The Invincible Young Master

"Ahh!" The masked man groaned in pain, collapsing to the ground and backing away in terror. His severed limb lay on the floor as he clutched his bleeding arm, grimacing.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" demanded the leader, his voice echoing in the confined space, thick with tension.

There was no vocal response, but a spear on the wall shifted, and in an instant, it pierced one of the intruders in the leg.

"AHH!" Another loud groan resounded in the room, reverberating off the cold, stone walls.

They guessed someone was hiding and manipulating these weapons. But they couldn't sense anyone; these weapons moved on their own. This was ghostly in their eyes.

Fear gripped the remaining men as they eyed the countless weapons adorning the walls, unsure if they would move next.

"We'll leave right away," one of the intruders finally broke down after a long silence, his voice trembling and eyes darting wildly. "Please, let us go."

"Please spare us! We'll never come here again!" another joined, desperation thick in his voice. "We'll leave the state!"

"You came uninvited, and now you want to leave?" A ghostly voice reverberated through the room, seemingly coming from nowhere, echoing off the high ceilings and polished floors.

Their guess turned out to be true with that ghostly voice. Someone was indeed controlling these weapons.

Silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the ominous vibration of the weapons on the walls. The four intruders felt an overwhelming sense of dread. In the next moment, the weapons sprang to life.

"AHHH!"

Their screams filled the room as swords, spears, and other weapons rained down upon them. Although they desperately tried to defend themselves, it was futile against the rain of weapons.

One by one, the intruders were struck, their cries of agony echoing until they were silenced forever. The room fell quiet, the weapons returning to their places as if nothing had happened.

Once their screams ended, a tall figure appeared in front of the pile of corpses. Duke Renard stared at the bodies with pity-filled eyes, yet there was nothing more he could do.

"You can come out now," Duke Renard's voice rang through the room, steady and authoritative.

Zhao Shi's figure emerged from a wall, giving a slight bow towards Duke Renard.

Hidden in the shadows, Zhao Shi had witnessed the entire scene with wide eyes. The flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows across his face, highlighting his astonishment. What he saw was incomprehensible to him.

"You must be wondering why I killed them outright instead of questioning them," Duke Renard said, his tone measured and calm.

Zhao Shi nodded. He had seen everything, but not once had Duke Renard asked these intruders their reason for being there. His confusion was evident in the furrow of his brow.

"These are living puppets," explained Duke Renard, his voice heavy with disdain. "Living puppets, meaning they were under someone's control. They probably didn't even know they were being manipulated."

"Living puppets," Zhao Shi muttered, a chill running down his spine. He was not unfamiliar with the term, having dealt with such people in the past. In the continent, this was an unorthodox way of practicing arcane arts, frowned upon by everyone except those who practiced it.

Zhao Shi's eyes darted to the lifeless bodies, now understanding the blank expressions they had worn.

"Even if I had asked them, they would probably die by their master's control," Duke Renard added, his gaze shifting to the door. "Well, I can guess their reason for intruding here."

Seeing everything was now settled, Zhao Shi looked around the room, taking in the walls adorned with weapons and the single door. The atmosphere was heavy with the remnants of violence, the metallic scent of blood lingering in the air.

"Where is this place, Lord Renard?" Zhao Shi asked respectfully, his voice tinged with curiosity. When the intruders had arrived, Zhao Shi had also found himself inside this large room, the dimensions shifting and warping around him.

"Oh, this place? We're in front of my brat's room," replied Duke Renard, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Young master's room?" Zhao Shi scanned the room once more, but except for one door, he didn't see any other exit.

"His room is right there." Duke Renard turned his head to the right, and a door appeared before them, leading to Spark's room. The door seemed almost to glow, a stark contrast to the dim surroundings.

In the next instant, the whole hallway returned to normal. Zhao Shi stood before his room's door, once again observing his surroundings. The opulent decor of the mansion returned, Weapon adorning the walls were in the same places. He couldn't explain what had happened before him, as if it were all an illusion.

…

Far from Dwight State, atop a small rising hill, a crooked figure sat with his eyes closed. Before him, five candles lay in a row, but only one remained burning. It, too, soon extinguished, and the crooked man opened his eyes.

"How can that be?" he muttered, his voice hoarse. "All five of my puppets are dead. I didn't expect such resistance in a mortal empire."

"But now that I've confirmed her location, there's no need to hurry." A snicker escaped his lips.

Slick!

A sudden sound shattered the silence on the hill. The man looked down to see a sharp, thin needle-like tip protruding from his chest, blood trickling from the wound. Without glancing back, he invoked his secret escape art, his body vanishing and reappearing at a distance.

There, he saw a woman standing with a thin rapier in her hand, its tip stained with his blood. As she withdrew the blade, his false body collapsed lifelessly to the ground.

"I thought I'd finish you in a single strike. That's a shame," she commented. "Have I gone rusty?"

Under the moonlight, her figure became clear. The crooked man's eyes locked onto her face, then drifted down to the blue rapier in her hand.

"That artifact… It's you!" His eyes widened in recognition. "Pooella de Ainsworth."

Pooella de Ainsworth, the guardian of the Everhart family's Saintess. One of the strongest of the seven guardians he knew of.

"Oh, you know me," the woman said casually, dismissing his shock.

"How are you alive?" the man asked, disbelief in his eyes as he stared at her. "You died six years ago."

"How could I die at the hands of a few nobodies?" she replied, twirling the rapier in her hand.

"If you're still alive, why haven't you returned to the Holy Land?" the crooked man asked.

"Take a guess," replied the woman casually.

"Oh, now I get it," the man said, clutching something behind his back. "You were ordered to stay in the mortal empire and protect the little brat."

"And even if you know, what could you do?" she asked mockingly.

"I will—" the man began, raising his hand, but a cold voice interrupted him.

"Foolish."

His hand froze mid-air, unable to throw the shiny ball he held. His face contorted in pain as he looked down at his body. He couldn't see her make a move, it was too fast, but two large holes had appeared, one in his abdomen and one in his heart.

An ascendant at his level might survive damage to the heart, but the wound to his abdomen, where his core lay, was fatal. For ascendants, the core was the most vital part of their body, the center of their energy. Without it, they were no more than ordinary humans.

"Any last words?" the woman asked.

"Once our king returns, you'll suffer; your whole family will suffer," the dying man muttered.

"I see. Then be gone."

He saw a flash of light coming towards him. This time, it was aimed at his head.

"Too ruthless," he managed to say before a hole was drilled into his skull, and he collapsed.

The woman pulled out the rapier and swung it once, clearing the blood from the blade.

"I didn't expect they would find little miss so soon." With a final glance at the fallen man, she vanished into the night.

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