The chamber went still.
Rayon's Hollow Strings dug into the ground like roots, ready to strike again, when suddenly—Alrik's puppet body froze. The Construct's luminous threads snapped taut, then slackened. Its faceless head tilted upward, as if staring at something beyond the smoke and ruin.
A hush swept the room. Even the air felt different, heavy, older.
And then—he appeared.
A man, or something shaped like one. Cloaked in black silk, his presence split the battlefield like a blade. His eyes gleamed gold, ancient and unblinking. He didn't look at Rayon. He walked straight to the Construct, as if Rayon were nothing more than dust in his path.
The puppet twitched, backing away. For the first time, it looked… afraid.
The golden-eyed man raised one hand. His fingers were long, his nails like glass. He drew them once across the Construct's neck.
Shhhk.
The faceless figure's head toppled, severed clean. Threads of light unraveled into the dark, vanishing like smoke in wind.
The puppet dropped to the floor, lifeless.
Rayon blinked.
His heart hammered once, twice. And then—he started laughing.
Low at first, like a chuckle caught in his throat. Then louder. Louder still, until it echoed against the broken palace walls like madness itself.
Because there was no golden-eyed man.
There never had been.
The puppet was gone because he'd made it gone. He hadn't cut it down with fists or strings. He had buried the belief so deep into its mind that even a Forsaken relic obeyed.
This was the pinnacle of his new weapon.
Perfect Hypnosis.
It wasn't illusion. It wasn't distraction. It was rewriting reality inside someone's head until they destroyed themselves.
And it had worked.
Rayon stumbled back against the cracked wall, chest heaving, blood still running from the corner of his lip. But his grin didn't fade.
He was drunk on it—dopamine, adrenaline, power. The gutter-born rat who stole scraps was now making ancient monsters slit their own throats.
His laughter grew ragged, wild, echoing into the corridors of the palace.
If anyone had been watching, they wouldn't have seen a hero. They wouldn't even have seen a villain.
They would have seen something terrifyingly simple—
a boy discovering he could bend gods to his will, and enjoying it too much.