Maximilian walked through the halls of the castle with a mixture of awe and concern. The place was beautiful. It reminded him of the various "fundraisers" he had to attend when he was campaigning. A time that felt like a lifetime ago. Back then, he would have been satisfied with the incremental change of politics, but now? Now he felt like a fire had been lit underneath him. He wanted to forge a world that was better for everyone. It was both freeing and restricting. He caught the errant thoughts and reigned them in. He needed to focus on what was in front of him. Beauty wasn't the only thing the palace had going for it. His looting spree had been kicked up a notch. He had taken everything from vases to tables and chairs. Even a few pieces of art had gone into the bag. Though he wasn't sure the art was the best idea. Most of it was scenic depictions of places he had never seen, while others were pictures of people. He wasn't sure if they were the city lord and his family or if they were ancestors. He felt a bit weird about the idea of hanging up someone else's art, but he would deal with that later.
He wasn't sure how much of this stuff he could keep within his storage bag, but he wanted to bring the chairs at least. He recalled reading a few books in his younger days about people who could summon chairs and tables. It had always been pretty cool. He wasn't sure how useful it would be, but he was allowed to do some things because it was fun. At least that's what he told himself. He was about to push open the seventh door on the first when his danger sense exploded. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Before the rational part of his brain had processed the threat, he blasted away from the door. A moment later, a blade made of greystone shot through the space he had stood. He cocked his head in confusion and disbelief as the door collapsed and out stepped a puppet. He had gotten so used to fighting unarmed puppets that this made him freeze. He shook his head and focused on what he did know. This puppet was different than the others. First, this puppet was bigger. The other puppets were a bit shorter than him. If he had to estimate it, he would put the at around five foot ten. This one was taller than around six feet eight. It was also more detailed than the others.
It was as if the earlier puppets had been crafted by someone just starting, and this one was made by a master artisan. There was something else in the materials. Not physically, but still present. It wasn't until the puppet started moving that it dawned on him. The Dao. The puppet had a hint of Dao in its material. Just as he realized that the puppet lunged for him. It crossed the distance in a blur of movement that forced Maximilian on the back foot. Energy surged through him as he forced himself to move faster and faster. He didn't need his danger sense to know if that kept up, he would lose. He wasn't the puppet's equal in close-quarters combat. His mind raced to come up with a solution that wouldn't use up his defensive skill, but there was nothing. The defenses on his robes weren't strong enough. They might slow an attack for a moment or two, but the puppet wasn't giving him the time to retreat. After a near miss that almost took his head off, he decided to make the sacrifice. He activated and imbued Prismatic Barrier. The iridescent bubble formed just in time to stop a swing that looked ready to spit him in two. He wasted no time going on the offensive.
Energy surged into the symbol for Flowing Storm as the puppet slammed its sword down on his shield. A latticework of cracks spread out from the impact site. The puppet raised its blade again, but there was no chance he'd let it hit. Four beams of electricity shot forward; two were aimed at the hand holding the blade, while two went for the puppet's center mass. The puppet didn't bother dodging, and he wasn't sure if that was because it couldn't or if it lacked the ability to detect a threat. Not that it mattered. The beams carved into the wrist holding the weapon. It wasn't enough to tear the arm apart, but it stopped the attack. The second set of beams dug into its chest for several inches before its energy was exhausted. As soon as the skill ended, Maximilian formed a half dozen lances of electricity. Attacks slammed into the puppet before it had a chance to react. He was in the middle of condensing a set of wind bullets when the puppet fell over. It was so sudden that he almost lost control of his energy. He waited for a kill confirmation that never came. He wasn't willing to accept the risk, so he unleashed a storm of bullets into the puppet's head. When that awarded him no energy, he paused. He braced for a retaliation that never came. When he was somewhat certain that nothing would happen, he ended his defensive skill and stepped forward.
He knelt next to the puppet and raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure why, but this was a different kind of puppet. If he had to make a comparison, this was closer to a robot. He looked through the remains of its head and found a few symbols that he guessed used to be an array. Unfortunately, he couldn't glean anything from the symbols. He had thoroughly destroyed them which was a clue in and of itself. The puppet had weakened. He wasn't sure if it was because it was "dead" already or if his attack had dispelled the Dao some other way. Either way, he wanted to know the answer. He just wasn't sure how to go about it. He was about to leave when another idea came to him. He placed a hand on the remains of the puppet and willed it into his bag. It took a moment, but it turned into a stream of light and disappeared. He wasn't able to retrieve it, but that was to be expected. He got to his feet and cracked his neck. He wasn't sure how valuable puppets were, but if he could take these back home, then he might solve Nubia's problems before they became problems. That puppet was at least level 15 in terms of overall power. He could handle Nubia's defense if he collected enough of them. Of course, he would need to figure out how to repair them and get them going again. Something that certainly wouldn't be easy. Yet, it would be worth it. He also didn't have much of a choice. Those things were here to defend the place. He would no doubt have to fight more of them.
