The string of mysterious deaths gripped the nation.
No forced entry.
No footprints.
No fingerprints.
No witnesses.
Only one thing appeared in every case—the same strange ornament, resting beside the victims like a calling card.
The artifact was eventually turned over to authorities where it caught the attention of Dr. Henry Klein, a renowned researcher of ancient relics and folklore.
Intrigued by the pattern, he requested access to the object. With some persistence—and growing public pressure for answers—the authorities agreed.
Dr. Klein transported the band to his private lab and sealed it within a glass containment chamber. Cameras watched it 24/7. Every angle. Every detail.
"It's cursed," he said in his first report. "Not metaphorically. Literally."
He traced the artifact's design to a long-forgotten kingdom, buried in myth. Inscriptions described it as a tail ornament—meant to adorn the wife of a godlike serpent king. Possessive. Vengeful. Sacred.
"They believed he would destroy anyone who dared lay hands on what belonged to him," Klein noted aloud into his recorder. "This is no ordinary object. It's a death sentence."
His research logs grew longer. Handwritten pages, photos, sketches of the ornate design. He circled one phrase in the ancient script again and again:
"The punishment for touching her is death."
He underlined it.
Still, something gnawed at him. Every victim died within twenty-four hours of contact.
He needed to test the theory.
"I must be certain," he whispered.
Late that night, with shaking hands, he opened the containment chamber.
The glow of the artifact pulsed gently in the dim light.
He picked it up.
"It's beautiful…" he murmured, voice full of awe.
The room stilled.
Then—
A low hiss coiled through the air.
A shadow shifted in the corner of the room.
The cameras fizzed static.
Eyes. Watching.
Dr. Klein turned slowly.
He smiled faintly. "So... you were real all along. The Serpent King…"
The figure moved forward.
A gleaming tail curled from behind.
It wrapped around the researcher's waist like a serpent claiming prey.
Then—pressure.
Crack.
Crack.
Snap.
His spine shattered.
His ribs collapsed inward.
A final gasp left his lips as twin gashes carved into his chest.
His notebook lay open on the desk.
The last line read:
"This is no legend.
It's a warning.Do Not Touch That Band."
Recovered Interview Footage – 3 Days Earlier
Camera static fades into a modest, cluttered office. A man in his sixties sits across from the interviewer—Dr. Henry Klein. His eyes are alert but weary. He adjusts his glasses, then leans slightly forward.
Interviewer (offscreen):
"Dr. Klein, why take interest in this case? You've dealt with ancient weaponry and tomb curses before. This seems... more myth than fact."
Dr. Klein:
"That's what I thought at first. A superstition. A coincidence. But the deaths… they're too precise. Too deliberate. You ever seen an autopsy photo where someone's spine is broken without any blunt force trauma? Or an X-shaped wound that bleeds cleanly... as if drawn?"
He leans back. Hands clasped.
Dr. Klein (cont'd):
"There's a pattern. A logic. But not a human one. This artifact doesn't kill randomly. It kills like a god protecting its bride."
He paused, a shadow flitting across his eyes.
"Whoever this 'bride' was… she was loved. Deeply. And jealously."
Interviewer:
"You think the band is responsible?"
Dr. Klein:
"I don't just think it. I know it."
Interviewer:
"And yet you still want to study it?"
Dr. Klein (smiling faintly):
"I'm not chasing a killer. I'm chasing history. If this is real—if the legend of the Serpent King holds truth—then we're not just dealing with a cursed object. We're standing at the edge of a myth that was meant to stay buried."
A pause. The camera zooms in slightly. Dr. Klein's voice lowers.
Dr. Klein:
"I have to see it for myself. Not as a scientist. Not even as a man. But as a witness."
He looks directly into the lens.
Dr. Klein:
"If I don't return something to this world—an answer, a warning—then let my death at least prove it was all real."
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