compliment Chiron had ever given him. “Th-thanks…although I think knowing I’ll regenerate from most injuries is making me a little reckless.”

That’s true enough, kid...but I still didn’t think you had it in you to charge into danger like that… And I bet even Superion would have been impressed by the combos you just pulled off.

To even be compared to America’s number one hero—one of the only four omega-level gifted in the world—made Sam grin wider than he’d ever grinned before.

“Y-you’re just exaggerating, master,” he replied in a very embarrassed tone.

Humph! Don’t let this one-time compliment get to your head, lame-brain. You’ve got a long way to go to reach Superion’s level…not that I think you can.

“Yeah, yeah, I know that…” Sam just finished pocketing the drachmas and moved on to inspecting the pile of dust on the ground. “What is this stuff?”

Notifications popped up to help him identify his spoils.

ITEM: Phantom Dust CLASS: Common TYPE: Material DESCRIPTION: The psychic residue left behind by a powerful phantom. It can be used as material for enhancing hero gear or sold at the Olympus Trading Center at market value.

“Huh, so this is phantom dust…” Sam pulled out an empty pouch from his utility belt and began scooping the dust into it. “I hear people use this stuff in remedies too…might be worth stocking up on to sell later.”

Hey, kid, remember lesson number five—concentrate! You’ve got company!

Sam felt their presence before he saw the ghostly figures. They weren’t hard to notice because their collective forms had just sent a blast of cold air his way.

“Aw, Styx,” he sighed. “I could use a break…”

There were many pairs of eyes glowing in the dark. The ghostly glow of their bodies standing shoulder to shoulder gave Sam the impression he was staring at a line of twinkling Christmas lights.

There were eight of the ghostly figures, but even these odds failed to shake Sam’s newfound confidence. Sure, their collective gazes still sent a chill up his spine, but he quickly tamped down on the negative vibes they gave off by remembering just how good it felt to smash a phantom’s bones into dust.

“Phantom-lock won’t work on a guy who’s feeling pretty good about himself.” Sam’s fingers tightened on Cranium Smasher’s handle. “Well, alright then. Bring it on!”