A-Tuo's breathing grew rapid and heavy, as if a massive boulder were pressing down on his chest. The red feather on his back was growing at an alarming rate, manipulated by an unseen force that drove it deeper and deeper into his flesh. Each contact sent searing pain across his skin, like fire branding his nerves. His blood no longer felt like his own—it pulsed with waves of fear.
The feather spread across every inch of his back, tendrils of dark magic winding around his spine, strangling his will. Each time he tried to tear it off, the pain sliced into him like knives, striking straight into his heart. His hands no longer obeyed him, guided by a sinister force, fingertips scraping the feather and producing a sound like nails across glass.
He tried to scream, but a cold pressure gripped his throat, compressing the air into thick, tar-like sludge. Every breath became harder to take. The pain wasn't just physical—it seared his soul, an abyssal despair swallowing him whole.
The whispers in his ears grew louder and clearer, countless lost souls murmuring with unbearable sorrow and curses.
“You are one of the Feathered Ones now… You cannot escape…”
Each word struck like iron nails hammered into his mind. His heartbeat became erratic, frantic—as though he’d been sealed inside a bottomless tomb. He could hear his own pulse... and someone else's. Many others. The dead who had borne the curse of the feather—forever restless.
Suddenly, a low cough echoed behind him—wet, guttural, like someone coughing up blood in the dark. A-Tuo spun around, but there was nothing there. Only a cold stillness in the air. The sound came again, closer now, almost right beside his ear.
“You think you can escape? The Feathered never rest…”
His pulse spiked, body recoiling like a cornered animal. He stumbled backward until his spine hit the wall. Reaching behind him, he tried to pull the feather out once more—but it had become unmovable. Worse—it was growing stronger, rooting itself deeper into him, like a steel spike burrowing into his bones.
Then came another voice—one that was disturbingly familiar. It whispered from just beside his ear, low and hoarse, like a voice dragged from the depths of hell.
“You’ve already become one of us.”
His vision blurred. Thick, black fog began to devour the world around him. He struggled to fight it, but every ounce of his strength was shackled by the cursed feather. His back felt like a dead sea—still and lifeless, save for the feather expanding with every breath.
“There’s no escape, A-Tuo.”30Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcF8542KASL
The voice rang out again—clearer this time, echoing from deep within his mind.
He tried to scream, to cry for help, but no sound escaped his throat. In the darkness, only the ever-growing feather remained. Each root buried itself deeper into his flesh and soul, pulling him further into oblivion.
Suddenly, a vision flashed before his eyes—30Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKRhcXLsXPq
The professor’s figure, wrapped in feathers, methodically pulling out his own fingers. The scene was grotesque, like a waking nightmare. The professor’s hollow eyes stared straight at him, filled with a deep terror and despair.
“Don’t go… You’ll become me.”
His voice was raspy, like a call from the abyss, piercing straight through A-Tuo’s spirit. Pain shot through A-Tuo’s back again—sharper than ever—every nerve felt like it was burning in fire. He knew, then and there, there was no turning back. No escape.
When he looked into the mirror once more, he saw that it was no longer just a single feather. Dozens, maybe hundreds had sprouted—dark and thick like demonic wings—unfurling behind him, ready to consume him whole.
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