the shaman way

It had been a long day at school. Well, the second period had just ended, but Cyrus had no plans to continue the rest of the outburst he had caused earlier. He walked aimlessly, not heading to any particular destination, when he noticed a large group of people blocking his path at the side of the road. The group consisted of several boys and girls around Cyrus's age. He recognized most of them—they were either classmates or students from other classes.

A boy, quite large for his age and dressed in a school uniform, approached Cyrus and stopped right in front of him.

"Well, well, if it isn't the school's murderous freak in person!"

There was a lot of gossiping coming from the group behind the boy. Some of the girls had amused expressions on their faces, but most wore looks of fear. The boy had quite an unusual hairstyle—his haircut resembled a tall tower, dyed bright yellow.

"What do you want? You know you're not allowed to leave the school grounds during lunch unless you have parental permission, right?" Cyrus said in a slightly annoyed tone.

The boy smirked widely and replied, "You can't be serious. You skip school every day. The only reason they let you get away with it is because your family's rich, and you're good at every subject!"

He glanced back at the group behind him with a grin, then turned back to Cyrus and continued, "The reason I'm here is that it seems you've made a threat to kill everyone in this school, Miravine."

A scared girl with black hair and large glasses spoke up in a trembling voice, "This has to stop! You're making us look like freaks. Not only are you scary-looking, but when you made that threat, you seriously scared everyone!"

The girl began to cry, and another girl hugged her, trying to comfort her. Cyrus didn't know if he should find the scene comical or just downright depressing. He sighed and said, "I never made any such threat. Are you guys talking about that assignment we did not even an hour ago?"

The boy threw a small piece of paper at Cyrus's face. As the paper fluttered away in the wind, Cyrus caught a glimpse of the words written on it: "I kill everyone."

Not even an hour ago, during the second period, they had Ethics class. The teacher had given each student a piece of paper and asked them to imagine they were gods with their own universe and planet Earth. Their task was to write down what they would do to fix global injustices and then present their ideas to the rest of the class, explaining their reasoning.

Cyrus hadn't wanted to write anything at first, but the teacher insisted. Reluctantly, he scribbled down the words "I kill everyone" and waited silently as the other students finished their work and presented their ideas. When it was his turn, Cyrus didn't bother explaining. Instead, he simply held up the paper with his disturbing message for everyone to see. Before anyone could react, he walked out as soon as the bell rang.

Cyrus had a rather disturbing reputation, largely tied to his family background. There were persistent rumors that he and his family could see ghosts, which only fueled the sense of unease around him. Combined with the fact that he was a quiet and unusual kid, this made him a frequent topic of gossip. Anyone who happened to be in Cyrus's class often found themselves gossiped about by students from other classes, as if just being near him made them part of the mystery

"This ring any bells? Do you remember writing it down?" the boy with the strange haircut said, smirking.

Cyrus glanced at him with a cold, piercing stare and replied, "If I did write it, what are you going to do about it?"

His tone was icy, almost murderous, sending a chill through the group behind the boy—even the boy himself faltered for a moment. Forcing a nervous smile, the boy said, "Well, me and my boys thought it was time you learned your lesson!"

Suddenly, multiple boys in school uniforms stepped forward, surrounding Cyrus. There were at least ten of them, ready to gang up on him. Cyrus calmly shrugged off his backpack, opened it slightly, and slid his hand inside. Nobody could see what he was reaching for, which sent a wave of unease through the crowd. The onlookers began shouting:

"Ahh! Watch it, he might have a firearm!"

"Beat him up!"

"He's doing something, Jack! Watch out!"

The screams were a mix of people excited about the impending fight and others terrified that Cyrus might actually pull a weapon. Standing motionless, his gaze fixed on the ground, Cyrus spoke in a voice tinged with quiet rage.

"So small..."

The boy with the strange haircut frowned, confused. "Huh?"

Suddenly, Cyrus snapped his head up, his eyes blazing with fury. In a flash, his arm shot out, pulling something from his bag.

