“No!” The Puppeteer screamed, eyes going wide as he reached for the ball.

  The golden globe crumbled in my hand, scattering into the air like glitter. Flooding my veins, boiling hot magic surged into my system. I clenched my teeth to bear the pain. Not even breaking down a hoard of accolades had hurt this much. I suppose that was just how much more power the globe held.

  Golden light cracked through my skin as the globe dissolved fully. “Oops,” I growled and watched as steam clouded in front of my mouth with each breath.

  His already silvery face grew a shade paler as he watched on powerlessly. It was hard to tell just how much magic I’d absorbed, but I felt more than good to go. I clenched my hand, resummoning Stoneflow and waited. Patiently.

  “What have you done?! You fecking mongrel!”

  He took a step down from the dais upon which the throne stood, marble floor cracking under his feet as he fueled himself with power. Beams of silver radiated off him as if he was a human disco-ball. Then, his feet left the ground as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He floated into the broken roof of the chamber, tilted his head back, and he screamed. It was dissonant, sharp, and inhuman. My mind reeled from the sound and I had to cover both ears with my hands, biting my lower lip to remain conscious. Windows shattered, sending shards of glass into the sky and crashing against the ground.

  A warm trickle of blood ran down my lips from my nose. The metallic saltiness mixed with my saliva. I focused on the taste, clutched onto it with the entirety of my consciousness until the scream faded.

  With my ears still ringing, my legs faltered. I looked up at the Puppeteer descending from the roof. He wore a deep scowl and bared his teeth like a rabid animal. “I will raze your fecking world for this. Nothing will remain but a wasteland when I am finished.”

  He snapped his fingers, producing a small flash of gold.

  I scoffed, pushing myself back to my feet. “You fancy yourself a god?” I shook my head. “You’ll change your tune soon enough.”

  Waves tore through the veil. It seemed he hadn’t been lying. Based on the amount of blessings being used, it looked like a damn army was coming. Most of them produced waves larger than any whispered could ever create. Unsung. Maybe even stronger.

  I clenched my hand around Stoneflow’s leather handle. It was soft, and cool to the touch. Magic still coursed through me like a wildfire. The cracks lining my skin grew longer, and oozed out power.

  I needed an outlet or I was going to burst.

  With a wide grin, I layered more uses of Burst than I ever had before on my body, and kicked off the ground. Marble exploded into fine dust as I rocketed forward. My hair fluttered behind me and tore at my scalp. I had to squint my eyes to not be blinded by the smoke-filled air.

  The Puppeteer hardly had time to react before my horizontal cut was upon him. Raising his left hand, he managed to stop the blade from ripping through his waist. Steel dug into skin, then clanged off bone.

  Light as a feather, I bounced back and inspected the damage I’d dealt. There was hardly a scratch left on his skin. I hadn’t expected much, but I certainly needed to do more than that.

  “Do you see now how pointless your squirming is?! You are nothing to me,” he snarled.

  Already moving, I charged back at him with a barrage of cuts and stabs. As easily as swatting away a fly, he blocked the attack with his left hand. I’d thought speed was on my side, but clearly it wasn’t.

  His scowl softened into a grin as his confidence grew. With a slap against my blade, he forced my arms far above my head, opening me up for attack. A foot landed square on my chest, sending me flying through the room.

  I crashed into the wall beside the door with a clamor and had to dig myself out of the rubble, much to the Puppeteer’s entertainment.

  Gritting my teeth, I kept pushing my attack. The army was coming, and when they did I would not stand a chance. But I had a plan, and it seemed to be working.

  Once more I rocketed forward with a massive amount of Bursts empowering me. Stoneflow screamed through the air and hit his hand, producing a satisfying crunch.

  The Puppeteer’s grin disappeared. He creased his brow and looked at the palm of his hand, eyes going wide.

  “You… What kind of trick is this?”

  His pristine skin had cracked, revealing a large gash on his hand. Through the peeled open gaps in his skin I could see white bone peek through. At first it had been impossible to cut, but with Stoneflow’s embroidery, such defences were rendered meaningless. The bones had finally been cut through.

  “See,” I panted and licked the blood of my blade. “You’re no god. You’re just an oppressor with hubris.” I spat the glob of blood onto the floor and pointed my sword at him. “And you will bleed like a fucking pig.”

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Grabbing a fistful of threads and flashing forward, I stopped by his side and cut down again. The blade whistled through the air, and I could see how he wavered before blocking with his other hand. I clenched my teeth and whirled in place, landing a heel kick square in the pit of his stomach. He doubled over, but there was no satisfying deflation that I had expected.

  Instead he bent back up just a moment later with a fierce uppercut that dug into my ribs. Sera activated Skin Stitching for me just in time to soften the impact, but I still saw stars. Such was the difference between multiple tiers. Even after eating away a large portion of his power I was still inferior in physique.

  But maybe not blessing.

  As I was sent flying through the air, I threw the fistful of threads and muttered, “Harden.”

  Bits of pale blue veil appeared from thin air and showered him like a cluster of steel. He raised his arms in defence. Each piece did what Stoneflow struggled to do and drew blood as they dug into his flesh. Though they only left small cuts and holes in his body, at least they provided me with options. And options were a powerful thing to have.

