The Villainous Son Loves His Mother - Chapter 87

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The darkness spreads its wings and engulfs the Theatre, the capital of the Duke of Kaliste.
As moonlight faintly illuminated the cobblestone streets, a silent figure emerged from the shadows of a building.
Five shadows moved swiftly but discreetly toward the outskirts of the city.
Though dressed like adventurers, their movements possessed an uncanny uniformity.
Their strides and pace were perfectly synchronized, as if guided by a single will.

Once past the city gate, they accelerated.

Despite being on foot, their speed was extraordinary, gliding through the darkness like shadows.
Half an hour later, another group of five followed the same route.
And half an hour after that, a third group.
In total, three teams—fifteen figures—melted into the night, heading toward the Orkenstein Mountains.

As the lead group reached the foot of the mountain range, they halted.

The towering, jagged peaks of the mountains presented a formidable challenge, requiring days of arduous climbing under normal circumstances.
Yet without hesitation, the figures unfurled the robes draped across their backs.
With a rustling whoosh, massive wings unfurled from their backs.
The wings, gleaming dully in the moonlight, were clearly not those of living creatures.
Instead, they were artificial wings meticulously crafted from a strange material that resembled neither metal nor stone.
Every feather had been painstakingly replicated, yet their unnatural sheen betrayed their artificial nature.
The five figures kicked off the ground in unison and soared into the night sky.
As they flew over the mountain range, they resembled a flock of colossal birds of prey.

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The Great Yggdra Forest was thick with the stench of death.
The once vibrant giant trees stood withered and lifeless, their bark blackened and decaying.
Amidst the stench of rot, fifteen figures advanced in tight formation, not a single word spoken.

Yet their movements were perfectly synchronized.

The vanguard maintained vigilant watch, the mid-guard scanned the surroundings for threats, and the rearguard protected their flanks.
Their discipline rivaled that of a battle-hardened mercenary company.
Suddenly, the dense undergrowth ahead rustled violently.
A knight wreathed in black miasma—the Dullahan—stood blocking their path, his rusted greatsword raised menacingly.

Normally, even high-level adventurers would struggle against such a foe.

But the figures didn’t even break stride.
Two members of the formation smoothly advanced.
Their movements were fluid and seamless, closing the distance before the Dullahan could even swing his sword.

A fleeting clash.

As the shadowy figures passed the Dullahan, the black-armored knight collapsed.
His torso had been cleaved in two, and his limbs severed at the joints.
Only under the moonlight did the massive blades extending from the figures’ arms become visible.
From the elbow down, their limbs had transformed into razor-sharp blades—another unnatural weapon, like their wings, bearing no resemblance to anything living.
Deeper and deeper into the forest they pressed.
Undead creatures appeared repeatedly along their path, but each met the same fate before them.

Finally, a grotesque tower loomed into view.
A blasphemous structure built from bones and rotting flesh, its surface etched with the tormented faces of its victims.

『What… is that thing…?』

A decaying voice echoed from the shadows of the trees.
A skeletal mage in tattered robes emerged—a Lich.
With pale blue flames flickering in its hollow eye sockets and countless magic tomes levitating around it, this was Calamity Capella, an exceptionally powerful entity. Capella surveyed the intruders with a calculating gaze.

『Who are you…?』

There was no response.
The fifteen figures silently spread out, encircling the tower.

『If you won’t answer… then…』

Purple lightning crackled in Capella’s skeletal palm.
Chant Cancellation—an advanced technique only high-level magicians could master.

『Die!』

A bolt of lightning shot toward the nearest figure.
With a deafening roar, the lightning struck its target head-on.
The robe burned away, revealing what lay beneath—

『W-what…?』

For the first time, Capella’s voice had a hint of panic.
The one standing there was not a human.
A featureless face with no eyes or nose, only a gaping mouth.
Its skin was smooth as porcelain, and metallic joints gleamed at its articulations.

