Chapter 13 – Strings of the Puppet Master

Kaiser’s Perspective:

I grabbed my sword tightly with both hands, ignoring the burning pain from my wounds. Blood dripped down my arms, but I couldn’t stop now. Rushing straight at them, I forced my legs to move faster. This time wasn’t like before—I had a plan, and I wasn’t going to lose.

Kiel broke off from Ronan, running toward me with deliberate strides. His movements were calm but purposeful, his eyes locked onto me like I was prey.

“Ronan,” Kiel called out without looking back, his voice sharp and controlled, “stay back and come prepared. Keep your head cool.”

Prepared? Prepare for what?

At first, I couldn’t understand Kiel’s confidence. Why did he think he could charge at me head-on? But then I noticed it.

While running full speed towards me, he was chanting.

“From the depths where light falters and shadows reign,

Weave the threads of despair and pain.

O cursed abyss, heed my command,

Shape my will into a weapon in hand.

Voidrend, awaken and sever all that stands.”

The air around him grew heavy, like it was pressing down on my chest. An unnatural silence blanketed the area, broken only by the low hum of gathering magic.

Dark energy crackled in his palm, twisting and spiraling like it was alive. The swirling mass condensed into a sleek, jagged blade, its edges shimmering faintly with black and violet hues. The moment the weapon fully materialized, it radiated dread—a suffocating, overwhelming presence that sent chills down my spine.

Voidrend.

This wasn’t just a sword. Voidrend’s power extended beyond its physical form. Every slash carried an arc of cursed energy that could cut through anything in its path, regardless of distance. It was relentless, precise, and terrifyingly powerful.

Kiel tightened his grip on Voidrend, his expression unwavering as the shadows around him writhed to life, crawling up his body like hungry serpents. The darkness consumed him, shrouding his form in an eerie, shifting veil. His eyes began to glow a menacing crimson, radiating raw power and malice. The sword pulsed in his hand, its cursed energy flowing into him, filling him with an overwhelming surge of strength. As he raised Voidrend, the very air around him distorted, trembling under the weight of his unleashed might. Kiel was ready to strike—an embodiment of destruction incarnate.

But Voidrend came with a cost. I knew from years of study that prolonged use drained the wielder’s stamina, and worse, it could corrupt their body if they pushed too far.

Even knowing that, seeing the blade in action was entirely different.

“Oh shit!” My heart pounded as I realized my mistake. I hadn’t accounted for Kiel using cursed magic in close combat, let alone Voidrend. I’d never faced anything like this before.

Kiel wasted no time, slashing the air with the cursed blade. Each swing released arcs of dark energy that tore through the ground, splitting it like paper. I had no choice but to block and dodge, the force of each attack shaking me to my core.

I couldn’t let this go on. I had to get closer.

Voidrend’s power was strongest at range, but it had limits. Kiel couldn’t keep this up forever—his stamina would drain quickly. I just had to outlast him.

The slashes came faster, more precise, leaving me no room for error. I moved in a curved path, forcing him to adjust his aim. Straight lines would’ve been suicide; the arcs traveled too fast for that.

Kiel was breathing hard now, each breath ragged and uneven. He was losing his edge, his attacks growing less controlled.

“I’ve spent most of my life trying to learn magic,” I thought, the bitter truth rising to the surface. “Trying to master even one spell. I tried everything—studying, practicing, breaking my body and mind to get it right. But nothing worked.”

The weight of that realization was something I’d carried for years. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t use magic. Maybe I was doing it wrong, or maybe… maybe it just wasn’t meant for me.

But that didn’t make my efforts worthless. No, every hour, every failure, every book I poured over gave me something else.

Knowledge.

I might not wield magic, but I understood it. Every incantation, every rune, every principle burned into my memory. And now, that knowledge would save me. It had to.

Kiel swung Voidrend, unleashing a wave of cursed energy that tore through the air, heading straight for me. I barely deflected it, the impact reverberating through my arms. Another swing followed, then another. Each arc of energy carried precision and force, ripping apart the ground and trees around us.

I couldn’t fight him like this. Not at range. Voidrend’s slashes were too powerful, too far-reaching. I had to get close.

But getting close meant surviving the onslaught.

I moved in a curved path, dodging and weaving to throw off his aim. Each deflection sent shocks through my body, my wounds bleeding freely now. Kiel stood his ground, his attacks relentless, precise.

Cursed magic wasn’t just strong—it was devastating. A single mage wielding it was more dangerous than a hundred soldiers armed with swords.

