They said curses were born from hatred.
They were wrong.
Curses were born from hope — from prayers left unanswered, from tears shed in silence, from the desperate cries of mortals abandoned by Heaven.
When gods turned deaf, the world itself listened.
And it whispered back.
> "Your pain shall not fade… it shall become power."
Across the continents of Qiandao, the Cultivators of Light hunted those who carried the blight.
Their temples burned the cursed.
Their scriptures declared: "Misfortune is sin."
Yet, in the ashes of a ruined village, beneath the corpse of a weeping mother, a boy survived.
He did not pray for mercy.
He prayed for vengeance.
That night, the first whisper came.
A black sigil bloomed on his chest like an open eye.
> "You have been heard, child of despair… walk the Path of the Maledicted Soul."