The Devouring Puppets
Puppetry, unlike its name, encompassed a vast domain. Of course, most puppeteers handled ordinary puppets—those made of wood or minerals, shaped like people or animals. But other forms existed too. Some manipulated weapons. Others commanded formless things like wind or light. What they controlled differed from regular puppets, and the ways they manipulated them were all unique. These seemingly unrelated fields were all lumped under puppetry because, at their core, they diverged from similar magics in key ways.
There were plenty who wielded weapons—the sword-swinging types were the most common example. Puppeteers who handled weapons didn't look much different from them. Creating a weapon and honing it with experience and mana was the same process, after all. Spirit callers were similar too. Summoning formless elements like wind or fire, or even conceptual things like mind or space, outwardly resembled puppetry. Yet their magic wasn't classified as such.
What puppetry created differed in nature from what other mages—commonly called artisans—produced. Artisans made items usable by any mage, so their works had few restrictions. The same held for summoning magics like spirit calling. Corpses or spirits—if summoned, anyone could use them. But puppetry was different. What they made moved only with their mana. Even if passed to another, it stopped when that mana ran out. Thus, puppetry was purely a matter of talent, falling under this broad magical category.
Yes, puppets responded only to my mana. That was the root of all my problems.
I finished modifying the puppet and stretched. This was my fiftieth commission. The student who'd ordered it had a peculiar request: make it wearable. No need to waste time on movement—they'd leave everything to the puppet and focus solely on training. I'd lavished care on the modifications to ensure comfort inside. It had been quite an enjoyable task.
I infused it with mana, bringing it to life. It joined the cluster of puppets in one corner of the workshop. Stretching again, I checked the time. 4 a.m.—time to move. I needed to inspect the tower. This was the time of day when mana was weakest, so I always patrolled then.
Skip the 1st and 2nd floors for now. With that thought, I left the workshop. The 1st and 2nd floors had opened to students, sparking constant fights, but there was one silver lining: I no longer had to visit daily. They managed their claimed rooms diligently. If something went wrong, they'd investigate and report it. I'd just tweak the magic circles then.
I circled the 4th floor, where the workshop was. I sent a few puppets into empty rooms. They roamed inside without issue. Only then did I enter. The mana flow felt pure and steady. No problems. The result of my consistent maintenance.
Next, the 3rd floor. Descending the stairs, a wave of comfort washed over me. This library was immaculate. The woody scent from the shelves soothed the mind, and the faint mana in the air refreshed my spirit with every breath.
I strolled along the shelves, scanning slowly. Still mostly empty. No anomalies. Problems here were unheard of. A small mercy.
Then up to the 5th floor via the stairs. This was the riskiest. I scanned warily, forcing a wry smile. My living quarters occupied just a fraction of this vast level—rooms proven safe through trials. Even those occasionally glitched, but they beat the alternatives.
The other rooms spawned issues daily. Two days ago, one had expanded endlessly, tearing space. I'd spent a full day sealing the bizarre mana leak. Yesterday, a stabilizing spell tangled, freezing time for everything inside. If I'd been there instead of the workshop, I'd have been preserved unknowingly.
Professor Heisen said the spells here were irreparably fixed—maintenance was the only answer. Of course, he wasn't doing it.
In this accident-prone zone, I stayed alert, sending puppets ahead. Unexpectedly, the inspection ended quickly. No issues today—a first since taking over tower management.
Why? The lack of usual chaos unnerved me more. I double-checked the 5th floor's magic circles meticulously. Perfect balance. No flaws.
Well, good things happen. Gotta have days like this. I forced optimism.
That left plenty of time. Infuse the puppets before people arrived, then freedom. Time I'd normally spend wrestling anomalies.
Time to recharge them. Puppets needed my mana daily as fuel.
Back at the workshop, they stood in neat rows, as before. In high spirits, I infused them leisurely. But midway, the consumption felt off. Half my mana vanished in a flash.
This wasn't right. When I first made them, a fraction sufficed. Now, half gone and they weren't full. Pouring in the rest barely finished it.
My face hardened. How had I missed this? A daily task, yet only now noticed.
Thinking it over, I realized: no 5th-floor crises today. Normally, I'd rush, distracted. I'd crammed mana in haphazardly, ignoring leaks. Time mattered more than efficiency.
I examined them hastily. Varied forms—humanoid, beastly. Functions differed wildly. Even basic ones had extras.
These were the problem. Laden with inefficient add-ons, they'd become mana-guzzling monsters. Each feature drained constantly. And more commissions piled up—half a year's worth.
My face paled. Already nearly drained— what about later? The outcome was clear.
But canceling wasn't viable. Scores received upfront. Unilateral cancellation meant double repayment. I lacked that.
Realization hit: this was my future. And time passed. Now, I was dying as predicted.
Recharging now took three mana cycles. Empty, refill, repeat—three hours minimum. Drained to the dregs, exhaustion crushed me. No room for other tasks.
Yet commissions kept coming. Like Kasian's just now. Finishing these meant even more mana for them.
But quitting wasn't possible. Massive score debt loomed. Repayment needed heaps more.
I fiddled with Kasian's Bear Doll and sighed. My first puppets were for convenience alone. I poured every score into them, reclaiming leisure. That leisure earned more scores—easy copying via tweaks.
Blissful then. But accumulation led here. No rest; all spare time puppet-bound. More fatigue than pre-puppets.
A self-inflicted disaster. Greed for scores did this.
Last year, I'd thrashed for solutions. Three approaches.
Main issue: mana shortage. Mods weren't hard—increased drain was.
More functions, more hunger. Boost total mana? Elevate realm—best method.
My Seedling neared limit. Time to leap higher. But the wall was immense.
I'd tried elixirs. They boosted mana too. Effective—cracked the wall somewhat. But goal distant.
Debt-incurred more yielded same. No further; no scores, and forced growth stunted future.
Slight gain, no realm-up. First plan failed.
Second: reclaim, strip functions. But failed first made it impossible. Completed puppets were theirs. Reclaiming meant score refunds—already elixir-absorbed.
Only third remained. Cost-cutting: maintain functions cheaper.
I'd visited city puppeteers. Onui Doll Workshop. Mauro tinkered inside, as always.
I'd dropped by often en route to Professor Heisen's tower, learning from his puppets.
"How do you manage so many, Mauro?"
He was Seedling like me, yet hordes here brimmed with mana. Even efficient, I'd struggle.
He just chuckled. Pressed, he spoke lightly.
"Developing puppets is like magic. To every puppeteer, their puppets are their unique spell, their essence. Any advice I give might harm more than help."
Clear message: figure it out yourself. No real aid.
Bid farewell, back to tower. Now this.
I sighed. My shadow, modifying puppets in my stead, patted my shoulder. Invaluable.
Heisen's lectures: cannon fodder, swept by others' shadows. But puppet-making? Perfect assistant.
This shadow had shadowed me two years, mimicking actions. Now modifying independently.
All plans failed; it was my hope.
It held my mana but functioned biologically, with its own. Used to control my puppets. Inherited a sliver of my talent.
First time: three months post-issue. Elixir-crash, it carried me to bed via puppet. Connection traced to shadow.
Hope surged. It copied me, even talent. Could puppets' shadows do likewise?
If puppet shadows puppeteered, basing on their mana—self-sustaining. No need for mine.
Idea from shadow. Researched with hope.
But snag: Heisen's special—thirty of three hundred mages got one. Others inert, mindless.
Struggled, no solution yet.
Sighing, I stood. Little time left. Recharge time.