Kiel knew that. And so, did I.

As I moved closer, I noticed the cracks in his facade. His breathing was harsh, each breath labored and shallow. Voidrend wasn’t without cost. Every swing drained him, his stamina slipping away with each attack.

That was my opening.

The distance between us closed, and I forced him into melee. Our swords clashed, sparks flying with each strike. Voidrend’s cursed energy tore into me, each blow leaving searing pain in its wake, but I didn’t falter. I had trained for this.

I baited him with a feint, exposing my shoulder on purpose. He took the bait, his blade cutting deep—but it was exactly what I wanted. Using the momentum of his strike, I knocked Voidrend from his hands. The cursed blade dissipated into the air, leaving Kiel unarmed.

His eyes widened with fear. He knew he was finished.

I raised my sword, ready to end it.

Before my hit could land, it was blocked—by Ronan.

His body and hands were engulfed in flames, the heat radiating off him in waves. My blade, mere inches from severing Kiel’s head, clanged against the fiery barrier Ronan had conjured. Sparks and embers danced in the air as I staggered back, my breath catching in frustration.

All this time, I thought I had the edge. I’d been so focused on outmaneuvering Kiel, so certain of my victory. But I’d been played.

Ronan had been preparing from the very beginning, letting Kiel take the lead to distract me while he quietly channeled his spell—a defensive magic specifically designed to counter my swordplay.

I gritted my teeth, gripping my blade tighter.

They had outplayed me.

And now, the fight wasn’t over—it had only just begun.

I could feel the heat from Ronan’s hands burning through my sword, the flames creeping up to my body, each touch searing my skin. The pain was unbearable, but I couldn’t stop. With my free leg, I slammed a knee into Ronan’s stomach, hoping to break his grip. It worked—he staggered back, but it wasn’t enough. Before I could react, he lunged at me with a punch, his fiery fist aimed straight at my face.

I raised my sword just in time, the impact forcing me back, my body slammed into the ground. Gasping for air, I could only manage shallow breaths. This situation couldn’t get worse, I thought, but as if the world had a cruel sense of humor, it did.

Ronan glanced over at Kiel, still recovering from the earlier clash. “Hey, Kiel. Are you finally done taking your long break?”

“Just give me some time, alright? It’s not easy using cursed magic.” Kiel’s voice was strained, but there was no time to sympathize.

“Stop barking and make some moves. You’re disappointing me,” Ronan snapped, frustration clear in his voice.

Kiel gave both of us a cold, piercing look before muttering an incantation under his breath. “O spirits of vengeance, arise from the void! Bind—”

I couldn’t let him finish. Panic surged in my body. I couldn’t let that spell be completed. I rushed forward, desperate to stop it before it became reality—the worst thing that could happen in a cursed magic duel. Kiel hesitated, raising his hands to his face in a feeble attempt to protect himself.

“RONAN!” he screamed, a last-ditch attempt to get his partner’s attention.

Ronan didn’t hesitate for even a moment.

“Don’t make me laugh,” he spat. “Did you really think you could attack Kiel while I’m around?”

With a swift movement, Ronan’s fiery hands blocked my sword strike to Kiel. I tried to fight back, but that infernal flame was too powerful, too hard to break through. It was impossible to defeat a tanked fire caster like Ronan in my current state.

“Continue your spell casting, Kiel!” Ronan yelled, locking his eyes on me as he blocked every attack I threw at him. His fiery hands clashed with my sword again, sparks flying. It was useless. I couldn’t break through Ronan’s defenses. The only option was to find a way to outsmart him. But I was too late..

I heard it.

“O spirits of vengeance, arise from the void! Bind yourselves to my will and strike with cursed steel. Let your wrath take form—Wraithbound Blades!”

Kiel finished the incantation. I could already feel the weight of the situation crushing me. It wasn’t just another strong cursed spell—it was the worst one. Not because it was unbeatable, but because I was too weak to counter it. No Celestial magic. No high-ranked elemental magic. I was stuck in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

The spell tore through the heavens, and suddenly, the sky turned blood-red, as if drenched in the rage of countless souls. From the crimson void emerged two vengeful spirits—malicious, twisted creatures with translucent, wraith-like bodies. Their glowing eyes burned with a fury that seemed to pierce the very air. Each wielded cursed blades, their jagged edges dripping with malevolent energy, dark and menacing. But it was their smiles that froze the blood—the twisted, haunting grins of death itself, promising nothing but despair to those who dared face them.

