Qiren stayed perfectly still, buried in the berry bush. Every instinct begged him to run, to flee, to do something—but his tiny body refused to move.
Even imagining one of those vulture-creatures spotting him made his breath lock in his throat.
What would happen if they found him?
The cries didn't stop. High-pitched, raw, endless. They weren't simply dying—they were being tortured.
The sound burrowed into him, scraping against his mind like claws. His stomach tightened, his chest burned, and there was no corner of his thoughts the screams didn't reach.
His limbs shook. His hands curled into fists.
I need to do something… I can't just sit here and wait to be found. He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to think rationally despite the constant shrieking.
He glanced upward.
Several of the vultures were still perched along the branches of the massive tree.
If he made a dash for it now, he'd draw the attention of the ones returning empty-taloned from the pre-storm hunt—the hungry ones looking for something else to torture.
If he stayed still, he might remain unnoticed for a while.
He could even dig a hole and bury himself for a few days—but if they were omnivores, they might come down for berries. Or worse, notice disturbed soil and tear it open. Either way, he risked exposure.
He shut all four eyes and sank into meditation.
Think. Think.
His claws rose to pinch the bridge of his nose—a habit he still hadn't shaken—while he searched for an answer to an impossible situation.
What do I know so far?
This world was ruled by strength and murder.
From the moment he'd woken, something had tried to kill him. His hair had defended him instinctively—likely an ability from the demonic brush that had become his head.
The eyes on his shoulders twitched awake, their lids drifting open before they began orbiting his torso.
I tried binding that multi-eyed demon bird… but it cut right through.That eliminated hair-binding as an option. If one creature his size could break free, it was useless against an entire flock.
Then maybe… the brush can be used another way.
He had used it back in his apartment to ward off a spirit of misfortune.
Can I do something similar here? Demons are malicious spirits too, in some stories. Could I alter the bad-luck-cleansing ritual to repel these vultures? Or would I banish myself along with them…?
Do I even have the strength?
He touched the ribbed line beneath his jaw.
The seam where his head had once detached was slowly knitting together. Back then, something had fed the brush power—Qi. If the brush needed Qi to fully function…
Then maybe I can cultivate it. Sit, meditate—like a monk.
But that too carried risk. He could be found before he gathered enough Qi. He might not even have the time.
His fingers dug into the dirt, grounding him. The world—berries, branches, distant floating pillars—faded out. Only the wailing and the dark unknown remained.
Then, in the swirling darkness of his mind-scape, something appeared. :
Applicable Curses & Blessings
Unnamed Bad Luck Spirit Curse
47 Despair
3 Hope
30 Years of Life Experience
(You may transfer emotions, physical conditions, knowledge, experiences, spirits, blessings, or curses onto others.)
His attention sharpened on the scroll in his mental-view.
Transfer curses… and physical conditions.
That was it. No long setup. No ritual circle. No complicated preparation.
If this works the way I think it does, then I might actually have a way to survive.
He exhaled, smiling faintly as he clenched a handful of dirt. His hair writhed like awakened snakes.
Negative Karma: 14↑
Refinement Qi: 3↓
—
A Few Hours Later
The storm had fully passed.
The clouds that once strangled the sky were gone, peeled away to reveal five pale moons, hanging over the forest like watching eyes.
Their combined light washed over the canopy and bled into the berry thicket where Qiren lay hidden, unmoving beneath the leaves.
The night was quiet.
Too quiet—only the distant flap of wings broke the stillness. The tortured cries that had filled the clearing were gone.
A heavy wingbeat stirred the leaves.
One of the vultures descended toward the thicket, landing with a wet, deliberate thump. Its beady eyes swept across the fruit—then froze.
A thin black ring circled the stem of the nearest blue berry.
It checked another.
The same mark.
The vulture leaned in, suspicious, lowering its head toward the bush's interior.
Nothing.
No movement.
No demon infant.
Just soil.
Satisfied, it clicked its beak and turned back to the fruit. It snapped it off the stem, swallowed a bite—
Then another—
Then—
KHHH—KRRK—!
The creature lurched. Its throat spasmed violently as it clawed at the air, stumbling backward and trying desperately to take off. Its wings beat against the ground, kicking up dirt in frantic bursts.
The earth beneath it burst open.
