LotM: Surviving as a Marionette

"It looks like they were indeed scared quite badly."

Looking at the several Abrahams lying on stretchers, being carried away by Marionettes to the school infirmary, Don patted Olson's back beside him.

"What, do you think I was too harsh?"

"Not really." Olsen replied helplessly, "Don, in your impression, have I always been that kind of saint?"

"It should be saint father instead... Having principles is a good thing, but this kind of person, whether it's you or me, neither of us could possibly trust them with important tasks." Don shrugged, "Send them away."

Without definite means to shield against the full moon's ravings, sending the Abrahams away was tantamount to letting them climb back onto the guillotine where the blade could fall at any moment.

Olson only felt sad for their misfortune and angry at their lack of fighting spirit.

"The others have all been settled." Olson said again, "But I'm not certain whether there might be more people like Charlie among them."

The entire Abraham family was now in decline. Ever since their elder disappeared from the War of the Four Emperors and the full moon's ravings appeared, the Abraham family had also fallen apart internally.

There might be several such people, some hiding deeper and not yet discovered.

"Marionettes are my eyes." Don smiled, "Besides, I've never taken them to heart."

Naturally, there was even less talk of trust or friendship.

What he wanted was the support of the Abraham family itself. As for internal splits within the Abrahams, that had nothing to do with him.

If they thought they could snatch the Theater With Curtains That Never Draw from his hands, then they were welcome to try.

"Compared to that... without these Abrahams, the potion digestion progress for Marionettist will fall behind again."

Returning to his office, Don couldn't help but sigh.

Abrahams who had given up—these weren't good workhorses at all.

Currently in Don's hands, one Marionette followed his father. That wraith Marionette undoubtedly provided the most daily spiritual feedback, but because the wraith Marionette stayed in the gold coin for long periods without actively participating in theatrical performances, even though those pursuing Father were all high-sequence Beyonders, this kind of spiritual feedback couldn't reach the level of feedback from him personally participating in a play.

The rest were scattered bits and pieces—the Marionette family in the castle, and the Abrahams in the Theater With Curtains That Never Draw.

These were all in daily life role-playing. The three Abrahams who had just been scared silly could be counted as the people who had given him the most spiritual feedback through role-playing and participating in theater recently.

"Should I go to the outside world to catch a few Beyonders and lock them in deep Crimson Campus?"

Looking at his potion digestion progress about to break through the fifty mark, Don pondered this matter.

"However, there's still an old grandfather in the territory now... It's better not to make contact with this old grandfather before I advance to Sequence 4."

Although through the original work he roughly knew this Angel harbored no malice and might even lean toward the good and just side, that was all stuff from a thousand years later. Stereotypical impressions could kill people. Don didn't plan to cooperate with this Marauder pathway Angel when he had absolutely no confidence.

That way he would only be eaten clean without a trace, and might lose his little life afterward.

Moreover, what if the other party planned to parasitize him?

For parasites, Beyonders of the same pathway were optimal, but the Seer pathway was also in his 'menu.'

Would he have to watch 'old grandpa' and the system fight each other then?

[I can kill viruses, you know.] The system began to assert its presence, indicating it was very useful.

[The Sequence 2 of the Marauder pathway is called Trojan Horse of Fate. As everyone knows, trojans are a type of computer virus...]

"That's knowledge from the old era." Don complained, "Where's this 'everyone knows' coming from? Go ask Emperor Roselle or Klein, maybe they'd know."

[anyway, that's how it is. If any parasite dares to parasitize the host without knowing their place, hehehe—]

System: cold evil laugh.jpg

"...React normally." This thing really looked like a villain when it laughed. Which novel did you read too much of to laugh like that?

But then again, the system, old grandfather, and such—who knew if their true forms were parasites or similar things. If that old grandfather parasitized him, maybe the system really could give this Angel a good disinfection.

"Can a Marauder pathway Angel steal you away?"

Don asked.

[Theoretically, no.] The system said slowly.

Oh, so that meant it was possible.

"What would happen if you were stolen?"

[Change binding target, discover incorrect binding target, erase, rebind target.] The system's 'innocent' electronic voice rang out.

Oh, so it was a personal exclusive system, and all other binding targets would be destroyed by the system.

Even if it couldn't be destroyed, the system could probably summon the main system (Knowledge Moor) and then slap the wrong binding target in the face with maddening knowledge.

However, the system was bound to his astral body, which could be seen from its suppressor effect on the other party.

Marauder pathway Angels, King of Angels like Amon—such people must have premonitions beyond ordinary people. Would the other party steal the system?

Hmm, maybe he could dig a trap here too, like disguising the system as one of his extraordinary abilities or something, waiting for the other party to steal it.

Before facing Amon head-on, Don had to think of solutions.

"The worst possibility is really facing off against Amon... that future me in Euclidean space warned about it."

Beware of Amon.

He wasn't sure if he would really face off against Amon, but he had to handle it according to the worst possibility.

Also...

"Sequence 4, once reaching the demigod level, can I pry the power of Euclid space itself?"

Placing that 'decree' borrowed from the future on the table, Don leaned back in his high-backed chair, letting mental fatigue sweep over his body.

Potion digestion needed time.

Advancing to Sequence 4 needed time.

Time, time—Amon coming, old grandpa coming, the timing really couldn't be worse.

Two words: unlucky.

Two time bombs.

"Please, can't you let me be a maggot?"

He just wanted to lie low and develop. He didn't want to fight with these guys who were either Kings of Angels or Sequence 1 at all...

"It's better to be a lackey, be a lackey, then throw those Abrahams a few big slaps."

Lying on the table, closing the door, after Don confirmed there was no one else around except Marionettes, he first cursed and wailed at the sun outside through the floor-to-ceiling window, relying on the barrier formed by the theater's various mixed powers, wildly opening mic on Amon with his mother as center and ancestors as radius.

Then somehow he pulled out a pillow, buried his head in it, hugged the pillow and stood up walking around the room, shaking his head and roaring.

After venting thoroughly and cursing to satisfaction, Don walked out of the office refreshed and spirited, not at all like the twisted screaming and dark crawling appearance from just now.

Indeed, swallowing dirty words made the heart dirty. It was better to curse them out.

The Theater Core that had been there all along: Ah no, has this guy always been this crazy?

Is he okay? Is he really okay?

Isn't it really necessary to send him to a psychoanalyst to analyze his mental state?

System: [Just get used to it. People, they're all crazy. Being crazy is good ╮(╯▽╰)╭]

(End of Chapter)