Chapter 36: LEVEL 25
The training room at the Warren property was actually a converted barn.
Ed had set it up years ago—a space where investigations could be planned, where equipment could be tested, where investigators could practice the physical and spiritual disciplines that kept them alive in the field. Now, in the gray light of a January morning, I used it for something more personal.
[SYSTEM LEVEL 24]
[XP: 4,750/5,000]
[MAJOR MILESTONE APPROACHING]
I'd been pushing for this threshold since Christmas. Every training session, every minor case, every moment of study and practice had been building toward this point. Level 25 was significant—a boundary that the system treated differently than ordinary progression.
The punching bag swung from chains in the barn's center. I hit it again and again, channeling Faith Resonance into each strike, feeling the sacred energy flow through my blessed knuckles and into the target. The leather was scorched in places where the power had burned too bright.
Hit. Pray. Hit. Pray. Hit.
[XP: 4,900/5,000]
The meditation came next. I knelt on the cold stone floor, rosary in hand, and reached inward toward the core of my being. The system wasn't just a game interface—I'd learned that years ago. It was something deeper, something connected to the fundamental nature of my existence in this world. When I accessed it consciously, deliberately, I could feel its presence like a second heartbeat.
What are you? I asked, as I'd asked a hundred times before.
The system didn't answer. It never did. But today, something shifted.
[XP: 5,000/5,000]
[SYSTEM LEVEL 25 ACHIEVED]
[MAJOR MILESTONE REACHED]
[NEW CONTENT UNLOCKING...]
Light pulsed behind my eyes—not painful, but intense. I felt something inside me expand, restructure, settle into new configurations. The sensation lasted maybe three seconds.
Then the notifications cascaded.
[STORE TIER: INTERMEDIATE — FULL ACCESS UNLOCKED]
[NEW ITEMS AVAILABLE: 47]
[SPIRITUAL SHIELD TREE: TIER 1 UNLOCKED]
[SKILL AVAILABLE: MENTAL WALLS (TIER 1)]
[DESCRIPTION: PSYCHIC DEFENSE AGAINST MENTAL INTRUSION]
[EFFECT: +40% POSSESSION RESISTANCE, +30% PSYCHIC ATTACK RESISTANCE]
[COST: 500 ESSENCE POINTS TO UNLOCK]
I opened my eyes. The barn looked the same—dusty, cold, filled with training equipment and memories of hard work. But I felt different. Stronger. More complete.
The Spiritual Shield tree had been locked since the beginning—visible in my skill interface but inaccessible, marked with conditions I hadn't understood. Now I understood. Level 25 was the key. The system had been waiting for me to reach this point before granting access to its defensive capabilities.
And I'd need those defenses. Bathsheba Sherman was coming.
[ESSENCE POINTS AVAILABLE: 1,450]
[UNLOCK MENTAL WALLS? Y/N]
Yes.
The skill slotted into my consciousness like a key finding its lock. I felt it activate—a fortress sensation around my mind, walls of faith and will that hadn't existed moments before. It was strange and wonderful and absolutely essential.
I tested it immediately, reaching out to probe my own defenses with the psychic sensitivity I'd developed under Lorraine's tutelage. The walls held. Solid. Impenetrable.
[MENTAL WALLS LV.1 ACTIVATED]
[CURRENT STATUS: ACTIVE]
Lorraine agreed to test my new defenses that afternoon.
We sat across from each other in the Warren living room, the house quiet around us, Ed working in his study and Judy at a friend's house for the afternoon. Lorraine's expression was curious but cautious—she knew something had changed in me, could probably sense it the way she sensed everything.
"You want me to try to read you," she said. It wasn't a question.
"I want to see if the training worked."
"What training?"
"Something I've been developing. Mental defenses. Protection against psychic intrusion."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You've been hiding things again."
"Not hiding. Just... not ready to share until I knew if it worked." I held her gaze. "Will you try?"
She was quiet for a long moment. Then she closed her eyes, and I felt her psychic presence reach toward me—gentle, familiar, the touch of a mentor testing a student's progress.
The walls held.
Her eyes snapped open. "That's... remarkable. I couldn't get through. At all. It was like hitting a stone wall."
"Good. That's what I was hoping for."
"Where did you learn this?"
The truth—that my system had unlocked a new skill tree—was impossible to explain. So I gave her a partial answer. "The Moreau demon nearly killed me because I couldn't defend against its psychic attacks. I've been working on developing better defenses ever since."
"This is more than better defenses, Paul. This is..." She shook her head slowly. "I've never encountered mental walls this strong outside of advanced practitioners. Monks who've trained for decades. Priests who've specialized in defensive faith."
"I had good teachers."
She didn't believe me—I could see it in her eyes. But she chose not to press, as she'd chosen so many times before.
"Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. You'll need those walls for what's coming."
"What's coming?"
"I don't know specifically. But I can feel it." She touched her temple. "Something building in the northeast. Rhode Island, maybe. A darkness that's been waiting for a long time to wake up."
Bathsheba. She was sensing Bathsheba, even without knowing the name.
"If it comes to a case," I said carefully, "I want to be there from the beginning. Whatever it is."
"You will be. You're the strongest investigator we've trained since..." She paused, smiled sadly. "Since anyone."
The letter arrived three days later.
Ed found it in the morning mail—a handwritten envelope from Harrisville, Rhode Island, addressed to "The Warren Family, Paranormal Investigators." The return address read "Carolyn Perron."
"Interesting correspondence," Ed said, settling into his office chair to read. I stood in the doorway, trying to keep my heart rate steady, trying not to reveal how much this moment meant.
"What does it say?"
"Standard initial contact. Family moved into a new home several months ago. Strange occurrences—doors opening on their own, cold spots, children seeing figures at night." Ed set down the letter. "Nothing we haven't heard a hundred times before."
Nothing he hadn't heard. But I knew better.
"Are we going to investigate?"
"Eventually. It'll go in the queue." Ed gestured toward his filing cabinet. "We've got three cases ahead of it, plus Drew's still recovering. Could be months before we get there."
Months might be too long. The canonical timeline said Bathsheba would grow stronger over time, would escalate her torments until the Perron family was desperate enough to seek outside help. If we waited too long...
"What if I did a preliminary assessment?" I kept my voice casual. "Just drive out, interview the family, see if it's something that needs priority attention."
Ed considered this. "That's not a bad idea, actually. You've been doing good work on initial consultations. The families trust you." He nodded slowly. "Alright. When you're fully recovered, take a day and drive out there. Nothing confrontational—just get a sense of what we're dealing with."
"I will."
I left his office before my expression could betray me.
That night, I spread my Perron research across my apartment table.
Everything I'd gathered over months of careful investigation. Historical records of the Arnold Estate. Documents about Bathsheba Sherman—birth, marriage, the whispered accusations of witchcraft and child murder. The pattern of deaths and suicides that had followed the property through generations.
And now, finally, the letter. The first communication. The beginning of a case that would either save a family or destroy them.
[CANONICAL EVENT TRACKER: PERRON HAUNTING]
[TIMELINE REFINED: 3-6 MONTHS TO CRITICAL PHASE]
[STATUS: ACTIVE — INITIAL CONTACT RECEIVED]
[RECOMMENDATION: EARLY INTERVENTION OPTIMAL]
The system agreed with my instincts. Early intervention was better than waiting for crisis. If I could get to the Perrons before Bathsheba established her dominance, before the possessions began, before the children were traumatized beyond healing...
I pulled out my notebook—the one Lorraine had given me years ago, now nearly full of case notes and prayers and hard-won wisdom. I turned to a fresh page and began planning.
Step one: Preliminary visit. Assess the situation. Identify the entity without revealing how much I already knew.
Step two: Establish relationship with family. Earn their trust. Make sure they'd call us immediately when things escalated.
Step three: Prepare countermeasures. The system showed new items available in the Store—blessed chalices, spirit-binding chains, equipment specifically designed for Tier 4 entities. I'd need to purchase what I could, save for what I couldn't.
Step four: Coordinate with Ed and Lorraine. Bring them in gradually, naturally, without revealing my foreknowledge. Make sure the full team was ready when the crisis came.
The clock on my wall showed 2 AM. I'd been planning for hours, barely noticing the time pass.
Coffee helped. Strong and black, the way Ed had taught me, with one sugar to cut the bitterness. I stood at my window drinking it, watching the Hartford streetlights flicker in the January darkness.
Three to six months. Maybe less if Bathsheba was feeling ambitious. The Perrons were already in the house, already experiencing phenomena that would escalate until someone got hurt.
But this time, I'd be there. This time, I knew what was coming. This time, maybe—just maybe—I could change how the story ended.
[FAITH RESONANCE: 110]
[PREPARATION STATUS: ONGOING]
[MENTAL WALLS: ACTIVE]
[SYSTEM LEVEL: 25]
The numbers were good. My power had grown. My defenses were stronger than ever.
Now I just had to use them wisely.
The letter from Carolyn Perron sat on my desk, innocent-looking, ordinary—a mother's cry for help that would lead to one of the most famous hauntings in American history.
I picked it up, read it again. Her words were careful, almost embarrassed. She wasn't sure if she believed in ghosts. She just knew something was wrong in her house, and her children were scared, and she didn't know where else to turn.
"I'm coming," I said quietly, to the empty room, to the letter, to the family I hadn't met yet. "Just hold on a little longer."
Then I went back to planning.
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