Chapter 132 — The Puppet Master’s Game

  Being Herded Like Prey

  Seven’s boots rang hollow against the cold metal floor as he pressed deeper into Epsilon-9.

  Emergency lights flickered overhead, bathing the corridor in sickly amber pulses. Shadows stretched and recoiled along the walls with every step, warping broken machinery and long-dead signage into something almost alive.

  Behind him—

  THUNK.

  A blast door slammed shut, its locks engaging with a final, mechanical hiss.

  Ahead, another door slid open.

  Seven stopped.

  Slowly, he exhaled through his nose.

  “…Yeah,” he muttered, adjusting his grip on Fluffy as he kept her upright. “This isn’t ominous at all.”

  They moved on.

  Every junction told the same story.

  One path opened.

  The others stayed sealed.

  Seven’s sense of direction screamed at him—angles too precise, turns too intentional. This wasn’t random lockdown behavior. The corridors were guiding him, funneling him toward something deeper, older.

  Toward a destination.

  Not knowing where he was being taken made his skin itch.

  He tightened his hold on his rifle.

  “Fluffy,” he asked quietly, eyes scanning the ceiling for turrets or hidden cameras, “do you recognize this section?”

  She shook her head weakly, clutching her side as she fought to stay conscious.

  “No… we were dragged in blind. I never saw the routes—just doors… and screams.”

  Her voice wavered.

  “I’m sorry. I know I’m slowing you down.”

  Seven felt it immediately—the way her weight shifted, the strain she tried to hide.

  He adjusted his hold without a word.

  “You’re not a burden,” he said flatly. “You’re alive. That’s enough.”

  She didn’t argue.

  But the guilt didn’t leave her eyes.

  Seven understood that look far too well.

  That’s when it settled in completely.

  He wasn’t choosing where to go.

  She was.

  “…She’s herding me,” Seven muttered. “Like livestock.”

  His jaw tightened.

  Every instinct in him rebelled against it—the loss of control, the forced compliance, the feeling of invisible hands on his back.

  He hated this.

  But fighting the system would cost time. Mana. Strength.

  And time was something Fluffy—and possibly Raven and the others—didn’t have.

  So for now…

  He followed the path.

  A Voice in the Dark

  The intercom crackled overhead.

  “You’re learning, Seven,” Saya’s voice purred, warm and pleased. “It took you long enough to notice I’m leading you by the hand. How adorable.”

  Seven snorted softly.

  “Yeah,” he replied dryly. “Adorable’s not the word I’d use. Creepy, maybe. Annoying? Definitely.”

  A soft laugh echoed through the halls.

  “Oh, don’t be difficult,” Saya teased. “I’m guiding you. This place is very dangerous for someone as… fragile as you.”

  The mock concern made his skin crawl.

  He ignored it.

  Instead, his mind snagged on something else.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  That second voice.

  Back when she first spoke—there had been someone with her.

  A presence he didn’t recognize.

  “Who else is there, Saya?” Seven asked, keeping his tone even.

  Static crackled.

  Then silence.

  “…You really are perceptive,” she mused at last. “Yes. There is someone else with me.”

  A pause.

  “But you’ll meet him soon enough. Who knows? You might even like him.”

  Seven’s gut tightened.

  “Somehow,” he said flatly, “I doubt that.”

  The intercom went dead.

  For a moment, only the hum of old machinery filled the corridor.

  Then Fluffy spoke—quiet, shaken.

  “…It’s him.”

  Seven glanced down at her.

  “The Nekomata,” she continued, voice trembling. “The one who killed Grent and Sylvia. His name is Soku.”

  Seven stopped walking.

  “…Another one?” he muttered, shifting her weight more securely. “Great. Just what I needed.”

  He caught the fear in her eyes and softened his voice, just a fraction.

  “We’re getting out of this, Fluff. I don’t care how twisted her game is.”

  She nodded weakly.

  Ahead, another door opened.

  Seven squared his shoulders.

  Whatever waited at the end of this path—

  He wasn’t walking into it unarmed.

  And Saya?

  She might be pulling the strings.

  But he’d learned long ago—

  Even puppets could bite back.

  Kinata’s Hunt — A Rivalry Ignited

  Outside the ancient facility, Kinata paced.

  Her tail snapped sharply against the frozen ground, irritation radiating from her in tight, controlled movements. She stopped, lifted her head, and stared at the looming structure carved into the tundra like a scar that refused to heal.

  “…Saya,” she muttered, the name leaving a bitter taste.

