---
He simply thought the command inside his mind, the way one signs a contract without trusting the ink.
"System, Upgrade Blood Puppet."
A soft chime answered.
This upgrade did not feel like sharpening a blade.
It felt like opening a locked room in his chest and finding a chair already waiting inside it. An empty chair meant for someone else's will.
He felt a subtle expansion in his mind, like space being carved out. Not physical space. Authority space. Capacity. A cold kind of capacity.
As if his blood had grown new hooks.
New chains.
New leashes.
He hated the sensation. He hated how natural it felt. He hated that some part of him, the part shaped by hunger and survival, recognized it as comfort.
Control meant safety.
Control meant no surprises.
Control meant nobody could drag him into a dark room again and laugh while he bled.
