Chapter 9: Doubt
The room surrounding Dolin vanished. Stone walls dissolved into darkness.
Dolin found himself alone. Cold rain fell from a gray sky. The outskirts.
The muddy streets stretched endlessly before him, run down buildings lined up besides them.
Dolin's breath grew short.
He knew this place.
Two corpses lay in the street.
Blood mixed with rainwater, running through the dirt like thin red rivers.
A small boy stood nearby. He was trembling.
The whispers returned.
You were powerless.
You still are.
The scene shifted.
Now, a young boy stood in a narrow alleyway, a group of older boys surrounding him.
One shoved him against a wall, a fist striking his stomach. Another slammed into his face.
You were weak.
The memories changed again.
Dolin saw a slightly older boy now.
He was running.
There were men chasing him. Screaming at him.
You run.
You hide.
You are afraid.
The scene changed.
This time Dolin was looking at a teenage boy.
The boy was running toward a swirling bright gate in the distance.
But then, the boy was pushed back.
The boy was denied.
They despise you.
You cannot change who you are.
The darkness began to twist around him.
Images flashed even faster now.
Hunger.
Cold nights.
Violence.
Fear.
You are nothing.
You have nothing.
Dolin staggered slightly. The weight of it all, it felt like a crushing tide.
The whispers began to grow louder.
Why struggle?
You cannot win.
The scene shifted once again.
This time he stood in a burning castle.
He watched a courtyard battle.
Knights were dying.
Monsters were tearing men apart.
You are small.
You cannot change anything.
Another scene appeared.
Dead. All of them lay on the ground, scattered as corpses. Even himself.
You will fail.
Give in.
Rest within me.
You don't have to fight anymore.
Dolin closed his eyes.
For a moment, he said nothing.
The whispers grew confident.
Yes. You understand.
Then Dolin sighed quietly.
"...You're not wrong."
The whispers faltered slightly, their tone surprised.
Dolin opened his eyes.
All of his mistakes, fears, and doubts. The broken memories still surround him.
The dead.
The failures.
The horror.
"Maybe I was powerless back then."
The images began to flicker.
"Maybe I am still weak."
The whispers began to sharpen.
You will fail.
"I have a chance. The spell gave me a chance. Even if I fail. I will not give up!"
The rain began to fade.
The alley dissolved.
The burning castle flickered.
"Doubt cannot stop me."
You cannot win.
You are nothing.
Dolin smiled calmly.
"Maybe I am."
Then his voice hardened.
"But I am still going to try."
The darkness cracked.
The entire world shattered.
The rain vanished.
Dolin gasped
The throne hall had returned.
The Puppeteer hovered above him, its threads still wrapped around the defenders.
But the pressure in Dolin's mind was gone, completely gone.
He slowly lifted his sword and smiled.
"Nice trick."
For a brief moment, nothing happened.
Then, all the threads trembled.
Dozens of them shone through the hall like an invisible web, each strand pulsing faintly.
Dolin could see them clearly. Every strand. Every connection.
Each thread ran from the creature down into the bodies of the defenders.
Into the corpses, and into the living.
Hundreds of strings woven into a vast web.
The Puppeteer reacted instantly.
Its wings twitched.
The mental pressure returned, but this time it was weaker, manageable.
Dolin followed the strand attached to him.
It vibrated slightly. It was connected.
His eyes narrowed.
So that's how it works.
Above him, the creature drifted lower.
The whispers came again.
Submit.
Dolin raised a hand, and then he grabbed the thread.
The moment his fingers closed around it, a strange sensation flooded his mind.
He could feel the web. Not just his own thread. No, he could feel all of them.
The Puppeteer froze mid-air.
For the first time, its attention focused entirely on Dolin.
What seemed to be recognition flickered through the creature's mind.
A strange resonance pulsed through the thread. Like kinship.
Dolin frowned.
"...Don't compare me to you."
Then he pulled. Attempting to thwart the control of the Puppeteer seared his mind, dampening his thoughts and piercing his brain with a sharp pain. But he did not stop. His eyes began to bleed from the mental overload, yet slowly but surely, the imperceivable thread lost its control.
Two defenders gasped as if awaking from a nightmare.
Another collapsed, clutching his head.
The Puppeteer shrieked.
Its wings beat violently as dozens of strands of black silk shot towards Dolin like spears.
He ducked beneath them, slashing at them with his sword. One bit into his left arm, shearing a chunk of it right off along with the armor that protected it.
Traitorous Edge flashed through the air, severing several of them at once.
More defenders staggered as they regained control.
"W-What just happened?" one of them gasped.
"Kill that thing!" Dolin shouted.
The throne hall erupted into chaos.
The few remaining enthralled soldiers lunged forward, clashing against the freed.
Garrick stepped forward beside Dolin, now free from the Puppeteer's grasp.
His blade rose.
"That thing dies now."
The Puppeteer let out another shriek, flaring its wings.
Dozens of threads lashed out like whips, piercing a defender straight through the chest. Another wrapped around a knight's neck, wrenching his head right off of his shoulders.
Dolin rushed forward.
But the creature was fast.
A thread wrapped around his wrist, another around his leg.
He stumbled.
The whispers returned, now with a furious tone.
Kneel.
Submit.
Dolin struggled, his mind already going dark from the increased pressure. He was blacking out, yet saw Garrick out of the corner of his eye.
He threw his sword at the man. Garrick caught the blade before roaring at the Puppeteer.
In a straight charge he drove the sword straight at the creature's body.
It pierced deep into its thin abdomen.
The Puppeteer shrieked.
Strands of black silk exploded out in retaliation.
Five of them shot through Garrick's chest.
The knight froze, blood slowly dripping from his mouth.
But Garrick did not fall.
Instead, he forced the sword even deeper.
His voice came out hoarse but steady.
"...Now."
Dolin, now freed from the threads due to Garrick's attack, charged at the Puppeteer in a rage.
He ran at the Puppeteer, and at the last second, he unsummoned the Traitorous Edge which had been pinning the Puppeteer down.
Countless strands of black silk shot out at him like spears. He dodged, shifting his position to avoid them, as if he was avoiding the thugs in the outskirts.
Resummoning it into his hands, he slashed into a downward arc, right onto the Puppeteer.
Just as his strike landed, the tendrils of black silk caught up to him.
Stab.
Stab.
Stab.
But it was already too late, the blade had already come down.
The blade pierced straight through the creature's head.
For a moment the world went completely silent, then the Puppeteer collapsed.
The web unraveled instantly.
All across the castle, the invisible threads dissolved into nothing.
The enthralled defenders dropped their weapons.
The mental pressure in the air vanished.
Garrick slowly sank onto one knee.
"...Looks like you did it," Garrick muttered. "Don't know what trick you pulled last second… But it worked."
Dolin didn't answer. He physically could not. A tendril of silk had pierced right through his lung, causing it to fill with blood.
"Not bad… for a kid."
Dolin's consciousness began to fade, but then a familiar voice called out.
[You have slain an Awakened Terror, Puppeteer.]
[Wake up, Dolin! Your nightmare is over.]
[Prepare for appraisal…]