66-67

Chapter 66: Save Me!  

The massive body came crashing down with a terrifying whoosh.  

The remaining dark mages didn’t hesitate—some immediately unleashed spells: ice spears, light bullets, and other attacks. But most were too busy scanning their surroundings, terrified that the deceptively calm-looking boy would suddenly reappear and bisect them with a single swing of his sword.  

The kicked mage, now airborne, glared with pure hatred as the spells tore into him. Ice spears impaled his torso, light bullets shattered ribs, wind blades shredded flesh—  

THUD!  

The barrage sent him flying backward. Though badly wounded, his magic-enhanced vitality kept him alive.  

"YOU BASTARDS—!!"  

His scream of rage echoed through the air, but no one paid him any attention.  

"HE’S ABOVE US!"  

Someone spotted Rayne—already midair, his massive sword wreathed in crimson energy. The sheer density of his magic made the blade glow like molten steel.  

The shopkeeper hadn’t lied—his craftsmanship was indeed top-tier in Magnolia. Though not a true Magic Weapon, the sword’s alloy composition made it incredibly durable. Even Rayne’s violent magic couldn’t break it.  

The dark mages at the center felt the oppressive aura radiating from the blade and scrambled to dodge. Those on the edges, however, seized the chance to attack.  

"NOW!"  

Arrows, ice shards, and glowing projectiles shot toward Rayne.  

But instead of evading, Rayne used the airborne mage as a stepping stone.  

CRACK!  

His knees bent—then exploded with force.  

The already battered body beneath him ruptured like a rotten fruit, and Rayne shot downward like a meteor.  

As spells closed in, he swung.  

"HAAH—!"  

A crescent of crimson lightning erupted from his blade.  

This wasn’t the razor-sharp slash of a swordsman—it was pure, brutal magic, infused with the dominance of a dragon and the volatility of lightning.  

In the past weeks, Rayne’s magic had evolved—gaining a thunderous attribute—making it even more destructive.  

The dark mages froze. For a split second, they didn’t see a human.  

They saw a monster.  

BOOOOM—!!  

The spells collided with Rayne’s slash, detonating in a storm of smoke and shockwaves. Snow blasted outward like tidal waves.  

Then—  

SHIIING!  

The crimson slash tore through the smoke, weakened but still falling.  

The mages panicked, pouring every drop of magic into barriers.  

But what terrified them wasn’t the fading slash.  

It was what came after.  

Rayne’s sword hadn’t dimmed at all. If anything, it burned brighter.  

The "meteor" crashed into the earth.  

BOOOOOOM—!!!  

The ground quaked. Snow vaporized instantly, revealing frozen soil beneath. The surrounding mountains trembled, avalanches rumbling in the distance.  

For a brief moment, the dark mages wondered—  

"That’s it?"  

Then the earth split open.  

Crimson light erupted from the cracks.  

"IT’S UNDERNEATH US—!!"  

Someone shrieked.  

Too late.  

KABOOOOOM—!!!  

A second explosion, ten times worse, detonated beneath their feet. The force launched bodies into the air like ragdolls. Trees shattered. Snow melted.  

When the dust settled, the battlefield was a grisly mosaic—a crater littered with dismembered limbs and half-buried corpses.  

The few survivors, standing at the edges, trembled.  

Their eyes locked onto the figure rising from the epicenter.  

Rayne.  

Unscathed.  

"P-Please… listen… I’m—"  

One mage, missing an arm, tried to bargain.  

Rayne appeared in front of him.  

SWISH!  

The sword crushed his ribs, sending him flying. He landed in a broken heap, gasping.  

"Save your words for the afterlife," Rayne said coldly. "I don’t care, and you don’t deserve to speak."  

The dying mage’s vision blurred.  

"Is this guy… really from a legal guild?"  

No mercy. No hesitation.  

This was worse than the Dark Guilds.  

As screams filled the air behind him, his fading mind clung to one last thought:  

"Leader… where are you…?"  

SAVE ME—!!!  

Chapter 67: The Weeping Puppet  

The same question gnawed at the fleeing mages’ minds.  

Some even screamed curses at Marion when he refused to respond.  

Yet he remained motionless, his expression unchanging.  

Before long—  

The desperate pleas and agonized cries in the forest faded.  

Only the thick scent of blood lingered, staining the snow like crimson blossoms on a white canvas.  

