The puppet drifted through the camp like a shadow on a quiet evening—silent, steady, and terrifying.
It made no move to attack unless someone raised their weapon first. But those who did… didn't last long enough to regret it.
A flash of divine energy, a flick of its delicate hand, and the would-be defenders were down in an instant—alive, but unconscious, like their mana had been sealed away.
Word spread like wildfire.
"Don't touch it!"
"Don't even look at it the wrong way!"
"Just let it pass!"
Soldiers parted like waves before it, making way while whispering prayers, each man and woman too afraid to engage and too confused to understand what this thing wanted.
Some of them swore it wasn't even hostile—just searching, observing, haunting.
No one dared to follow it as it passed into the inner ward of the camp.