“The name… W-Watatashi is ‘Pooey-G’…”

The puppet’s mouth opened clumsily.

“Goood… eveening… it is… night, yes.”

Another puppet opened its mouth.

“The moon… is… preetty…”

“Tomorroow… will… also… be… nice… weatherrr.”

The puppets began to string together disjointed phrases as if engaging in casual conversation.

『Golems…!』

Yes, golems.
But not ordinary golems.
These were special golems created by the House of Calliste’s Bloodline Magic, “Puppet Theater,” passed down through the Twelve Ducal Houses.

『How impudent…!』

Capella opened the floating spellbook and activated multiple spells simultaneously.
Whirlwinds of flame, spears of ice, and blades of wind surged toward the puppets.

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The puppets evaded or deflected the attacks in their own ways.
One contorted its body to dodge the flames, while another transformed its arm into a shield to deflect the ice spears.

“Good morning, this is Theatrum—”

A flame-scorched puppet murmured, its melting face barely recognizable.

“Taxes must be paid during the Fire Month.”

As it spoke, its damaged parts rapidly regenerated, reforming like clay being kneaded back into its original shape.
Capella unleashed a barrage of high-level magic: fireballs, ice spears, and mind-shattering curses. But the puppets had no minds to shatter; the curses were useless, and even physical destruction proved only temporary.
Still, Capella’s relentless assault was devastating. Half the puppets were reduced to unrecognizable fragments, their shattered heads and severed limbs scattered across the ground.
Yet the remaining puppets continued their advance as if nothing had happened.

“Hey, turn right there for the inn!”

“Weapons are useless if you don’t equip them.”

“Sometimes, running away is the best option.”

The puppets surged toward Capella in a unified, murderous wave.

『Come, Luna!』

Capella unleashed a torrent of miasma from her entire body, erecting a barrier around herself.
Yet the puppets paid no heed to the miasma, clinging to the barrier like parasites.
When one of them touched the barrier, a strange vibration spread from that point.
As if dismantling the barrier itself, the structure of her Magic Power began to crumble.

『Impossible…!』

Capella’s shock was fleeting. With a crackling sound, the barrier shattered.
The puppets’ hands closed around Capella’s bones.

“Resting is also work, you know.”

“Gloria, Gloria—”

“Play? Play—”

The puppets’ words were nonsensical, yet their incoherence only amplified their madness.
And so, the puppets began their dismantling work.
First, they detached each finger bone, one by one.
Next, they meticulously disassembled the joints of her wrists, elbows, and shoulders.
Capella tried to resist, but the dolls’ physical strength was overwhelming.
She couldn’t even use magic.
Contact with the dolls prevented her from forming magic.
It was like trying to build a sandcastle at the water’s edge—she couldn’t shape her magic power into spells.

『Stop… it…!』

One rib after another was extracted.
The spine was detached from the bottom up, vertebra by vertebra, until finally the skull was separated from the torso.
The blue flames that had burned in her eye sockets gradually dimmed.

“Ah,”

One of the dolls murmured to Capella’s skull.

“Have a good dream.”

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Capella’s completely dismembered bones were neatly arranged on the ground, categorized by body part like an anatomical specimen.
The surviving puppets stood in a circle around it.

“Sparkle, twinkle, shining night sky.”

“Big eyes are watching.”

“Holy, holy, holy—”

They turned and headed toward the Tower of Corpses.
Each puppet attached itself to a different part of the tower and began dismantling it.
The tower, made of bones and flesh, was meticulously but mercilessly taken apart by the puppets’ hands.
Occasionally, they exchanged nonsensical remarks as they worked.

“It looks like it’s going to rain.”

“I hear the frogs singing.”

“The night is so quiet, isn’t it?”

They slashed, tore, and gouged.
Sometimes they sprayed strange liquids or shot flames from their fingertips.
The remaining puppets continued destroying the tower until dawn.
Without rest, methodically, while continuing their mad conversations.