In the distance, magical beasts drawn by the smell of blood let out savage growls.  

With a single flick of his greatsword, Rayne sent the blood clinging to its blade splattering across the ground like a scarlet crescent.  

"Do you know why this guild is called 'The Toymaker’s Workshop'?"  

Marion’s raspy voice cut through the silence. His face, devoid of emotion, twisted into a stiff, unnatural smile—as if he’d forgotten how to do it, or as if the motion were purely mechanical.  

A sickly green flame of magic erupted from his body.  

"Ugh—"  

Rayne’s stomach churned, his face twisting in disgust.  

It wasn’t the smell.  

It was the sensation of countless invisible threads slithering through the air, wrapping around his senses like filthy spider silk.  

The green magic did transform into literal threads, shooting out from Marion’s body and embedding themselves into the corpses around them.  

Like straws, the threads pulsed as they sucked up the lingering magic and life force from the dead.  

With each stolen fragment, Marion’s own magic swelled.  

The air grew heavy, suffocating.  

Even the distant beasts, sensing danger, turned tail and fled.  

Their instincts screamed that something far worse was coming.  

BOOM!!!  

Rayne wasn’t about to let Marion finish whatever he was doing.  

In an instant, he closed the distance, his greatsword carving through the air with a deafening roar.  

Yet Marion didn’t dodge.  

Rayne saw it clearly—his eyes tracked the blade’s arc.  

But he chose not to move.  

As if it didn’t matter.  

CRACK—  

The impact shattered Marion’s body like a broken puppet, sending him crashing into the cliffside behind him.  

His torso hung by a thread of flesh, organs spilling out, bones reduced to splinters.  

Yet his face remained eerily calm.  

The green threads continued their feast, draining the corpses dry.  

"Useless."  

Marion’s voice was flat, his half-severed head lolling against the ground as he stared at Rayne.  

"My magic is Puppet Manipulation. I turned myself into a puppet long ago."  

As the stolen life force and magic surged into him, black lines crawled across his skin like cracks in porceRayne.  

The pressure in the air thickened.  

"So those guys were your puppets too?"  

Rayne didn’t bother attacking again—this magic seemed irreversible once activated.  

Only a pre-planted "seed" could allow such rapid absorption.  

"In a sense. I implanted magic seeds in them while they were still alive."  

Marion didn’t deny it.  

"I never wanted to use this. Once I do, even I don’t know what’ll happen."  

Even his emotionless voice carried a sliver of reluctance.  

After seeing Rayne slaughter his subordinates so effortlessly, he had no choice.  

"Though, I should thank you. If you hadn’t killed them, this wouldn’t have worked."  

Perhaps to maintain his crumbling consciousness, Marion kept talking.  

"This magic was meant to link others’ magic to mine. But they’d never willingly give it up."  

"So I had to wait until they died... then take it by force—"  

His words cut off abruptly.  

His hollow eyes flickered—something was wrong.  

"W-wait... What is this?!"  

"BOSS, WHY? I TRUSTED YOU—!"  

"Hah! I’m alive?!"  

"With this power, I’ll crush that brat!"  

"It hurts—WHERE’S MY LEG?!"  

Voices.  

Dozens of them.  

A cacophony of screams, laughter, and sobs erupted from the swirling green magic, now thrashing like boiling oil.  

The once-cohesive energy turned chaotic, unstable—tainted by the souls of the dead.  

"Hmph. If you steal magic from the freshly sRayne, don’t cry when their souls hitch a ride."  

Ddraig’s deep, disdainful voice echoed in Rayne’s mind.  

"Magic carries the will of its user. His spell’s a half-baked mess—can’t even filter out the garbage."  

"So he’s not alone in there anymore," Rayne mused.  

"Exactly. But he is stronger now. A decent fight, at last."  

Ddraig’s tone turned eager, fiery.  

Rayne hadn’t faced a real challenge in too long.  

And if things kept going this way, her prized host would start smelling more like that little dragon than a warrior.  

Unacceptable.  

The green inferno twisted, forming grotesque faces—the very mages Rayne had sRayne.  

Their hollow eyes locked onto him.  

"À̷̩Ä̸̳́A̵̱͌A̸̤͝Ǎ̴̫Ä̶̼́A̵͇͝A̷̧͝A̴̻̚Ä̸̱́Å̵̞A̸̛̫A̵̠͝A̷͖͠A̶̱̔À̴̹Ä̷̻́!!!"  

