The cold metal of the extraction chair bit into my wrists as the heavy leather straps were slammed shut, locking me down completely.
Chief Olowo stepped up to the control panel, his eyes gleaming with a sickening, chaotic greed. He threw the primary lever forward, and instantly, a blinding, agonizing heat rippled through my stomach. The black cowrie inside me began to violently spin, aggressively feeding on my core, forcing crisp hundred-dollar bills to rapidly spill out from the machine’s vents into the collecting trays below.
“Yes! Look at the flow!” Chief Olowo screamed in triumph, running his fingers through the fresh stacks of money. “At maximum power, you will make me the richest man in West Africa before sunrise, Cynthia!”
My vision began to blur, the strength leaving my limbs as my soul was drained block by block. But as I stared at the glowing white Queen shell resting carelessly on the pedestal beside his control panel, a desperate, fierce survival instinct suddenly kicked into overdrive inside me.
He thought the worker shell inside me was just a mindless slave. He forgot that it was directly tethered to my willpower.
Instead of fighting the extraction, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and completely surrendered my remaining life force to the curse. I actively pushed every ounce of my anger, my pain, and my hatred straight into the black cowrie, overloading the connection with a toxic surge of energy.
The mechanical hum of the extraction machine instantly shifted into a chaotic, high-pitched screech.
“What is happening?!” Chief Olowo yelled, his triumph turning to pure panic as the control panel began to aggressively spark. “The flow is reversing! Stop it!”
It was too late. The worker shell inside me had expanded past its limits, sending a violent shockwave back through the transmission stream directly into the Queen shell on the pedestal.
With a deafening crack, the white Queen shell shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.
The master chair’s restraints immediately clicked open as the extraction grid died completely. Chief Olowo let out an ugly, agonizing scream, falling to his knees as his private digital vault screens flashed a blinding red message: BALANCE: CRITICAL ZERO. The source of his stolen wealth had vanished into thin air.
I stepped down from the metallic chair, my posture fully restored, feeling completely light as the dark weight of the curse permanently dissolved from my chest. I picked up Chief Olowo’s dropped gun from the marble floor, looking down at his broken, weeping form with an unshakeable, calm satisfaction.
“The extraction is over, Chief,” I whispered, throwing the empty gun into the pile of useless paper currency. “You wanted to drain my soul dry, but you just watched your entire empire burn to absolute zero.”
I turned my back on his frantic, desperate cries, walking out of the dark sanctuary into the clean morning air, finally free from the curse and completely ready to build a life that belonged entirely to me.
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