The Rise of the Legendary Puppet Mage!

Chapter 10

Xavier’s muscles ached as he stepped into his small home, his body still bruised from the fight with the stone golem. Every step reminded him of the intensity of the battle, but his small puppet brought a strange comfort to him. The little figure floated beside him, glowing faintly, almost like a miniature guardian fairy. Its wings fluttered silently, casting a soft light around the room.

With a tired sigh, Xavier glanced at his puppet. "Well, at least you’re here," he muttered.

The puppet spun in the air, almost as if it understood, a faint buzzing noise coming from it in response. A smile tugged at Xavier’s lips—it was strange, but in the puppet’s presence, he didn’t feel quite so alone.

His gaze then fell on a small, intricately carved wooden box sitting on his desk. He hadn’t opened it since his eighteenth birthday, and for good reason. The box was magical, enchanted with layers of protection spells cast by his mother before she died. The magic binding it had kept its contents hidden from Xavier until he turned eighteen, but even then, when he tried to open the diary inside, he hadn’t been able to read a single word.

But tonight, something felt different.

He approached the box cautiously. The runes carved along its edges glowed faintly, as though responding to his presence. The air around it seemed to hum with energy. Gently, he ran his fingers over the wooden surface, feeling the warmth of the magic pulsing beneath his touch. With a deep breath, he opened the box.

Inside, the diary, his mom's gift to him was there. Its cover was worn, bound in old leather, and the pages inside seemed ancient—yet, they shimmered faintly with a golden light, as though alive with magic.

"This is it," Xavier whispered, lifting the diary from the box. He had tried to read it the day he turned eighteen, but the pages had remained blank, the magic concealing their secrets. Today, however, he felt a pull—something was different.

With anticipation building in his chest, he carefully opened the diary. As soon as he did, the pages began to turn on their own, flipping through as if guided by an unseen hand. His breath caught as the book stopped on a glowing page, the letters written in golden ink that shimmered and danced in the dim light of the room.

Xavier leaned in closer, his eyes scanning the text. The writing seemed to come alive before him, the words forming clear instructions.

“To bond with your soul puppet, you must give it a name,” the book revealed. “A name binds its essence to you, creating a deeper connection between puppeteer and puppet. The strength of the bond depends on the name, and the puppet will reveal its true power once named.”

Xavier’s heart raced. His mother had always been a skilled bookworm, known for her mastery of the magi-knowledge. This diary must have held the secrets she found within her lifetime.

The pages continued to shift, revealing more. It detailed how puppeteers didn’t rely solely on their internal mana reserves. Unlike most magi, they could draw energy from their surroundings, converting environmental mana into power to sustain their soul puppets. It was a technique unique to puppeteers—allowing them to channel vast amounts of mana without the limitations of a personal reservoir.

"You can only have one true soul puppet," the text continued, "but with enough mana, you may summon additional puppets temporarily. Be warned, however—if you fail to provide enough mana, the puppets will feed on your life force until they are sustained."

A shiver ran down Xavier’s spine at the warning. It was a dangerous balance, and he hadn’t realized how deadly the art of puppetry could be. Maybe, this was the reason for him to be senseless when he summoned puppet for the first time without knowing and because of his low 'mana' reservoir and his inability to convert 'mana' to supply the required amount to complete that task made it to use his life force. But fortunately, Eve was there, Xavier sighed again.

He flipped the page again, and the shimmering letters glowed brighter.

“Soul puppets are divided into five levels," the text read, "each marked by their own power and abilities: Common, Superior, Rare, Legendary, and Mythic. The stronger the bond, the higher the puppet’s potential to ascend these levels.”

Xavier blinked, his gaze shifting to the little figure floating beside him. It didn’t seem to fit into any of those categories. It was neither imposing nor grand—it was just... there. A simple, nameless puppet.

As he read further, the book’s glow intensified once more.

“To truly awaken your soul puppet, you must give it a name,” the text repeated. “A named puppet will form an unbreakable bond with its master.”

Xavier stared at the small creature hovering near his shoulder. "A name, huh?" he murmured. "That’s what I’ve been missing."

The puppet floated in front of him, glowing slightly brighter, as if encouraging him.

Xavier thought for a moment, then smiled. "Alright, I’ll name you Zoro."

The moment the name left his lips, a surge of energy erupted from the puppet. It glowed brilliantly, filling the room with a warm, but blinding light. The air around them crackled with magic as the connection between Xavier and Zoro deepened, solidifying into something far more powerful than before.

Then, to Xavier’s amazement, Zoro spoke. "Finally!" Zoro exclaimed, his voice sharp but lighthearted. "Took you long enough, you slowpoke!"

Xavier’s eyes widened in shock. "Wait... you can talk?"

Zoro hovered closer, his tiny figure puffing up with pride. "Of course, I can talk! I’ve been waiting for you to figure out how this works. Humans are so slow."

"Hey, I just found out!" Xavier shot back, still stunned by the fact that his puppet was speaking to him.

Zoro huffed. "Well, now that you’ve named me, we’re connected. I’ve been here all along, waiting for you for a long time, you just didn’t know it."

Xavier couldn’t help but laugh at Zoro’s feisty personality. "So, what do we do now, smart guy?"

Zoro fluttered around Xavier’s head, his voice smug. "Now, you take care of me, and I take care of you. I’m your best shot at surviving, you know."

"Is that so?" Xavier raised an eyebrow, smiling. "You didn’t exactly do much back there with the golem."

Zoro twirled in the air, indignant. "I was helping stabilize your mana flow, thank you very much! Without me, you’d have been flattened. Also, I can grow within a blink, but can you?"

"Sure, sure," Xavier chuckled. "I’ll take your word for it."

The banter between them continued as the night deepened. For the first time in his life, Xavier didn’t feel alone. Zoro’s sharp, witty comments filled the quiet room with warmth, and the connection they shared felt... right. As if Zoro had been meant to be with him all along.

After a few more exchanges, the exhaustion of the day finally caught up to Xavier. He stretched out on his bed, and Zoro floated beside him, the puppet’s glow dimming as he settled in for the night.

"Good night, Zoro," Xavier murmured, his eyelids growing heavy.

"Night, slowpoke," Zoro teased, but his voice was softer now, almost fond.

Xavier drifted off to sleep, the sense of loneliness that had plagued him for so long finally gone.

But just before dawn, he was jolted awake by a sharp voice.

"Xavier, wake up!" Zoro’s voice cut through the early morning stillness. "Someone’s here."

Xavier sat up quickly, his heart pounding in his chest. The room was dimly lit by the first light of dawn, but he could hear it now—the soft creak of a floorboard just outside his door.

"Stay quiet," Zoro whispered, glowing faintly as he floated closer. "Whoever’s out there... they’re not supposed to be here."

Xavier’s hand instinctively reached for the dagger hidden beneath his bed. He held his breath, his senses heightened. Whoever was outside, they weren’t friendly.