A voice slipped through the forest like a blade drawn across glass—thin, cold, and deliberate.
"Felix Drayton… your perception pales in comparison to Samantha's."
The sound did not echo. It lingered.
Felix's grip tightened on his sword as his gaze snapped toward the thicket ahead. The trees there stood too still, their leaves unmoving despite the faint wind brushing past his cheek. Something watched from within—something patient.
Branches parted.
A man stepped out of the dense foliage, his presence pressing against the clearing like a slow, suffocating weight. A white-and-black striped mask concealed his face, its unnatural symmetry catching the faint light filtering through the canopy. Behind him followed another figure, cloaked in a weathered grey hoodie, head lowered, steps measured and unnervingly precise.
The masked man tilted his head, studying them as though examining curiosities laid out for dissection.
"Is this the new team backed by the Luminal Covenant?" His voice carried a note of amusement, soft but cutting. "Fascinating. God's blessed ones… and the Light Goddess's prophesied saviour." A quiet chuckle slipped through. "Such a perfect little arrangement… to test my new subject."
He gestured lazily toward the hooded figure.
Felix felt something coil tight in his chest.
"Felix," the man continued, almost kindly, "why not let your team play with it first? Consider it… a warm-up."
The words had barely settled before Felix moved.
Light answered his will instantly—golden orbs snapping into existence around him, humming with restrained power. His arm swept forward, and the spheres shot through the air like streaking comets.
The masked man did not flinch.
A barrier bloomed around him—smooth, translucent, impossibly dense. The orbs struck—
—and shattered outward in blinding flares of light.
The impact rippled through the clearing, rattling leaves, stirring dust. Yet the man behind the barrier stood untouched.
Felix's eyes narrowed.
"…Names are unnecessary," the masked figure said calmly, as though they were discussing etiquette rather than exchanging blows.
He stepped aside.
The hooded figure moved forward.
Slowly—too slowly.
There was no hesitation in the motion, no human uncertainty. Just a mechanical inevitability. Fingers rose, grasped the edge of the hood, and pulled it back.
Pale skin. Lifeless.
Eyes that did not focus—did not see.
Samantha's breath hitched sharply, the sound cutting through the clearing.
"There's no soul…" she whispered, her voice thinning as her perception flared open. Her gaze sharpened, drilling into the figure. "…No—wait…"
Her expression twisted.
"There is. Not one… this is—"
A clap.
Slow. Deliberate. Applauding.
"Wonderful," the masked man said, each word laced with satisfaction. "As expected of you, Samantha. Your perception truly is exquisite."
He spread his hands slightly, as though presenting a masterpiece.
"A body housing multiple souls… and at its core, an artificial Hallowed Spirit." His voice dipped, almost reverent. "A perfect vessel. A perfect pawn."
Something in Samantha snapped.
"How dare you—" Her voice broke, then hardened, rising with a tremor of fury she didn't bother to hide. "How many lives did you destroy for this? How many did you burn just to create that thing?"
The masked man laughed.
It rang out too loud, too sharp—like metal striking metal.
"Hundreds," he said lightly. "Give or take. I stopped counting."
Samantha's knuckles whitened around her blade.
"You're controlling it," she pressed, stepping forward. "That talisman—whatever you embedded—"
He bowed.
Mocking. Shallow.
"Why don't you find out?"
She didn't wait.
Samantha surged forward, blade flashing.
Steel met resistance—
—not steel.
Each strike glanced off an invisible force, her sword skidding aside as though striking hardened air. Sparks spat uselessly into the dirt.
Then—
The puppet raised its hand.
The world fell.
Pressure crashed down onto her shoulders, crushing, suffocating. The ground seemed to lurch upward as her knees slammed into the earth. Her sword drove into the soil, the only thing keeping her from collapsing entirely.
Her breath hitched, ribs protesting against the invisible weight.
Felix's jaw clenched.
Soul suppression.
Cold realisation settled into his bones.
Who is he…?
"You are not my opponent," the masked man said, his voice flattening. "But survive this… and perhaps I'll indulge you later."
