As the dust settled, I stood on the stage and spoke to Somabhula. I told of my smile, my sharp tongue, and my calm—three weapons every warrior should carry. The village began to heal, laughter returning and hope shining.
Fatigue set in as we battled the puppets. Then I revealed my true power, The Spirit Thread. The warriors and villagers saw who I really was, and with one final move, I broke the dark hold.
Three puppeteered warriors, each with their own strength, attacked in perfect coordination. We fought together, every move counting. The battle was hard, with no easy victory in sight.
With the master tied up, the warriors watched as three puppeteered fighters took the stage. I sensed the second master’s hidden power. The air was heavy—no one dared move as a new threat loomed.
I realized my foe used Dark Arts, so I began the O-Form. Even Biga was shocked. The master tried to help, but I pressed on. With the Spirit Thread, I turned the tide, but not without loss.
The red-haired warrior, silent until now, stepped forward. His hair began to glow, and disasters crept in—the air felt wrong. Our fight began, and for the first time, I truly struggled.
Silver’s twin blades moved like storm clouds. Warriors joined, attacking together, but I smiled, dodging and blocking every blow. Hairline’s huge blade came down, but still I twisted away, the battle only growing wilder.
The second master fainted from shock, warriors carried him away, and Silver’s anger boiled. Lightning flashed as Silver drew his blades and struck, but my calm did not break.
I lay still as the crowd celebrated my defeat. Some cheered, others argued, and whispers of Dark Arts filled the air. Yet, as they planned to bury me, my hand moved, and shock swept through Somabhula.
I stood, shouted AHA, and everyone froze. Even the Master looked shocked. My calm surprised them, but it was just a word to me, though to them it meant everything. The tension was thick.