Strands of black hair shot upward, coiling around its neck, wings, and legs. With a vicious yank, the choking vulture was dragged into the shadowed tangle of leaves.
And then—something even worse:
A demon rose from the ground.
The vulture froze—eyes widening in terror.
Qiren rose from the dirt—soil clinging to his skin, hair writhing like a nest of serpents. He reached out with both hands, gripping the bird's throat.
He squeezed hard, pinning it before it could tear free of the weakening binds. He bared his teeth, veins standing out on his forehead as he engaged in a silent struggle.
The vulture thrashed, shocked—unable to believe it was being attacked by this malformed creature.
The place where his eyes should've been was sunken—his eye sockets perfectly sealed over with flesh.
The four diagonal seams around those sunken spots split open—revealing crimson, slit-pupiled eyes staring straight into its soul.
The bird panicked harder, shaking the bush. Qiren grew more furious and slashed across its chest—once, twice, then a third and fourth time.
Blood poured from its open wounds as he choked it with one arm and raked at its body with the other.
His left arm snatched a berry. He shoved it into the torn chest cavity. The berry burst—blood-red juice mixing with raw flesh.
"Spirit of Bad Luck, latched onto shards of despair… I call for your form to change."
Dark miasma leaked from his fingertips.
The berry's flesh writhed. Dozens of wormlike, human-faced caterpillars crawled from the pulp.
"wee… wee… wee…"
They ate into the vulture's chest, trying to cause internal bleeding—until his Qi ran out.
Its lungs seized on breaths they couldn't take. Heat flared under its chest as the infant-like pests devoured it alive. It tried to scream, wings flapping desperately—until Qiren pinned them with his knees.
He reached for a rock—
Crack! Crack! Crack—CRUNCH!
"Huff… huff…"
He slammed its head again and again.
Die! Die! Die!
CRUNCH.
With the final blow, the bird went still.
Breathing hard, Qiren watched its soul lift from the mutilated corpse. The bush rustled—but not from the vulture.
His hair grabbed the drifting soul.
I did it…
He sat down slowly, rubbing his head.
I beat one.
Applicable Curses & Blessings
Unnamed Bad Luck Spirit Curse (14/16 Cursed Berry fragments)
23 Despair
3 Hope
30 Years of Life Experience
(You may transfer emotions, physical conditions, knowledge, experiences, spirits, blessings, or curses onto others.)
Negative Karma: 17
Refinement Qi: 0↓
Just in time. His hair began slipping off the misty soul, and he lunged—devouring it.
Negative Karma: 18↑
Refinement Qi: 0.5↑
One bite enhanced his karmic flow by one unit, his Qi by half. His mouths—instinctively hungry—tasted the soft cloud as it tried to flutter away. The taste was tantalizing; drool gathered before he swallowed it whole.
It floated like a star trying to escape a black hole—but like a star, its core was inevitably drawn into the abyss.
With it came unexpected sensations:
Fear: 1↑
Pain: 0.2↑
When the last wisp spiraled down into him, it reached the darkness where his aperture and spirit core resided, feeding them with spiritual force.
It was intoxicating. He felt the vulture's dying moments—fear, pain, confusion—and it satisfied a twisted side of him he hadn't known existed.
His lips curled. Miasma gathered around the crushed berry pulp—the miniature curses still burrowing in the corpse dissipated, returning to the fruit. Its ruptured shell knitted together, becoming a full spotted blueberry once more.
Is this why they tortured those infants? Does fear make a soul richer… more delicious to demons here?
He lifted the restored fruit. It looked normal, but he could see the misfortune inside.
"This world truly is cruel."
He put it back on the stem. A caterpillar burst out the top and chewed the wound shut, reconnecting it to the bush.
"One wrong step and I'll end up a victim of this realm's laws. I can't afford that…"
Flap! Flap!
He saw another bird descending.
In this forest it's kill or be killed. Don't curse me for doing the same.
He lay flat. The new vulture landed. Qiren dragged the corpse over himself like a cloak, spreading the wings to hide under it. Too late to burrow—he had to use whatever was available and wait for another chance to strike.
Caw. Caw.
Birds burst from their nests, circling a massive redwood. Feathers and beaks stained with blood, they took to the sky—unaware of the predator hiding right beneath their noses.