A unified shriek of hatred tore through the air.  

The collective malice of two dozen dead mages crashed into Rayne like a tidal wave of curses.  

For most, this would be fatal—their minds shattered, their will crushed under the weight of so much hatred.  

But Rayne?  

"You think a bunch of dead losers can beat me just 'cause they’re stacked together?!"  

He planted his sword into the ground, gripping the hilt with both hands. The white cloth tied to it fluttered as his pitch-black eyes burned with defiance.  

"If you couldn’t win alive, stay in the damn afterlife where you belong!"  

The fire in his soul roared, chasing the malice back to its source.  

"A̵̙̚A̶̓͜A̴̛̳A̷̠̽Ả̵̫A̵̳͝A̷̺̎Ä̷̝́Ä̷̤́Ą̷̎A̷̼̽A̵̠͝A̶̛̙A̵̭͠Ă̵͖A̷̲͝A̶̪͝Ä̵́͜!!!"  

The faces screamed, writhing as if scorched by an invisible flame.  

Pathetic.  

Rayne had faced the accumulated grudges of Ddraig’s past hosts—a true curse of the soul.  

This?  

This was nothing.  

By now, the corpses had fully desiccated, their husks barely recognizable as human.  

And the stolen energy had coalesced—  

A towering, fifteen-meter specter of green magic loomed over the battlefield.  

Its body was translucent, its face a shattered porceRayne mask with hollow eyes and a gaping mouth.  

From those empty sockets, glowing green tears streamed down like liquid sorrow.  

At its core, Marion’s broken body dangled like a discarded marionette.  

Its limbs were disproportionate, joints bent at unnatural angles—a weeping puppet, broken and weeping.  

"WRRRRRYYYY—!!!!"  

Its wail sent shockwaves ripping through the forest, snow exploding outward in a hundred-meter radius.  

Rayne’s hair whipped back, revealing a grin sharp enough to cut steel.  

A glance behind him confirmed Kanna had already evacuated the rescued kids, waving cheerfully from a safe distance.  

With a chuckle, Rayne threw his greatsword toward her.  

Then—  

Crack.  

His neck tilted, bones popping.  

"You think this’ll save you, brat?!"  

The puppet’s voice was a dissonant chorus of the dead, its tear-streaked face locking onto Rayne.  

"Tch."  

Rayne slammed his left palm into his right fist.  

A crimson magic circle erupted beneath him, its intricate runes blazing.  

His body expanded—  

Muscles bulged, bones reforged, skin stretched—  

In seconds, he stood just as tall as the weeping monstrosity.  

Two titans now faced each other, the forest dwarfed beneath them.  

"Rayne... got big."  

Kanna’s monotone observation drew confused stares from the kids.  

Was she impressed?  

Bored?  

Who could tell?  

"W-what?!"  

The puppet recoiled—but then it sensed Rayne’s magic.  

Still weaker than its own.  

Relief flooded its fractured mind.  

Even in death, the fear of Rayne’s blade lingered.  

"Ddraig."  

Rayne’s voice was a rumble.  

"Let’s go."  

"CRUSH IT."  

Red light particles swarmed his right arm, coalescing into a draconic gauntlet—deep crimson, jagged, alive.  

The emerald jewel on its back glowed with a predatory light.  

"The 'Crimson Arm'... So that’s what it meant."  

The puppet finally understood Rayne’s epithet.  

Not just bloodstained.  

This.  

"BOOST!!!"  

Ddraig’s voice thundered.  

The gem flashed.  

Power surged—  

Rayne’s heart hammered like a war drum, his blood boiling.  

The giant form, already enhanced, now grew stronger.  

But the strain—  

His stamina plummeted.  

Yet the trade-off was clear.  

His magic, previously diminished by the transformation, now skyrocketed.  

Red flames wreathed his body, scorching the air.  

"Huh?!"  

The puppet’s confusion was palpable.  

But Rayne didn’t give it time to think.  

"Gotta end this fast."  

He lunged.  

"DIE—!!!"  

The puppet’s howl carried the weight of its shattered psyche.  

It had sacrificed everything—only for Rayne to match it in seconds.  

Rage consumed it.  

Its massive form lurched forward, each step shaking the earth.  

Yet despite its size—  

It was fast.