Lucien felt the change in the middle of the fight.
At first, it was subtle. Just a strange shift inside his body, like something had finally connected. The flow of Qi that had always felt slightly out of reach suddenly became clearer, smoother.
Then it grew stronger.
A new kind of control.
Not over himself—but over something outside.
Wind.
Lucien stepped back slightly, putting distance between himself and the puppets. His breathing was steady, but his focus had sharpened.
He raised his hand.
"Let's see…" he muttered.
The puppets paused for a brief second, as if sensing something. Then Mary Shaw's mocking laughter echoed again.
"You think that will save you?"
A puppet lunged forward. Its long tongue shot straight toward Lucien's chest.
He didn't move.
Right before it reached him, a breeze formed.
Soft at first.
Then suddenly, it turned violent.
The air exploded outward, sending the puppet flying off course. It slammed into the wall with a crack, its body twisting unnaturally before dropping to the ground.
The wind didn't stop there.
It spread across the room, growing stronger with every second. The scattered puppets on the ground were lifted into the air. Broken limbs, wooden fragments, and unfinished bodies spun wildly in the current.
The entire room shook.
The ceiling groaned under the pressure before part of it tore open. Moonlight poured in from above, cutting through the darkness.
For a moment, it looked like a storm had formed inside the theater.
And in the middle of it—
Lucien stood still.
The wind didn't touch him.
It moved around him, as if avoiding him completely.
Mary Shaw finally revealed herself, her ghostly form flickering in the air. But the moment she tried to move closer, the wind tore through her like blades.
She let out a sharp scream and instantly retreated, turning into black smoke and disappearing into one of the puppets.
Lucien watched quietly.
So even she couldn't handle it directly.
The wind continued for a few more seconds before slowly weakening. One by one, the puppets fell back to the ground. Some were already shattered, others barely holding together.
Silence returned.
Lucien took a step forward—
And suddenly felt dizzy.
His body swayed slightly.
"Yeah… figured," he muttered under his breath.
Using that ability had drained a lot more energy than expected. After the fight earlier, his condition wasn't great to begin with.
A laugh echoed again.
"You're done," Mary Shaw said, her voice filled with confidence now.
Around twenty puppets slowly stood up again from the debris.
"You can barely stand, and you still think you can kill me?"
Her tone turned cruel.
"I'll rip your tongue out… and make it into one of my dolls."
Lucien didn't reply.
He simply raised his gun.
There was only one bullet left.
At the same time, his eyes shifted slightly—to the gasoline can near his feet.
Without warning, he kicked it up and threw it forward.
The can spun through the air toward the puppets.
Lucien fired.
The bullet pierced the metal, and gasoline burst out instantly. A spark followed, and in the next second, flames erupted in mid-air.
The fire spread fast.
Too fast.
The wooden puppets caught fire immediately. The dry structure of the theater made it even worse. Flames climbed up the walls and spread across the stage in seconds.
But Lucien didn't stop there.
He raised his hand again.
This time, the wind returned—but controlled.
The flames were pushed forward, spreading faster, covering everything in front of him.
The entire theater was soon burning.
Mary Shaw's scream echoed through the fire, sharp and furious, but it didn't last long.
One by one, the remaining puppets were swallowed by the flames.
Lucien didn't wait to watch the end.
He turned and jumped straight into the lake below the theater.
Behind him, the fire continued to grow, consuming everything.
The abandoned building, which had stood for decades, finally collapsed under the heat.
Outside, near the forest, Jamie stared at the burning theater in shock.
"No… he's still inside…"
He tried to run forward, but the detective grabbed him.
"Stop! You can't go in there!"
"I can't just leave him!" Jamie shouted.
The detective's expression was serious.
"…He's not coming back."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then—
A voice came from behind them.
"You've already decided that?"
Both of them froze.
Slowly, they turned around.
Lucien walked out from the shadows, his clothes wet, his expression calm as ever.
Tired—but alive.