He pushed the Lesser Dao of Rain through his body to deal with the small injuries he had gained. When he was ready, he headed over to the door he tried to enter only to find it gone. He placed his palm against the wall, half expecting it to dissolve or turn into an illusion. When it stayed silent, he sighed. This would make exploring more difficult. It was an impressive defensive method. People who lived here would know which rooms were real and which weren't. While thieves would have to roll the dice. He closed his eyes and tried to see if his instincts or even his physique could help him, but nothing happened. He could sense the Dao around him, but it was the same ambient level that was always there. He spread his Dao fields, hoping that they could reveal the real from the fake, but nothing happened. His fields weren't strong enough to destroy the environment without his intent, and the stone and carpet got wet regardless, so that was out. He gave a half-hearted shrug and continued on his way. His hope that there would be a limit on false rooms in a single hallway died within minutes. Of the next five rooms, he tried three that were fake. This led to him collecting three more puppets. By the time he defeated the third, he had managed to limit the destruction. He still couldn't preserve the entire puppet, but he had shifted to puncture wounds. He hoped that those would be easier to heal than the devastation he brought to the first one's head. He was also pleased to see that different puppets held different weapons.
He tried to wield one of them, a saber that made him think of the weapons dark elves often used, but it wasn't to be. The weapon was too heavy and was balanced wrong. At least for him to use it. He chalked that up to whatever array powered the things. Lastly, he had confirmed the material was weaker when the array was inactive. He wasn't sure why that was the case, but he wasn't going to question it. At least not without finding new information. He turned his focus back to the situation at hand. He found a staircase. A revolving staircase. He wasn't sure if he should head up or down, which gave him pause. Ultimately, there was no good reason to go in either direction. His instincts were silent, and he hadn't heard the sound of battle in either direction. Which meant he could do whatever. He oscillated on the choice for a few moments before he decided to go down. Admittedly, his justification for the choice was weak, but he couldn't come up with a better one. He figured that the rich lord would rather have the puppet workshop out of the way in the basement and not on the upper floors. Since that was what he wanted anyway, he decided to go down. A small part of him was worried that doing this would mean he would miss out on valuables, but he ignored it. He had found enough valuables for the moment, and the puppets were arguably worth more than anything else.
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He knew there would always be opportunities. Some he could take and some he couldn't. That was the way life worked. He wouldn't lose too much sleep over it. The further down he walked, the more accurate his hunch seemed to be. The building became less and less lavish as he descended. Less carpet and more bare stone. He wasn't sure how the place did temperature control, but he could tell that it didn't work as well in the lower floors. He decided to stop at one of the landings and conducted a new search. A search that caused him to fight off two more puppets. Once again, he received no kill energy, which was the only negative to the situation. He knew it was a bit ridiculous, but it felt like his progress had ground to a stop. It was annoying, but he had little choice but to deal with it. He collected the puppets and continued on his way. It turned out he had made a bit of a mistake. There were signs of a workshop down here, but there were also signs of a prison. There weren't a lot of cells, but the few he found made him uncomfortable. He wasn't sure how much of the fantasy stories were applicable, but he could imagine the city lord's torturer doing things down here. The thought made him shiver, but it didn't stop him from entering the first cell. As much as he wanted to avoid i,t he needed the items inside. The chains and manacles were stronger than anything they had on Earth. Which should solve Nubia's prison issue. He doubted his current prisoner was the limit, which meant he needed to plan. It took him a few minutes to figure out how to remove the things from the stone, but as soon as he did, they went into the bag.
He found the idea of getting rewarded for collecting manacles amusing. It felt a bit like a video game. Where you could load up a random merchant with all the crap you didn't want. Only in this case, he was the merchant as well. He spent the next half hour collecting manacles before he continued down. When he reached the bottom floor and found the workshop, he sighed in relief. The prison had dragged his mood down, and he hoped that the next part would reverse course. He opened the stone door, not sure what to expect. When he saw a room that looked like straight out of Child's Play, he grimaced. The old horror movie wasn't a one-to-one parallel, but it was much closer than he was comfortable with. There were half-formed puppets on either wall with a central workspace that looked like an operating theater. Just without the blood or gore. Maximilian was about to move over to the workspace when he realized he wasn't alone. He released his Daos in case whatever it was attacked him. At first, he thought it was a puppet, but that was wrong. If anything, the person looked like a ghost. Which did nothing to dispel the horror movie comparison. The person was humanoid and looked like someone's elderly grandfather. He was bald with a long greyish beard that went down the space beneath him. The person floated in the middle of what could only be described as a ritual circle. One that was far beyond anything he could understand. There were four podiums with ensonced spirit stones at the four cardinal directions.
