The orphanage smelled of decay and mildew, but it had become nothing more than a backdrop, a stage on which I moved unseen. By now, the other children had learned to avoid me. Not because they feared me—though some did—but because I was invisible, silent, and precise. I didn't play with them. I didn't cry when punished. I didn't stumble or whine. I observed, I analyzed, and I waited.
Five years had honed me. Seven in body, twenty-one in mind. I had survived without anyone's help. I had learned to manipulate shadows, to control small objects, to anticipate movements before they happened. And most importantly, I had puppets. Arthur and Lancelot—ugly, blocky, crude, yet perfectly obedient—stood by my side as extensions of my will.
But one was never enough. Two was still weak. My mind, always hungry, demanded more. Ten. Ten puppets, obedient and precise, capable of following my every command. The Tenfold Pact. A Binding Vow that would push both me and my creations into power far beyond anyone else's imagination.
The First Step
I crouched in the storage room, tiny fingers twitching as cursed energy pulsed faintly through me. Arthur's golden frame and Lancelot's black, jagged body shimmered under the subtle hum of energy. I had been experimenting quietly, feeding them small pulses of cursed energy, adjusting their movements, refining their obedience.
But now I wanted more. I wanted creation. I wanted to see the spark of life ignite under my command.
I focused, drawing energy from deep inside, feeling it thrum against my chest. The air grew heavier. Shadows twisted and stretched, responding to my will. I extended my hands, molding energy as one might knead clay.
A crude shape formed first—blocky, awkward, almost laughable—but it obeyed instantly. My mind fed it commands, and it moved. One step forward, one arm swing, a turn to the left. It obeyed perfectly.
Another, and another. Each was more precise than the last, each imbued with a faint pulse of cursed energy from me. They were still ugly. They were still weak. They were still incomplete. But they were mine. Obedient, alive, and ready to learn.
Testing Obedience
I directed them toward a rat, a small, insignificant creature that scuttled through the shadows. The puppets lunged, clumsy and awkward, but coordinated. One distracted, one struck, one absorbed the flow of energy from the others. By the end, the creature lay in fragments, its cursed energy absorbed and repurposed into the puppets' small, crude forms.
I observed silently, noting every inefficiency, every twitch that could be improved. My puppets obeyed, yes, but they lacked finesse. They lacked instinct. Each movement required me to guide them carefully, infusing cursed energy to correct errors. This was expected. This was necessary.
They are still weak. Still blocky. Still ugly. But obedience… obedience is everything.
The Hunger for More
I paused, letting my mind wander. Ten puppets. Ten obedient soldiers, each capable of executing my will flawlessly. Special Grade power. Maximum efficiency. Unstoppable.
The thought wasn't childish. It wasn't naive. It was strategy. Every cursed fragment I had absorbed, every experiment with Arthur and Lancelot, every failure and success, was a step toward creating a perfect army.
I didn't need friends. I didn't need family. I didn't need anyone's approval. Only power mattered. Only control mattered. Only obedience mattered.
I had been reborn into a weak body, yes, but my mind was sharp, my instincts deadly, my cursed energy growing. And my puppets—my soldiers—were the first step.
First Real Danger
Even the smallest orphanage had threats. Rats and small curses were one thing, but sometimes a wandering curse, drawn by stray energy or noise, would find its way inside. Last night, one had come—a weak scavenger, but stronger than any I had tested with. It moved with a feral intent, sensing something different in the shadows.
I smiled faintly. Not for joy, but for calculation.
"Arthur, Lancelot, new creations… prepare," I whispered.
The new puppets, awkward and clumsy, obeyed immediately. Their blocky limbs shook under my subtle guidance, but they moved. The small curse lunged. I guided the first puppet to intercept. The second puppet followed with a swinging motion, the third absorbing a pulse of cursed energy to strengthen the strike.
The creature faltered. Its movements grew erratic. Each attack chipped away at its energy, its structure breaking down until it finally exploded into harmless fragments.
I studied my puppets closely. Still crude. Still weak. But obeying perfectly. And that obedience… was everything.
The Seed of the Tenfold Pact
As I observed them, the idea crystallized fully in my mind. Ten puppets. Maximum obedience. Maximum power. Special Grade abilities. But it wouldn't happen instantly. There would be sacrifices, there would be Binding Vows, and there would be rules to bend. But all of it could be leveraged. All of it could become my weapon.
Arthur, Lancelot, and the new puppets stood at my command, crude and imperfect, yet alive. They responded to my thoughts, my energy, my will. The Tenfold Pact would make them stronger. Special Grade. Perfect.
And I would survive every step of it.
Von's Mind
I didn't feel joy. I didn't feel fear. I didn't feel weakness. I was Von. I was ruthless. I was patient. I was precise. And I would make the world pay attention.
The orphanage, the children, the staff—all were irrelevant. They didn't matter. Only my puppets mattered. Only power mattered. Only obedience mattered.
The world will learn the name Von.
And when it did, no one would dare oppose me.