5:15 AM.
The Private Sanctum of the Academy Headmaster.
"Open the box yourself, Rasel," Humayun Kabir's voice rumbled like thunder, heavy with an unspoken command.
Headmaster Rasel Cheng stood frozen, his hands trembling violently as they hovered over the box. The plastic strips sealing it were tight, like the bonds of a prisoner.
As he began to tear them off one by one, he felt as though he were prying open the nails of his own coffin.
'What's inside?' his mind raced in panic. 'A cursed spirit?'
He shook his head internally. 'No, it doesn't look like one. But my sixth sense is screaming—this is the end for me.'
The sharp crackle-snap of the plastic tearing sliced through the silence of the room, sounding unnaturally loud.
Finally, the lid was ready to be lifted.
It was no ordinary box. It was crafted from sleek, cold steel—a rectangular prison of metal.
Rasel's eyes widened. "Steel! In all of Bhola Sadar, only iron is found. Such flawless, polished steel is a rarity."
He instinctively activated his 'Investigation Spirit'. An invisible pulse of light shot toward the box. But to his shock, the light bounced off the surface. It could not penetrate.
Rasel gasped, dumbfounded. "What is this? Why can't my spirit see inside? Is there a metal capable of blocking the sight of a Rank 4 Spirit?"
Terrified, he looked up at Humayun Kabir. The Clan Leader wore that familiar, serene smile—the look of a man for whom 'nothing has happened.' That nonchalant smile terrified Rasel more than any threat.
He lifted the lid.
WHOOSH!
A dense, pungent stench of rotting metal and decayed blood exploded from the box, instantly filling the room. The smell was so thick it felt heavy in the air.
Rasel recoiled as he peered inside. There were no gems, no gold.
Inside lay a lump of congealed, blackish blood. Beside it, a coil of human hair. And three pitch-black needles.
But Rasel noticed something horrifying. The blood was not dead. Faint wisps of smoke rose from it, sizzling as they touched the air—Hiss... Hiss... It was as if the blood was still alive, boiling with the thirst for vengeance.
And the hair? It was moving. Rasel's skin crawled as he watched the coil of hair writhe slowly, like a ball of poisonous worms tangling and untangling themselves.
This was no ordinary black magic. This was a high-level, forbidden application of the 'Curse Path' known as a 'Living Curse'. To create such a monstrosity, the caster had to sacrifice a portion of their own lifespan and soul.
Rasel's mind went blank.
'Did Azgaar Ahmed sacrifice his own lifespan to set this trap? Or does he have someone who made this sacrifice for him? Or...'
He scrambled back in sheer terror.
"I... I am telling the truth, Lord! I know nothing about this! I have no connection..."
Humayun cut him off with a raised hand. Behind his thick glasses, his eyes gleamed cold.
"Then you have nothing to fear, do you?"
He adjusted his glasses, his gaze piercing straight through Rasel's soul.
"Or... is there something to fear?"
Humayun reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy pouch and an envelope.
The pouch was palm-sized, the kind used to carry expensive gemstones or coins. The envelope bore the seal of the Shitapur Village Official Payment Office.
"Open them."
Rasel hurriedly placed the steel box on the corner of the table. Humayun tossed the pouch toward him. Rasel caught it clumsily.
It was a supreme insult to his ego—throwing money at a Headmaster like a beggar. But Rasel was in no position to care about dignity.
He opened them.
Inside the envelope, crisp banknotes gleamed. He counted quickly—exactly 29,000 'Baowa'.
And inside the pouch were 30 grey stones.
'Dust Stones'.
These were no ordinary rocks. Extracted from deep underground, they contained natural deposits of 'Prana'. Masterers used them to quickly replenish their energy reserves after battle or exhaustion.
Humayun turned toward the door.
"Here is your due payment and... an advance salary for the 7 days of this month. The stones are a bonus."
Rasel nearly dropped the pouch.
"Lord Clan Leader... Why did you come all this way yourself? You could have just summoned me. But... why 7 days' salary all of a sudden?"
Humayun did not reply immediately.
He stopped at the door and looked back over his shoulder. A cruel, informal smile played on his lips. He chuckled silently.
Rasel's brain went into overdrive.
'15 hours... only 15 hours? That means they won't let me live even for a day? They are going to kill me!'
He had to flee. Now.
'Where? To another village? No, they will find me. Instead...'
A name floated into his mind.
'Ilisha Launch Terminal'.
The only gateway from Bhola to the mainland. From there, it would be easy to catch a launch and escape.
