Prologue Spirit's POV

Spirit's POV

Spirit 1: The CEO (The Ruthless Strategist)

Perspective: Calculated, cold, yet driven by a singular loyalty.

Cause of death:His lover (two-faced scheming person)

The numbers always balanced, until they didn't. I had calculated the risks of the merger, the market shifts, and the competitor’s moves, but I failed to account for the volatile variable standing in my living room. My sister was in trouble; the logic was simple—I had to go.

"If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back!" the voice screamed behind me.

I didn't turn. Ultimatums were for people who lacked leverage. I gripped the cold brass handle and stepped out into the hallway.

"You really dared!"

A sudden rush of footsteps. I began to turn, my mind already formulating a rebuttal, but the "market" crashed too fast. A sharp, icy heat bloomed between my ribs. I looked down at the silver blade, then up at the eyes I once trusted. My last thought wasn't of betrayal, but of the unfinished contract on my desk.

Spirit 2: The Prodigy (The Ancient Soul)

Cause of Death: Obsession / The "Siren’s Call" of a cursed artifact.

The cave smelled of damp earth and a melody that hadn't been heard in three millennia. My lantern flickered, illuminating the Aeolian Lyre—its strings weren't gut or wire, but shimmering, solidified light.

"Just one chord," I whispered, my fingers trembling. To a master, the silence of a forgotten era is a physical weight.

As my pick touched the first string, the sound didn't travel outward; it traveled inward. It was a frequency that didn't belong in a human chest. The vibration shattered the stone ceiling above, but I didn't move to run. The harmony was too perfect. As the cavern collapsed, I closed my eyes, finally hitting the perfect note as the world went dark.

Spirit 3: The Martial Artist (The Unbroken Blade)

Cause of Death: Sacrificial Last Stand against an army.

My lungs were burning, each breath tasting of copper and dust. Around me lay a hundred broken spears, and before me stood a thousand more. My disciples had reached the mountain pass; they were safe. That was the only victory that mattered.

"Yield, Old Lion!" the General shouted from the safety of his horse.

I spat blood and settled into the Heaven-Splitting Stance one last time. My bones groaned, and my muscles were frayed like old rope. I didn't need a sword; my hands were the only weapons I had ever truly owned.

As the wave of steel surged toward me, I felt the flow of the world—the wind, the kinetic energy of their fear, the rhythm of the strike. I took down ten more before a dozen blades found their mark simultaneously. I died on my feet, a mountain that refused to crumble.

Spirit 4: The Sage (The Forbidden Scholar)

​Cause of Death: Erased by the "Truth" / Overload of forbidden knowledge.

​The Great Archive of the Void was never meant for mortal eyes. I had spent seven lifetimes deciphering the Elder Script, peeling back the skin of reality to see the clockwork beneath. I found the scroll—the one that explained why the stars scream

​"I shouldn't read this," I muttered, my hand hovering over the ink that seemed to writhe like insects.

​But a Sage cannot choose ignorance. To know is to exist. As I unrolled the parchment, the information didn't enter my mind—it consumed it. My physical form began to fray into literal letters and symbols. My skin turned to paper, my blood to ink. I didn't die so much as I was "written out" of the world, becoming a footnote in a history no one is allowed to remember.

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