Veil Strider ended and my feet touched the ground. I was still in the city. I could tell by the faint smell of gunpowder in the air. The cooldown wouldn’t be too long.

  I looked around to acquaint myself with my surroundings. I stood in the middle of a giant chamber. Golden inscribed pillars held up a domed roof with paintings of angels and demons. Curtains fluttered as wind pushed in through the giant windows which lined the walls.

  “A palace, really?” I said aloud.

  My voice carried far, fading only when it fled outside. I got no answer.

  Sighing, I unsheathed Stoneflow with one hand and cradled the globe of gold with my other. My footfalls slapped against the floor of marble like sharp strikes against an anvil. I should have been worried. I was facing an honest to god Blessed. Someone from the Forgotten Lands. He held an entirely different position than even the progenitor families here on Earth. But I didn’t feel any such thing. All I felt was a burning flame in the pit of my stomach, numbing me from all senses apart from rage.

  Sera’s gaze burned out from beneath my eyes. For the first time, she was actively watching and taking part in what was to come. I doubted if she could actually do anything for me though. Our contract forbade her from directly taking control and I doubted she still had much of her former power. Hell, she probably didn’t even have much when we met.

  Dragging my steps against the floor, I pushed on. In the far end of the chamber, there was a baroque staircase, gaudy and wide enough for five people to walk shoulder to shoulder. I began climbing it, and threw a glance to my right where a balcony hung over the edge of a cliff, overlooking the city from a safe distance.

  What type of fucking place is this…

  I came from money, with my connection to my grandmother Dorothea and her company. But even she had no way of comparing to this. This wasn’t something you could achieve with business-savvy and a nose for good deals. This was something you obtained by piling the bodies of others mountain high.

  It was quite fitting for the Puppeteer when I thought about it. His entire power revolved around using and abusing the lives of others. Where else would he live?

  I followed the bend of the stairs up to the second floor, walking along the interior balcony overlooking the chamber until I reached a set of doors larger than any man would ever need. Placing both hands on them, I pushed gently. They opened up, revealing a living room filled with fancy sofas, cushions, hand woven mats and water pipes. Smoke hung thick in the room despite almost all the windows in the entire building being left wide open.

  Sitting on a throne and blowing a cloud of smoke toward me I spotted the Puppeteer. His golden power practically radiated off his body. His look alone made my very soul tremble.

  And I’d thought Nyla was powerful.

  “Welcome,” he said and bent forward, resting his arms on his knees as he looked me up and down. “So this is the big bad boogey man. The Scion of the Witch.” He snorted. “You looked much larger through the insect’s eyes. I must admit, I am a little disappointed.”

  “And you sounded more scared, and like less of a prick.”

  A smirk spread on his face. He wasn’t a very muscular man, more on the thin side, and very tall. Two meters, I wagered as he loomed over me from the throne. Thick eyebrows pushed his eyes into thin slits and made it look like he was always contemplating something. His skin had a silvery grey hue to it, like a metallic gloss. If he sat stock still I might as well have mistaken him for a statue.

  “Funny,” he muttered. “And stupid. What did you hope to achieve by coming here?”

  I twirled the sword in my hand. “I wanted to get a good look at you before I cut you down. That’s all.”

  He rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. “Impudent. The difference between us is like that between a toddler and a lion.”

  Making the veil ripple with motion, Whispered poured in from the large door to my back. I glanced at them, my gaze sticking to the emblem on their uniforms. COBA. That explained Nyla’s motivation. It never did quite sit right with me that she would jeopardize the civilians for something so vain as helping random soldiers… But they weren’t random.

  “You think a few Whispered are enough to stop me from tearing you apart?”

  He raised his thick eyebrows. “I thought they held sentimental value to you… Forgive me, that was a misunderstanding on my part. Still, it would be a shame not to use them now that they are all gathered here.”

  With another snap of his fingers, the room burst to life with motion. Eight Blessed soldiers lunged at me from all sides, wielding weapons of different kinds, shapes, and forms. I tore a bundle of threads from the veil and threw it at the four to my left, creating a small screen of blue between us as I darted to the other side.

  Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

  Whistling, Stoneflow tore through the air and left a large gash in the chest of the first of them—a man not even thirty years old. He dropped his weapon, a morning star, to the ground and quickly followed as he crumpled like a doll with its strings cut.

  The Puppeteer oohed and aahed as if he was watching an exciting movie while I fought. Magic bolts slammed into the back of my armor, but couldn’t penetrate my defences. Embrace of Innocence sizzled as if set aflame in response.

  I ducked down low, dodging the lash of a whip. It cracked at the thin air like a gunshot before I sliced it in half.

  Thundering footsteps approached from behind. I clenched my jaw and pushed into the right flank instead of turning around. Using Burst, I dashed through their line and smashed the golden globe into the whip wielder’s face. Crunching under the pressure, his nose broke and sent shivers running up my spine.

  He rocketed into the wall with a loud crash and fell limp to the floor. Six remained. Among them, the one worrying me most was the woman who shot bolts of magic through her fingers. Getting hit by one of those where I wore no armor would suck, for lack of a better word. She stayed behind the rest of the group and looked for openings to fire at me. Lucky for me, there weren’t many such openings to find in the chaos of a brawl. The other five wielded an assortment of melee weapons. One, fiddled with a pair of daggers, one held a large sword, two of them had ugly clubs—resembling Daryl’s weapon—and the last had a large axe.