The pressure vanished as abruptly as it came.
Samantha sagged, dragging in air, fingers trembling where they gripped her sword.
Before she could rise fully, three figures stepped past her.
"We'll handle this," Roderick said, voice steady, though his grip tightened around his weapon.
Samantha forced herself upright, breath still uneven. "I'll find the control source," she said, pushing the strain aside. "Buy me time."
Lyra's daggers slipped into her hands with a soft, metallic whisper, radiant light blooming along their edges. "Understood."
Dorian exhaled slowly, hands already moving through practised patterns. Golden sigils flared to life around them, folding into layered enhancements that settled over their bodies like a second skin.
Energy thrummed.
The puppet moved.
It didn't charge—it simply appeared within striking distance, its blade slamming into Roderick's with crushing force. The clang rang out as a bell struck in a cathedral.
Lyra darted in, her movements fluid, precise. Her blades struck for joints, tendons, weak points—
—but each attack was met, turned aside with eerie precision, as though the puppet already knew her path.
She clicked her tongue, pivoted back, and gathered fire Aether.
"Ignition Beam."
A line of searing heat tore through the space between them.
The puppet lifted its arm.
A shield formed—pure Aether, condensed and stable.
The beam struck—
—and vanished against it.
Lyra stumbled back, eyes widening. "That's—no. Aether alone shouldn't—"
"Don't think," Dorian cut in, voice tight. "Move."
His sword flared with volatile energy as he traced sigils mid-motion. The air around him crackled, pressure building.
"Plasma Bloom Array."
Crystalline spheres burst into existence, orbiting him in tight formation, each one filled with writhing blue plasma that pulsed like a living thing.
The puppet mirrored him.
Dark spheres formed—black mist churning within, swallowing light.
The two arrays collided.
A flash—blinding.
The shockwave tore outward, flattening grass, sending both fighters skidding back across the ground.
Roderick didn't hesitate.
He stepped forward, hands coming together, head bowed.
"From the throne beyond the stars…" His voice deepened, resonant, carrying something ancient within it. "I call upon the blade of divine will. Strip away sin. Scorch away lies. Let all be made pure—"
Light gathered.
"—Lumen Ruina."
A pillar of brilliance erupted, slamming into the puppet. The beam carved through it, tearing flesh and matter apart in a violent surge of divine force.
For a moment—
silence.
Smoke drifted.
Then the figure stood revealed.
One arm gone.
The rest… intact.
Roderick's breath caught. "That's not possible…"
Behind them, the masked man's posture shifted—subtle, but unmistakable.
Pride.
The puppet moved again.
Faster.
Relentless.
Blows rained down, each one heavier than the last. Roderick's defence faltered under the mounting pressure. Lyra's movements lost their sharpness. Dorian's breathing grew uneven as the strain of continuous casting began to bite.
"What the hell is this thing?" Dorian spat, barely catching a strike that would have split him in two.
Across the clearing, Samantha stood unmoving.
Her eyes glowed faintly, pupils dilated, threads of Aether unravelling before her perception. Sweat slid down her temples, her breathing shallow as she pushed deeper—past the surface, past the layers of foreign energy—
There.
A flicker.
Buried within the chest.
Her vision wavered, edges darkening.
"Samantha, stop!" Lyra's voice cut through the chaos. "You're overdoing it—your eyes—"
"Not yet," Samantha forced out, teeth clenched. Her fingers curled slightly, nails biting into her palms. Just a little more—
Felix tried to move toward her—
—but the masked man stepped in.
Steel met steel.
The clash rang sharp, immediate.
Felix pressed forward, strikes fast, precise. "How do you know about us?"
The masked man parried effortlessly, movements almost lazy. "Observation," he replied. "You'd be surprised what one can learn… from the right vantage point."
Their blades slid apart, only to crash together again.
"You're quite the spectacle," he added, almost conversationally.
Behind them—
"Samantha!"
Her body trembled.
Then—
"There!" she gasped. "A talisman—embedded in the chest!"
Roderick moved instantly.
Divine light surged along his blade as he drove forward with a roar, piercing straight into the puppet's core.
