"Deal?"
Christian's voice cut through the stillness, drawing a breath of tension from Charlize.
She didn't understand the full exchange—most of it was lost on her, buried in a language she couldn't follow—but the shape of the situation was clear enough.
The thing in front of them wasn't human. It had once been something close, maybe.
Now it was something far worse: a spirit that fed on people, twisted and old, and powerful enough to enslave the souls it devoured.
Her heart hammered in her chest.
Please, Christian… don't say something like, "Take her instead."
He didn't. But his pause was long enough to raise suspicion in her and the yellow-eyed predator watching him.
The silence was broken by Christian, calm and cold as ever.
"I know gold and titles mean nothing to something like you," he said, "but what I'm offering isn't treasure. It's legacy."
A low growl echoed from the darkness. "Speak."
"You want to be worshipped again, don't you?" Christian said, stepping forward.
"You want to be more than a fading spirit haunting a cave. I can help you reclaim your old godhood."
The creature's slit pupils narrowed.
Christian continued. "You weren't always like this. You were once a guardian—maybe twisted into something darker, but the bones of divinity are still in there. Somewhere."
"You were a spirit of the mountain. Maybe even a god once. You didn't lose that power because someone took it from you. You lost it because people forgot you."
The Ghost—this ancient beast bound to a fading myth—was silent.
"You've spent decades devouring the living, trying to grow stronger," Christian said.
"But you've misunderstood the rules. Spirits like you don't gain power from death. You gain it from belief. Reverence. Fear, yes, but only when it spreads like wildfire. You've been eating your food before it could worship you."
The cave stirred with ghost-light. A flicker of doubt crossed the spirit's face.
"You're saying... all this time, I've been doing it wrong?"
Christian nodded.
"In your time, stories lived in whispers. Villagers who disappeared into the woods, hunters who never came back—those tales passed from mouth to mouth, feeding fear, reverence. Now? You eat in silence. No legends grow."
"No names are whispered. People don't fear you because they don't even know you exist. You're not a god anymore. You're a ghost story with no storyteller."
A low, amused exhale rolled from the Wrath Tiger.
"Interesting."
Charlize was stunned. Somehow, Christian had shifted the balance again.
Calmly talking a monster off its throne of corpses, like he was negotiating a bar tab.
"Still," the Wrath Tiger said, his glowing eyes narrowing, "that doesn't mean you can restore my worship."
"I didn't say I could do it alone," Christian admitted.
"But I can start the fire. People love fear. They crave stories. You need a new myth—a new face. You give me what I want… I give you the spark to become more than a hungry cave-dweller again."
He let the words hang, every one a gamble.
Charlize couldn't believe what she was hearing.
And yet… the Wrath Tiger's silence felt different now. Not angry. Not threatening.
Considering.
Christian's lips curled into a smile, the eerie gleam of his sharp eyes reflecting the dim glow of the cave's light.
"Exactly. It's not about hiding in shadows anymore. It's about getting seen."
He stepped forward, his voice steady, persuasive.
"People's belief, their fear and reverence—it's not confined to whispered legends anymore. Now it's broadcast in living color, on screens that stretch across the world."
"Theaters, phones, televisions—millions will witness your power. Every time they see you on screen, they'll feel that spark of fear, that pulse of awe."
The Wrath Tiger was quiet for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he weighed Christian's words.
"And you're saying this is how I regain my strength? How I become a god again?"
Christian nodded, never breaking eye contact.
"Not just a god—something more. A force people can't ignore. It's the modern world, Ghost. People are obsessed with heroes, monsters, gods, and ghosts. They seek that power in everything they consume. You don't just need belief; you need to manifest that belief on a global scale."
He watched as the Wrath Tiger shifted, considering the vast potential before him.
The corners of the beast's mouth twitched, a semblance of a grin forming, though its yellow eyes still held a cold calculation.
"You speak of power that stretches beyond borders. But what makes you think you can control it? I don't trust your promises so easily."
Christian's gaze hardened.
"I'm not asking you to trust me blindly. What I'm offering is simple: a role in a story. You've been hiding for centuries, trapped in the forgotten corners of the world. I'd like to bring you into the light. People won't just fear you—they'll revere you."
"They'll want to worship you. You'll be more than a ghost, more than a forgotten legend—you'll be alive again, in a way that no ancient god could imagine."
The Wrath Tiger's eyes gleamed with a new fire of curiosity and ambition.
"And what do you gain from this, exorcist? What's your price?"
Christian's smirk deepened. "A small favor. I'll help you gain what you've lost, but in return, you'll help me get closer to my goals. The world is full of darkness and hungry for the unknown. You want power, and I want to know just how far this power can stretch. A deal between us—nothing more, nothing less."
The beast tilted his head, considering the proposition.
"A partnership of convenience," he murmured.
"You make it sound simple."
Christian shrugged. "Nothing in this world is simple, but it can be... arranged."
The Wrath Tiger looked toward the entrance of the cave, as though envisioning the world outside.
The thought of being revered again, of seeing millions bow to his presence, filled him with an energy he hadn't felt in centuries.
"This is where we begin. So, what's your first move, human?"
Christian leaned back slightly, his tone casual but with a knowing edge.
"First? We need to make an impression. The world won't just believe in you—they'll need to fear you first. Let's start with a story. A movie. A legend that leaves them breathless. Once you're on screen and have them on the edge of their seats, they won't be able to look away."
"You're asking me to perform in a movie to regain my power. To let humans... gaze upon me again?" the Wrath Tiger mused, a strange mixture of incredulity and intrigue in his voice.
"How will I do it? You will capture my essence?"
Christian raised a hand. "No. You will be the essence. In the right script, with the right story, everything you are will shine through. We'll make them believe in you, and your strength will return once they do. The cameras, the lights... all of it. It will be more than just a performance. It will be your return."
The Wrath Tiger let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.
"You have strange ideas, human. But I find myself intrigued."
"I'm glad to hear it," Christian said, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
"Because we're just getting started."