The spirits moved with unnerving speed, their movements too quick for me to track. I tried to defend myself, but every strike I made was met with a counter. Their laughter, like the dying gasp of a child, echoed in my ears.

The sound was maddening, disorienting. It drowned out everything else. I could barely focus on the fight. One of my eyes was barely usable from earlier injuries, and it was only getting worse. They were too fast. I couldn’t keep up.

Suddenly, the spirits stopped, hovering in mid-air. They were moving away, sensing something dangerous.

Then I heard Celia’s voice—a scream full of terror. “KAISER MOVE AWAY!”

I barely registered her warning before I saw Ronan in the air. A surge of fire shot toward me, forming a deadly ring around me. I had only seconds to act. The flames began to descend, their intensity blinding. I could feel the heat, my skin already starting to burn, my body seizing up in panic.

Ronan using the spirits as a distraction, moved in for the kill. I couldn’t even hear his incantation over the deafening laughter of the spirits. They were drowning everything out. The heat was unbearable. It’s now or never, I thought. There was no other choice.

The flames above me were like a curtain of hell itself, raining down with the heat of a thousand suns. Ronan’s maniacal laugh filled the air, a warning of the doom that awaited me. There was no time to think. No time to second-guess.

I could feel the fire closing in, the air growing thick with heat. It felt like I was being suffocated from all sides, the weight of the flames pressing in on me with brutal force. My skin was already starting to burn, searing under the intense heat, and the world seemed to distort in front of my eyes. I can’t breathe, my mind screamed. I can’t move fast enough.

Every inch of me was screaming to run, but the fire was everywhere, a living thing, surrounding me, closing in tighter and tighter with every second. I couldn’t see a way out. I couldn’t escape.

“Feel that? That’s the heat of your defeat. There’s no place left to hide.” Ronan’s voice cut through the air, confident and cold.

No, I thought. There has to be a way. I can’t die like this. Not like this…

The flames began to fall faster, heavier, as if the air itself was being torn apart. I was running out of time.

I could feel the sweat on my brow, the burn in my chest as the fire closed in, but there was one chance—one desperate gamble.

I remembered the heat disparity. In the past I studied for fire magic for countless hours, understanding the logical elements behind it. Especially this spell, the fire casted got weaker and weaker the longer distance it traveled.

The fire was strongest overhead. If I could get beneath it—if I could break through the barrier of flames—there was a chance I could avoid the worst of the inferno. But it would hurt. No, it would be worse than pain. It would feel like I was burning alive, skin melting from the bone.

But if I didn’t act, I would die. No question.

With every second, the flames descended closer. The air around me was thick with heat, oppressive. Move, move, MOVE! My instincts screamed as I threw myself into motion.

The ground beneath me was already beginning to heat up, but it was still bearable—just. I dropped low, throwing myself toward the center of the fire’s perimeter, using every ounce of willpower I had to ignore the scream of agony in my chest as I crawled, moving faster than I ever thought I could.

The fire above me roared, a deafening crackle as it fell from the sky like a rain of molten steel. I could hear the roar of the flames coming down—closer, closer, and then—

I made it.

My body slammed into the dirt as the fire raged just inches above my back. The heat scorched the hairs on my neck, the edges of my clothing igniting. The burn was instant, brutal, unbearable.

But I was through. Barely.

I rolled forward, my arms shaking, my body convulsing from the agony of being so close to being consumed alive. Every fiber in me screamed for relief, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t afford to.

As I pushed myself up, my legs barely responding, the fire continued to fall around me, scorching the earth where I had just been. The heat was still unbearable, but I had a sliver of space now—a chance to recover, to get back on my feet.

“So, you managed to survive, huh? Looks like your luck hasn’t run out just yet.” Ronan’s voice was dripping with mockery, his laughter echoing through the tense air.

“Luck doesn’t last forever… and yours just ran out.” Kiel’s voice was cold, flat, as he summoned Voidrend again. The very air around him seemed to darken, crackling with cursed magic that sent shivers down my spine.

Then I saw them. The vengeful spirits, swirling around Kiel, their faces twisted in malicious glee. Their laughter rang out, disturbing and chilling, like a chorus of demons taunting me from the depths of hell. Their cries of joy in the unknown vengeance they would bring made my skin crawl. But I couldn’t focus on them. I couldn’t afford to.

This wasn’t a 1v2 anymore. It was a 1v4.

