The puppet turned to him, staring with a dazed, lifeless look. Staring back, Karl made a guess: perhaps these things didn’t have any sort of life in them.
The puppet continued to stare, as if confused about what to do or say. “Come on, why are you even holding me here?” Karl said.
I need to find out what the master of the castle is up to, or at least figure out a way to escape these chains before they drain me completely. Karl speculated that death would be the likely outcome, though he wasn’t exactly eager to find that out.
But unlike what he expected, the puppet remained silent, its dead eyes fixed on him. “Can’t you talk?”
The man—if he could be called that—said nothing and simply stared. After a while, it began to infuriate Karl. “What’s wrong with you?” He repeated question after question, hoping for some kind of response, a flicker of recognition, anything from the mechanical being. But he got nothing.
Karl glared at the puppet. The red flame of the torch it held cast shadows across the room, illuminating the chains around him. Aside from the boy, who remained motionless—possibly dead from mana exhaustion—there were other chains still there, probably for the other puppets when the castle requires more mana. Maybe the boy really is dead Or maybe he isn't. If these people were as special as the faction claimed, it would be odd if they couldn’t endure this. Or perhaps their "specialty" lay elsewhere.
“Look, get me out of here and take me to your master. I can tell him about the intruders in his castle,” Karl suggested.
But just as the words left his lips, the puppet seemed to shift, drawing closer. A faint bluish shimmer washed over Karl’s body. The sensation was strange, but before he could react...
It was already too late. The edges of his chains brightened in the next moment, and he felt his mana draining at an alarming rate. It was as though a sink had opened in his heart—his body or maybe even his soul—allowing his energy to rapidly pour out.
What’s happening?
At the same time, his already weakened senses dulled even further, everything sounding muffled, his vision growing just a little blurry. It felt as though his physical strength was also fading. Feeling this, it didn’t take long to reach a conclusion.
Even the small amount of strength he’d gained back at the flesh farms was diminishing. But why? What did I do? I only spoke about the intruders. Is that forbidden somehow? Does the master not want them to know? Or does he not want the disturbance? Karl’s mind raced as he gritted his teeth through the pain and anger of his power slipping away.
One thing was clear now: this setup wasn’t just for powering the castle; it was also a method of torture, meant to subdue and imprison them. The master of the castle was killing two birds with one stone. At this rate, Karl wouldn’t even be able to summon the face of the soul—understandable, since no matter how small the amount of mana required, it still used mana. Here, where his mana was being drained at a terrifying speed, attempting to summon the face would only hasten the drain.
And this was bad. As time passed, he would grow even weaker, probably to the point where he couldn’t even maintain consciousness. Just like what had happened when he first entered the castle
After staring at Karl for a few minutes, the puppet retreated to the stone door, the light it carried vanishing with it.
So, what now? Karl strained against the chains again, but aside from the clanging sound and the increasing drain on his mana, nothing of note happened. At this rate, I won’t survive more than a week… If I’m lucky, maybe a month. That was assuming the puppets fed him, though he doubted they would. Even if they did, it wouldn’t be enough to restore his physical strength, and certainly not his mana. Only time could replenish that.
Sometime later, Karl turned his head toward the darkness on his left. He couldn’t even hear the boy breathing, let alone see him. His own senses had been dulled.
“You alive?” Karl asked.
He waited for a response, but wasn’t optimistic. And rightly so, as the boy didn’t answer, only letting out a weak groan. He’ll be dead in a day or two, Karl guessed. And maybe I’ll be joining him.
Karl shuddered.
No! Not like this… He almost laughed. Why did I even try to see what those puppets were doing below? If I hadn’t, maybe I could’ve escaped before all this happened.
Karl dismissed the thought.
Knowing everything in his pockets had likely been emptied, Karl gave up on the idea of using the finger from Fredrick to influence the puppet. Maybe Fredrick will look for me once he notices I’m gone… or will he?
He doubted it. Unless the mission was successful and Olmer was killed, Fredrick would probably assume Karl was still on the mission. There was a slim chance Anette might notice his prolonged absence and come looking for him, but that would mean going against the Cognizer. Was she willing to do that? From their brief encounter, it was clear Anette held the Cognizer and the factions in high regard.
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Maybe they took her in or something.
Ha, I need to calm down…
Karl exhaled deeply, forcing himself to relax. He was growing a bit paranoid.
Dwelling on what-ifs wouldn’t change anything, and it would only drain his mental energy. Cognitive functions—strangely powered by a small amount of mana—seemed to regulate themselves, ensuring they stayed active. Regardless, the future was unknown. From what he had experienced so far, there would surely be a chance to turn things around. What he needed was to stay calm and conserve his energy for when that opportunity presented itself.
But what exactly is this place for? Karl shifted his focus to that question. He knew Cognitive would continue functioning with minimal mana, so he could use it to solve what he could. There was a clue somewhere in what he already knew about Olmer and the Maw, but he was missing a crucial piece.