'Yes! I must go to Ilisha. I will change my disguise. My identity as the Headmaster of Shitapur ends today. Life is more valuable than titles.'
Before opening the door, Humayun Kabir spoke his final words. His voice was as calm and cold as a grave.
"I came myself because... I do not want you to remember me as a debtor in the moment before your death, when you take your last breath. Go, Rasel. Your account is settled."
The door clicked shut.
Rasel Cheng stood alone in the silence.
Before him on the table lay his death warrant—the Living Curse. And in his hands lay the means of his escape.
✦✦✦
A short while earlier.
5:00 AM.
The Courtyard behind the Storehouse
Ruhan slept soundly.
Not in a bed, but on the hard, open ground under the sky.
He had broken his body relentlessly from yesterday afternoon until midnight. That cursed cycle—"One hundred... then forget... start from one again." He could not remember how many thousands of push-ups or sit-ups he had done.
When fatigue finally claimed the last shred of his consciousness, he had collapsed right here in the dirt.
Only five hours had passed.
Suddenly, a violent spasm jolted Ruhan awake.
A growl like a hungry beast erupted from his stomach. He tried to move, but his body refused to obey.
Every muscle, every bone seemed to be in rebellion. It felt as if every inch of his body had been beaten with a hammer.
He tried to stand.
THUD!
He fell back down. His legs trembled uncontrollably.
"Why am I here? Why can't I move my body? Why does everything hurt?" He stared blankly at his own hands.
His memory betrayed him again. He thought he had done nothing yesterday.
Self-loathing surged within him. He shouted internally,
"You loser! You piece of trash! You rested all day yesterday, and now your body won't move for a simple exercise? The Elders were right... garbage like you should be kicked out!"
But it wasn't just forgetting. It felt as if someone was sawing through his brain.
Strange hallucinations floated before his eyes.
He saw the walls of the storehouse shrinking, closing in on him. On the bricks of the wall, hundreds of mocking faces appeared—his father, mother, Linara, even the Academy teachers.
They were all laughing in unison.
'Stop! You can't do it!'
'Your destiny is to crawl, not to fly!'
Ruhan shook his head violently, trying to dispel the visions. But the Needle Curse had wrapped itself around his nervous system so tightly that he couldn't think a positive thought even if he wanted to.
Every time he tried to stand, an invisible hand seemed to press down on his shoulder, forcing him back into the dust.
This was not a physical battle; it was an unequal war against his own neurons.
Finally, overcome by exhaustion and pain, he collapsed again. His body gave up.
Just before he lost consciousness, Ruhan felt a presence in the deep darkness of his mind. A calm voice seemed to whisper—
"Sleep, warrior. It is my turn to keep watch."
He blacked out instantly.
✦✦✦
Simultaneously.
Behind the storehouse, hidden in the shadows, stood a figure.
He had been watching Ruhan's pathetic state for hours. His eyes were filled with annoyance and disdain.
The figure sighed.
"Crazy brat... nothing will ever come of him."
He turned around. He took a step to leave.
SWOOSH!
Suddenly, tearing through the 'World Barrier', an invisible Silver-White Needle emerged from the void.
Before the spy could comprehend anything—
The needle pierced through his back and buried itself straight into his soul.
When the needle entered the depths of his soul, the spy's entire life began to be absorbed into it like a reel of film.
His name—Jabed. Age 32.
His home was on the border of Ratanpur. He had a young daughter whose medical expenses had forced him to take this dangerous job.
His small fears, his secret codes, his combat techniques, even the unique tremor in his voice—everything was copied instantly.
There was no blood. No scream.
But the man's soul trembled in sheer terror. And in the next instant, with a soundless implosion like a popping bubble, his soul dissolved into 'Nothingness'. His existence was erased.
THUMP!
The body collapsed to the ground, intact and unharmed. A perfect, soulless vessel.
The Silver-White Needle did not stop. It transformed itself. Using the copied data, it morphed into a new, artificial soul and took possession of the body.
This was not a simple death. This was 'Identity Replacement'.
The corpse stirred.
Jabed—or the entity now wearing Jabed's flesh—slowly stood up from the ground.
He looked at the sky once. Then, he turned his head to glance at the unconscious Ruhan. The disdain was gone from his eyes, replaced by a mechanical gravity.
Then—
He sprinted toward the horizon with the speed of the wind. He moved so fast he looked less like a human and more like a flash of silver light cutting through the darkness.