The cow carriage rattled forward, its wooden wheels grinding the dust of the village path into fine powder.
Inside the carriage, a suffocating silence had reigned until they crossed the boundary of the Ahmed Families territory. The moment the escort guard turned back, the silence shattered.
Through the small window, the sprawling 'Stardust Coffee' plantations stretched to the horizon. A glimpse of the immense wealth held by the Ahmed Family.
Seeing this opulence from the outside, the fire of envy ignited in Aspia's chest. She could no longer hold her tongue.
"Mother," she gritted her teeth. "Why must we perform this painful ritual again and again? Grandma did it, you are doing it... why don't we just end that nuisance once and for all? I hate him!"
Then she paused murmuring to the air, "If he disappeared today… nothing in this world would mourn him."
Shirin looked at her daughter with weary eyes. Her left hand was soaked in blood, the flesh of her shoulder raw and exposed.
She asked in a deceptively calm voice, "Are you thinking of killing that boy?"
"Yes, Mother! I don't want to see you suffer anymore. I just want to..."
SLAP!
The sound of the slap reverberated inside the small carriage. Aspia froze, her hand clutching her stinging cheek. More than the pain, the shock of her mother's sudden attack stunned her.
Shirin's gaze lingered on Aspia for a moment before she spoke, her voice calm, almost instructional.
"Do you think killing him is that simple?"
Aspia stiffened but didn't respond. The sting on her cheek was still fresh.
Shirin continued, "The Creator did not send humans into this world empty. Every human is born with two entities—the Body and the Soul. And of the two… the Soul is what matters."
Aspia frowned slightly. "Then why does strength feel so… uneven?"
Instead of answering directly, Shirin lifted her chin toward the window. "Look outside."
A fox moved cautiously along the edge of the plantation, its body low, eyes sharp.
"Every living being is born with a fixed level of 'Soul Mastery'," Shirin said. "Insects barely reach three to five percent. Birds, dogs—seven to ten. Creatures like that fox… perhaps twelve at most. That is their natural limit."
Tasnim leaned forward, watching the fox disappear into the brush. "So they can never go beyond that?"
Shirin's eyes narrowed slightly. "They shouldn't."
There was a pause—brief, deliberate.
"But sometimes," she added, "something breaks that limit."
Aspia's attention sharpened. "Breaks… how?"
"If a creature surpasses the boundary of its species," Shirin said slowly, "it ceases to be ordinary. Its soul awakens beyond its design."
Her voice dropped.
"It becomes a Magical Beast."
Tasnim's fingers tightened around the small box in her lap. "Like… the butterflies?"
Shirin gave a faint nod.
"A normal butterfly wouldn't even reach two percent. But yours did. That is why they carry healing properties in their wings."
Tasnim's eyes softened, a quiet relief mixing with sorrow. "I thought they were just… special."
"To you, they are," Shirin replied. "To the world, they are a resource."
"Healing power?" Aspia gasped.
Suddenly, Tasnim, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, stirred. With trembling hands, she pulled a small box from her satchel.
Opening it—
Three exquisitely beautiful green butterflies fluttered their wings. A soft, soothing green glow radiated from them.
Tasnim's eyes filled with tears. "I raised them for the last twelve days. Mother, you told me to find magical creatures... I didn't know they would be useful for you. They are so beautiful, aren't they?"
Tasnim saw beauty. She wanted to ease her mother's pain, but her heart bled for her tiny friends.
Without a word, Aspia snatched the butterflies from the box.
Tasnim cried out, "No, sister!"
It was too late.
Aspia crushed the delicate creatures within her fist. The green glow was extinguished, replaced by a thick, glowing paste.
Tears rolled down Tasnim's cheeks. Her twelve days of love, crushed in a second.
Aspia smeared the paste over her mother's open wound.
"There is no place for butterflies in a world of wolves, Tasnim," she said cruelly.
Shirin closed her eyes in relief as the burning sensation subsided.
Aspia's gaze had already shifted to the box.
"And humans?" she asked.
Shirin leaned back slightly, her tone turning heavier.
"A normal human child begins at around five percent. By adolescence, they may reach thirteen. Most people—no matter how hard they try—will never cross fifteen… sixteen if they are fortunate."
She let the words settle before continuing.
"Twenty percent is the true wall. A Barrier. Almost no one crosses it."
Aspia's brows furrowed. "And if someone does?"
Shirin's eyes darkened.
"Then the 'Soul Realm' awakens within them. Their body begins to generate Prana naturally. Every cell becomes alive with power."
She exhaled softly.
"They become a Masterer."
Silence filled the carriage for a moment.
Then Shirin let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
"But dreaming of that and achieving it are two very different things. For Norms like you… such thoughts are meaningless."
Aspia went still.