Those spirits… they were the final nail in the coffin. Every escape route, every plan, every hope I had was gone. It felt like the world was closing in around me. All paths to victory, all hope of surviving… snuffed out. I was out of options.

Ronan’s laughter filled the space around me, mocking, relentless. He reveled in my despair, and for a moment, I couldn’t even think straight. His mocking tone was the only thing I could hear.

The spirits giggled, their laughter like dying children, faint and chilling.

“Hehehe… play with us…”

“Come closer…”

“Feel the cold…”

Their voices echoed, twisted and unnatural.

Ronan’s laughter broke through, deep and cruel, full of dark satisfaction.

“Hahaha… Did you honestly think you could survive this?”

“You were doomed the moment you stepped into this fight.”

“All your planning, all your struggles… worthless.”

“Now, it’s too late.”

He stepped forward, eyes burning with a wicked smile.

“This is where your story ends.”

Kiel stood silently, cold, his eyes locked onto me. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t need to. He knew exactly what this meant. I was finished.

And they knew it, too.

I had no way to win. Not anymore…

Thank you… Kiel and Ronan.

You’ve played your parts well, but you’re nothing more than inexperienced fools. I may not have magic, sword skills, or even a stable body right now, but you haven’t realized it yet… you’ve all been nothing more than puppets—dancing on strings I’ve been pulling this entire time. And now, you’re about to see what happens when the strings snap.

Celia’s Perspective:

I couldn’t breathe. The air was thick, suffocating me as I watched Kaiser struggle. Every movement, every strike, they were all so deliberate, so calculated. But it didn’t matter. They kept countering him, pushing him further and further back.

My hands clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms as I trembled. He couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t watch him break like this. I wanted to scream, to do something—anything. But all I could do was stand there, helpless, caught in this nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

Is this really it?

I couldn’t even finish the thought. No, no, no… I can’t think like that. Kaiser had promised me. He promised me he would win… I bit my lip, forcing the words out of my head. He’d promised me he would come back to me… In perfect condition… I clung to that promise, like it was the only thread keeping me from falling apart.

But something didn’t sit right. Something felt… wrong. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I could feel it, like a knot in my chest, aching with every move he made. His attacks, his stance… there was something off.

It was like he wasn’t really trying to win, like he was giving them chances, letting them set up their next move.

His movements—they weren’t desperate. There was a calmness in them. Too calm, like he was leading them somewhere. I couldn’t make sense of it, but deep down, I felt a glimmer of hope.

He had them right under hand hands.

I stared at him, my eyes burning, my throat tight.

Kaiser—he wasn’t losing, was he? My thoughts scattered. He was far from desperate, and I… I felt so foolish for thinking he was. He had this under control, didn’t he?

Suddenly, Kaiser glanced back at me, his face—twisted with a devilish grin I couldn’t quite place.

And just like that, it clicked.

My heart ached, but this time it was different. The weight wasn’t crushing—it was light, like the tension had suddenly snapped, and I could breathe again. He had them right where he wanted them. All this time, all his movements, his missteps, his calculated losses…

I blinked, stunned, and for a moment I could hardly believe it.

He had been leading them, guiding them into a trap. It makes so much sense now.

I felt my face flush with warmth. But there was no time to celebrate in it. Not yet. My heart pounded as I watched him, feeling my breath catch in my throat. He was ready. I could feel it.

“Kaiser!” I shouted, my voice trembling. “Do it! I believe in you!”

I didn’t know if he could hear me over the chaos, but I had to say it. I had to believe it. I knew it, with every fiber of my being. He wasn’t losing. He was just waiting. Waiting for the perfect moment.

Kaiser’s Perspective:

“Watch closely—I won’t let you down.” I said, unable to stop my lips from curling into a twisted smile as I glanced back at her.

Every single thing I had done, every move I made, every attack they launched—Kiel’s summons, Ronan’s fiery defenses—everything was a carefully orchestrated step in my plan. The fight, their confidence, their arrogance… it was all part of the illusion, designed to lead them straight into my trap.

Slowly the sun was rising. The long night of bloodshed was about to end forever.

Ronan and Kiel…

They thought they were in control. They thought they had me cornered, but they were nothing more than pawns in a game they couldn’t even comprehend. They couldn’t see it… but I could. I had been playing a different game from the start—one where their every move, their every reaction, was exactly what I wanted.

And now, the game is over.

You’ve lost.

And you don’t even know it yet.

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