Pushing open the heavy mahogany doors of the Council Hall, the Elders emerged one by one. Deep lines of worry etched their faces; their gait betrayed the weariness of defeat.
To one side, the leaders of three influential families gathered—Mansi Delal, Sukumar Talukdar, and Habib Biswas.
The subject of their hushed conversation was the recent Academy Exam results. The air grew heavy with their collective sighs.
"Disgraceful!" Mansi Delal muttered, a lump of suppressed rage in his throat. "Not a single descendant of the Delal family in the top three? Yet, look who sits at the peak."
He began counting on his fingers, venom in his voice.
"First—Nafiz Forazi. Second—Rubina Chaprashee. And third—Forhad Hossain."
Habib Biswas narrowed his eyes.
"How did the Forazi and Chaprashef families surge ahead so suddenly? It is impossible without the aid of the Elders. Surely, they received questions or resources before the exam. But without proof, we are silenced."
Sukumar Talukdar had remained silent until now. As the head of the Talukdar family and a man of sharp business acumen, his eyes held a forbidden cunning.
He spoke in a low voice, "There is no profit in dwelling on the past. We must secure the future. We must forge our descendants in such a way that next time, no one dares to even step in their shadow."
The other two looked at him with piqued interest.
Sukumar leaned in. "I have a plan. What if we artificially produce the 'Iron-Sinew Boar Spirit' for them?"
"The Boar Spirit?" Mansi Delal was taken aback. "That is a rare species."
"Yes," Sukumar nodded confidently. "Our famiies best 'Fusion Mastery' expert—Siddik Talukdar—has found a way. Pure spirits are hard to find. But Siddik has devised a demonic method."
Sukumar lowered his voice further.
"We capture wild boars from the jungle and force-feed them 'Iron Ore'. Day after day, until the metal fuses with their flesh. Then, they are slaughtered and fused. It creates an 'Adulterated Spirit'. It reduces the user's lifespan... but the power it grants is lethal. And children are mad for power, aren't they?"
The other two exchanged glances. Cruel, but effective. They nodded in agreement. The plan took root.
Conversing in low tones, they reached the vast courtyard on the right side of the palace, where their luxurious personal carriages awaited.
Shitapur Village was vast. Each family held its own territory, leased under the Central Council like feudal lands, paying tax at the year's end.
Their wealth came from their specific 'Resource Zones'. For instance, the 'Kaloshal Forest', home to poisonous vines and rare herbs.
Just as they were about to board their carriages, the atmosphere shifted.
Habib Biswas gently rubbed the ring on his finger. It was a special 'Communication Spirit'. When used, sound did not travel through the air; it struck directly into the intended brain.
As Habib rubbed the ring, a sensation of crawling dread washed over Mansi and Sukumar. It felt as if a cold, slithering insect had burrowed through their ear canals and was whispering inside their brain tissue. This was a low-level technique of Habib's 'Sound Path'.
Inside their minds, Habib's emotionless voice rang out:
"Tonight at 3:00 AM. The Secret Room of Biswas Palace. No one must know."
They looked at Habib in shock. His lips did not move, but his gaze was steely.
"Summon Monir Chaprashe and Foysal. We absolutely need Foysal. That illegitimate blood of Ruhan's grandfather... he will be our trump card. To defeat Azgaar's bloodline, we need another 'Ahmed' blood. This matter has gone beyond simple exam results."
Habib glanced sideways at the main palace gate, through which Azgaar had exited moments ago.
"Did you notice? Even after the meeting ended, Azgaar and Humayun remained inside for a while. They are cooking something up. Humayun Kabir can no longer be trusted. From now on, we must keep eyes on both of them."
Mansi Delal signaled with his eyes—Security?
Habib's answer rode the wind: "Do not worry. I will send my best 'Rank 5' bodyguards to escort you all the way to the Biswas Palace secret room."
The consultation ended.
They boarded their respective carriages. With the crack of whips, the vehicles dispersed in different directions, vanishing into the dust.
The palace courtyard fell silent again.
