Qiren walked through frozen time.
His puppet hung suspended in front of him.
"Hm?" he hummed softly. "I expected her to attack me by now."
He stayed on guard, his eyes sweeping the trees inside the room as he glanced through the hole in the wall.
A few meters from the booth, the ox had been catapulted into the ground—but she hadn't moved. Her massive body was locked in a half-crouch, frozen like a statue.
"Why is she frozen?" he muttered. "I didn't stop speeding her up… did I?"
He took a closer look outside.
Is there a radius to my influence?
He scanned the area, realizing she may have stepped outside the range of his time manipulation—the space where he could speed up, slow down, or selectively grant time.
Because she no longer met the conditions, her accelerated state had automatically canceled—until he moved close enough for her to reenter his range.
During that brief pause, he noticed more anomalies.
Spirits and curses drifted between the trees. Birds nested in branches that hadn't existed before. Towers of compressed scrap rose from the junkyard—structures that definitely hadn't been there moments ago.
His gaze lowered to a pile of trash spirits rummaging through his cars.
They varied in size—some as small as toddlers, others lanky and thin, nearly the size of grown humans.
They wore scrap metal armor, fishbones, and junkyard debris, wrenching bolts loose with practiced efficiency. He stared at them. Their skin looked plastic, like store mannequins rather than organic flesh.
"Are those trying to steal my tires?" he mused, watching a few frozen mid-struggle with the screws on his crew's vehicles.
Above them floated more spirits—most notably a hot air balloon stitched together from tarp and junk, its basket made of scrap metal, headlights and saws mounted to its sides.
Below, three buses drifted with balloons attached to them, operated by more puppet-like junkyard spirits.
"Return… to zero."
He spoke softly, reducing his speed.
Crumble. Crumble.
Chunks of the wall collapsed as gravity reclaimed them.
The moment time normalized, the anomalies vanished.
He turned to Missy, who stared in shock at the spot where he had stood seconds earlier.
"I need you to start getting rid of the bodies," he said. "Tell the imps to gun down anyone in their path. You heard how many people are here, right?"
He tilted his head.
Missy smiled as she stood, barely questioning the hole in the wall—only giving it a brief glance.
"You can count on me," she purred, walking toward it. "Did you do this?"
"No," Qiren replied, "but I'm hoping the culprit runs straight at me."
His marionette shuffled its cards—then flicked them outward, a deck of aces erupting into the air.
The timing was perfect.
The cards formed a shield just as invisible roots lashed out.
Metal reels embedded in the wall spun violently, tugging at the thread-bound cards and bending the roots' trajectory.
"By the way," he murmured.
His puppet sprinted forward—only to be struck by more roots.
It hurled glitter bombs instead, coating them.
"Are you good with animals?"
Missy blinked. "Uh… yes?"
He placed something on her shoulder. She felt the weight immediately.
"You can have this guy," he said, patting the unseen thing. "Just don't lose him."
Qiren walked on—his pocket watch slipping from his sleeve, dangling by a chain hooked to his exposed arm bone.
His puppet drew a machete, cleaving through the roots.
Qiren couldn't see the ox anymore. He'd have to rely on tricks.
The marionette spin-kicked.
Swish!
Its strings yanked it upward—tap, tap, tap—as it landed on invisible footing, sprinting along a hidden path straight toward the ox's position.
Three glitter bags were thrown—then slashed midair.
It was a hunch, but it paid off.
Roots lunged where the puppet would have been.
The puppet leapt, rebounded, and sliced them apart.
Slash. Slash.
Two clean cross-cuts severed their pointed ends.
"Hehehe."
A cherub laughed.
It clung to the invisible bark of an invisible tree—the source of the roots the ox had conjured.
Heat built in its stomach like a fuse.
Its body was drenched in oil.
Its brothers laughed, holding empty oil spears scavenged from a car trunk.
One struck a match and tossed it.
"Boom~"
BOOOOM!
The cherub detonated.
Fire roared skyward, debris and flaming coils of trunk spiraling outward, fueled by the cherub's spiritual body.
Through the blaze, the marionette caught sight of the ox.
She tanked the explosion without moving.
"Circus Flush!" Qiren called from the sidelines.
A torrent of cards shot forward, each one pierced with needles.
The ox roared and charged.
Most cards bounced off—but those reinforced with note pins dug in.
Two more oil-soaked cherubs slammed into her, clutching lit matches.
BOOOOM!!
"Wow…" Missy breathed.
She had been ordered to lead the carnival imps into their massacre, but the fight rooted her in place.
Her heart wanted to watch.
Her body knew better.
Reluctantly, she returned to the office.
