The full moon casts a ghostly glow over the old manor as Hellboy steps out of the B.P.R.D. jeep, cracking his neck and lighting a cigar. “Great. Another creepy house in the middle of nowhere.” He slams the jeep door shut with a loud thud.

Abe, adjusting his uniform, eyes the manor warily. “Something ancient stirs here. The energy is... unsettling.” He inhales deeply, his gills fluttering as he scans the air.

Hellboy smirks, exhaling smoke. “Restless spirits, haunted halls... big surprise.” He strides toward the door, boots scraping the gravel. Abe follows, his movements fluid, cautious.

Inside, the manor is a dusty ruin, cobwebs hanging from rotting furniture. Portraits of long-dead relatives line the walls, their eyes seeming to follow them. Strange symbols faintly glow on the floorboards.

Hellboy steps over them casually. “Ghosts? Cultists? What’s our bet?”

Abe kneels, tracing the symbols with his webbed fingers. “Ancient rituals. This place is built on dark power.”

Suddenly, a crash echoes upstairs. Hellboy’s eyes narrow. Without hesitation, he heads for the stairs, his steps heavy and deliberate. Abe follows, moving with grace.

In the attic, a ghostly figure hovers above an altar, chanting in an ancient tongue. The spirit turns toward them, its hollow eyes glowing. “You should not be here,” it hisses.

Hellboy cracks his knuckles. “Heard that one before. Let’s finish this.”

Abe steps forward, cautioning, “This is no ordinary ghost. It’s bound by a ritual.”

Hellboy grins, raising his Right Hand of Doom. “Bound? Classic.” He swings his fist, smashing the altar with a mighty blow.

Abe tries to warn him. “We need to disrupt the—”

The ghost lets out a screech as the energy crackles and increases.