Fflyn jolted awake, startling Oz awake as he did so. They’re making a move!

“Huh? Oh… oh right,” Oz muttered quietly. He wiped his eyes and stood, brushing the straw off his clothes.

Outside their room, the wood floor creaked as something heavy moved quietly down the hallway. Oz moved to the door and pressed his ear against it, listening. When the thing passed his door, he inched the door open and peeked out.

A preternatural darkness cloaked the hallway, thick enough that Fflyn’s eyes couldn’t pierce through. Something huge and humpbacked loomed, barely visible through the shadow. It approached the next room down the hall, where the family slept.

Now! Before it opens the door!

Fflyn’s voice sounded quietly. There’s a dagger sheathed on my thigh. Draw it. I’ll guide our body through the motions.

Got it.

Fflyn cooperated fully, exerting just a little control over the body to show Oz how to hold the dagger and strike. At the same time, his possessed state meant that he could benefit from Oz’s superior eight-opened-meridians comprehension to better understand the principles of the dagger technique. Both he and Oz benefited from the harmonious feedback loop between them.

A strange force gripped Oz’s limbs, exerting just enough power to guide the flow of his qi and the shape of his movements. He watched it and copied it, learning from Fflyn’s knowledge. Following the power’s guidance, Oz drew the dagger and lifted his arm, stalking forward. He activated his light body technique. Instead of bounding into the air, Fflyn guided him to glide silently over the floorboards, following the shadowy figure into the dark.

The darkness surrounded them, leaving Oz’s vision blurry. Fflyn bit his lip. This isn’t ordinary darkness. It’s miasma! Whatever’s ahead of us, it’s not merely one of the innkeeps. It’s some kind of demon!

A demon? Like Linnea?

No—a real monster! The only way to build up miasma around yourself is by using black magic or eating people. Whatever is ahead of us is undoubtedly evil!

Ahead of them, the shadowy figure stopped. The key clicked in the next room’s lock.

Fflyn and Oz moved as one. They leaped into the air, spinning to add momentum to the blow, and slammed Fflyn’s dagger into the figure’s neck.

It thumped home, all but bouncing off. The blow jarred up Oz’s arms. Oz jumped back, kicking off the figure to pull the dagger with him. Following Fflyn’s guidance, he dropped into a low stance, watching for the figure’s move.

The figure turned. Eyes beamed through the miasma like headlights through fog. Red light glowed from their upper chest. A horrible, cackling facsimile of an old woman’s voice drawled, “Dearie, we have guests!”

Flicking through the books in his mindspace, Oz came across a spell to dispel miasma. Gather your qi. Send it out all at once, as if blown from a fan. If you have a fan, even better. Use it to flick qi into the air and stir the wind to remove the miasma.

Oz grabbed the hem of his cloak and flapped down firmly, expelling his qi through it. I don’t have a fan, so this will have to do!

As he flapped, manipulating his qi according to the technique, his blue-colored qi took on a green hue. Wind gusted from his cloak and blew the darkness away, revealing their opponent.

Fflyn stared, taken aback. What…?

Oz licked his lips, once more consulting his bestiary. Come on, I can figure this out. It’s got to be in here, right?

He came up empty. Not a single entry described the strange figure before them.

A rough wooden doll in the general shape of Maisel stood before them. Carved from raw logs, its body was cylindrical, its head likewise, its neck a slightly thinner cylinder. Slightly less thick logs made up its arms and legs. It lacked knees or elbows, instead swinging its entire limbs at once, stiff and clunky. Fire flickered in the blackened pits of its eyes, beaming forth those rays of light that had cut through the fog. The red gem Maisel had worn as her necklace glowed with an ominous light, not quite fire, not quite neon, but something disconcertingly in between.

“What’s a young man like you doing, up this late?” Maisel cackled, drawing back a thick, roughly carved palm.

Dodge! Fflyn shouted.

You don’t need to tell me. Oz jumped back.

His feet had barely left the floor when Maisel’s hand whooshed past, moving too fast for him to see. It struck the end of his cloak’s neck string, and the string directly disintegrated.

Holy shit. Oz dashed back another three hops, putting distance between them. He took a quick breath. She’s stronger than me. Has to be at least first realm. But… there’s no way. I didn’t detect any cultivation when I scanned the room earlier—her and her husband included!

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“Honey, the guests are causing a ruckus!” Maisel trilled.

Heavy thumps sounded, stomping up the stairs. “What is it now?” the bartender grumbled, his voice even deeper and more gravely than it had been earlier.

Oz’s stomach dropped. He edged backward. What do we do now? You have any wood-cutting techniques in your repository?

I’m an assassin, not a lumberjack.

So what do we do now?

Retreat?

But the family…

The lumbering footsteps climbed the stairs, ticking down their time to think. Maisel closed in on them from the front, raising her timber arm to deliver another devastating blow.

Oz’s brain moved at a thousand miles an hour. The world slowed down around him.

Learn a wood-chopping technique? I could search the library, but how many mages are going to write essays on cutting wood when they can simply summon fire? And if it’s a martial manual, I can’t simply learn the way to circulate my qi and take a shot at casting a spell. I’d need to train my muscles and reactions.

Bestiary doesn’t have them. What if they aren’t beasts? Instead, what if they’re ordinary people in some kind of… cursed state?

