The flickering blue light painted the walls with ghostly shadows. The remnants of the first puppet still smoldered where Shadow's blade had torn through it, but there was no time to breathe.
From the other side of the corridor, three more figures emerged—each one wearing the faces of Lena, Sera, and Ryn, eyes hollow and glowing faintly with mechanical light. Behind them, the broken Rena replica twitched, fragments of mana wiring repairing its torn arm as it rose again, silent and unfeeling.
Shadow stepped back, his gauntlet pulsing with restrained power. Four against one. And unlike before, these were not weak copies—they moved with terrifying precision, reading his motions like programmed reflections.
The first strike came from above. The false Lena blurred forward, her twin blades trailing arcs of blue. Shadow caught the first strike with his gauntlet, sparks bursting as metal screamed against mana-forged steel. The second blade cut across his chestplate, leaving a deep gash that shimmered faintly with corrosive mana.
He grimaced. Adaptive enchantments. They're learning my rhythm.
Sera's copy rushed from the left, a glowing spear piercing the air. He barely sidestepped, the weapon grazing his cloak before embedding into the wall and detonating with a shockwave of force.
He vanished.
In an instant, his shadow flickered behind them. His dagger cut through Ryn's puppet's neck, severing it cleanly—but before the body hit the ground, Rena's duplicate was already there, striking with unnatural speed.
A punch connected with his ribs, hard enough to crack the armor. The gauntlet flared, absorbing most of the impact, but pain still lanced through him. The second strike came immediately—no pause, no hesitation, like a puppet following a script.
"Even your fighting patterns are fake," he hissed.
He caught her arm mid-swing and twisted. Metal crunched. He slammed her into the ground, and the floor cracked beneath the impact.
But the others didn't stop. They attacked together, relentless—each movement synchronized to the next, forming a flawless cycle of offense and defense. There was no emotion. No fatigue. Only repetition.
Shadow's cloak fluttered as he leapt back, landing on one knee. Blood trickled down his lip, and his breathing turned sharp.
For the first time in a long while, he found himself… tested.
"Fine," he murmured. "Let's end this properly."
The gauntlet's hum deepened, veins of crimson light streaking through its black surface. Mana surged through his body, condensing around his blade in a dark spiral. The air trembled as the corridor dimmed, all sound swallowed by the heavy pressure of his killing intent.
He vanished again—this time, faster than before.
A whisper of shadow cut through the room. The false Sera didn't even register his presence before her chest split open, core shattering in a burst of light.
The false Lena followed next, her body twisted midair as his blade severed her legs cleanly. She tried to strike back with her upper arm alone—her programming refusing surrender—but Shadow's gauntlet crushed her skull before she could finish.
Only the false Rena remained.
Her body flickered with unstable mana, face cracked and peeling. Yet she smiled still, that same eerily perfect smile Rena always had when reassuring him.
"Why do you struggle, Shadow?" she asked, her voice smooth and gentle. "You could have been one of us. Freed of fear, of doubt."
He said nothing.
She stepped closer, ignoring the sparks dancing along her ruined arm. "You hate the pain of being human, don't you? I can feel it—the emptiness in your mana, the loneliness that clings to you. You don't belong with them."
"Maybe," he whispered. "But I'm still me."
The gauntlet's glow intensified, pulsing like a heartbeat.
The puppet lunged.
He met her halfway, his blade cutting through her mid-sentence. A surge of mana erupted outward, washing the hall in violent light. When it faded, only silence remained—broken gears, shattered limbs, and flickering mana residue scattered across the ground like dying embers.
Shadow stood amidst the wreckage, chest rising and falling steadily. The scent of burnt mana hung heavy in the air.
"Whoever made you…" he muttered, wiping his blade, "went too far."
He turned toward the heavy door at the corridor's end—the same one the puppets had been guarding. His gauntlet reacted to its presence, resonating with the mana pulse beneath. He placed his hand against it, channeling his energy through the locks.
A low hum filled the air. The runes dimmed, and the door opened with a sound like a sigh.
Cold air rushed out.
What lay beyond stopped him cold.
Rows upon rows of glass tubes lined the chamber, each one filled with faint blue liquid. Inside floated the small, pale bodies of children—eyes closed, still as statues. Some had faint glowing cores embedded in their chests. Others had marks carved into their skin—the same serpentine symbol from before.
The hum of machinery surrounded him, soft and rhythmic, like the sound of breathing.
Shadow stepped closer to one of the pods. The label read:
Specimen 104 – Mana Sensitivity: Stable – Cognitive Function: Erased.
He looked around slowly. Hundreds of them.
Some of the pods were shattered, their contents gone—only claw marks and dried blue residue remained on the floor.
He clenched his fists. The air thickened with a suffocating aura as his mana surged involuntarily.
So this was the truth. The "Azure Veil" wasn't just a drug—it was made from them.
Their lives, their essence, harvested to keep the city docile.
For a long moment, Shadow didn't move. His gauntlet vibrated faintly, as though reacting to his fury, the glow deepening into a blood-red pulse.
"Children…" he whispered, voice trembling between rage and disbelief. "You turned children into fuel."
Somewhere deeper in the chamber, a faint sound echoed—a mechanical voice, soft and distant:
"Project Azure: Cycle Complete. Initiating next phase."
Shadow's eyes narrowed. He turned toward the sound, stepping deeper into the darkness.
If this was only one of their facilities, then the real nightmare had only just begun.