Her mind caught the slip instantly.
"For Norms like… us?" she asked carefully.
Shirin looked at her, something unreadable flickering in her eyes.
Then, slowly, she raised a finger to her lips.
"Even walls have ears."
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"I am not included in that group."
Both sisters froze.
"I am a Masterer," Shirin said. "Rank 6."
The words landed like a blow.
Before they could recover, she continued, her tone returning to its cold steadiness.
"I could have chosen a different life. But I remained… under orders. Under a vow."
Aspia's shock twisted into anger. "Then why—why are we living like this? Why does he get everything?"
Shirin's expression hardened.
"Because," she said quietly, "that 'fool' you hate… was never meant to remain one."
Her gaze drifted, distant now.
"This plan has been running for half a century. Long ago, a great seer made a prophecy—that within the Ahmed bloodline, something would be born… something not meant to exist.And when it awakens… half of Bhola Island will fall."
A chill ran down their spines.
"And… we assume it's him?"
Tasnim felt a pang of sorrow for Ruhan. Poor boy! He was innocent, yet they turned him into a beast in a cage.
Aspia mumbled, "He must die... or none of us will survive."
Shirin sighed.
"Forget it. For now, we must think of our own survival. We have a total of 8000 'Baowa'. Fixing my fingers will cost 2000 each. I can only save four fingers. Who knows what will happen to my shoulder..."
The cow carriage trundled on, kicking up dust as it headed toward the den of a village healer. Behind them lay their sins, and ahead lay an uncertain future.
✦✦✦
12:00 PM.
The Central Administrative Building—'Shitapur Palace'.
This was no mere building; it was the pulsating heart of the village's power. Its architecture was not modern, but ancient and gothic. The walls were constructed of gray granite, etched with the history of centuries-old wars. From the ceiling hung a massive crystal chandelier, scattering light like diamonds.
The vast council room was drowned in silence. The heavy air smelled of power, politics, and expensive incense.
In the center sat a massive, long table. Crafted from priceless mahogany, its smoothness spoke of master craftsmanship. Seven seats on each side, fourteen in total.
One at the far end. And at the head—a massive, throne-like chair. This was no ordinary wood; it was carved from rare 'Blackwood' imported from the distant 'Farlands', with dragon scales engraved so realistically they seemed alive.
On that throne sat the Village Leader—Humayun Kabir.
His face bore a steely resolve. A broad chest, wide shoulders, clad in a regal dark blue Sherwani. He was deep in thought. His fingers tapped impatiently on the table—Tick... tick... tick...
Around him sat the top Elders of Shitapur. Delal, Chaprashe, Biswas, and leaders of other influential Families. Everyone waited for the Leader's verdict. But beneath the silence, a cold war of egos raged.
Suddenly—
A conflict broke out like a stone thrown into a calm pond.
A leader of the Biswas family hurled an insult at a member of the Chaprashee family. In moments, words turned into shouts. The situation grew aggressive, bordering on bloodshed.
Humayun Kabir did nothing. He didn't move, didn't look. He simply glanced sideways at the man sitting to his right.
Unlike the others in common attire, this man wore ceremonial White-Gold Robes. He wore thin-framed glasses. His long, ash-black hair was tied neatly at the back, secured with a clip.
The clip was made of golden wood, carved with ancient designs. His entire existence was wrapped in a mysterious silence.
As the conflict reached its peak, this mysterious man let out a sigh.
Humayun Kabir waited no longer. Like a judge, he picked up the wooden gavel placed before him.
He struck the round wooden plate on the table with force.
THWACK!
The sound was not loud. But the moment the hammer hit—
An unimaginable, heavy Aura exploded from Humayun Kabir's body.
The air pressure multiplied a hundredfold instantly. It felt as if the roof was collapsing on everyone's heads.
Even the seasoned elders around the table trembled. It became hard to breathe.
"Rank 3!" someone whispered in terror.
"What a terrifying aura! Is this the true power of a Rank 3 Masterer?"
Everyone shrank back into their seats in fear. Pin-drop silence.
Humayun knew waiting was no longer an option. He broke the silence.
"Today..."
Before he could finish, the massive doors of the council room swung open.
Two tall figures entered.
The Academy Headmaster Rasel Cheng and the Village's North Star—Sadik Kabir.
Sadik wore the special uniform of the Academy's Top Student. His gait carried a regal elegance, mirroring his father's dominance.
He walked straight to Humayun Kabir and bowed low.
"Apologies for the delay, Father."
A faint smile of pride touched Humayun Kabir's grave face. "Sit, Sadik."
Sadik and the Headmaster took the two empty seats at the far end of the table.
Humayun Kabir placed his hands over his chest and belly, tracing the sign of an 'Inverted Triangle' in the air.