  Kinata and Lyra stood at the edge of a vast depression in the ice, looking down upon Epsilon-9’s upper logistics sector. Even at a distance, the scale of the facility was unsettling—large enough that even Neko Titans could move freely inside.

  That alone set it apart.

  The Aku did not build places like this.

  Nor did they scavenge them.

  Relics of the old human war were considered blights—things to be shattered, burned, or stripped of anything useful before being erased. Lady Lumin had made that doctrine clear.

  Human creations invite disaster.

  And standing here, Kinata understood why.

  Without hesitation, she stepped forward and leapt.

  The ground rushed up beneath her as she dropped hundreds of feet, landing with a thunderous impact that sent frost rippling outward. Lyra landed beside her moments later, far lighter on her feet despite her size.

  Ahead stood a massive bulkhead—warehouse doors wide enough to admit Titan-class beings. One of the few entrances that didn’t require shrinking themselves down and wasting dark mana.

  Around the perimeter lay the remains of reptilian creatures—Bio-Organic Beasts.

  Frozen solid.

  Kinata crouched, brushing frost from one of the shattered forms.

  “…The cold killed them,” Lyra noted. “Or stopped them long enough to finish the job.”

  Kinata nodded.

  The tundra itself was hostile to these things.

  Another human failure.

  As they stepped inside, the air shifted. Old power hummed through dormant systems, and the echo of Saya’s voice carried faintly through the structure—soft, taunting, amused.

  Kinata’s ears flattened.

  She felt it then—not fear, not concern—

  Disgust.

  Saya was toying with Seven.

  Kinata was a hunter. A predator.

  She did not torture prey for amusement.

  The laws of this world were simple: the strong survived, and the weak were ended swiftly. That was how she had been raised. How the Aku maintained balance.

  Kinata and Lyra had never devoured humans. Never rabbit folk. Never preyed on the weak for pleasure.

  But Saya?

  Saya played with her food.

  And now she was playing with Kinata’s prey.

  Unacceptable.

  This wasn’t concern for Seven.

  This was interference.

  Lyra glanced sideways, catching the tension in Kinata’s posture.

  “…You’re taking this personally,” she observed lightly.

  Kinata didn’t deny it.

  Dev’s Role — An Unwilling Tool

  Her attention shifted to Dev.

  The anomaly trembled where he was bound, secured in Lyra’s utility rig against her lower back. His fear was palpable, his breathing shallow.

  Lyra reached back, unhooked him, and set him down roughly on the cold metal floor.

  “Well then,” she said pleasantly, crouching to his level. “Time to earn your keep.”

  Dev swallowed hard.

  “W-what do you want me to do…?”

  Kinata stepped forward, her golden eyes boring into him.

  “You said you could sense mana signatures better than we can,” she said flatly. “Prove it.”

  Dev hesitated.

  Kinata’s claws tapped once against his restraints.

  “Now.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut.

  The world seemed to pull inward as his ability expanded—mana lines, life signatures, corrupted echoes bleeding through the structure.

  His face paled.

  “…Nine,” he whispered.

  Kinata stiffened.

  “Nine?” she repeated.

  She had expected fewer.

  Saya. The male voice. The missing team. Seven. The injured bunny woman.

  But nine?

  “Name them,” Kinata ordered.

  Dev shuddered under the weight of her gaze.

  “I—I can’t identify all of them,” he said quickly. “But Seven is there. His signature is… different. Stronger. Sharper. He’s closer than the rest.”

  Kinata’s tail stilled.

  “And the others?”

  “There’s a woman—her mana feels wrong. Predatory. And at least three more like her… hostile. Malicious. Three others are weaker, scattered deeper in the facility. Far from Seven.”

  Kinata exhaled slowly.

  “So Saya isn’t alone,” she murmured. “And neither is the male.”

  Lyra’s expression shifted, amusement fading into something more focused.

  “That’s not a hunting party,” she said. “That’s an operation.”

  Kinata straightened, her mind already racing.

  Seven was here to rescue the missing team—of that much she was now certain.

  But the rest?

  These signatures weren’t here for him.

  He was simply caught in the middle.

  Her jaw tightened.

  For the first time since the hunt began, Kinata felt the irritation of losing control—not of the chase, but of the board itself.

  “…We follow Seven,” she decided at last. “End this game.”

  Lyra nodded, eyes tracking the vast corridors ahead.

  “Saya and whatever she’s playing with,” she said, “that’s the city’s problem.”

