LotM: Surviving as a Marionette

The iron chain adorned with a ruby at its tip coiled around the devil's robust frame. Just as the crimson-skinned demon prepared to unleash a second Foul Language attack against Don, who had already flashed to another position, he found his profane voice choked in his throat.

He resembled a dud cannon, while the chain seemed to possess a life of its own, binding him relentlessly and biting deep into his flesh.

"Mystique weakens, reality strengthens."

The mystical item, Sinner's Shackles, possessed a singular, fixed ability: to diminish the mystique of its bound target, thereby weakening all Beyonder powers—including the demon's mutated physique.

This effect mirrored the ability of a Sequence 6 Judge from the Arbiter pathway.

Don continued manipulating the Spirit Body Threads.

Under the influence of this artifact, the demon was forced to resist the control of the threads while simultaneously struggling to break free from the enchanted chains.

"No… impossible… if this goes on…"

Don simulated the sound of an air bullet.

Bang—

The bullet struck the demon's skull. The shackled body convulsed.

Terrified, the demon's eyes shifted into horizontal, goat-like pupils. He roared, attempting to break the chains through sheer physical force. But every movement—from realizing his predicament, to devising a plan, to executing it—was slowed and disrupted by the manipulation of the Spirit Body Threads. The result drastically narrowed his chances of escape.

Don did not continue conjuring air bullets; intense pain would weaken the control of the threads. Expressionless, he watched the struggling demon while steadily increasing the spiritual infusion into the chains.

A Sequence 5 against a Sequence 6, wielding an Arbiter-pathway artifact while manipulating Spirit Body Threads—the outcome held no suspense.

Gradually, five minutes later, Don raised an eyebrow and ceased channeling spirituality into the chains.

The demon, now reverted to human form, stood motionless.

[Mission progress updated.]

[Mission One: A Marionettist's First Attempt]

[Having advanced from Faceless to Marionettist, your Spirit Body Thread manipulation—one of the most esoteric abilities below demigod level—will become a formidable power in your hands.]

[Exercise control over the Spirit Body Threads of any sentient being.]

[Completion: 100%. Reward issued. Please check.]

[Mission Two: Red Light, Green Light!]

[What kind of Marionettist has no marionettes? Hurry and find sentient beings suitable for crafting into marionettes. Remember: quality matters.]

[Craft your own marionette.]

['Completion: 1/3']

[Marionette: Tank Beria.]

[Potion Sequence: Abyss Pathway, Sequence 6, Devil.]

[Display corresponding potion formula?]

Don's eyebrow lifted again, but he remained silent and did not prompt the system to show him the Sequence 6 formula.

"Beria? A devil from the Blood Sanctify Sect?"

The Blood Sanctify Sect was a loose alliance formed through demon worship, established in the Fourth Epoch.

They controlled the 'Criminal'—or 'Abyss'—Pathway, worshipped the evil god "Dark Side of the Universe," believing Him to be the master of the abyss, the apocalyptic force destined to corrode and corrupt the entire material world and the vast cosmos.

Demons within this secret organization were obsessed with spreading their faith, committing countless atrocities.

"But judging by the rituals of this pathway, their bloodshed serves not only to propagate demonic worship but also to facilitate their own ascension."

After subduing this demon who'd been wreaking havoc in his territory, Don contemplated briefly before deciding to take his new marionette home.

Just as he retracted the chains and prepared to leave, movement sounded from a nearby forest.

Don turned to see a middle-aged man with bronze skin, black hair, brown eyes, and soft features, dressed in fitted leather armor, approaching on horseback.

He had been standing there for an unknown length of time.

"Father."

---

In the newly built castle of dark-blue stone bricks, Baron Rammed sat in his study. His expression was gentle, yet between his brows lingered an undeniable sternness—a remnant of his past service to the Kingdom of Loen.

This Baron Lamud was once a legendary figure who ruled over the Balam Empire of the Southern Continent. Yet due to peculiar circumstances, he became trapped in a vicious cycle: losing his memory, regaining it, only to lose it again.

Now, this former high-ranking Beyonder, presently Baron Lamud, set a freshly brewed cup of tea before his child.

"Thank you."

Don accepted the cup and took a sip.

Though long accustomed to this world's culinary offerings, and wealthy enough as a baron, the bitterness of the tea still stirred nostalgia for his former world.

"It seems this voyage has benefited you greatly," Baron Lamud remarked with a smile.

"Indeed. I encountered many creatures I'd never seen before," Don replied, smiling faintly.

Mermaids were currently plentiful in the Fog Sea and Sonia Sea, not yet herded en masse by the Church of the Evernight Goddess. The promotion ritual for Marionettist hadn't been overly difficult.

"Good." The Baron returned the smile. "The situation in Loen is far from peaceful. The King and the great nobles seek more slaves, land, and wealth from other nations. Having the power to protect yourself is a blessing, Don."

Another war brewing? The kingdom founded by the Augustus family had been restless in recent years, clashing with neighbors—Feysac, Intis…

Ultimately, it boiled down to grain, gold, land, and labor.

But it should remain contained. The Seven Churches would surely prevent mass extermination.

Don exhaled. "Still, that's a headache for the great nobles. Even if the king desires to levy troops, such winds shouldn't reach our backwater area…"

In this rural corner, even the king's edicts held little sway. Generals in the field often disregarded royal commands.

"I must depart soon," Baron Rammed stated abruptly. "I intend to journey to the Southern Continent."

"Huh?"

Don's heart sank.

He knew his father was entering a phase of memory resurgence. The Baron had never concealed it, seeming burdened by guilt toward them, yet compelled to act regardless.

Don understood it was likely a duty intrinsic to his being… and a curse borne from his lineage as a descendant of Death.

An endless cycle of seeking memories, only to lose them once more.

"I see," Don said. "Father, what would you have me do?"

(End of Chapter)