Chapter 29: Pactbound Warrior

Thump! Thump!

Zorak’s heavy steps resounded as he was controlled by Cheryl to enter the room.

Zuri watched in horror as Zorak marched slowly, then knelt in front of her.

She knew she should not have meddled with that guy. She knew it. But still fell under his persistence.

Now here she was. Alone. Her protector controlled. Three against one.

The only thing blocking her from danger was the Phase Veil charm. Once she ran out of energy, would she not be at their mercy?

She looked at the room. Her heart racing.

Bol marched forward. Stood next to Zorak. While looking at Zuri.

“Start,” he said out loud.

As if waiting for that, Cheryl closed her eyes and murmured.

Zorak knelt. Raised his massive hand in a puppet-like fashion.

Then.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

He threw three heavy punches at himself.

Splurt!

Blood spurted out as the golden brass knuckle perfectly connected with his jaw.

Zorak could see what was happening. He could listen. He could feel the pain.

But he could not shout. And could not do anything against the fury of punches raining on him.

His already scarred body was being even more wounded.

Zuri looked at all this. Her dark face getting pale.

When inviting Zorak, she had not imagined this. The situation was different from what she envisioned.

Where was the solution shown by the reading?

True, she had fifteen years of experience in readings. But only two to three years as a mystic. And now she questioned the authenticity of her readings.

Bol looked at her again. Deeply this time.

“Give us the information we need and,” he pointed at Zorak, “he stays alive. Struggling is useless. Your charm has a time limit.”

He paused, then pointed at the Phase Veil charm.

“You can either tell us what we need now, and both of you stay alive. Or you can be stubborn. He dies. The charm runs out. And we get what we want.”

The sound of Zorak hitting himself resonated in the room. Blood pooling around.

“Where is the guy we are looking for?”

“I… I don’t know,” Zuri’s voice came out, trembling.

It was her first time experiencing such a situation. She was confused about what to do.

Were they going to let them go if she said what she saw in the readings? She doubted it. The world was a cruel place, and these guys were no exception.

“Increase the strength,” Bol said.

WHAM!

The punch this time came out stronger. Blood spurting around.

Zorak’s head jerked to the side. His neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Then snapped back.

Zuri flinched.

“Where is he?” Bol asked again.

“I don’t—”

WHAM!

Another punch. Harder. Zorak’s nose cracked. Blood poured down his face.

“Don’t lie to me,” Bol said. His voice was calm. Too calm. “You did a reading. You saw something. Tell me what you saw.”

Zuri’s hands trembled. Her breath came in short gasps.

“I… I saw…”

WHAM!

“His name!” Bol shouted. “Start with his name.”

“Makun!” Zuri screamed. “His name is Makun! That’s all I know!”

Bol stopped. He raised his hand. Zorak’s fist froze mid-swing.

“Makun,” Bol repeated. “Good. What else?”

“I did the readings,” Zuri said. Her voice was breaking. “But I saw nothing. Nothing clear. Just… just things holding him back.”

“What things?”

“Chains,” Zuri said. “Heavy chains. Wrapped around him. Binding him. I saw them in the reading. Spiritual chains. They were… they were tight. Suffocating. Like they’d been there his whole life.”

She swallowed. Her throat was dry.

“That’s all I saw. Chains. Nothing more. I don’t know where he is. I don’t know where he went.”

Bol was silent.

Cheryl opened her eyes. She looked at Bol.

They finally had something to work with.

Makun came here on Friday in the morning. And after he left here, something was triggered and his signature disappeared at home. Afterwards, he was evicted.

The information was useful. However, it was still not enough.

They needed more. An image of him. It was easier to track him with an image.

Bol stepped closer to the Phase Veil.

“It’s still not enough,” he said.

“That’s all I know!” Zuri said. Her voice cracked. “I swear! There’s nothing else!”

“You’re a seer,” Bol said. “You saw him. His face. His energy. You can give us more.”

“I can’t! I don’t have a picture! I don’t—”

“Then we’ll get it out of you,” Bol said.

He turned to Cheryl.

“Let’s get it out of her.”

Then he looked at Zorak.

“Finish him.”

Zorak’s fist rose. Slow. Deliberate. Puppet-like.

It pulled back. Higher. Higher.

Then it came down.

The heaviest blow possible. Aimed at his own skull.

But it froze mid-air.

Zorak’s scar under his left eye burned. It shone. Energy poured out of it.

Golden light. Raw and violent.

“STOP HIM!” Bol shouted at Cheryl.

Cheryl grunted. A small leak of blood appeared at her lips. She was having more and more difficulties controlling Zorak.

“He formed a connection with The Deep,” she said through gritted teeth. “He probably requested assistance. I cannot control him.”

It seemed Zorak did not care anymore about the Suppression and the organizations. He decided to unleash his full might.

He knew these people were not going to let them go. They were professionals. And professionals always eliminated every target.

If he was going down, then they were going down together.

While in that state of a puppet, he had created a connection to The Deep. He astral projected.

His consciousness left his body. Not fully. Just enough to reach the second layer.

Astral projection was dangerous. Especially while under control. His body remained here. But his spirit dove through The Veil, piercing the barrier between the physical and The Deep.

He reached out.

To the entity he pacted with as a Pactbound warrior.

Years ago, Zorak had made a contract. A binding agreement with a being from The Deep. In exchange for service, the entity granted him access to its reservoir of energy.

Now, he called on that pact.

The entity responded.

Energy exploded through Zorak’s body.

Massive. Foreign. Dark.

It was not his own. It was borrowed power. The entity’s reservoir flooding through the connection.

Cheryl’s control wavered.

The Sovereign Marionette operated on sympathetic entanglement. It locked onto the target’s biological frequency and overrode their will with the Puppeteer’s intent.

But intent required focus. And focus required a singular source of energy.

When Zorak’s body was flooded with external energy, foreign energy, the harmonic signature changed.

The doll still held his hair. The entanglement channel still existed.

But the resonance was no longer pure. The entity’s energy interfered with the link. Like static on a radio. Like two frequencies colliding.

Cheryl’s control weakened. The puppet strings frayed.

It was not going to be long since he got full control.

Then they were going to have no choice but to go all out. Attracting attention.

At that point, either they fought till the death, got caught, or they fled.

It was better than dying.

However, contrary to his expectations, Bol was very decisive.

“Let’s go,” he said. “If we stay here till he finishes, we’re in trouble.”

Bol dashed out of the room.

Cheryl spat blood on the porcelain doll.

Her own blood. Fresh. Hot.

Blood was biological matter. It carried her signature. Her will.

By adding more of herself to the doll, she reinforced the entanglement. Strengthened the resonance. Bought herself time.

The doll absorbed the blood. The energy flared. Zorak’s body stiffened again. The puppet strings tightened.

Then Cheryl ran after Bol.

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