Reborn into a Cursed Fate: The Sealed God’s Return

2

When Zed’s eyes fluttered open once more, his mind felt flooded with foundational knowledge about this world. However, his peace was short-lived. A deep anxiety gripped him as he analyzed his new body based on the information that had just settled into his thoughts. He realized a bitter truth: this body completely lacked a Spirit Power Center. In a world governed by absolute strength, the absence of this center rendered him a helpless variable, no different from an ant waiting to be stepped on.

The boy whose vessel Zed now occupied possessed no distinct advantages. He wasn't intelligent, nor was he handsome; in fact, he possessed a frail, weak body that could easily be classified as substandard. Curiously, Zed was entirely unaware that he was living in the body of someone else who had perished moments prior, assuming this was simply his own original vessel. Had it not been for Ester’s presence guiding his thoughts, he would have been utterly powerless to discern his next move.

"Ester, why don't I have a Spirit Power Center in this body?" Zed questioned, a trace of panic coloring his thoughts.

Ester replied in a candy, matter-of-fact tone, "This is merely a temporary setback. I will assist you in reforming and rebuilding it, but above all else, we need money." It was completely natural for an Eternal who possessed the knowledge of infinite dimensions to easily know a method to construct a power center from scratch.

"What must I do?" Zed asked, focusing directly on the solution. He was entirely prepared to move forward as long as he knew the plan, never caring about the obstacles in his way. Thanks to the ruthless principles Ester had previously instilled in his mind, he understood that this world held no mercy, and every barrier in his path had to be crushed without hesitation.

"Go to the city first," Ester commanded. "There must be simple ways to accumulate wealth within its streets."

Zed surveyed his surroundings, and for the first time, he caught sight of a city looming on the horizon from atop the high hill. He hadn't paid close attention to it before. "Alright," he muttered, and began his descent down the hill.

At the base of the hill lay a narrow, rugged stone path. Its stones were paved so carelessly that it seemed virtually impossible for a horse carriage to pass through. As Zed walked, his eyes scanned everything around him, trying to process the new environment and align it with the data Ester provided. After two full hours of continuous walking, Zed was panting heavily, his body drenched in sweat, and a sharp ache consumed his feet. His new body was so remarkably weak that covering a few kilometers demanded all of his time and immense physical effort.

The moment he passed through the city gates, he began wandering aimlessly through the streets until Ester cut through his confusion. "Go to the main city square!"

Zed had no idea where the square was located, so he decided to observe the movement of the pedestrians and follow the crowds. The further he walked in the direction the majority was heading, the more luxurious the houses and shops became, as if the city's prosperity level increased with every single step. Buildings made of clean gray stone lined a well-paved road, featuring elegant wooden windows and doors. Wooden signs hung above their storefronts, indicating they were inns and local markets.

When the narrow streets finally opened into a vast public square, Zed’s eyes widened in sheer amazement. "It's truly massive!" he exclaimed with excitement, automatically raising his hands to run his fingers through his short hair.

Ester focused her attention on his movement instantly, inquiring in a sharp, sudden tone, "Why did you do that?"

Zed failed to understand the reason behind her questioning and asked, bewildered, "Do what?"

"Why do you raise your hand to your head and run your fingers through your hair whenever you get excited?" Ester’s voice sounded even more stern this time.

Zed felt a slight chill from her sharpness and answered honestly, "I don't know. I just did it automatically."

Ester didn't offer a rebuttal, but a tiny spark of hope ignited within the depths of her soul. That gesture wasn't just a random act; it was an old habit, a distinct nervous tic belonging to Zed in his past life. Whenever excitement or astonishment gripped him, he would place his hand over his head in that exact manner. Even though Zed couldn't recall the reason now, his instincts and spiritual form hadn't forgotten.

Cutting through her own thoughts, Ester continued in a dry tone, completely ignoring his last words, "Find a large piece of blank white cloth or a discarded banner!"

"A banner? Where am I supposed to find that?" Zed asked.

"I don't know, just find anything flat that you can write on," she replied with a sigh.

Zed scanned his surroundings, and after a short search around the corners of the square, he spotted a dirty white cloth left near a wall. He rushed over and picked it up.

"Now, find a pen," Ester instructed.

Zed didn't argue and began searching the area. When a pen proved impossible to find, his eyes landed on a piece of black charcoal lying on the ground. He picked it up and asked, "Will this work?"

"It works," Ester replied calmly. "People in this city use coal for heating. Now, find a quiet corner and ensure no one is watching you."

Zed moved quickly toward a semi-empty side alley. Once there, Ester said, "Write these words on the cloth: 'The Traveling Prophet reads your destiny! Only 1 Bronze piece. Is your future worth less than a single Bronze piece?'"

