Click-clack, click-clack.
Colonel Ryan turned his body slowly, his gaze fixed directly on Green. Though his facial expression remained calm, the angle at which his mouth curled open was disturbingly unnatural. He looked as though there wasn’t a spark of life left in him.
And indeed, there wasn’t.
Though Colonel Ryan was technically alive, his soul had been usurped. His will was gone, leaving him no different from any other mindless puppet.
“The Puppeteer?”
Beside him, Princess Teresa’s pupils contracted as a realization hit her. Bitter, tragic memories she had begun to forget during her travels with Green surged back into her mind. She remembered clearly—the hateful magician and her companions who had infested the Imperial Palace with their wicked prophecies and manipulated her father into exiling her.
“They already tried to strike during the Barbarian King’s ambush. Did Mr. Green not teach them a harsh enough lesson then?”
Glaring at “Ryan,” Teresa felt a sharp pang of grief in her chest. Though she had only known the Colonel for a few months and their bond wasn’t “deep” in a traditional sense, they had survived a gauntlet of adventures and battles together. To her, Ryan was a stalwart ally, a partner she could trust with her life.
And now, her partner had been desecrated by those people. Just like her father.
“Damn you!” Teresa stomped her foot in fury.
Sizzle.
The Puppeteer didn’t care for the “loser’s” lamentations of a princess. He was busy organizing his newly harvested “weapons.” Transparent silken threads danced in the dark night, instantly weaving through the sky and into the massive shadow of the Ancient Evil. Within moments, they dragged down a withered figure with vacant, white eyes.
“The Shaman.”
General Love stood beside Andy, forced to witness the “death” of his old friend. But what pained him more was the realization that he felt no grief. He didn’t care if the Shaman lived or died.
Professionally, the Shaman had betrayed his people for power and immortality. Personally?
“From the moment you turned me into your bargaining chip, we ceased to be friends.”
As such, Love had no reason to mourn. Yet, the fact that “no one cared” about the Shaman’s death stood in stark contrast to the concern shown for their “enemy,” Colonel Ryan.
“Perhaps we should never have done this just to win a war.” General Love felt a wave of regret. He didn’t care about the Eighth Legion’s fate—the ambush had been a brilliant victory. As for the schemes? From an enemy’s perspective, there was no shame in cunning.
“But those people… we should never have cooperated with them.” Love sighed deeply.
Unfortunately, there is no medicine for regret.
“So, there is only one thing left for me to do…” Love turned to look at Andy. As a Legend, Love’s memory was flawless; once the disguise was gone, he recognized his old foe immediately.
“Collaborating with my mortal enemy…” Love bowed his head solemnly. “Andy. You’re still alive.”
He spoke the name of his nemesis aloud.
“If you aren’t dead, how could I be?” Andy’s eyes flickered with doubt and complex emotions, yet he reached out his hand. “You want me to work with you? What’s in it for me?”
Crossing his arms, Andy watched the corpse of the man who had orchestrated the Eighth Legion’s destruction fall under the Puppeteer’s control. He found it strange that he didn’t feel the “rush” of successful revenge. Instead, he felt empty.
But why?
Snap.
As the Puppeteer used his threads to bind the Shaman’s remains, a strange fire of anger was ignited in Andy’s heart.
“Because… the real enemy isn’t dead yet.”
Andy suddenly understood. He turned to the lonely figure of General Love. “We are enemies, but more than I want an enemy’s blood, I want to see traitors get what they deserve. General Love, what do you think?”
He’s setting terms? Love took a deep breath. He knew exactly what Andy wanted.
The Truth. It was a price he was willing to pay.
“Fine.”
Clang—
General Love released his full mana. “Once this crisis is over, I will reveal everything. Including the evidence of the mastermind who sold out your Eighth Legion. In return…”
Love looked at the Shaman puppet, whose eyes were now glowing with an eerie green flame as it opened a cursed tome under the Puppeteer’s control.
“…Find a good place to bury him. After all… we were friends once.”
Swish!
Without another word, General Love lunged toward the Puppeteer.
“Haha, finally done.”
Despite sensing Love’s Legendary-rank mana, the Puppeteer didn’t give him a second thought. To a peak Legend bolstered by Chaos Power and a Law Domain, numbers meant nothing. There was only one person worth watching:
“That damned Bard. Hmph. Luckily, thanks to the Magician’s planning, I have a Demigod-level puppet now. Even if its internal structure is a bit flawed, a Demigod is still a Demigod.”
Bzzzt!
Using the Shaman as a hub, threads attached themselves to the omnipresent signal towers, branching out into thousands of lines that spread across the city. Above and below, the Orc soldiers who had lost their will to the Ancient Evil and the human soldiers outside preparing for an assault were all ensnared. Not a single soul escaped the Puppeteer’s threads.
“Hahaha! It’s done!” The Puppeteer’s eyes flashed with excitement. “I’ve been secretly amassing puppets, but the conversion rate was too slow. This time, I’ve gained at least ten thousand! Including a Demigod!”
It was all thanks to her.
Gulp. The Puppeteer swallowed hard. The Female Magician was technically his ally, but his dread of her was reaching its limit.
“Don’t get happy too soon.”
As if echoing his fears, the Female Magician finally emerged from a corner of the city. A pitch-black serpent was coiled around her neck, flicking its tongue affectionately against her swaying figure.
“That giant snake’s master… is it you?”
The Puppeteer’s excitement vanished. Although his Shaman puppet was technically “Demigod” rank, it was a hollow shell powered by Chaos that barely understood Law Domains. The Ancient Evil draped over the woman was a true Demigod entity.
“I wish it were my pet,” she said, stroking the snake with a hint of regret. “But unfortunately, the master of this serpent is the Beastmaster.”
The Beastmaster?
Green, who had been secretly preparing to use his “Script” to deal with both enemies at once, leaned in to listen. No wonder they’re called the Circus; do all their members have these strange codenames?
But a group where the weakest were peak Legends, armed with Chaos Power that even the gods feared… what exactly was the Circus trying to do?
“By the way, you there—the Apostle of the God of Justice.”
The Female Magician seemed to remember something. She looked up with a charming smile and a playful wink. “Why don’t you just join us? I’ve been thinking, and we don’t necessarily have to be enemies. With your strength, you’re qualified to be a full member.”
She spoke with a voice full of temptation. “Don’t you want immortality? Don’t you want power that transcends this world? Unlike that trash…” She glanced dismissively at the Shaman puppet. “If you join us, never mind being a Demigod—when the time comes, you could open your own Divine Kingdom. You could become the first Epic-tier being to ascend to godhood in the material world since the fall of the God of Justice.”
Immortality? Opening a Divine Kingdom?
Green smiled. “Honestly, your offer is very generous. But unfortunately…”
He swung his dual Divine Artifacts, sending out a ripple of power.
“To me, none of that is real. And besides…”
“Repeating the same experience isn’t my style.”
“A God? I gave that up long ago!”