Curse… hmm. His eyes locked on to the necklace hanging from the wood puppet version of Maisel’s neck. Fflyn, are these the same people who were here when you climbed the mountain as a kid?

Huh? Uh… yeah, I think so?

Oz nodded to himself. Okay. Likelihood of curse rising. Let’s give it a shot!

Fflyn, let’s aim for that necklace of hers. I don’t care how, destroy it, remove it, just get it off her!

Okay. Yeah. I can do that.

Fflyn guided Oz to adjust his grip on the dagger. Oz lifted his arm behind him and pressed himself into the floor. His eyes locked onto the ruby.

Three. Maisel stepped forward. Two. A blocky head appeared at the staircase behind them. One.

Maisel’s arm flew forth at the same time Oz and Fflyn jumped. Her hand slammed down, shattering the wood planks where they’d stood a moment ago.

In midair, Oz swept his dagger out in a horizontal strike. The blade struck her necklace and stuck there. The wood had grown around the ruby, holding it in place.

Shit, Fflyn whispered.

Change of plans! Oz grabbed Maisel’s neck, bracing his feet against her chest. Lifting the dagger again and again, he hacked at the gem, carving it out of the wood. It wobbled, growing loose.

Oz, what are you doing? Get back!

Trust me. We can do this!

“What are you doing, dearie?” Maisel swept her arms at him. They whooshed past to his left and right, sending his hair and robes flying. Without elbows, she couldn’t reach him on her chest.

Oz chuckled. “Elbows win again.”

She growled, frustrated, and opened her mouth, revealing blocky teeth.

Oz, watch out!

“One more!” He raised the dagger again, even as Maisel lunged her jaw at him.

A sliver of wood dropped to the floor, and the ruby popped out of her chest. Oz jumped back. Maisel’s teeth closed on thin air.

Oz landed and snatched up the ruby. “Got it!”

Maisel screamed. The fires in her hollow eyes burned hotter than before. Flames consumed her wooden body, searing hot. Jabbing her hand at him, she howled, “Give that back!”

“Not a chance!” Oz replied.

With an eerie scream, Maisel charged toward him. Her bulky body took up the majority of the hallway, and her arms spun wildly, striking anything that got in her path. The floor, the walls, the side tables, she smashed them all to splinters as she passed.

Given no other option, Oz jumped back, retreating before the wall of thrashing wood. Well, at least we distracted her from the family, but at what cost?

Behind! Fflyn shouted.

Oz glanced back. He caught a dim impression of an enormous, looming figure before Fflyn seized control and leaped into the air, nimbly bouncing off the wall to the side of the barkeep’s head before landing at the foot of the stairs. As they passed, Oz caught a glimpse of bright, burning red on the man’s shoulder.

On his arm? Fuck! That’s gonna be hard.

“Catch them!” Maisel screeched.

The bartender gave no response. Woodenly, he turned and lumbered back down the stairs after Oz and Fflyn.

On the first floor, Oz turned about, taking a moment to catch his breath. At least he’s slow. He glanced at the ruby in his hand. Do I need to break this? But how? The dagger strike didn’t work.

“Faster, you oaf!” Maisel’s flaming arms beat into the back of the bartender and sent him flying. An enormous shadow loomed over Oz. Startled, Oz jumped away, barely dodging before the bartender’s huge wooden body smashed to the ground.

A second later, he pressed a hand to his forehead. I could’ve used that to break the ruby!

The bartender slowly pushed to his feet. Dimmer fires flickered in the eye-pits on his wooden face, his design cruder than Maisel’s. Nonetheless, an intense pressure emanated from him.

His head rotated on its thick neck. He stared at Oz.

Oz held his ground, tightening his grip on the ruby. “Come at me!”

The bartender lunged. Oz jumped aside.

Smash! The stone floor shattered under the bartender’s strike. The edge of his hand flattened, full of splinters, distorted from the blow. He turned toward Oz again, completely unbothered.

He’s even stronger than Maisel. Oz gulped.

Maisel reached the stairs. She slowly descended them, grinding her teeth the whole way. “I’m coming for you. And when I get you, I’m going to pound you to death. Slowly. So you feel it the whole time.”

As she passed a window, the fire on her body jumped to a curtain, and it set alight. Fire began to spread, slowly eating the walls of the house.

The bartender closed in on Oz. He raised his arm.

The window! Oz, let’s escape! Fflyn urged him.

Oz nodded. Right. From outside, we can try rescuing the family. Good idea! Dodging the bartender’s swing, he lunged for the nearest window.

As he drew close, the same shrill cries from earlier keened, barely echoing through the glass. Unlike earlier, they had an expectant tinge to them, like the bark of a dog about to be fed.

Oz jerked back, flinching away from the window. I don’t think that’s a good idea.

A shadow fell over him again. Oz darted across the floor, barely escaping the bartender. The bartender’s massive hand sliced through the thick log walls like butter, sending splinters flying. The cries outside grew louder, hungrier. Shadowy shapes lunged toward the hole in the wall, scrabbling at it from outside.

Yeah. I’m not going outside. We need to solve this in here.

The bartender lunged, exactly as before. He raised his hand.

Maisel reached the bottom of the stairs. She charged for Oz, her eyes burning viciously. Flames crackled on her body, her blocky form surging forward with more speed than seemed possible. “Die, you brat!”

Shit! Trapped between the two wood puppets, Oz froze.