not to be taken seriously
Arbeeone Alt was never meant to be an ordinary kid. Every day at Brookside High, he endured jeers and jeers from bullies who never spared a word at his quiet, bookish nature. One chilly autumn afternoon, while taking a detour through an abandoned alley behind the school, Arbeeone stumbled upon a small, intricately carved cube pulsing with a soft, ethereal glow. Inscribed upon its surface were ancient symbols that hinted at forgotten lore—symbols reminiscent of the fabled magic from Arcane Odyssey.
The moment his fingertips brushed the cube’s cool surface, a surge of wind exploded around him. Leaves whipped into a frenzied dance and a low, murmuring voice whispered, “You are chosen.” Bewildered yet strangely empowered, Arbeeone felt the cube’s secret—what the ancients called the Wind Curse—seep into his very being. Overnight, his senses sharpened; he could feel the rush of air even in the stillness, and in moments of anger or despair, gusts of wind obeyed his unspoken commands.
The next day, as the bullies cornered him behind the school, sneering and prodding his shoulders with cruel laughter, Arbeeone’s heart pounded with the memory of that mystical encounter. Summoning his newfound strength, he closed his eyes and envisioned the swirling tempest within him. When he opened them, a forceful wind burst forth, not to harm but to push his tormentors away. They staggered backward, eyes wide in disbelief as the unseen power of the wind sent them tumbling like rag dolls.
News of that strange incident spread like wildfire. The bullies, once emboldened by their cruelty, now hesitated in his presence. Yet Arbeeone’s journey wasn’t about revenge—it was about reclaiming his dignity and inspiring others to stand up for themselves. In quiet moments between classes, he practiced controlling his gift, learning to summon gentle breezes to calm his racing thoughts and fierce gales when injustice reared its head.
As autumn faded into winter, Arbeeone Alt transformed from a timid student into a guardian of his own fate. His battles were fought not with fists but with the wind—a reminder that sometimes the most powerful force is the courage to rise above. And so, the legend of the boy with the Wind Curse grew, whispered in hallways and echoed in every gust of wind that danced across the campus, a beacon of hope for anyone who had ever felt powerless.