Hill pushed himself off the ground. The ghost had fallen backward, sprawled on its back across his legs.
But it was recovering quickly, already clawing at his grip on its ankle.
There's no way I'm letting go! I'll die if I do!
Hill rolled to the side, the ghost rolling with him until it slammed into the floor. He tightened his grip on the ghost's frigid ankle.
The ghost hissed in anger, its skeletal face twisting with inhuman rage. Unfortunately, it remained solid and unable to return to its ghostly form. Hill's grip did not allow it to happen.
This was his chance. The ghost was now sprawled on its torso, trying to push itself up.
Hill pounced despite the aching pain in his ribs. He would be a dead man if he didn't take this opportunity.
Maintaining contact with the ghost, he loosened his grip, dragged his hand up the ghost's bony leg, and threw himself on top of the ghost.
The ghost crumbled under his weight, which surprised him. I thought it would be much stronger than that... was that strength from earlier some kind of magic?
The ghost was pinned beneath him, and their positions were successfully reversed.
I've got you now!
Hill felt hope surge as he wrapped his arm around the ghost's frail neck, locking its head in a perfect headlock. Using every ounce of strength left in his body, he squeezed, trying to finish the manifestation once and for all.
This was a fatal mistake.
His muscles strained as he tightened his grip around the neck. The ghost thrashed beneath him, its materialized form surprisingly resistant. But Hill held firm, channeling all his desperation into the chokehold. He expected to hear some gasping, choking sounds from the ghost.
But nothing came. The ghost continued to struggle with jerky, unnatural movements. It wasn't showing any signs of suffocation at all!
The realization came upon him instantly. Of course. This ghost probably doesn't need to breathe!
A deep dread spread through him. His triumphant surge faltered as he realized that the headlock was useless.
But that wasn't all. Before releasing the grip, he felt a piercing cold shoot out from the ghost's neck. Where his arm wrapped around its neck and his chest pressed against its back, an intense biting frost spread through his clothes and into his skin.
His muscles stiffened as ice crystals began to form on his arm, glittering in the light of his body.
The ghost wasn't just cold—it was actively freezing him. If he continued this contact, the ghost would remain solid, but he would have to lose a limb or two to keep the ghost down.
His fingers, locked around the ghost's neck, grew numb. The frost crept up his arm toward his shoulder, threatening to freeze the joint solid. He tried to maintain pressure, but his strength failed—from exhaustion and the spreading ice that seemed to pierce through his flesh.
He had to let go. If he didn't, he'd become a frozen statue, helpless as the ghost broke free or waited for him to shatter. With a gasp that frosted in the air, he released the headlock and shoved himself away, his stiffening limbs barely responding.
He tumbled backward, shivering violently, his arm burning with cold and aching from stiffness. The ghost lay still for a moment, then slowly pushed itself up.
Its form flickered, becoming slightly translucent again. It turned its hollow eye sockets toward Hill, that horrifying smile still stretched across its face. It hadn't won the grapple, but it had won the exchange.
"D-damn it," Hill cursed through chattering teeth, blood-freezing against his chilled face. How do I defeat this monster? I can't even wrestle it!
The ghost vanished, materializing right in front of him before slamming its palm into his chin. Pain exploded through his skull as his body lifted off the ground. Another palm struck his side, sending him flying.
He crashed to the ground in a heap.
He looked up at the approaching ghost, its taunting smile making him tremble. I'm dead, aren't I? I can't beat it in a fistfight, and I can't wrestle with it. It's hopeless!
He struggled to sit up, but the ghost slammed him down to the ground with a palm to the chest. He coughed blood before the ghost's hand wrapped around his throat, simultaneously freezing and choking him.
The death grip was frigid and crushing. His eyes bulged as he tried to break free, but the skeletal limb was practically dripping with frigid energy, freezing his fingers as they clutched at it. Despair flooded his mind.
I'm dying...
The ghost stared down, its wide smile filling his dimming vision. He couldn't feel the pressure anymore, and he couldn't feel his neck. Everything just felt cold.
He wanted to surrender, to close his eyes and fade away, but when he closed his eyes, all he saw was his father's smile. The facade that he had grown to hate with all his heart. This ghost had the same unnatural expression. Was he really going to let himself be dragged into the abyss by such a thing?
No! I'm killing this piece of shit!
Refusing to give up, Hill grabbed the ghost's elbow with his fingers. Despite the freezing sensation, he squeezed hard on the joint, pushing with his right hand and pulling with his left.
Though coursing with freezing power, the skeletal arm had no physical strength. The opposing forces slowly bent the ghost's elbow backward. The unnatural smile of the ghost vanished, replaced by confused rage as another rush of cold crawled up Hill's face, threatening to freeze his head solid.
But he kept fighting back. Within a few seconds, the skeletal arm bent beyond its limit and snapped with a sickening crack. The grip on his throat loosened as the ghost roared in agony, trying to pull itself away.
Hill's fingers were frozen solid against the ghost's broken arm, useless but locked in place. As the ghost retreated, dragging him along, Hill lunged forward with his last reserves of strength.
And sank his teeth deep into the ghost's neck.