Chapter 248 – Floor 46: Part 2

  “We should finish our talk.” Mathew said to Lumina, gesturing to the door to the Tower. The young Hero was about to follow him when they both heard the sound of clapping coming from the darkness surrounding them.

  The Puppeteer stood shrouded in shadow; his gaunt frame slowly emerged into the light like a skeletal marionette. His elongated fingers twitched with a life of their own as if they were eager to control his dolls.

  Pale, waxed skin was stretched taut over his pointed features, giving him an almost corpse-like and desiccated appearance. His deep-set eyes glowed with an unnatural light that pierced through the gloom. He moved with an unnatural grace, each step measured and deliberate, as though choreographed in advance.

  There was an air of sinister elegance about him, marred by a dreadful smile that stretched his face in abnormal proportions.

  The clapping came from a ‘Puppet’ behind him, and even Mathew nearly gagged at its hideousness.

  The puppet was grotesque and macabre, a twisted amalgamation of horror that only the most perverse and depraved individual would call ‘art.’ Its frame was a lifeless corpse with pale, mottled skin stretched over a mish-mash of different-sized and shaped bones.

  Its flesh was patched together with dark stitching as if its creator had sewed it in a hurry; the jagged seams were stark against its white skin. Empty eye sockets stared vacantly ahead while its jaw hung slack, revealing yellowed, uneven teeth.

  Its joints were reinforced with crude metal pins and hinges, and its head was tilted at an angle as it followed behind its master, clapping its hands the entire time. A strong smell of medicine and chemicals was exuded by the shambling corpse, preservatives and other means to keep it functional.

  “A marvellous performance, Mathew. I knew from the first moment I saw you that you deserved a place amongst my puppets.” The Puppeteer called out as he came to a stop just on the edge of the light coming from the Tower. His creation stopped beside him and finally ceased its clapping at a sharp gesture from its master.

  The Puppeteer noticed Mathew’s and Lumina’s eyes were fixed on the puppet, and the smile on his face grew wider.

  “Are you admiring my creation? I admit, I am rather proud of it. It has served me well over the years as one of my earliest experiments. I assure you, my recent additions are much more impressive.” The Puppeteer stated proudly.

  “What do you want? My business with Obsidian is concluded.” Mathew replied with a frown as his eyes turned from the Puppet to its controller. An uncomfortable energy seemed to sweep over Lumina as the tension between the two men increased.

  “Ahh… it has, in more ways than one. Unfortunately, for the League of Villains, I am only interested in obtaining you. All my other projects have been so uninspiring since you have entered into my life. I tried to ignore you, I tried to do as I was told, but alas, my needs must be met.” The Puppeteer said, his smile growing even wider.

  “Perhaps you would like to see my other works? After all, you will be joining them soon.” The Puppeteer gestured toward the darkness, and more figures could be seen, shambling forward.

  Titaness materialized in the dim light, her massive frame reduced to a mockery of the strength she had once embodied. Where she had once been muscled and full of vigour, all that remained was pale, torn flesh held together by heavy chains, wire and bits of metal. Her eyes, once filled with determination and anger, were lifeless and cold.

  She moved forward with heavy, jerky movements that hinted at the power she still retained. Next to her, another Villain appeared.

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  Ironclad’s body had been broken, and the remnants of his metallic suits cracked open to reach the human within. His chest cavity gaped open, revealing a web of strange technology and enhancements that pulsed with mana. He stood with an unnerving stillness while awaiting his master’s command.

  Dr. Malevolence, the brilliant mind of the League of Villains and one of its leaders, had been turned into a monster. Wires and tubes protruded from his body into the back of his skull, pumping a strange, glowing liquid. His fingers had elongated and turned clawlike, each tipped with a sharp nail that dripped with poison.

  One after another, dozens of Villains walked out of the darkness, each a grotesque and monstrous creation of the Puppeteer. They lacked sentience, and their existence was only maintained by the various contraptions and experiments their master had carried out on them.

  The Puppeteer had turned them all into grotesque parodies of themselves; each one was a testament to his ‘artistry.’ They were his puppets, bound to his will.

  Lumina couldn’t help but pity and fear them.

  Mathew’s eyes were roaming across the puppets, assessing them carefully, when they paused on the final figure to walk out of the night.

  Obsidian was instantly recognizable, even in her twisted state. Her once-elegant black dress hung in tatters, the fabric torn and frayed in places as though clawed apart from monstrous and animalistic hands.

  Her body was streaked with blood, still fresh and glistening in the dim light, evidence that she had only been altered by the Puppeteer recently. She bore the terrible distinction of being the Puppeteer’s final masterpiece, his last experiment before coming to Mathew.

  Strangely, her transformation was far subtler than the others. Her body, though battered, lacked the monstrous alterations that had been inflicted on her comrades. Her vacant stare was hollow, her once-piercing eyes were dull and unseeing, and a thin line of drool trailed from her slack mouth, tracing a path down her chin.

  “You sick monster!” Lumina hissed as she stared at the Puppeteer’s creations. Of all the Villains of the League, he was the most vile, but at least the others kept him in line for the most part. Now, he was unleashed and controlled by an army of puppets.

  The Puppeteer smiled wider as Mathew stepped forward. Not saying a word, he pulled the Wrathful Blade from his inventory once again.

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  “An Apostle is not an object to be traded. They are an extension of ourselves that can touch and influence places where we have been forbidden from interfering directly. I will not ‘give’ you Mathew in exchange for your promise of cooperation. Nor could I if I was so inclined.” Unyielding Declaration said, a rare expression of disapproval appearing on his face.

  “Your feelings toward your Apostle are laudable but misguided. They are servants, pieces to be moved on the game board as we see fit, then discarded when their usefulness is at an end. After all, what are the lives of humans to those like us?” Mischievous Depravity countered.

  The outsider god’s form shifted and churned beneath his tattered black cloak as Unyielding Declaration stared at him. The deity was a ceaseless, writhing mass of everchanging flesh. Limbs and shapes emerged from beneath the cloth, flashes of gleaming, sharp teeth or glowing, lidless eyes, all to be reabsorbed moments later and replaced by another oddity.

  “We may not share their race, but I will not treat them with such cruelty and disregard. I believe our discussion is at an end.” Unyielding Declaration stated, already turning to leave the boundary realm.

  The boundary realm trembled; the peaceful stability that the pair of gods had brought with them from their presence here was disrupted by Unyielding Declaration’s impending withdrawal. The once delicate equilibrium began to crumble, and its landscape reacted violently.

  Vast stretches of crystalline plains fractured into jagged shards, their edges reflecting oddly in the shifting light. Rivers of molten gold that once flowed in graceful arcs through the sky surged violently, spilling and splintering into the shifting terrain.

  Above the two gods, the sky churned, and its colours altered between deep purple and radiant silver as the balance of power faltered. The constellations, shining stars that hung in the void, winked out one by one, their absence leaving the boundary realm darker from their loss.

  “You misunderstand my intent. Apostles can not be traded, but they can be coerced and persuaded into entering into another god’s service. I do not want you to ‘give’ me your Apostle. I want your promise that you will not interfere when I make my offer to him.” Mischievous Depravity answered.

  Unyielding Declaration paused at that statement and turned slightly to look at his fellow deity. The frown on his face had changed into an expression of surprise, revealing how truly shocking such a proclamation was.

  “You have already attempted to bring Mathew into your service, and he refused you. Not only that, but he has been in conflict with both your previous and current Apostles. What could you possibly offer him to overcome that dislike he had for you?” Unyielding Declaration inquired.

  “That is between him and I. What say you? Do you accept my terms?” Mischievous Depravity asked.