For a heartbeat—
Everything stopped.
Then—
The talisman flared.
And exploded.
"Shield!" Dorian shouted, hands snapping upward.
A barrier surged into existence just as the blast detonated, swallowing the worst of the force—but not all.
The shockwave tore through the clearing.
Dorian's body jerked violently before collapsing, consciousness snuffed out in an instant.
Samantha crumpled where she stood, darkness flooding her vision, her legs giving out beneath her.
The world rang.
Smoke curled upward.
And through it—
laughter.
"Good," the masked man murmured, voice laced with quiet satisfaction. "So the Oracle's Sight still works… though imperfectly."
A pause.
"I'll need to refine it further."
The air distorted.
And he was gone.
Silence fell, heavy and wrong.
Felix dropped to his knees beside Samantha, light already gathering in his hands as he pressed them gently against her. Healing energy seeped into her, soft and warm, pushing back against the damage.
Her fingers twitched.
"I… can't see…" she whispered, voice raw, unfocused. Her hands lifted weakly, trembling as they hovered near her eyes.
Felix swallowed, forcing his voice steady. "Don't try," he said quietly. "Just rest."
Minutes stretched.
Then—footsteps.
Many.
The guild's rescue team burst into the clearing, their expressions tightening as they took in the devastation—the scorched earth, the fallen bodies, the lingering weight of something that refused to fade.
They moved quickly.
Carefully.
Lifting the injured, carrying them back.
The infirmary smelled of herbs and sterilising agents, the air thick and faintly bitter.
Samantha lay still, bandages wrapped securely over her eyes. Dorian rested nearby, chest rising and falling in slow, steady rhythm.
Outside, Felix paced.
Back and forth.
Each step was sharp, controlled, barely containing the tension coiled within him.
The door creaked open.
The doctor stepped out, expression grave.
"They'll live," he said. "Dorian will regain consciousness soon. Samantha's injuries are stable—but her eyes…" He exhaled quietly. "Severe strain. If she uses her ability again before fully recovering, the damage may become permanent."
Felix nodded once. "Understood."
A pause.
"And the others?" he asked.
The doctor hesitated.
"They're alive," he said carefully. "But their magic cores…" His voice lowered. "Irreparably damaged."
Felix stilled.
"…What?"
"There are no external injuries," the doctor continued, brow furrowing. "No signs of struggle. Yet their cores are… nearly destroyed. As though something bypassed their bodies entirely and struck directly at the source."
Felix's hands curled into fists.
A cold, creeping understanding settled in.
"Come," the doctor said quietly. "The Guild Master is waiting."
The office was dim.
Heavy.
The Guild Master sat behind his desk, fingers steepled, gaze sharp.
"Explain."
The doctor spoke first, laying out the condition of the victims with clinical precision. The absence of wounds. The devastation of their cores.
The Guild Master's expression darkened.
"How does that happen?" he asked. "These are Master-level mages. Experienced. Skilled."
Felix leaned forward.
"There's more," he said.
And then he told him.
The puppet.
The talisman.
The masked man.
"He was holding back," Felix finished, voice low. "He presented himself as Master-level seven. But that pressure… the way he moved…" He shook his head slightly. "At least nine. Possibly Grandmaster."
The word hung in the air.
"Grandmaster…" the Guild Master repeated, his voice tightening.
Felix nodded. "We weren't even worth his full attention."
Silence settled.
"And the talisman?" the Guild Master asked.
Felix's gaze darkened. "Ancient. I don't recognise it. But whatever it is… it shouldn't exist."
The Guild Master leaned back slowly, the weight of the situation pressing into his posture.
"Then this is no longer just our problem."
Felix rose.
"I'll inform Serenwyn Academy and the Luminal Covenant."
A tired breath left the Guild Master. "Do it. And Felix…"
Felix paused.
"Be careful."
A beat.
Felix's jaw tightened.
"I will."
He stepped out into the corridor, the dim light stretching long shadows across the floor.
Somewhere beyond the city, beyond the reach of watchful eyes—
something was growing.
And it had already begun to move.