"You are already at the doorstep of the Feathered Kingdom."
The moment the curse-like words fell, a cracking sound echoed beneath A-Tuo's feet.
The floor, alive and writhing like some creature, cracked open, and countless black feathers surged up from the gap, wrapping around his ankles, knees, and pulling him down into the earth. He struggled, screamed, but his voice was suffocated by the feathers, leaving only gasps of suffocating terror.
Crack!
He fell into another realm.
There was no sky here—only a layer of grayish, flowing feathers forming a canopy. The air was thick with the scent of feather dust and burnt flesh, like the decaying stench of a dead flock. Beneath his feet, he stepped on twisted humanoid forms—people covered in feathers, their minds shattered, groaning like the living dead.
This place was—
The Feathered Kingdom.
A towering statue stood in the black mist, its wings spread wide, but those wings were composed of thousands of plucked feathers, each feather inscribed with a name.
A-Tuo tried to flee, but the feathered ones on the ground raised their heads, their hollow gazes all fixed on him.
"Liar... has come..."
They began crawling, cackling, whispering, repeating the curse: "Pluck the feathers, pluck the feathers, pluck the feathers..."
Then, a sharp cry rang out from the distance—
A giant bird-like creature lunged out from the black mist, its wings unfurling like the night sky, but its head was made of countless human faces pieced together. Each face screamed, wept, and twisted in agony.
A-Tuo's legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground, but the feathers on his back trembled violently, as if resonating with this space.
Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed in his mind—it was the voice of the missing professor:
"You have picked up feathers you should not have... The Feathered Kingdom does not accept outsiders."
A-Tuo looked down—there, the first black feather was now pressed against his chest, slowly, burning into his skin as it wrote a name:
"A-Tuo."
He screamed, trying to tear the feather off, but the more he tore, the more it hurt—like his soul was being branded.
"You are about to feather." A low whisper sounded behind him.
He turned around. It was a follower wearing a bird-beak mask, but this time, under the mask, the eyes were—surprisingly—the professor's eyes.
ns3.144.250.118da2
will be deducted 
and then Add to home screen.