"Is your mind so small," Cyrus roared, "that this is the biggest problem in your pathetic lives?!"

Before anyone could react, a wooden sword struck the boy's chin with brutal force, sending him flying several feet into the air. Gasps rippled through the crowd as they realized the object Cyrus had pulled from his bag was a wooden sword. The boy crashed to the ground with a tremendous thud, lying motionless as his companions froze in shock.

"Jack!"

"You freak, why did you do that?!"

"He has a wooden sword!"

Panic and confusion erupted among the crowd as shouts of worry and disbelief echoed through the street.

The air suddenly grew violent, whipping through the street with unnatural force. Everyone froze, realizing this was no ordinary wind. Their panic was silenced as Cyrus's voice rang out, filled with fury:

"Every time I think you people might have one redeeming quality, I always end up disappointed! And I'm supposed to believe in trash like you? Believe in that so-called pride my grandpa boast about, that the humain race is capable for great virtue? You're all just garbage, stuck in your selfish ignorance!"

His words dripped with venom as he continued, his voice rising with each sentence.

"Yes, I said it! If I had the power to choose, I'd end the human race. But obviously, I don't have that choice! So at the very least, I can take my frustration out on every single one of you little bastards who seriously think you can take me on!"

A wide, wicked grin spread across his face as his grip on the wooden sword tightened. The air around him seemed to tremble with his rage, and the strength in his grip was so intense it felt like it could crush bones.

Then he charged toward the crowd, a wide smile spreading across his face as he called out,

"I better not hear any of you complain if you end up with a broken bone or two! When you start violence against others, you'd better be ready to face violence in return!"

One of the boys in a school uniform quickly raised his arm in the air, signaling for Cyrus to stop.

"Wait... wait, wait! I get it! We'll leave, man! Don't hit me!"

But Cyrus didn't hesitate. With a swift motion, he swung his wooden sword at the boy's right side. The impact sent the boy flying, his body tumbling across the sidewalk in a painful roll.

The others stood frozen in place, watching in terror. They were too scared to fight back, and even the thought of running seemed impossible under the weight of their fear.

One of the girls let out a blood-curdling scream, snapping everyone out of their stupor. The group scattered in all directions, running away from the scene in sheer panic.

But Cyrus moved with inhuman speed, easily outpacing them. In an instant, he was in front of the group again, cutting off their escape. They skidded to a stop, their eyes widening in horror as they faced him once more.

Cyrus stood there, a wide smile plastered across his face, but his expression betrayed a deeper, simmering rage. Tears streamed down his face, carving paths through his anger as he pointed his wooden sword at the group.

"I'm sorry!"

The words spilled from the mouths of several boys, desperate to placate him, but their apologies fell on deaf ears.

With a burst of speed too fast for the eye to follow, Cyrus closed the distance and struck one of the boys square in the stomach with his wooden sword. The impact was devastating, forcing the boy to double over as a mix of blood and vomit spilled from his mouth. He clutched his stomach, his legs trembling, before collapsing to the ground.

The scene froze for a moment, and then the air erupted with screams of terror. The other boys shouted in panic, their voices shaking as they stumbled backward. The girls stood paralyzed, their hands covering their mouths as they stared in shock, their faces pale with fear.

"Every one of that sick species... There is no pride in believing in a species like that. That burden is too heavy, too agonizing for the pride to have any real value... Ignorant... and more ignorant. Such a small, limited point of view is what the entire human race is about. It can burn to the ground for all I care. You're already destroying the planet and yourselves... So, at last, I'll just kill as many of you as I possibly can... It's logical, right?"

As he raised his wooden sword, ready to strike a boy in the head with enough force to kill, a voice echoed from behind him:

"Well, well, it's time we meet at last, Miravine…"

Before he could react, something struck his neck with precise force. He barely had time to let out a soft, bewildered "What?" before everything went black, and his world faded into darkness.

chapter forty-four end