"You two—guard the exit," she ordered the imps. "Assist if Mr. Solidar is in trouble. I'll send cleanup once we've cleared the junkyard."
Her eyes drifted to the corpses.
Third time today.
She took a steadying breath.
"Cover that one," she said, nodding toward the mangled body at the back. "A tarp. A sack. Anything."
The cherubs had done too much damage. She couldn't look any longer.
She stepped back through the hole in the wall, gathering the remaining imps and sending them out to spread—and kill.
"MOOO!!!"
The ox thrashed—injured at last.
Damage layered upon damage.
Golden blood soaked into the earth.
100×
The world came to a standstill as Qiren walked through it, his eyes fixed on the now-visible ox—and the crowd of gnomes that had gathered to watch.
He conjured several glass vials, their patterned surfaces etched with intricate designs. His dark robes stirred in the frozen air.
Tick… Tick… Tick…
Return to zero.
Swish. Swoosh. Step.
The jester marionette swung its machete, hurling it like a buzzing saw.
Clink!
Its feet left the ground as it leapt back, narrowly avoiding a wild root snapping upward.
The ox's horns deflected the spinning weapon.
Tch. This man is tricky, she thought, spotting another object flying toward her.
She mooed sharply, sending it veering off course.
"!?"
She lowered her head as the puppet yanked the string attached to the blade, twisting it in a wide arc over her horns.
Chomp!
The moment it passed above her, she snapped her jaws shut, biting clean through the string.
Hehe he—
Another oil-soaked cherub clung to her side.
She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for an explosion that never came.
When she opened them, the figure dissolved into mist.
"Damn illusionist!!!" she roared.
Hiss!
A serpent's voice echoed.
Her leg lifted as a gold-scaled snake lunged and bit her.
Stomp! Crunch!
She crushed its head in a burst of rage. "Call all your friends," she snarled. "I'll crush them alive."
Is that so…
The voice came from behind.
She spun, firing a root.
It pierced straight through a mass of serpents arranged into a human silhouette—but they only hissed and scattered.
Some slithered up the root. Others swarmed the ground, sharp fangs biting into her calves.
Pain surged through her body as thousands of teeth sank into her flesh.
"Moooo!!!"
Tree roots slammed wildly, killing, crushing, and tearing her attackers apart.
Flowers bloomed beneath her hooves. Mushrooms burst from the soil. Foliage exploded outward—vines ensnaring serpents, fungal spores clinging to scales, poisonous pollen drifting into their bodies and breaking them down from within.
Hiss! Hssss!
Those on the ground dropped like flies. Those climbing the roots were crushed mercilessly.
It was the power of a spirit that had lived for centuries—isolated, yet terrifying.
But so was the demonic wraith and illusionist weaving the final moments of her story.
"Return to zero."
Qiren appeared directly before her.
Not his puppet.
Not a serpent.
Him.
The man who played death—a jester, a street racer, a demon to the core.
His scythe rested backward on his shoulder as he knelt and placed a bottle of golden liquid on the ground.
!!!?
The ox froze.
Iron chains bound her to the earth. She struggled—then felt something impale her from within.
She twisted her head despite the agony.
A massive golden scissor skewered her body.
Dozens of smaller blades followed—serpents she had thought slain erupting from her flesh.
Blood filled her senses—
And then she saw it.
Five concentric rings formed beneath her, drawn in her own blood. Smaller vessels nested within each circle, all filled to the brim.
When did I lose that much of my spiritual essence?
"Supreme Laws of the Endless Nether Abyss."
Qiren's voice darkened.
"I call upon your power," he murmured as he rose. Thunder rolled across the sky. "For my soul is lost without your guidance.
In this strange new world, I hope you still hear my voice.
In exchange, I offer the blood upon your symbols as tribute."
He spread his arms, chanting incomprehensible syllables steeped in abyssal reverence.
The once-blue sky blackened. Wind howled. Thunder cracked.
Rumble. Crackle.
The ox sensed something terribly wrong.
She tried to stomp—
A serpent coiled around her ankle.
Hiss.
It bit—not to inject venom, but to drink. Her blood flowed into its serrated fangs.
On both sides of her, the final two cherubs drenched themselves in motor oil.
"Hee hee."
They ignited themselves.
They burned with smiles frozen on their faces, strings glowing along their limbs as she looked up.
Cross-braces filled her vision.
The marionette.
A guard's corpse strung by wires.
Broken wall fragments.
Severed roots from the jester's blade.
All of them suspended—circling her.
A barrier of bodies stood between her and Qiren.
The storm intensified.
Below, dark miasma curled upward.
The formation ignited.
Golden blood flared.
The abyss answered his call.