For one, Olmer had been a shaman of the Maw but had stopped at some point. Why? From what Karl knew, the Maw had kept their traditions intact despite the Empire’s control. So why had Olmer suddenly turned his back on them? Why had he abandoned worshipping their god to start kidnapping children—special children, at that? What was the connection? Karl figured the answer lay in what made the children special…
His eyes flickered.
That was it. That was the key to understanding what Olmer wanted. He needed to find out what made the mutants special, aside from their Astra-tainted abilities. Tainted by Astra… developing abilities that even the Invigilators hunt them down for?
Karl felt a realization forming, but he didn’t have enough information yet to connect the dots. It seemed like being a mutant made them special, but there had to be something more—something else that Olmer wanted from them.
Perhaps the question came from his intuition.
With a sigh, Karl tried to look around the cage—or rather, he tried to remember it.
Thankfully, he recalled the details from the previous illumination. Using the power of Cognition, he visualized the chains stretching upward, but in reality, they were pulling downward. What did that mean? Was the source of the mana drain located on the ground? Was the inversion meant to prevent anyone from reaching it? Could Olmer himself be down there?
That made sense. Olmer could have inverted the surroundings to protect himself, but Karl realized that wouldn’t be enough to stop a Newman, whose powers allowed them to latch onto any surface, rendering the inversion useless. Why didn't he have a newman?
That Puppet had a key, didn’t he? He used it to unlock the chains, so the real question is, could the same key unlock my cage?
Karl realized this was an opportunity, but it was one he could only test once the puppet returned.
He sighed deeply, the boy beside him still unconscious. Karl stared into the darkness for a few moments, then finally closed his eyes.
For now, there was nothing he could do but wait.
Minutes dragged into hours. With no windows or light, there was no way to tell how long he’d been held captive. He remained silent, occasionally reminiscing to avoid sinking into complete silence—a silence that made the darkness feel palpable.
In a way, this was useful. It gave Karl time to review his plans for destroying the Neol family once he escaped. He crafted these plans around the abilities of his gang and thugs. He continued for a while, having completely lost track of time, until he heard faint footsteps.
Opening his eyes, he watched as the reddish-gold glow drew closer. This time, he quickly shut his eyes, making sure nothing from before repeated itself. After a few moments, he opened them again, finding three figures standing before the cage.
Two had the dead, lifeless look of puppets, but the third was different. He seemed more aware, though not entirely. Instead of a vacant stare, it was as if he knew what was happening but couldn’t stop it.
Watching him, Karl felt a strange sense of familiarity. Have I seen him before?
The man had black hair, a pale face, and wore a torn white kefna, fresh blood seeping from wounds on his neck and shoulders.
One of the puppets spoke in a strangely mellow tone, as if reading from a script without enthusiasm.
“Is this person among the intruders?”
The moment Karl heard that, he understood why the man seemed familiar—it was the same person who had told him to enter the castle alone.
I didn’t catch his name. But then a daunting thought hit him: Why are his eyes like that?
The question came with an unsettling theory he had already considered: Olmer could control their minds, stripping away their freedom. His freedom.
But what’s the condition? He can’t just do it whenever he wants, right? Karl eyed the bruised, battered man. He looks weak.
Is that it? Maybe Olmer has to weaken them first to control them.
A shudder ran through Karl. This place felt like an unbelievable factory with too many uses. It not only required mana to power but also protected its user, immobilized his enemies, and turned them into servants. It was a perfect machine. Worse, Karl realized he was in danger himself. If his theory was right, death wasn’t what he should fear—he should fear becoming a puppet, losing his will, and having his actions dictated by another.
Karl hated that. He had to escape.
After the puppet asked its question, it didn’t speak again, merely waiting for an answer. Karl took a deep breath and said, “Yes.”
“How many more are there?” the puppet asked in that same tranquil tone.
“I don’t know,” Karl replied, truthfully, though he could have made a rough estimate if asked. Come on, ask me.
The puppet remained silent for a moment, as if receiving new orders. “Guess,” it said.
Karl pretended to ponder. “About four.”
The puppet didn’t respond and began to walk out of the room.
Good, believe that. Karl thought. That way, you won’t be prepared for the real force of about 15. In the chaos, I’ll find a way to escape.
Watching the puppets and the man leave, Karl decided to take a chance. “Excuse me.”
The puppets paused, turning their blank gazes on him.
“Could you tell your master that I helped? Maybe he’d want to set me free. I didn’t even want to be here—this was all a big mistake.”
The puppets stared silently, which Karl hated. Humiliating himself like this wasn’t ideal, but considering the puppets weren’t sentient, they couldn’t form opinions about him. That was a small comfort.
Right on cue, the chains brightened with blue light, siphoning more of his energy. The strange burning sensation inside him intensified but remained bearable.
Then, they left him alone in the darkness. As for why Karl had spoken up, he was trying to create an impression on Olmer, assuming the master was watching. Karl needed Olmer to see him as a useful pawn and set him free. It’s all up to luck now, but laying multiple foundations couldn’t hurt.