He chanted in a deep voice, "Praise the Lady."
Everyone echoed in unison.
The meeting began.
Humayun Kabir announced in a thunderous voice from his seat.
"After 179 years, today I am reinstating an old rule."
He looked at everyone.
"From today, a new law is effective in Shitapur Village. Henceforth, whenever a Masterer ranks up, the Village Council or 'Treasury' will give them a Spirit equivalent to their achieved rank."
A murmur ran through the room. Free Spirits! This was a massive announcement.
Buying spirits from the Treasury was incredibly expensive. A simple Rank 6 spirit cost 5,000 to 7,000 'Baowa'; getting one for free was a colossal blessing.
"Secondly," Humayun continued. "The second phase of the SME Exams is approaching—the Physical Exam. Battlegrounds, weapons, healers—keep everything ready. The Treasury remains open. A century after that terrible war, Shitapur Village finally possesses enough resources to nurture its children."
Then the discussion turned to external affairs.
An elder from the Chaprashee family stood up to report.
"Lord, the audacity of Ratanpur has crossed limits. They are encroaching on the borders of our strategic 'Resource Zone'—the 'Kaloshal Forest'. They dare claim that every poisonous vine and rare herb in that forest is their ancestral property!"
A frown creased Humayun's forehead. He ordered from his seat.
"Kaloshal is our lifeblood. Deploy two more Rank 5 Masterer guards there immediately. If anyone from Ratanpur crosses the border, ensure they have no path to return."
The meeting was adjourned.
The elders left, whispering amongst themselves. The room emptied.
Only three remained.
Humayun Kabir, his son Sadik Kabir, and that man in the white-and-gold robes—Azgaar Ahmed.
Sadik rose from the far end and took a seat closer to his father and Azgaar.
Azgaar remained still, that familiar, mysterious smile playing on his lips.
Humayun Kabir looked proudly at Sadik, then turned to Azgaar with a tone dripping with mockery.
"Azgaar, my blood... my son has touched Rank 4 at just 19 years old. He is our future. And your son? I heard he still pumps his own bathwater from the tube-well like a servant? Ha ha!"
A smile of pity and ridicule appeared on both Humayun and Sadik's faces. The wretched state of the Ahmed heir was a source of entertainment for them.
Azgaar paused.
He was not insulted, nor did he get angry. Instead, his eyes danced with amusement behind his glasses. He laughed out loud.
"Ha ha ha!"
He waved his hand dismissively.
"Small chores keep the body fit, Humayun. Don't worry about that. Everyone arrives where they are meant to… eventually."
Humayun was slightly confused by this nonchalant attitude. Did the insult not land?
"Anyway," Azgaar changed the topic. "I brought some gifts."
He pulled a velvet pouch and a leather suitcase from his side and placed them on the table.
"For your son... and for you."
He upended the velvet pouch. Something fell onto the table with a clatter.
A blood-stained locket.
It was the locket of the carriage driver who had leaked Azgaar's arrival last night. The blood was still fresh, as if ripped from the throat moments ago.
The smiles vanished from Sadik and Humayun's faces instantly. A shadow of shock and terror passed over their eyes. They recognized the locket. It belonged to their spy.
Azgaar smiled at them.
"I found this while cleaning up some trash on the road. I thought, the owner's property should be returned to the owner. Isn't that right, Lord Humayun?"
Pin-drop silence.
Azgaar Ahmed had just made a statement—they could laugh about his son pumping water, but the real moves on this chessboard were being made by him.
Without waiting for their reaction, Azgaar pushed the suitcase toward Sadik.
"And this... is to boost your strength. Inside lies something that will propel you significantly toward your goal. Open it."
Sadik looked at his father with hesitation. Humayun gave a nod of consent, but secretly scanned the suitcase with an 'Investigation Spirit'. Any traps?
No, nothing. Safe.
Sadik opened the suitcase.
Seeing the contents, Sadik's fingers stiffened. He was too stunned to speak.
Azgaar stood up. He dusted off his robes.
"My work is done. I'm leaving. I have to prepare for my son's birthday. There is much to do for him."
"Take care of what's yours," he added.
"Some things… don't stay lost forever."
He walked out with a smile. His gait was unhurried, as if he had just finished tea with friends. Yet, he left behind a terrified silence.
After Azgaar left, Humayun Kabir stared at the locket, his expression hard as stone.
"…Do you understand now?" he said quietly.
Sadik didn't answer.
Humayun exhaled slowly.
"That man…"
A pause.
"…doesn't react."
His eyes hardened.
"He decides."
He looked at Sadik.
"Be careful, Sadik. Azgaar Ahmed is a 'Wisdom Path' Rank 3 Masterer. Men like him don't follow fate… they rewrite it."