I found myself standing alone amidst a pile of rubble and debris. Puppets were strewn all around me on the ground. Most of them had expired, but fortunately, Kiel and Abigail were still alive and well. Sighing at the outcome, I then turned my eyes towards the surrounding slur of carnage. The surrounding shophouses and their occupants had all been melted away by the storm of Kiel’s Prism, leaving the area around me now an open field.

“This sucks…”

Naturally, I couldn’t leave Kiel and Abigail here. The moment I dropped this invisible barrier isolating this place, the outside rain would become the least of my worries. Priests and other agents of the Church were already swarming the other end, and once this barrier went bye-bye, our poor little hero here would have his wings snapped before his story could even take off.

“...”

Shaking my head, I snapped my fingers and ‘blinked’ the unconscious duo into another random alleyway not too far away. For a small border town, this place sure had some plot-convenient alleyways.

Anyways, after snapping the duo off, I turned my eyes back towards the unconscious Inquisitors on the ground. Most of them were mutilated, disfigured, or long gone, but surprisingly enough, the lead Inquisitor was still alive. With his mask and helmet broken, I could now clearly see the face of a middle-aged puppet, now marred by a massive burn mark. My eyes twitched with annoyance at the thought of all the trouble the man had caused.

“Your purpose was to give him the first push, not trigger some last-stage demonic awakening…”

The puppet stirred in response to my words. Judging by the state of his body, he would probably wake up in another hour or so.

I sighed in disappointment, before blinking myself away. At the same time, the Prism barrier surrounding the area finally collapsed, causing sounds of commotion and footsteps to enter the scene I was no longer in.

____________

Chief Inquisitor Maxwell had a forgotten dream. A now-long-lost scene of his family together in their estate garden. His son was swinging a wooden pole against the branches of a great birch tree. He and his wife were sitting by the side, laughing at a conversation he could no longer recall.

It was a peaceful scene, and he would have loved to stay there forever. But just as he thought as much, the strings began to come. They took away his son, laying the little boy to sleep and dance for eternity. Then, they began appearing all around him and his wife. Like a fragile twig, his great birch tree was snapped by a vast sea of sky-blue strings. His great old estate collapsed under the burning banner of blood-red strings.

Unrecognisable sounds began to enter his world.

[Your purpose]

The air around him started shaking. Hurriedly, he turned back towards his wife, to shelter the woman he loved. But as his face met hers, all he saw was a blank white canvas.

[Puppet]

A noose of pure-white strings tightened around his neck.

____________

Chief Inquisitor Maxwell awoke to a groggy world. A terrible, high-pitched ringing sound was filling his ears, whilst the smell of water and putrid death assailed his sense of smell.

“M#x##l–”

Tiny droplets of water pelted all over him. It took Maxwell a brief moment to realise it was still raining heavily.

“Max#e#l–”

And amidst all the ringing noises, somebody was calling to him.

“Max#ell–!”

It was a familiar voice. As his vision began to clear up, he could make out the hazy outline of another familiar face. For a brief moment, he found himself terrified by the possibility of being face-to-face with another blank canvas, but as the ringing in his ears began to subsume, that voice speaking to him became clearer and clearer.

Maxwell opened his mouth, before speaking in a raspy tone. “Cromwell…is that you?”

The man in his vision replied, a tone of relief evident in his voice, “Thank Great Vynl you’re alive…but don’t move, ok? Your body’s being repaired.”

Maxwell shifted his vision to the side, and saw several clerks and priests raising magic circles above his tattered body. Grey Prism coursed through his wounds, enveloping him in a pleasant warmth. What was less pleasant was seeing his flesh slowly regrow and mend itself back together, but Maxwell had long stopped caring for such trivial sights.

…how many years had he been on this job again? Seven? Thirteen? For some reason, it was all so hazy.

Laying his head back on the ground, Maxwell began to recall the past events. He remembered the boy. The scrawny street urchin that looked no older than his son. He remembered their clash, or what he could of it. Prism was colliding, his men falling one by one. Demons were emerging from the boy’s shadows to mock and spite them. And as he reached that line of thought, he asked Cromwell calmly,

“How many made it?”

Cromwell’s face darkened for a moment. Countless droplets of water continued to stream down his face, mostly coming from the pouring rain.

After a momentary pause, Cromwell spoke, but not towards Maxwell. “He should be fine now. Return to your posts.” The healers surrounding Maxwell nodded with a look of understanding, before heading off. Without bothering to check their departure, Cromwell held up three fingers between them.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Maxwell was silent for several seconds, before replying,

“That’s strange, I don’t recall taking a dozen with me.”

Cromwell smirked slightly at the little joke. Maxwell did the same. Whilst there were many fanatics in the Church who would have gladly brushed off the deaths of their comrades as a glorious sacrifice, the Chief Inquisitor and this promising Cardinal Candidate were not among them.

An interlude of silence quickly followed, where neither man dared to speak. It was a good thing that it was still raining. The tears of the sky replaced their own, leaving the two men to confront their own failures.

It was only after church bells began ringing in the distance, that Maxwell found the will to speak up. Keeping his voice steady, he asked, “What happened back there?”

Cromwell sighed, complexion returning to his drenched face. “That’s what the Cardinals want to ask you. What in the world happened? We lost contact with you guys after the barrier went haywire.”

Maxwell was puzzled. “The…barrier?”

“Yeah. Some strange force hijacked it, and we couldn’t see what happened afterwards.”

Maxwell grit his teeth. “The boy, then.”

“That’s what the mages and priests are all saying.”

Cromwell reached out his hand, helping Maxwell up off the ground. They then continued their conversation as they headed for the nearby church.

