In the war chamber of the royal palace, Kyle stood before Crown Prince Mikalius, delivering his report with calm precision.
"I’ve assigned Grand Duchess Amana and lissa to handle the western borders. There’ve been unusual movents along the mountain pass. I believe it’s best to intercept now rather than react later."
Kyle stated.
The crown prince blinked once, then threw his head back and laughed.
"Gods above! You actually sent both of them out together? You really are a madman, Kyle Armstrong. I can’t wait to hear how they survive each other."
Mikalius chuckled.
Kyle didn’t share the prince’s amusent.
"This isn’t a joke."
"I know, I know. It’s just... it’s the first ti I’ve seen my fierce cousin bow to soone else’s will. That’s worth so celebration."
Mikalius waved off, still grinning.
Kyle narrowed his eyes.
"Save the celebrations for after we’ve survived this ss. Right now, we have too many unknowns and not enough ti."
Mikalius sobered, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You’re right. I just... we’re stretched thin. We’ve sent scouts, spies, even birds enchanted with tracking spells. But none have brought back useful information. The silence on the divine front is unsettling. And the pressure from the northern and eastern factions is only increasing."
Kyle nodded.
"That’s why I’m putting certain pieces into place now. If we wait for clarity, we’ll lose what little advantage we still hold. I have a plan."
The crown prince looked at Kyle for a long mont, then finally leaned back in his chair.
"Then do whatever you must. Frankly, I trust you more than half my advisors these days."
His eyes wandered to the side of the room, where the humanoid puppet stood silently behind Kyle like a statue.
"That puppet... It looks... different. Not just divine. It’s got sothing else, doesn’t it?"
Mikalius muttered.
Kyle glanced back. The puppet’s head was tilted slightly, almost like it was watching the crown prince with a sliver of curiosity—if such a thing were possible.
"It’s my secret weapon. Still a work in progress, but when the ti cos, it will serve its purpose."
Kyle said.
Mikalius nodded slowly.
"As long as you’re in control of it."
"I am."
Kyle replied.
He turned and left the chamber without further elaboration, the puppet falling in line behind him with unnerving precision.
Back in his private quarters, Kyle shut the door and placed several soundproofing wards around the room. The puppet stood in the middle of the room, unmoving, but Kyle didn’t waste ti.
He summoned a thin blade of mana and gently drew a circle in the air around the puppet. Ancient runes shimred to life, forming a grid of energy around the still figure.
"Let’s see what you’re hiding... Rean."
Kyle murmured.
He placed his hand on the puppet’s chest. A sudden resistance pushed back at his mana, but he channeled more power and pierced through the divine veil wrapped tightly around the soul.
A surge of recognition—of once-familiar energy—flooded into him. Kyle’s eyes widened.
Deep beneath layers of divine manipulation, buried like a locked vault, was a soul he knew better than most: his forr general, Rean.
The man who had died protecting him in a war that now existed only in the mories of Kyle’s past life.
But Rean wasn’t gone. Not entirely. His soul, fractured and sealed, pulsed faintly at the core of the puppet’s form.
A faint residue of his original mana flickered, stubbornly refusing to disappear.
"So that’s how she did it...Lucia didn’t destroy you. She repurposed you. A doll with a heartbeat."
Kyle whispered.
His jaw clenched. The fusion of divine strings and mortal essence was unnatural—an abomination that mocked the concept of free will.
And yet, Rean’s core still fought back in so small way. That defiance... that was him.
"You’re still in there. Still resisting."
Kyle said.
The puppet remained still, but Kyle thought he felt sothing—a flicker of heat in the mana flow, like an answer.
"You’ve always been too stubborn to die properly."
Kyle muttered with a faint smile.
He pulled his hand back, letting the mana field collapse around the puppet.
"I’ll bring you back, Rean. Not just your body, but your soul, your voice... all of it. I swear."
Kyle extended his hand and placed it firmly against the invisible barrier surrounding the puppet.
The shield shimred faintly with residual divine energy, tightly woven to suppress and contain what lay inside.
He could feel the sealed soul and flickering mana desperately pressing against its confinent, like water behind a cracking dam.
"This prison..."
Kyle muttered, narrowing his eyes.
He inhaled, then pulled. The barrier resisted for a heartbeat, then groaned and buckled under his strength.
Mana flared violently as he shattered it with his bare hands, tearing through the divine weave as though it were no more than parchnt. Instantly, a surge of mana erupted, wild and unstable—too powerful for the artificial vessel to hold.
The puppet’s body trembled, its joints creaking as fractures began forming along its shell. The soul within threatened to burst forth, untethered.
Kyle acted quickly, gathering his own mana and channeling it into precise threads that wove themselves into the puppet’s core. He didn’t suppress the soul.
Instead, he embraced it, cradling it with his energy, binding it carefully to the artificial body with a level of delicacy that defied the rough, overwhelming power he’d used monts earlier.
Where Goddess Lucia had failed to bring coherence to the soul she had stolen, Kyle succeeded. He didn’t force the soul into submission.
He gave it a path to return.
The puppet gasped—a sharp intake of breath that sounded almost painful. Cracks along its fra sealed slowly, divine mana lting into Kyle’s own as harmony returned to the vessel. And then—
Blink.
Eyes, dulled and soulless before, lit up with a faint, flickering awareness. Not divine, not artificial—real. Human.
The puppet blinked again, then imdiately dropped to its knees, bowing deeply.
"My lord. You... you brought back."
The voice said, strained but reverent. Kyle stared at the figure, unable to hide the emotion building behind his composed gaze.
"I am finally free to serve you once more. Forgive ... for dying. Forgive for needing the hands of a god to return. It is my sha."
The puppet said, voice shaking.
Kyle stepped forward, placing a hand gently on the man’s shoulder.
"Rean... You have nothing to be ashad of. You returned. That’s all that matters."
His voice was low.
Kyle lowered himself to one knee, eting Rean’s eyes directly.
"What do you rember, Rean? About after your death."
Rean’s brows furrowed as he tried to think, his expression tense.
"I... I rember pain. The battlefield... everything fading. Then darkness."
His voice slowed, unsure.
"And then... soone ca. A woman. She was beautiful. Too perfect to be human."
Kyle’s eyes narrowed.
"What did she say?"
Rean hesitated.
"She smiled at and said... she would keep alive. She said it would be cruel to let fade away... because Kyle would be sad."
His voice trembled slightly as he said his master’s na.
Kyle’s breath caught for a mont.
"Do you rember who she was?"
Rean slowly shook his head.
"No. I... I knew her face in that mont. It felt familiar sohow. Gentle... but now? It’s gone. Her features, her na—they’ve slipped from my mory. I can’t recall them no matter how hard I try."
Kyle’s hand tightened into a fist.
"I see."
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