  It was a pity COBA only supplied them with weapons. If they offered armor accolades too, then maybe they wouldn’t have been so easily overpowered by the Puppeteer.

  No matter. I sighed. There could be no mercy in this room. Not with the Puppeteer waiting on the sidelines.

  Layering multiple activations of Burst on top of each other, I flashed in close to the axe wielder, already swinging Stoneflow upwards in a diagonal cut. Its steel cut through the man’s wrists like butter. His hands still rigidly gripped the axe as it fell toward the ground. With a twirl, I kicked its hilt and sent it flying at one of the clubbers. It spun through the air with a metallic hum before slamming into his chest and bathed the others in a spray of gore.

  That leaves four.

  Already lunging at me from the front, the dagger wielder attacked like a storm of blades. He was quick as a viper, arms moving like two blurry whips. I had to keep Burst active to deflect the attacks he aimed at my vitals. Gritting my teeth, I watched as the other two fighters circled me. Even further beyond, the Puppeteer stood up from his throne and raised his arm.

  Shit.

  Before I could think another thought, one of the surrounding sofas hurtled through the air like a velvety comet. I gritted my teeth and slashed at it with Stoneflow while activating Skin Stitching. It slammed into me and broke in half, sending me sliding across the floor. One part was sent barreling into the club wielder circling me on the left. He tumbled to the ground, but wasn’t dead.

  “Shit!” I growled.

  A sharp pain flared in my lower back. I turned with a Burst enhanced elbow, crushing the dagger wielder’s windpipe. He dropped both daggers to the floor and backed away with a wheezing breath, clutching at his throat as his eyes reddened. Throwing a glance at his weapons, one of them wore a glossy sheen of blood. My blood.

  The Puppeteer laughed. “Pathetic! This is why you could not protect her. You. Are. Weak.”

  Fucker! I bit back my anger. It would get me nowhere. I needed focus. Focus.

  Before the rogue could recover, I lunged forward with Stoneflow, piercing his heart with one stab. I kicked him off as magic screamed through the air. Another bolt of magic struck my shoulder. I ground my teeth as my skin sizzled from the attack. It didn’t quite burn like a flame, more like acid. This time it really hurt.

  The club wielder got back to his feet. Three of the Whispered remained, and the Puppeteer himself of course.

  He smiled at me from afar. “You are pretty good for a thread wielder! Still, you are nothing compared to the Witch herself. Or me, for that matter.”

  He clapped and the room flashed with silver. Roaring, the roof cracked and came falling down like a rain of meteors.

  Throwing myself to the side, I narrowly avoided a piece of debris as the sword wielder lunged. Skin stitching took hold automatically and repelled the blade with a sharp twang. Ripples in the veil showed that multiple blessings were being used, among them the bolt thrower. I rolled to the side just as the ball of concentrated magic slammed into the floor where I was lying. A pressure settled on my chest. I was running out of power. But I couldn’t stop yet.

  Pushing past my limits, I stacked Bursts on top of each other again and tore through the sword wielder. He didn’t even have time to react as my blade ripped through his body, bisecting him.

  Two to go. I thought and turned my gaze to my trump card.

  Through the entire fight I’d been cradling the golden globe like a child. The Puppeteer didn’t seem to understand what it was that I held—not with my threads covering it. I wanted to keep it that way, until we were alone. But time was running out. My heartbeat thundered in my chest, beating against my ribcage like it was a punching bag.

  Darting away, another piece of solid stone crushed the floor where I’d been standing moments ago. Clouds of dirt kicked up from the impact, spreading through the room in an instant and masking my figure.

  Using the moment to my advantage, I threw Stoneflow at the club wielder, then rushed at the bolt thrower. A meaty thud confirmed that my accolade hit its mark just before my fist dug into the pit of the woman’s stomach. Without her eyes to guide her, she was helpless. She doubled over with a gasp, and I met her face with a knee. Her teeth dug into my pants but couldn’t pierce my skin.

  And that leaves you.

  I glared through the brown haze of dirt before I scurried off. My plans of picking Stoneflow back up were crushed when the club wielder fell victim to one of the many pieces of the roof. It looked as if he was erased in front of my very eyes. All that remained was a smudge of red on the floor.

  Clicking my tongue, I unfurled the threads around the globe and left the cover of dirt to face the Puppeteer. His eyes stuck to the globe, eyeing it like it was the greatest slight of his life.

  “You want this back?” I smiled and tossed it up and down in my hand.

  His scowl grew deep. “I will enjoy making you into one of my dolls. Then I will make you kill that insect you hold so dear, leaving just enough of your soul intact that you can see the life leave her eyes.”

  I looked around, gesturing at the ruined chamber with my free hand. “Oh yeah? Last time I checked you were just a Puppeteer without his toys.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Oh please, they were but a part of my collection. Besides, last I checked,” he smirked, “you were out of magic.”

  “Well, best check again,” I said and activated Ruin on his precious ball of gold.