“The boy’s Seal. It’s far more powerful than we could have ever imagined it to be. It’s at least on the same threat level as a Class 6 Dragon.”

Cromwell fell into a stunned silence. “...that’s a continent-level threat.”

Maxwell nodded. “And we’ll need everything to hit it. The Church, the Guilds, and the armies of the Dual Monarchy.”

Cromwell winced at the end of his sentence. “Well, about that last part, we’ve just gotten some news.”

“What is it?”

“The Dual Monarchy is pretty upset with us right now.”

Maxwell raised a brow. “So what’s the news?”

Cromwell gave him an exasperated look, before tiredly continuing,

“A lot more than usual. A little after the barrier was hijacked, several bursts of Demonic Prism shot out of it and fell onto the surrounding lands. There’s been a lot of damage and after-effects, to say the least.”

Maxwell bit his tongue in frustration. It was just one thing after another. And he of all people was well aware just what kind of ‘after-effects’ uncontained Demonic Prism could bring.

Cromwell continued, pinching his brows between his fingers. “To say the Royal Families are upset would be an understatement. The Cardinals are all busy playing fireman to douse the flames.”

Maxwell looked around him, murmuring, “That explains why none of those naggers are here.”

Cromwell furrowed his already-furrowed brows. “...you’re talking to a Cardinal Candidate, you know?”

Maxwell smiled bitterly, just as the two of them reached the small gates of the local church. It was a small, solemn entrance surrounded by trees and nature. They knew their paths would part here. But before leaving, Maxwell turned to his friend one last time.

“Hey, Cromwell…”

There was the memory of the boy, standing defiantly against the highest of Inquisitors with nothing but a small wooden pole. And most unfortunately for Maxwell, his tormented mind couldn’t help but associate the image with that of another boy swinging his wooden pole against the branches of that great birch tree, in a lonely time and place that no longer existed.

Meanwhile, Cromwell raised a brow, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Maxwell smiled as he turned away.

“...it’s nothing.”

It was a rather sad smile.

____________

I stood atop of the church’s roof, looking down on the two men parting with one another far below. In my hands was a clipboard filled to the brim with notes and materials.

“So that was the lead Inquisitor? ‘Chief Inquisitor Maxwell’, huh…”

Stifling a yawn, I began to flip through his character notes. For a minor player, he sure went out of his way to ruin my plans. If I hadn’t been at the scene, my dear Kiel would have sent this entire region straight into Belial’s belly all the way down in Gehenna.

…that was a metaphor, don’t think too much about it.

Anyways, as much as I would have loved to either dispose or tweak this wildcard puppet, I found my hands uncomfortably tied as of the moment. After all,

“Who knew he would be close to that Cromwell…”

I grabbed a chunk of my hair out of frustration, before sighing very audibly.

Cromwell Avalon. From the notes in my hands, he was a major character in the Hero’s journey, and was subsequently a VIP target. And unfortunately for me, that meant removing Maxwell from the equation could have unforeseen consequences on both Cromwell and Kiel later down the line. In the end, I could do nothing but monitor the troublemaker from afar.

But come to think of it, their names were quite similar too, so I figured there was the chance they were siblings of some sort. Unfortunately, even as I began to hurriedly flip through the notes, I couldn’t find anything mentioning their relationship, whilst Maxwell’s last name was nowhere to be found.

And after a brief futile search, I threw my hands into the air in defeat. Maxwell was just a 2-dimensional, insignificant puppet. He wasn’t worth digging up any further.

…but coming back to the topic of similar-sounding names, doesn't every one of these characters have names that end in the letter ‘L’? Kiel, Abigail, Maxwell, Cromwell, and of course, there’s even me.

“...I’ll just remove the ‘L’ from my name, then. From now on, I’ll be ‘Vyn’!”

Alas, there was nobody around to listen to my words. Feeling a tad self-conscious, I began shuffling through my notes to take my mind off. But embarrassment quickly turned into anger, and before I knew it, another frustrated sigh came out of me. Snapping my fingers, I blinked myself away from the rooftop, and away from this miserable town with its miserable weather.

Opening my eyes again, I found myself now walking through a deserted alleyway on the other side of the continent. Following that was a snap of my fingers, which instantly dried my wet hair and raincoat. Divine power was really just the best.

I then turned my attention back to the sheet of notes, pruning my eyes for the next set of events to come, when suddenly-

Crack

Grimacing from the sudden pain, I looked down at my arm, only to find a glowing white crack running down my skin like an abnormal vein. I found myself doubting my own eyes as the cracks slowly began spreading down the rest of my body. It was only when the pain started coming, that I found myself hurriedly springing into action.

Holding in my breath, I slowly began to stitch the wounds together. White Prism coursed throughout my body as the cracks slowly began to close back up. At the same time, I bit my lips upon feeling the excruciating agony. This agony told me time and time again that I was using power that puppet avatars were never meant to hold.

…had I overworked myself?

My notes crumpled under my clenched fists at that line of thought.

I couldn't think of such things. Not when there was still a mountain of work to do. Kiel’s journey was only just starting, and I would be there, watching and guiding, until my tedious story finally met its own fitting end.

I loosened my grip, before turning my attention back towards the notes. Kiel had probably regained consciousness by now, and his next destination was…

“Let’s see…the Adv–”

Just as I was talking, the ground under me began to shake uncontrollably.

“Woah–!”

My very first thought was that it was a spontaneous earthquake. But then I remembered this continent didn’t get any earthquakes. But by the next second, my initial surprise had begun morphing into a full-on alarm.

Crack

I could sense it. From the deepest pits of hell, something truly terrifying was clawing its way up.

Wincing, I muttered under my breath at the familiar presence.

“Yeah…it’s not like you to stay put after what happened, Belial.”