  Touching back down on the ground I skidded to a halt, clutching at my side. He’d cracked a few ribs with that hit. I groaned. Shit.

  The Puppeteer stood frozen, looking at his bloodied arms with eyes as wide as saucers. “A mere Blessed could never…” he muttered and turned back to me. “It has been decades since I was wounded last. I commend you for that. But playtime ends here.”

  Raising his hand to his face, he made a fist. Silver flashes tore through the room as if reality itself was cracking. It wasn’t until a moment later that I realized what I was looking at. Threads. Or maybe wires were a more accurate description. They were different to my own—much less ephemeral in nature. Each of them stuck into different sections of the chamber, with the Puppeteer being the nucleus. He raised his other hand, gripping a cluster of them and tugged. The wires thrummed like strings on an instrument.

  The shift in the veil was massive, unlike anything I had ever seen. It looked as if a section of it was ripped out of place. Roaring, the stone throne tore free from its dais and hurtled toward me like a comet.

  I sidestepped, feeling the wind pressure brush against my face. The hum of his wires hung heavy in the air. I already knew more was coming, and so I didn’t stop. Grinding my teeth at the pain of running with broken ribs, I tore through the room, looking solely at the veil as I moved.

  Behind!

  My body moved before I had time to react, launching into the air in a flip as a piece of wall punched into the ground below me. More was coming, but I was airborne. Luckily I’d done this before.

  I activated Skin Stitching and slammed my fist into a cluster of red threads. Exploding forward in a ball of fire, I launched myself at the Puppeteer with a speed I’d yet to achieve. Time seemed to slow as I twirled mid-air, cutting at his neck with a ferocious cut. His eyes locked onto mine in the moment I struck against his flesh. Embers sputtered from the impact, as if steel ground against steel. Little by little I could feel how my blade sunk deeper into his throat before I finally shot past him and in his net of silvery wires.

  Never stopping, I kept cutting through the air, first one wire, then another, and so on until I hit the ground running. Maybe it was Ruin fueling my body, maybe it was luck, or Skin Stitching, but the red threads hadn’t hurt me nearly as much as they used to. For the first time, they’d worked exactly as I intended. Surprising myself just as much as the Puppeteer. He recovered quickly and sent more pieces of building flying my way before I even had time to stop my momentum.

  Not willing to waste the luck, I pulled the same manoeuvre again. I slashed at a red bundle of threads with a karate-chop and tore through the room like a rocket, narrowly dodging the pieces of debris. Before I even hit the ground, I did it again, this time angling myself toward the Puppeteer.

  While rearing back, he ripped the bundle of wires in front of his body to create a net of metal—intent on cutting me into a bunch of cubes. I wasn’t going to let him.

  I threw Stoneflow in advance, it spun like a shuriken cutting through the silver wires and paving the way for my rapid approach.

  Pulling Silent Scream from my belt I barely had time to shove it into the Puppeteer’s eye as I passed. It dug deep with surprising ease. He stumbled backward as I skidded to a halt some ten meters behind him. Not stopping to waste even a moment, I was finally powerful enough to try something I had wanted to for a long time.

  I grabbed a handful of volatile red threads, forcing them to stay stable in my hands as I shaped them into a long spear and whispered, “Harden.”

  Magic poured out of me at a rapid pace as the threads writhed and tore at each other like they were alive, greedily trying to devour one another.

  When the spear completed forming a second later, it pulsed with frightening power. The creation had no seams and there was no telling where one thread ended and another began. They had taken on a wholly new form, in a way the blue threads never could. In a way only something alive ever could.

  I swallowed, and felt vibrations rattle down the length of the weapon as I shifted my grip into a reverse one and took aim.

  The Puppeteer tore my knife out of his eye socket and reeled. Blinded by the blood he wiped frantically to regain his vision. I took a step forward, jerking my hip in his direction. The rest of my body followed, gathering power for my arm as I whipped it through the air and released the spear. It slid out of my grip without so much as a sound. And for the first time, I saw the veil part as if afraid to face the brunt of my power.

  My red spear swallowed all sound and color where it passed, as if they were mere things to fuel its very being. It dug through the Puppeteer’s body like he was nothing more than empty space. He froze, lowering his hands from his face and stared without emotion at me.

  “What…” he mumbled.

  In a flash, all the sound and color, returned. And it returned with the power of a bursting star.

  The chamber detonated.

  A wild rush of air slammed into me, and sent me flying across the floor. The stone walls screamed as they crumbled. The veil howled. I felt something tear into my chest as I landed, my vision exploding in a flash of white.

  Somewhere, inside all of the chaos, the Puppeteer screamed in pain.

  Once my senses returned, I stumbled back to my feet, coughing a mouthful of darkened blood onto the floor. The world seemed wrong. It took me a moment to realize it was because of the lack of the veil. It had retreated and was slowly creeping back into the space where half the chamber had once stood.

  In the center of it all stood the Puppeteer on his knees. Or what remained of him.

  A gaping hole had been punched through his body, taking the entire left side of his torso with it. Silver threads stretched from the wound, they furled and unfurled with twitches, as if trying to repair his body. But he was far beyond repair.

  He looked down at himself slowly, his remaining eye wide with confusion as he stared at the missing piece of his body.

  “…Ah,” he muttered.

  And he fell to the floor.

  patrons,