But this silence was a mirage.
From behind the massive pillars of the palace, emerging from the deepest shadows, two figures stepped out. Their presence was so faint that even if one walked past them, they would remain unnoticed. They wore gray cloaks, faces hidden.
The first one stared at the path Sukumar Talukdar had taken.
"They are thinking of using that special spirit..."
The second one nodded. His voice held no emotion.
"We need their Fusion Mastery. Although we cannot create that 'Legendary Spirit', if we can use even a fraction of it to create something of 'Rank 5' or 'Rank 6' quality—it is better than nothing."
The first figure looked up at the sky. Despite the midday sun, an unnatural crimson hue began to bleed across the heavens—as if the sun itself was being dyed in the color of the Bloodmoon.
He whispered an ancient, forbidden word—
"NOĒMARCH!"
The moment the word was uttered, the shadows of the palace pillars elongated unnaturally. Even in the harsh afternoon sun, it felt for a split second as if the sun had turned black. The sounds of the wind ceased, replaced by a strange, mechanical silence.
It was as if the utterance of that name had drawn the gaze of another world upon this one.
The second figure joined his voice, filled with deep reverence and mystery—
"The Primordial Dominion of Thoughts..."
In the next instant, the two shadows merged with the darkness, vanishing as if they had never existed.
✦✦✦
4:00 PM.
The inner sanctum of the Talukdar Palace.
Standing on a vast marble balcony, bathed in the pale afternoon sun, was Linara Talukdar. She looked less like a human and more like a deity from a foreign land.
Against her milk-white skin, a cascade of silver-white hair flowed down her back, shimmering in the breeze. Through the messy bangs falling over her forehead, a pair of pink-red eyes peered out.
This rare eye color and the luster of her hair declared that the blood in her veins was anything but ordinary. Her physique was mature for her age; even in the standard Masterer uniform, her curves radiated nobility and latent power.
Seated before her was the Head of the Talukdar Family—Sukumar Talukdar.
On the table lay an expensive wooden box. Sukumar opened it. Inside sat a small crystal bottle glowing with a faint blue aura.
"This is the 'Iron-Bone Fusion Elixir'," Sukumar said in a grave voice. "Siddik created this using a special method. Drinking this will make your bone structure twice as dense and hard as a normal human's. In the upcoming Physical Exam, no one will be able to shake you."
Linara hesitated. A shadow of doubt crossed her pink-red eyes. "But Grandfather, isn't this forbidden? ... And what about Ruhan? Have any arrangements been made for him?"
"Silence!" Sukumar snapped. "On the path to power, nothing is forbidden, Linara. And forget about Ruhan. He is a dead star. Do not extinguish your own light by wasting time chasing a corpse."
Linara lowered her head and took the elixir in her hands. Through the window of her memory, Ruhan's melancholic smile floated before her eyes.
'Am I really going to leave you behind and move forward, Ruhan?'
✦✦✦
The Main Training Hall of the Ahmed Palace.
A vast room, its walls adorned with the weapons used by the ancestors of the Ahmed Family.
In the center of the floor, a teenager sat in meditation. Akira Ahmed.
Akira's features bore no resemblance to the people of Shitapur. His hair was a wild, chestnut brown. His irises were blue-grey, a rarity in this region.
His jaw was set, his face radiating a wild, raw vitality. He wore the Academy's black sleeveless uniform, exposing his muscular arms.
He was not of Ahmed blood—at least not from his father. His father was a Grandmaster Swordsman from the far East. That warrior blood spoke through his physique.
Akira opened his eyes. Standing before him was Azgaar Ahmed himself.
Azgaar held an old book in his hand. He tossed it toward Akira.
"That is the 'Gale-Blade Style'. A technique from your father's homeland. You are already advanced in swordsmanship, but mastering this style will give you speed that no one here can match."
Akira caught the book. His father's technique! His eyes lit up.
He was grateful, but a question had been scratching at his soul for a long time.
Gathering his courage, he spoke, "Uncle... I have something to say."
Azgaar adjusted his glasses. "Speak."
