Miraculous Puppeteer Novels & Stories

"Thanks." "You should get it treated," Mira stated expressionlessly. Something flashed in her eyes. A moment later, she directed her attention back to the unconscious Jaron. She approached him, grabbing his body roughly. Her right hand rummaged her pocket, seemingly trying to fish out for something. It was a black rope containing the soul restraining power. One of the materials to make such a thing included black crystals. Mira had used the rope a few times to destroy some evil spirits. As soon as evils spirits made contact with the rope, they would evaporate into nothingness.

Miracle exclaimed, her reddened eyes burning with fury. A surge of energy broke through from her body, restoring her energy to move. Without delay, she immediately summoned her sword and charged forward. Just as she poised to strike the creature with all her might, its face suddenly changed... To someone she didn't expect—Melvin. She wavered. In her brief moment of hesitancy, the Mynheex pounced on her. It drove its claws deep into her chest and snatched away her precious pearl. The next second, Miracle jerked awake, finding herself in her room once more, her breathing ragged.

She made a small incision right above the bulge. ​From the open gap, a thick, grayish mucus flowed out, followed by the small head of a shiny white worm. It was already nearly the length of her hand, writhing wildly. ​Without hesitation, Sua grasped it with a clean cloth, then pulled slowly. The veins in her hands stood out with the effort. Rai, who was nearly holding his breath, stood up slowly, realizing that what he was witnessing was no ordinary task. It was the composure of an assassin… and the love of a daughter.

She closed her eyes, squeezing her left hand beneath the table. Her voice caught in her throat. She stared at the Pontifex, her eyes welling with tears. "How... how could you possibly know?" The Pontifex showed no surprise at her emotional reaction. Instead, the old man's warm smile radiated a profound peace that gradually dissolved her rising panic.

They were thrilled when the greater haunts paused because of me, seizing the chance my sacrifice gave them to flee without a backward glance. My awareness, my every sensation, did not fade until I was picked clean. I felt it all, every moment of being devoured. I saw with my own eyes my transformation from a person to mere fragments. However, who could have guessed that I, who had been tortured to death in the apocalypse, would find myself reborn a month before it all began? Staring at my whole, unharmed reflection, it all felt like a distant dream. I had to pinch myself, hard, before I could believe it: I was actually reborn!

“You have the power to protect, to trap, to rewind. You’re a tether, Mira. A living fulcrum. I’m the blade. The strike that only lands if you're holding the moment steady.” I shook my head, a headache springing up from trying to process so many things at the same time. “Lira, can you break this down? Simplest terms. Explain this to me like I'm just a child, and not the Mira who's supposed to save the goddamn world from a psychopathic dark magician and who has no idea how to even start.” She heaved. "You underestimate yourself too much, Mirabel.” She pulled out a dagger from her belt, which I had not noticed all this while. Then, she unsheathed it and stretched it to my face.

“M-Magic mirror?” “Yes, a gift from the Seer,” he continued. “It is a powerful mirror which was created by the great human, Merlin, himself. I don’t know how the Seer managed to snatch a precious artifact, but it helped me see anything outside the tower.” He dropped four cubes of sugar after pouring tea. While he was busy stirring the excessive sugar to his cup, I was still unsure how to respond after learning he had been watching me. In fact, another thought resurfaced in my mind..

But he was not weak he just needed time to get out of this web. Inside. Nicklaus persistently attacked Mirabel brutishly even as Cyrus continued forcing his already dying puppet to keep standing. The demon power had taken full control of Mirabel’s body, and it fought back as a being by itself without any care for the welfare of the puppet. It did not care if the puppet will break over and over again. He would just use it as long as it could still stands.

“Master, I can do that as well.” “No, you can’t.” To my surprise, it was Leviathan who spoke in disagreement with Mammon. “Brother, you can only mimic a human if you are possessing their body. You are incapable of creating another similar body with your magic. As much as I hate to say this, Belzeebub is the only one who can create the perfect puppet imitate the master.” In my mind, I was going to praise Leviathan for being mature enough o say it, but then he starts to bury his face in his hands and weep. “I’m sorry for being useless!” Ah. There he is. The crybaby is back in the room.

She merely watched coldly as her golden-red blood poured out slowly, soaking the tips of her fingers and dripping into the golden chalice held directly by the Pope. "Incredible..." the Pope muttered, his eyes widening with pure madness as he saw that the incision no longer released ordinary blood, but a pure, glowing fluid. "Look, Elenor! My aging skin is tightening just from breathing in its scent!" Elenor offered a bitter smile. "You... have gone mad, Pope." "Mad? No, I am almost there! Just a little more." Laughing hoarsely, the Pope set the chalice down and raised both hands above Elenor’s head. He began to chant a forbidden spell unheard of for a thousand years.