The stinging pain in A-Tuo’s back refused to fade. He hurriedly pulled up his shirt and looked in the mirror. The feather on his back clung to his skin like a tendril from the abyss, cold and invasive. Every contact felt like it was slicing him open from the inside, letting both blood and fear seep out. When his fingers brushed against it, a numbing jolt ran through his entire back, followed by a pain as sharp as a serrated blade.
He tore at the feather in desperation. Pain and blood surged like a tidal wave—but the feather wouldn’t come loose. It was rooted deep within him, as if it had grown from his very flesh. Every attempt to remove it only caused it to burrow deeper, like a spreading rot beneath his skin.
His breathing grew rapid, his heartbeat pounding like war drums. Whispers echoed in his ears, as if a ghost stood just behind him, murmuring directly into his mind.
“You can no longer escape… The fate of the Feathered Ones cannot be changed…”
The voice sounded like a hopeless cry from the dead, chilling and relentless. A-Tuo sprang to his feet, looking around frantically—but saw nothing. A crushing sense of dread closed in on him, as though countless unseen eyes were watching, surrounding him completely.
Suddenly, the buzzing of his phone shattered the suffocating silence, like a distress signal from some distant darkness. Hands still trembling, A-Tuo picked up the phone and saw a message from the professor’s assistant, Xiao Huang.
“The professor’s missing! We found something in his study… a strange paper titled ‘The Feathered Ones’ Kingdom’. We’ve already called the police.”
A-Tuo’s fingers froze. He stared at the screen, mind blank. That paper—he remembered. The professor had mentioned it months ago, saying he was researching an ancient taboo, but had never gone into detail. And now, that same paper had been found where the professor disappeared.
What unsettled him even more was what Xiao Huang said next: there were strange bloodstains left behind in the study.
“They say… there was blood in the room. And that paper about the Feathered Ones…”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKjLMLdz3JB
Xiao Huang’s next message hit like a punch to the chest.
A-Tuo’s gaze shifted back to his reflection. The dark feather on his back still pulsed with pain, as if it were consuming him with an icy, invasive force. Suddenly, a searing burn flared across his back—like flames licking his skin. He twisted around, horrified to see the feather changing—its black hue turning crimson, as though soaked in fresh blood, spreading across his back like wildfire.
“Feathered One… awaken…”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE7WSt5mNp6
The voice returned, clearer than ever, laced with a sinister, almost seductive undertone. A-Tuo’s body stopped responding to his will. He could feel himself falling—helpless—into an inescapable fate.
A deep knock echoed from the door, breaking the spiral.
“A-Tuo! Are you in there? Open up, now!”16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡro8iPttiZm
It was Xiao Huang’s urgent voice, calling from outside.
A-Tuo’s heart pounded even harder, but his limbs felt completely drained. His hands trembled uncontrollably, and the feather on his back grew colder—severing him from the world around him. Every movement felt like dragging heavy chains, as if his body was being bound by invisible steel.
The voice from outside became more distant, muffled as though separated by thick fabric. Just as A-Tuo’s consciousness began to fade, he heard a blood-curdling scream—then, silence.
Then, an image—silent but vivid—appeared before his eyes:16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuEG5LOxzqP
A man stood motionless in the darkness, his expression blank. His body was held aloft by countless feathers, like a grotesque, unnatural statue.
The man stared directly at A-Tuo, eyes void of emotion, yet heavy with meaning.16Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJDNZIEcx8l
Without moving his lips, it was as if he spoke directly into A-Tuo’s soul:
“You can’t run.”
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