"You are teaching me so much, bringing me techniques from my father's land... but what about Ruhan? He is your own blood. Why do you give him no advice? No help? Tomorrow is his birthday... yet you..."
Azgaar looked toward the window. The reflection of the afternoon sun on his glasses made his expression unreadable.
He asked in a calm, flat voice,
"Would it change anything if I did?"
Akira froze. "No, I mean... at least he would get some courage. He would know his father is with him. He is so alone..."
Azgaar turned his gaze to Akira's blue eyes. There was a coldness in that stare so profound that Akira trembled inwardly.
"If he gets courage... Do you think he can do anything? What do you think?"
There was no mockery in Azgaar's voice, only a ruthless analysis of truth. It was as if he knew Ruhan was a dead star. There is no point whispering courage into the ears of the dead.
Akira fell silent. His fists clenched.
He made a silent vow—If Uncle won't do it, I will. If Azgaar Ahmed abandons his son, then as a friend, I will pull Ruhan up.
Azgaar smiled inwardly. He understood the boy's thoughts.
'Good... hate me. Keep that anger. This rage will make you stronger, Akira. And as for Ruhan? What I am doing for him... is beyond your capacity to understand.'
Azgaar left the room. His long shadow slithered across the floor like a snake, fading into the distance.
✦✦✦
5:30 PM
The Aristocratic District—'Lakeside View'.
A luxurious restaurant floating upon the water. Every table was adorned with expensive flowers and candles.
At a secluded table sat two figures. The second and third rankers of the recent exam—Rubina Chaprashe and Forhad Hossain.
Rubina wore a gown made of fine silk, a diamond necklace around her neck. Her face glowed with the arrogance of privilege. She was the pampered princess of the Chaprashee family.
Opposite her sat Forhad. Built like a statue, wearing expensive sunglasses. His demeanor was nothing short of a prince.
"I can't believe it," Rubina said, sipping her coffee. "Nafiz Forazi took first place this time! But don't worry, I'll show him his place in the Physical Exam."
Forhad laughed. "You are the best, of course. But you know, I heard a hilarious rumor."
"What?"
Forhad leaned in conspiratorially. "I heard the 'Madman' of the Ahmed Family is going to the servants' laundry area tomorrow to wash his own clothes? Can you imagine?"
Rubina burst into laughter, spilling her coffee in her mirth.
"Ruhan? Oh God! How does he still show his face at the Academy? Just looking at him disgusts me. I heard Azgaar Ahmed is planning to disown him."
"As he should," Forhad said, cutting a slice of cake with a silver spoon. "There is no place for the weak in Shitapur. Ruhan is our entertainment. He exists just so victors like us have someone to look down upon."
They both laughed. The sound of their laughter drifted over the lake water.
They did not know that beneath their luxury and arrogance, gunpowder was piling up. And the one coming to light the fuse was none other than the object of their ridicule—the Dead Star.
✦✦✦
6:00 PM
The small, dusty patch of land behind the Storehouse.
The harsh afternoon sun had leaned towards the west, but the sweat on Ruhan's body had not dried.
He stood shirtless. In his hand was the heavy, rusted sword.
"One hundred and one... one hundred and two..."
He counted in a mumble. The sword was too heavy for his gaunt wrist. With every swing, his muscles screamed in agony.
But he did not stop. He had only one stubborn resolve—he must pass the Physical Exam.
Suddenly—
Deep within his brain, the invisible needle shifted.
TWITCH!
Ruhan's hand trembled violently. The sword slipped from his grasp and hit the ground.
CLANG!
He stared blankly ahead. His vision turned cloudy.
"I... what number was I on? Ten? Or twenty?"
He had forgotten. The memory of the last hour of bone-breaking labor had been wiped from his mind.
Ruhan gave a foolish laugh. "Hmph! Doesn't feel like I've been at it for long. Let's start again. One... two..."
He did not know that he had actually tried a thousand times. And a thousand times, he had been made to forget. His hard work, his life, was trapped in an infinite, tragic loop.