Reiji stepped forward.
The light from the ritual circle bled across the black stone floor, turning the chamber into a warped sun of pale, sickly radiance. Kaede shielded her eyes, but Reiji didn't look away. He couldn't. The Director stood at the center of it all, calm, composed, as though he were conducting a symphony rather than awakening something ancient and lethal.
"Ending me?" the Director repeated, sounding almost amused.
"Reiji… you can't end what shaped you."
Reiji didn't answer, but his body shifted—weight low, blade angled forward. A stance familiar only to the deadliest members of the Vanguard.
The Director's smile widened.
"Good. Show me the result of my life's work."
---
The First Strike
Reiji moved first.
The ground shattered beneath his feet as he launched forward, the Blade of Forgotten Vows carving a silver arc through the air. For a fraction of a second, the Director didn't move at all—he merely observed.
Then his hand rose.
Two fingers.
Light grip.
Graceful.
He caught the edge of the blade.
A human should not have been able to do that.
Even a trained soldier should have lost the limb.
But the Director's skin did not break, and he did not bleed.
Kaede stared, horrified.
"Reiji—!"
Reiji didn't hesitate. He twisted the blade and kicked upward, breaking the Director's grip and forcing distance. Sparks trailed through the air like scattered fragments of memory.
The Director's expression didn't change.
"You're stronger than before."
Reiji said nothing.
"Yet still hesitant." The Director stepped closer, his footsteps silent. "Still afraid of what you might become."
Reiji tightened his grip. His breath steadied. His heartbeat slowed.
"I'm not afraid," he said quietly.
"Not anymore."
---
Awakening the Puppets
The Director flicked his wrist.
The faint blue pillars lining the chamber—the ones containing half-formed figures—began to vibrate. Each container cracked at the top, thin fractures glowing with cold white light.
Kaede's eyes widened.
"No… don't tell me—"
The glass burst.
Dozens of bodies spilled forward—limbs twisting unnaturally at first, skin pale as moonlight, eyes empty. But as their bodies hit the floor, their movements sharpened. Their heads jerked upward in unison, like puppets responding to the pull of a single invisible string.
Each one turned toward Reiji.
Kaede raised her blade.
"We're surrounded—!"
Reiji didn't look back.
"I know."
The Director watched with the calm of a man observing rainfall.
"These prototypes were failures… physically incomplete, mentally unstable. But they are useful in another way."
He lifted his hand.
The puppets' empty eyes lit with a cold glow.
"Let them show you what you could have become without guidance."
Kaede grit her teeth.
"Reiji—there's too many—!"
Reiji stepped in front of her.
"That's why you're not fighting them."
Kaede stared.
"What—? No. I'm not leaving you alone with—"
"You're not leaving," Reiji said sharply.
"You're watching my back."
Kaede hesitated—then nodded.
"Fine. Just don't die."
Reiji exhaled once.
"I won't."
---
Puppet War
The first puppet lunged—unnatural speed, jerking movement, a mouth opening in a silent scream.
Reiji moved like shadow.
His blade sliced upward, splitting the puppet through the jaw and skull. No blood—just fragments of pale tissue collapsing into dust. Another puppet approached from his left; he pivoted, smashing the hilt into its throat before impaling it through the chest.
Kaede shouted, "Behind you!"
Reiji turned the moment a puppet reached for his spine—his blade carving a perfect circle as he spun, severing three bodies in a single motion.
But more came.
Dozens.
Scores.
A flood of twisted forms rushing forward in chaotic, silent violence.
Kaede fought the few that slipped past him, her movements desperate but precise. She cut down one, staggered another, stabbed a third in the ribs. She was breathing hard, but she didn't falter.
Reiji tore through the mass with brutal efficiency. Every slash, every strike, every defensive movement came from years of brutal conditioning. A childhood spent in blood. A life shaped in shadows.
He was not a novice.
He was not a soldier.
He was a weapon.
And for the first time, he wielded that fact against the one who forged it.
But the puppets did not stop.
Each one that fell was replaced by two more. Their bodies fell apart easily, but their numbers were endless.
Kaede cried out—one of them grabbed her arm.
Reiji moved faster than thought.
His blade split the puppet's head in half, and he pulled Kaede behind him.
"Stay close."
Kaede's breath trembled.
"They won't stop. He's controlling all of them at once—"
"Yes."
