Samye sat near Kayal’s house entrance, rain washing blood from his hands.

  The battle hadn’t ended.

  It had only shifted.

  Then—

  BOOM.

  A massive explosion erupted down the eastern street. Another followed. Flames rose again despite the rain.

  Samye’s body reacted before his thoughts did.

  He grabbed his spear and ran toward the blasts.

  When he arrived—

  He froze.

  Standing in the middle of the ruined street—

  Was the same man he had killed minutes ago.

  The mechanical arm.

  The rusted sword.

  The hollow smile.

  Samye’s mind raced.

  That’s impossible.

  I pulled the spear out of his chest myself.

  He died.

  The man tilted his head slightly.

  “You look confused,” the enemy said calmly.

  Samye narrowed his eyes.

  “…No,” he muttered. “You’re not the same.”

  He stepped forward slowly.

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  “You’re just a shell.”

  The enemy smiled wider.

  “And the real puppet master…” Samye whispered,

  “…is somewhere else.”

  The man laughed.

  Then flames ignited along the rusted blade.

  The clash began again.

  This time, fire surged violently from every strike.

  The mechanical arm glowed red-hot, sparks and molten fragments scattering as the enemy swung wide arcs of flame. Each slash exploded outward in fiery bursts, forcing Samye backward.

  He dodged constantly.

  Slid through mud.

  Blocked heatwaves.

  Countered when possible.

  But every time he tried to close the distance—

  Flames rose between them like a living wall.

  The enemy had adapted.

  “Meta Slash: Flame Burst!”

  A crescent of burning steel tore through the rain. Steam exploded upward where water met fire.

  The battle stretched on.

  Five minutes.

  Ten minutes.

  Fifteen minutes.

  Blade after blade.

  Step after step.

  Samye’s breathing grew heavier.

  His muscles trembled.

  If this keeps going, he thought grimly, I won’t last much longer.

  The enemy showed no fatigue.

  That confirmed it.

  He’s being controlled. He doesn’t feel pain. He doesn’t get tired.

  Samye tightened his grip.

  “Then I have to end this now.”

  He steadied his breathing.

  “Secret Arts—”

  Rain trembled around him.

  “Second Form.”

  “Enhancement.”

  His body ignited—not with fire, but with compressed force. Muscles tightened beyond natural limits. Veins pulsed. Vision sharpened.

  For five minutes—

  His body would exceed its threshold.

  He vanished.

  Not through time.

  Through speed.

  The enemy swung—

  Too slow.

  Samye appeared behind him.

  One strike to the spine.

  Turn.

  Second strike to the mechanical arm joint.

  Shatter.

  Before the enemy could react—

  Samye thrust the spear clean through his chest again.

  This time—

  He twisted.

  And released lightning directly through the metal arm.

  The body convulsed violently.

  Then collapsed.

  Lifeless.

  Rain poured over the corpse.

  No movement.

  No rising.

  No flame.

  Silence.

  Samye stood for a moment—

  Then his legs buckled.

  The enhancement faded violently.

  Pain flooded back into his body tenfold.

  He dropped to one knee.

  Then to the ground.

  Rain hit his face as he lay there breathing heavily.

  His vision dimmed.

  That was the limit, he thought weakly.

  But before he closed his eyes completely—

  He realized something.

  The body didn’t burn.

  It didn’t disappear.

  It just lay there.

  A puppet.

  Which meant—

  Somewhere—

  The one pulling the strings was watching.

  And had just lost his toy.