"I had wondered who it was that caused such a commotion." The man asked as he opened his eyes. Eyes that were pupilless and grey.
As soon as he locked eyes with the man, something inside Maximilian quivered. He was forced to divert his gaze as his danger sense shifted from a low rumble to a near panic. He considered turning and running, but stayed in place. He didn't think the ghost wanted to attack him. At least not yet. Which meant he might be able to provide some history or context. Maximilian smiled and offered as respectful a bow as he could. "Greetings. I offer my humblest apology. I hadn't intended to interrupt your rest. Would you be an elder of the city?"
"I am, or I suppose was, the puppet elder of Nystal. I do not recognize you or the clothes you wear. Am I to take it that you are not from the city nor the surrounding factions?"
Maximilian briefly considered lying to the man. He wasn't sure if he would consider his behavior to be disrespectful, and the danger he felt seemed real. Yet, something told him that lying would be the wrong way forward. He wasn't sure if the man had a way to tell truth from falsehood, and if he did, he would be in worse trouble than if he had been honest from the start. "I am not. I do not know how much you know, but the Network has turned Nystal into a trial zone. I am a participant in said trial."
The puppet nodded as he stroked his beard. A motion that made him feel more like a kindly old sage than a ghost that could attack him at any moment. "That does not explain why you've connected so many of my puppets. Are you a puppet master by chance?"
Maximilian cocked his head at the question. "I am afraid I don't know what that is. I assume it means you create puppets? I also assume it's either a subcategory of arrays and formations. Or a tangentially related field?"
The man nodded. "You are more or less right. Puppet masters come in a variety of fields, but it is, by and large, considered a non-combat specialty. We create puppets. As you've no doubt noticed. Your affinities are strangely high—"
"I don't mean to interrupt you, but I had to ask. Are you a ghost?" Maximilian asked. He wanted to know the answer to that question, but he wanted to avoid going down that road. He definitely wasn't going to tell the ghost about his physique. The last thing he wanted to deal with was possession or some other insane thing.
"I am not a specter. I am a soul shard. A small piece of my soul was left behind in this chamber. I had hoped that a disciple of the sect would return once the calamity had passed. It was an equal part of selfishness and kindness. It had been my goal to prove my path."
Maximilian stared at the soul for a moment as he processed what he had heard. He had no idea the soul could even be separated. A certain dark lord came to mind, and he wondered if that was possible. Though when he looked at the man in front of him, he wasn't sure he wanted that. The ghost felt off. Like he wasn't completely real. At first, he assumed the feeling was due to a lack of Dao in the spirit. Now, though, he wondered if it was more related to the being dead part. Maximilian shook his head and focused on the situation in front of him. "You mentioned a 'calamity', would you be willing to tell me more about that? I came across the writings of a man named Hooshal. He talked about what I assumed was the beginning of this calamity."
"Ah? That old fool wrote something down? Interesting. Interesting. Are you able to provide that journal? I wouldn't mind reading it."
Maximilian shook his head. "Unfortunately, I can not. It is within my bag, and the Network had made it impossible to access it."
"Very well. Regarding your question, I can provide some clarification about what happened. I will assume you understand the basics. The Orichalcus Stone was a potent natural treasure that landed outside the city. One that we attempted to harvest. Initially, the stone was what we wanted it to be. It was a stone that provided a unique form of energy. One that could be absorbed regardless of your Dao or cultivation level. Pillar formation apprentices received the same benefits as those in Foundation Establishment. Even the City Lord was able to use it. Alas, it was too good to be true. The treasure came with a malignant will. No, I suppose that's not completely accurate. The stone wanted to be gathered. It wanted to be whole. For cultivators that weren't strong enough to begin with, they were easily overcome. Before you think too poorly of us, I am sure you can imagine our position. Even we elders were little more than children in the wider universe. Our lord was stuck in early Revolving Core. The third realm barely provided enough power to maintain our independence. Let alone respect."
Maximilian kept his face passive as the elder explained. He didn't understand what they were talking about, but he could imagine. It sounded like being poor your whole life, only for someone to come along with a get-rich-quick scheme. Which was why he could see the writing on the wall. The stone likely took over the people, which led to the fighting Hooshal mentioned. "There is no judgement from me Senior. We are all forced to make the best of what we can. I would appreciate it if you continued the story of your city."