  Kinata’s gaze hardened.

  “But Seven?”

  She stepped forward, claws digging into the frost-coated floor.

  “He’s still mine.”

  Seven’s Next Move — Deeper into the Trap

  Seven slowed as the corridor widened into a forgotten lounge—once meant for rest, now nothing more than a cold junction of decay and silence.

  Old signage hung crookedly overhead, half-frosted and barely legible.

  Behind him: [LOGISTICS]

  Ahead: [LABORATORY]

  The moment his eyes lingered on the latter, the door behind them chimed softly.

  Click.

  Locked.

  Seven exhaled through his nose.

  “Too late to turn around now,” he muttered. “Figures.”

  He guided Fluffy toward the corner of the room, easing her down against a reinforced wall where collapsed furniture offered some cover.

  “Alright,” he said quietly, crouching beside her. “Quick break. We go in blind again. I want you breathing when it happens.”

  Fluffy nodded, teeth clenched as she held her side. Her ears drooped slightly—not fear, just exhaustion. She had burned through everything she had.

  “I knew guild work was dangerous,” she murmured weakly. “Didn’t think I’d end up in… whatever this place is.”

  Seven gave a humorless huff.

  “Yeah. Not exactly the training grounds.”

  He carefully peeled away the blood-soaked bandages. The fabric clung stubbornly to her fur, and Fluffy hissed through clenched teeth as he worked.

  “Sorry,” Seven muttered, already reaching for his field kit. “I know, I know. I’m not a medic.”

  Sterilizer hissed. Fresh wraps followed. His hands were steady despite the adrenaline still buzzing under his skin.

  “Doesn’t look fatal,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “But faint on me now, and I’m dragging you. Literally.”

  Fluffy let out a weak laugh, then winced.

  “Noted…”

  Once she settled, Seven stood and scanned the room.

  The deeper they went, the clearer it became.

  This wasn’t just storage.

  This place made things.

  “Doesn’t look like barrier schematics to me,” he muttered. “More like… humanity’s greatest regrets.”

  Fluffy shook her head.

  “We never got far enough to confirm anything. Raven wanted answers—but then everything went wrong.”

  Seven nodded once.

  “Priority’s still the same. You, Raven, the engineers. Everything else comes after.”

  She forced herself upright, leaning on him for balance.

  “Then… the lab door’s our only way.”

  Seven turned toward it.

  The moment they crossed the threshold—

  The door slammed shut.

  Locked again.

  Seven didn’t even react this time.

  “Of course,” he said flatly.

  The Laboratory

  The room beyond was vast.

  Test tubes lined the walls—some shattered, others intact—each holding distorted silhouettes of creatures long since abandoned or forgotten. Reptilian forms. Bipedal shapes. Things that should never have existed outside theory.

  And at the center of it all—

  A single, massive containment cylinder.

  The largest by far.

  Seven wiped frost from its surface, squinting at the faded label.

  [MAVERICK]

  “…That’s not reassuring.”

  Fluffy limped toward a nearby workstation, her ears twitching as she brushed dust from scattered documents and inert crystal arrays.

  “This… this is research,” she said quietly. “Old. Pre-war.”

  She flipped through brittle pages.

  “The Nile Project… Aurora Program…” She frowned. “Most of it’s jargon, but—these weren’t animals. They were altered demi-humans. Crocodile folk. Augmented with Aether… and something worse.”

  Seven’s jaw tightened.

  “So this wasn’t defense.”

  “No,” Fluffy whispered. “It was escalation.”

  Seven glanced back at the towering cylinder.

  “Alright,” he said low. “We’re leaving. Now.”

  They turned—

  Another door stood across the lab.

  Sealed.

  Seven exhaled sharply, frost curling from his breath.

  “Alright, Saya,” he said, voice calm but edged. “You lead me here. What’s the punchline?”

  A soft, sultry chuckle rippled through the speakers.

  “You really are delightful, Seven,” Saya purred. “Still thinking you’re in control.”

  The lights flickered.

  A deep growl rolled through the chamber, vibrating through the floor.

  The shadows moved.

  Something stepped forward.

  Massive.

  Misshapen.

  Its flesh pulsed with corrupted Aether, bone-clawed hands flexing as glowing eyes locked onto Seven.

  Saya laughed softly.

  “Your next challenge has arrived.”

  Seven raised his rifle, shoulders settling into place.

  “…Another one?” he scoffed. “You really don’t know when to quit.”

  The creature lunged.

  And the real trial began.