Zed complied without question, using the charcoal to sketch the words. Within minutes, the white cloth transformed into a banner bearing a provocative and intriguing message. Looking at what he had written, Zed said anxiously, "But I don't know how to read destinies or predict anything."

"You aren't the one who will do it, I am," Ester answered. "All you have to do is listen to what I say and repeat it to them."

Zed didn't object and stepped back out into the square carrying his banner. He chose a highly visible spot for the pedestrians and hung the white cloth where everyone could see it, then stood in place without uttering a word, lowering his head calmly to shroud himself in an aura of mystery, appearing as a detached figure who didn't care about selling his services.

His trick successfully caught the attention of the passersby. Everyone harbored curiosity and anxiety regarding their future, and a single Bronze piece wasn't an exorbitant amount of money, though it wasn't cheap either; it was enough to purchase good meals for an entire day. Many stood watching him, but no one dared to step forward and pay the coin, fearing he was just another charlatan.

Hours passed, and the noon sun stood high in the sky as the square grew louder and more crowded. Zed sighed and said, "No one is coming, Ester." He had executed everything she asked, but the result was disappointing.

"Don't be impatient," Ester commented. "A desperate soul bound to look for a straw to clutch at will eventually arrive."

After five full hours had passed, just as Zed's patience was about to run out, a fat man wearing luxurious clothing appeared among the crowd. The attention of Zed and the pedestrians turned toward him; deep dark circles surrounded his swollen eyes from a lack of sleep, and his hands trembled while sweat poured down his forehead from sheer tension. The man walked heavily, and right before he passed by Zed, his eyes landed on the charcoal words written on the cloth.

A flash of hope gleamed in the fat man's eyes. Without a single second of hesitation, he reached into his coin pouch, pulled out a Bronze piece, and tossed it in front of Zed.

As the Bronze coin settled on the ground, Ester’s voice rang in Zed’s mind, alerting him, "Tell him: Welcome, Mr. Irkan Donki."

Zed repeated the phrase in a confident tone, "Welcome, Mr. Irkan Donki."

The fat man’s pupils dilated, and he cried out in absolute terror and shock, "You... how do you know my name and family?" He had never seen this youth before in his life.

Zed continued, repeating Ester’s words precisely, "I do not know you personally, but I see your destiny clearly, Mr. Irkan."

"You see it?" Irkan said, his voice trembling with anxiety. "Then tell me... what awaits me?"

"You are being betrayed, Mr. Irkan," Zed said steadfastly. "And it isn't just your wife who is unfaithful to you; your mistress is doing the exact same thing. Furthermore, your business partner is slowly poisoning you."

The words struck Irkan’s head like a violent blow, causing his body to stagger backward as if he had received a powerful slap. Succumbing to the fear of death while completely ignoring the betrayal, he muttered in terror, "I... I am poisoned?"

Zed continued his reading, "If you go to a healer right now, you will save your life before it is too late. After you are cured, return to your home. Your wife is hiding a red chest inside the closet where you keep your jacket; open it to see the proof of her betrayal with your own eyes. As for your mistress, she is currently spending her time with another man."

The fat man didn't wait to hear another word. He turned and sprinted away, running with every ounce of strength he possessed. Meanwhile, Zed was struggling to conceal the immense astonishment that had settled onto his own face due to what he had just spoken.

"How could you possibly know all these details?" Zed asked in his mind, thoroughly incredulous. "This makes absolutely no sense!"

Ester replied in a casual tone, as if explaining something entirely obvious, "There was no magic or future prediction involved. The man's name and family were embroidered with fine threads onto the collar of his luxurious shirt. When he spoke, I caught sight of small black spots on the surface of his tongue, which is a known symptom of a specific slow-acting poison. As for the red chest, there was a red, buckle-like compression mark on the left side of his jacket, indicating he handled it recently."

She continued explaining, "Furthermore, three distinct scents wafted from his body: one belonged to his business partner, another to his mistress, and the last to his wife. His partner's scent was heavily infused with the smell of lumber, and the fat man's hand carried redness and pressure marks resulting from a violent handshake; the partner is eager to assert dominance even in a greeting, which isn't done by an employee or a relative, but a greedy partner who wants the top spot. By analyzing the scents, I found that his mistress's scent blended with another man's, while his wife's scent was thoroughly mixed with his business partner's. This means the wife and the partner are plotting together to get rid of him and seize his business."

Zed stood silent, his tongue unable to formulate a response. He could only marvel at the absolute, supreme power of observation possessed by Ester the Wise. There was no mystical prediction, only a brilliant deduction built upon precise details that everyone else had neglected.

Before long, a few pedestrians who had been eavesdropping on the conversation between Zed and the fat man stepped forward, thoroughly convinced of this mysterious prophet's power.

Another Bronze piece was tossed in front of Zed, who raised his head calmly with an air of mystery and said, "Welcome, Mr. Koka Ispenia..."