The streets of Bhouldera were unusually quiet that afternoon.
Dust drifted lazily through the warm air while merchants slowly reopened their stalls after the recent chaos that had shaken the village. Wooden carts creaked. Distant voices murmured. The town was trying to return to normal… even though everyone knew normal no longer truly existed.
Harun and Aqsa walked side by side through the marketplace.
For a while neither of them spoke.
Harun's mind was still replaying everything Rehman had revealed inside the courtroom. The curse. The divine warrior. The monster outbreak thirteen years ago. Every piece of the story only made the situation feel heavier.
Finally, he broke the silence.
"Aqsa."
She looked up.
"Yeah?"
Harun scratched the back of his neck while walking.
"Did you… know about all that?"
Aqsa blinked.
"All what?"
"Rehman's past," Harun said. "The curse. The warrior. Everything."
Aqsa stopped walking for a moment.
"Of course not."
Her answer came immediately.
"I'm only twelve, big bro. How would I know something like that?"
Harun paused.
She crossed her arms slightly.
"All I knew was that he used to be a good person."
Her voice became quieter.
"That's what everyone used to say."
Harun exhaled slowly.
"Yeah…"
They resumed walking.
The center of Bhouldera's market soon came into view. A few villagers noticed Harun approaching and immediately turned toward him. Ever since he had fought the masked man, people had started looking at him differently.
Some with hope.
Some with curiosity.
Harun stepped onto a wooden crate in the center of the street and raised his voice.
"Everyone listen for a second!"
The marketplace slowly grew quieter.
Merchants stopped arranging goods. Villagers gathered around.
Harun placed his hands on his hips.
"I need everyone here to check their shoulders."
The crowd exchanged confused glances.
"Check… what?" someone asked.
"Your shoulders," Harun repeated. "Both of them."
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
"If anyone here has a mark shaped like an arrow on their shoulder, come talk to me immediately."
The reaction was immediate.
People began lifting sleeves, checking their shoulders, helping each other look.
"Nothing here!"
"Mine's clean!"
"No mark!"
One by one they called out.
"No arrow!"
"No arrow!"
"No arrow!"
Aqsa moved through the crowd as well, checking carefully.
But after several minutes…
Nothing.
Not a single person had the mark.
Harun slowly stepped down from the crate.
"…Great."
He rubbed his face in frustration.
Aqsa returned to his side.
"No one here."
Harun sighed.
"Then we keep searching."
They left the market and began heading toward the small village where Aqsa lived.
The walk took several minutes.
Along the way Harun repeated the same question to everyone they encountered.
"Check your shoulder."
"Any arrow mark?"
But the answer was always the same.
No.
No mark.
Nothing.
By the time they reached Aqsa's village, the sun had already begun drifting toward the horizon.
Harun asked the villagers there as well.
Again.
And again.
Still nothing.
Harun leaned against a wooden fence, running a hand through his hair.
"This is ridiculous."
Aqsa looked worried.
"Maybe the vessel isn't in Bhouldera."
Harun shook his head.
"No."
His voice was firm.
"The masked guy came here for a reason."
He looked toward the distant town.
"The vessel is here somewhere."
Far away.
Inside the courthouse.
Rehman sat alone in the massive silent hall.
The ancient book still rested open on the desk in front of him, but he hadn't looked at it for several minutes. His eyes were distant.
Lost in thought.
That boy…
Harun's determined expression flashed in his mind.
Can he really do it?
Rehman's fingers tightened slightly.
Can he actually fix this land?
For the first time in years, a small fragment of hope had appeared inside him.
But hope was dangerous.
Hope meant believing something could change.
And Bhouldera had not changed in a very long time.
Rehman exhaled quietly.
"I hope you can do it, boy."
Then—
The courtroom doors burst open.
"Judge!"
One of the court servants stumbled inside, gasping for breath.
Rehman immediately looked up.
"What is it?"
The man ran toward him in panic.
"Run!"
His voice cracked.
"Judge run! Your life is in danger!"
Rehman stood up instantly.
"What are you talking about—"
The words never finished.
Something burst through the man's chest.
A blade.
A long blade made of pure crackling electricity.
It pierced straight through his heart.
The servant froze.
Blood spilled across the marble floor.
For a moment the blade remained there, glowing faintly with violent electrical energy.
Then the body collapsed.
Rehman's eyes widened.
"…What."
He slowly stepped back.
The electric blade faded as the body hit the floor.
Rehman's gaze shifted toward the courtroom entrance.
"Who's there?"
His voice echoed across the empty hall.
"You dare enter this court without my permission?!"
Silence.
Then—
Laughter.
Low.
Distorted.
"Hhhhaaaaaaaahhhaaaaa…"
The sound crawled across the walls like something alive.
A second laugh followed.
Longer.
Creepier.
"Ahahahahahahaha…"
Rehman's expression hardened.
The laughter continued.
Then the figure stepped into the doorway.
But before the man inside could fully appear—
The scene briefly shifted outside the courthouse.
Bodies covered the ground.
Dozens of them.
Every guard stationed outside the building.
Every soldier.
Every servant.
All of them lay dead.
Their heads separated cleanly from their bodies.
Blood painted the stone courtyard.
Not a single survivor remained.
Back inside the courtroom, Rehman slowly clenched his fists.
The invisible pressure of his power began filling the hall.
"I know who you are."
His voice was cold now.
Very cold.
He stared directly at the entrance.
"Anwar."
The name echoed across the courtroom.
"So…"
Rehman's eyes narrowed.
"…Gautam finally sent his right hand."
A tall figure slowly stepped forward from the shadows.
And the real nightmare began.