Torrential rain poured down, drumming against the ruins of the wooden cabin.
A massive shadow loomed over the wreckage, casting a long silhouette as it peered down from above without any intent of leaving.
Inside the wreckage were two A-rank Blazers. That previous strike may have been powerful, but it was nowhere near enough to take out both of them in one blow.
Sure enough, there was movement from within the rubble.
The hulking figure bent lower, seemingly trying to inspect the disturbance more closely—only for one piece of debris to suddenly light up.
Boom!
A spiraling column of fire blasted out of the ruins, launching the massive shadow high into the air.
Even after striking the figure, the fiery pillar didn't stop—it shot straight into the sky, piercing the storm clouds above.
The rain instantly evaporated, and even the thick clouds were driven away, revealing a patch of clear blue sky.
Problem solved—no need to worry about Stella getting wet.
Cradling her in a princess carry, Charles stepped down from the wreckage, one slow step at a time.
"So that's all it is—a puppet controlled by magic threads."
The shadow Charles had struck was over five meters tall, its body entirely composed of rock.
It looked like the legendary "Giant of Okutama" itself, but Charles could tell—this thing was just stone, completely devoid of life.
That explained why he couldn't read its aura. Its movements and attacks came from within—it was being manipulated through magical threads. A literal marionette.
Charles set Stella down and gently touched her forehead. "Just hold on a little longer. I'll finish this quickly."
He turned away from her, the warmth in his eyes vanishing, replaced by a terrifying coldness.
There was only one thought in his mind now: if he knew where the puppet's controller was hiding, he'd drag them out and smash them along with their toy.
A flash of fire. Charles soared through the air, appearing before the stone puppet's chest.
"Iron Fist of the Fire Dragon!"
His fist landed.
The stone puppet was blown back, exploding into fragments midair.
Not only did Charles shatter its body, but the internal magic threads were incinerated as well.
The most dangerous thing about these puppets wasn't their strength—it was how hard they were to deal with.
Their bodies were just ordinary rock. Even if destroyed, they could be remade at any time.
But by annihilating the internal control threads, Charles rendered it completely inoperable.
Landing on the ground, Charles looked over the heap of shattered stone, still seething.
After all, this was just one puppet. Defeating it did nothing to the person pulling the strings.
Then—Charles sensed more magic signatures.
The ground split open as dozens of smaller rock puppets clawed their way up. Though only human-sized, they were numerous.
Charles couldn't afford to use wide-area attacks here. Any major fire-based spell could ignite this vast forest and cause an international incident.
That was why he'd sent his earlier Roar of the Fire Dragon into the sky—he'd been careful.
But now? Now was a perfect chance to blow off some steam.
First, though, he had to ensure Stella's safety.
"Farr!"
The magic tome Charles always carried flew open, and from its pages emerged Farr.
"You've been storing magic for a while—thanks for your hard work. I need you to protect that girl for me."
Farr gave a chirp and flew over to Stella.
Her reaction was priceless. First, she rubbed her eyes, making sure she wasn't hallucinating.
Then she let out a delighted squeal and immediately hugged Farr to her chest.
Charles remembered—Stella was intensely curious about unidentified magical creatures. Dragons, in particular, were among her favorites.
Farr gave Charles a pleading look, full of helplessness and silent protest. Charles, looking away, simply gave him a thumbs-up.
"Be strong, Farr. I'm supporting you in spirit."
Receiving such "encouragement," Farr practically lost all color. Its neck drooped, body limp, like a toy being manhandled by a child.
Setting aside his guilt, Charles summoned Evil Dragon and Dragonslayer to his arms. Clenching his fists, he charged into the fray.
"Shenlong Temple Secret Art: Cicada Cry!"
One punch shattered a puppet completely, the reverberating force tearing its internal threads to shreds.
A follow-up knifehand strike pierced another puppet. Red light spilled from the cracks in its body before it exploded—its core threads vaporized.
He grabbed one puppet by the head, swinging it like a club and flattening several others.
Then he tightened his grip, crushing its skull like a grape.
Watching Charles tear through the battlefield, Stella, still hugging Farr, couldn't help but smile sweetly.
This was the man she had fallen for. No matter the enemy, nothing could stand in his way.
Just then, Stella noticed several puppets heading toward her.
But suddenly, Farr burst from her arms.
And then she understood why Charles had trusted this seemingly harmless creature to protect her.
The tiny, fluffy Farr inflated like a balloon—and in an instant, transformed into a beast the size of a truck.
No longer a cuddly mascot, this was now the image of a mythical dragon. Its scales gleamed, its fangs were sharp, and its muscular frame radiated primal power and beauty.
With a sweep of its tail, Farr smashed all the approaching puppets into rubble.
Had Charles not forbidden the use of its breath attack, Farr could've wiped these pests out in one go.
Meanwhile, Charles smashed another puppet, only to notice—their numbers weren't decreasing at all.
He didn't know how puppetmasters operated in this world, but he was sure their ability had weaknesses.
By now, he'd noticed a few things.
First, he still couldn't locate the enemy. Normally, the magic threads controlling the puppets could be traced.
But these ones stretched far—beyond his three-kilometer range of perception.
The bastard was hiding far away. And skilled too—to manipulate so many puppets from such a distance was no small feat.
Second, Charles had realized all these puppets were being relayed through a central puppet.
He'd found it.
"Four Symbol Fist: Vermilion Bird – Heaven Drive!"
Blasting through the puppet ranks, Charles shattered everything in his path and landed right in front of the central puppet.
This one was clearly more refined—magic threads visibly weaved through every joint and crevice.
In a flash, Charles ripped it apart, leaving only its head in his hand.
Holding it up, he stared straight into its lifeless eyes.
"I know you can see me. Listen closely—no matter which rat hole you're hiding in, I'll find you…
Don't worry. I will drag you out.
And then I'll make sure you regret what you did today—for the rest of your miserable life."
…
In a room thick as a swamp, the puppetmaster known as Pierrot felt the threads on his left hand snap.
"One of my relays is down, huh? Charles of Shenlong Temple… what an interesting fellow."
Suddenly, the magic threads flared with dangerous light.
Pierrot realized too late—he couldn't sever the connection in time.
In the next moment, his right arm blackened and crisped—charred by a surge of electricity.
"Guess that was Raikiri's doing, huh? Well, no matter… Let's see what fun lies ahead."
[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! Only $5 per novel or $15 for all!!] [[email protected]/Mutter]
[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]