"Then how do we—"
"We cut the strings."
Kaede blinked.
"The Director?"
Reiji nodded.
The Director stood untouched, unmoving, calm in the storm of violence he created. His hand hovered in the air, fingers twitching slightly—as though he was conducting the horde like a silent orchestra.
Reiji charged toward him.
The puppets surged to intercept, but Reiji's blade was faster. He used their bodies like stepping stones, propelled forward by the momentum of killing them.
Ten meters.
Five.
The Director lowered his hand.
"You think this is enough?"
The floor beneath Reiji exploded.
He was thrown sideways, slamming against a pillar hard enough to crack the stone. His breath tore from his lungs. Kaede screamed his name.
The Director didn't move from his place.
"I forged the puppets from my failures. I forged you from my success. You should know better, Reiji."
Reiji staggered to his feet.
The Director raised both hands this time.
---
Strings Revealed
The air darkened.
Fine threads—so thin they were nearly invisible—extended from the Director's fingers. Dozens at first. Then hundreds. Then thousands. They stretched upward into the darkness, downward into the floor, sideways into the remains of the shattered puppets.
Kaede's breath froze.
"Reiji… those are—"
"Control threads."
Not figurative.
Literal.
Threads of manipulated energy, embedded in every puppet in the room—threads Reiji recognized from the deepest training halls of the Vanguard.
"I improved the technique," the Director said mildly. "In the past, we could control only one subject at a time. Two, at most."
The threads pulsed.
"Now I control all of them."
The puppets around Reiji and Kaede convulsed—bones cracking as the strings rewove through their limbs. Their bodies twisted upright once more, reforming, reshaping.
Kaede's voice shook.
"They're getting up—Reiji, even the ones you cut apart—"
"I see it."
They stood again—patched together from fragments, held upright by the Director's design.
Not alive.
Not dead.
Just puppets.
The Director looked at Reiji almost affectionately.
"You were my masterpiece not because of your strength… but because you were the only one who resisted the strings."
Kaede stared.
"What does that even mean—?"
Reiji lowered his head.
"It means," he said quietly,
"he tried to control me the way he controls them."
Kaede's eyes widened.
"You… resisted?"
Reiji nodded.
"Barely."
The Director clasped his hands behind his back.
"You resisted because I allowed you to. Control without struggle is meaningless."
His eyes narrowed.
"But now the ritual is complete… and the struggle ends."
Reiji felt a sudden coldness inside his skull.
A pull.
A whisper.
Not external.
Internal.
Kaede noticed the change instantly.
"Reiji? Hey—Reiji! Look at me!"
He clenched his teeth.
The pull grew stronger.
The Director lifted one finger.
"Bend."
Reiji's knees trembled.
Kaede grabbed his arm desperately.
"Fight it—Reiji, fight it! Don't let him—!"
"I—" Reiji choked on the word.
"I'm trying—!"
The Director stepped down from the throne.
Each step echoed like a heartbeat.
"You were always meant to kneel."
The pull intensified.
Reiji fell to one knee.
Kaede screamed—
"REIJI!"
---
Breaking the Strings
Reiji's vision blurred.
The threads dug deeper—not visible, but felt. A pressure inside his skull. A cold hand squeezing the core of who he was.
The Director whispered:
"Submit."
Reiji's fingers trembled.
His blade slipped from his grip—
No.
No.
Not again.
Not now.
Kaede threw her arms around him, holding him upright even as his body fought against itself.
"Reiji—listen to me—!"
Her voice cracked.
"You are NOT his weapon!"
Reiji squeezed his eyes shut.
He heard her voice.
Not just as sound.
As memory.
As meaning.
Something inside him—something buried beneath years of conditioning—pushed back.
The pressure cracked.
Reiji stopped kneeling.
He rose.
Slow.
Shaking.
But rising.
The Director's smile faded.
Reiji grabbed his blade again.
"You taught me to obey," he said, voice low and raw.
"But someone else taught me to choose."
Kaede's breath caught.
Reiji lifted the blade.
Cut the invisible thread binding him.
A surge of energy exploded outward—breaking the strings inside his mind, shattering the Director's control for the first time.
The Director stepped back, eyes narrowing.
"…Impossible."
Reiji stepped forward.
"No."
He raised his blade.
"Silent puppets break."
---
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