The Cursed: Legend of Neil

Episode one-Part IX: Haunting Truth.

Neil sat upright on the infirmary bed, staring out the window as sunlight spilled across the white walls. His chest rose and fell slowly, every breath reminding him of the weight pressing on his body. He was proud of himself for lasting as long as he had while using his gift, yet the pride faded quickly. His stamina was pitiful compared to the strength he needed. The hardest part wasn’t fighting others—it was fighting himself, trying not to lose control every second he tapped into his power. His gaze dropped to his palm, fingers trembling slightly as he clenched and unclenched them.

“What are you doing?”

The sudden female voice jolted him. He stiffened, then forced himself to stay calm, turning his head slowly.

A woman stood beside his bed. She looked to be in her thirties, wearing a long lab coat. Her dull, sleepless eyes seemed hollow, yet her hair blazed a radiant green, messy as though she hadn’t touched a comb in days. A lollipop dangled lazily between her lips. Without asking, she dragged a chair forward and sat down directly in front of him. Her eyes never once left his.

“Why were you staring at your hands?” she asked. “Were you trying to make something? Or conjure something?”

“That’s not my gift,” Neil answered quietly.

Silence fell, heavy and awkward.

Neil shifted uneasily, about to ask, “Who are—”

“Dr. Midori Kido,” she cut in sharply, like she had been waiting for the question. “I’m the head healer in this faction.”

Her gaze swept over him clinically. Then she leaned forward, placing her fingers against his arm, feeling the strength under his skin. Her lips curled slightly.

“I see Ariel did a good job this time. She usually messes up more than she fixes.”

“I guess I was lucky,” Neil muttered nervously.

“But she didn’t heal the fractures inside,” Dr. Kido said matter-of-factly, her tone cutting like glass. “She only took care of the surface.”

Neil blinked, surprised. Before he could ask, she had already risen, walking to the foot of the bed, hands buried deep in her pockets.

“Lie down,” she ordered. “This is going to hurt, but it has to be done.”

There was no point arguing. Neil laid back. Dr. Kido’s eyes began to glow, bright green flooding her pupils. Flames of the same color erupted around Neil’s body. He gasped at first, bracing for fire’s sting, but realized the energy wasn’t hot. It was warm, almost soothing—except for the cracks inside his bones that screamed with pain as they knit back together. His fists clenched, teeth grinding, muffled groans escaping as he tried to endure the healing.

Minutes later, the flames flickered out. Neil exhaled shakily, sweat beading across his forehead, but he felt lighter—whole again.

“You’re free to go,” Dr. Kido said dismissively, waving him off without even looking. “Don’t go overboard next time.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Neil swung his legs down and stood.

As he left, Dr. Kido leaned heavily against her table. A cough racked her body, and when she covered her mouth, crimson spotted her handkerchief. She laughed bitterly, staring at the blood.

“What a monster,” she whispered. “Still so young, and his energy force is already higher than mine.”

Her gaze softened, drifting far into memory. She pressed both hands over her face, shaking.

“This takes me back… Where are you, Walts?” she murmured, her voice cracking with a whimper.

+

Neil returned to the training hall. To his surprise, the place was spotless, as though the spar that had nearly broken him never even happened. The broken tiles, shattered furniture, and scorch marks were gone. Everything gleamed as if untouched by battle.

He stepped into the center, tilting his head back to marvel at the restoration.

“You should be in class, young man,” a calm voice said.

Neil turned. “Professor Hiro…”

The older man walked toward him, his presence composed yet sharp, like a blade hidden in silk.

“I was just—” Neil started.

“You must be surprised,” Hiro interrupted, seating himself on the floor beside Neil. “This academy has more prodigies than you think.”

Neil gave a small laugh. “I won’t lie about that.”

Hiro studied him for a moment, reading his silence like an open book. The boy had questions heavy on his chest. Hiro smiled faintly.

“Is something troubling you, kid?”

Neil hesitated, then asked the one question that had eaten at him since he arrived.

“If you knew I—and the others—had this much power, why assign us to the same class? And the lowest class at that?”

“So you noticed?” Hiro’s eyes glimmered.

“Noticed what?” Neil frowned.

“That your classmates are all monsters in their own right,” Hiro replied.

Neil’s silence was his answer.

“Many years ago,” Hiro began, settling into a lecture, “mankind awakened something out of the ordinary. At first, it was a curse, a bad omen. But soon, almost every living human on Earth developed genetic changes. Abilities beyond explanation. They became known as Gifted.”

Neil leaned forward, his curiosity sharpened.

“But scientists were never satisfied. They experimented—on Gifteds and on ordinary humans alike—trying to amplify these powers. Many subjects died. Some survived. Those survivors became something more. Something unstable. They were called Abominables.”

Hiro paused, watching Neil’s reaction. The boy’s eyes were wide, drinking in every word like it was the first time he’d heard it.

“And then,” Hiro continued, “there were others. People whose powers weren’t natural, but forced into them from external sources. These people could barely control their abilities. When anger consumed them, tragedy followed. Entire cities crumbled. They became known as… the Cursed.”

“The Cursed…” Neil repeated slowly. “But Gifteds can lose control too. Why aren’t they called that?”

“Because the catastrophic damage of an angered Gifted is normal damage for a Cursed,” Hiro explained patiently. “And if a Cursed loses control? Entire continents tremble.”

Neil’s brow furrowed. “I still don’t get it.”

Hiro chuckled, his voice tinged with something dark. “Let me put it this way. A Gifted at full rage can destroy a city. As they grow stronger, maybe a state. An Abominable? A state at first, later a country. But a Cursed?” His eyes locked onto Neil’s. “Their minimum destructive force is a country. At their peak… they could wipe out continents.”

The room felt colder. Neil swallowed.

“I see… but how does that explain why we were all placed together in one class?”

Hiro’s answer was blunt. “Because your class is filled with Abominables and Cursed. Just like you, Neil. You are a Cursed. That’s why I keep you all in the same place. Hidden. Protected from the eyes of authority who would hunt you down, capture you, and use your power for their own selfish ends.”

The weight of his words pressed on Neil like chains. For the first time, he understood. The class wasn’t weak. It was dangerous. A cage for monsters.

And he was one of them.Neil’s breath caught. The word echoed in his mind—Cursed.

Just as he wanted to ask more questions, the door slid open. A woman in a suit entered briskly, a file tucked under her arm. She handed it to Prof. Hiro, her face pale.

“Professor…” she began, her voice low and urgent. “We have a problem.”