The ventriloquist waited in the centre of the village.
The black cloak, the blood‑red hair, the grey eyes. Exactly as Trussum appeared when he wanted to be seen. But there was something wrong – a tremor in his hands, a tic at the corner of his mouth, the rapid breathing of someone who was not there by choice.
"Zirinos," he said, with Trussum's voice. "At last."
"At last?" I replied, sword in hand. "Were you waiting for me?"
"Ever since you left the academy. Ever since you came to the villages."
"Why?"
"Because you're a threat. And threats are eliminated."
The ventriloquist advanced.
---
The first strike was fast, faster than I expected. His sword – a black blade, like mine but longer – sliced the air centimetres from my neck. I stepped back. The second strike hit my shoulder. Not deep, but enough to burn.
"You're not him," I said, retreating further.
"No."
"The real Trussum wouldn't fight like this. You're a puppet."
"I am." The ventriloquist smiled. "But that doesn't make me weaker."
He attacked again.
---
I tallied my mana.
'Three hundred units' I thought. 'Enough for one Space Cut. Or two, if I use nothing else.'
'But if I miss, I'll have no defence left.'
The ventriloquist attacked in silence. His strikes were precise, deadly, but without creativity. It was like fighting a poorly made copy of someone dangerous.
'Trussum is testing me', I realised. 'He wants to see how I fight. He wants to see my spells.'
'I won't give him that pleasure.'
I used only the sword.
---
The fight dragged on for minutes. Or hours. I don't know.
The villagers had locked themselves in their houses. The windows were shut. The doors barred. Only Fenísia, at the top of the inn stairs, watched. Mira was with her.
"Run!" I shouted. "Take Mira and run!"
"No!" Fenísia answered. "I'm staying!"
"Run!"
She didn't listen.
The ventriloquist took advantage of the distraction. The blow hit me in the chest – my armour creaked, my ribs hurt. I fell to my knees.
"Get up," the ventriloquist said, with Trussum's voice. "I don't want to kill you like this."
"Why?"
"Because you're not the one he wants."
"Who?"
"The girl."
I looked at Mira. She was on the stairs, her eyes wide, Fenísia's hand gripping hers.
"Don't touch her," I said, getting up.
"I won't. Trussum wants to. I only obey."
The ventriloquist advanced toward the inn.
---
I used Space Cut.
Three hundred mana units. The spell tore the air between me and the ventriloquist – not with a blade, but with a rift – a black line that separated what was on one side from what was on the other.
The ventriloquist stopped.
The rift cut off his right arm. The limb fell to the ground with a wet thud. The ventriloquist didn't even groan.
"Trussum knew you would use that," he said. "It doesn't hurt. He took my pain away."
"Then I'll take your life."
I advanced.
---
The fight continued inside the inn.
Broken tables, shattered chairs, the floor covered with blood that wasn't mine. The ventriloquist, even with one arm, was fast. The black sword gleamed in the half‑darkness.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked, blocking a strike. "Is he forcing you?"
"Yes." The ventriloquist's eyes gleamed. "But I also want to."
"You want to kill?"
"I want to die. My soul is trapped. My body is his. My will… I don't know if it's still mine." He smiled. "That's why I fight. To see if someone will kill me."
"Then die."
I struck. The sword went into his chest.
The ventriloquist fell to his knees. Blood ran from his mouth, his eyes, his ears.
"Thank you," he whispered. "Tell my mother…"
"I won't tell her anything. I don't know her."
"No. You don't."
He closed his eyes. His body fell sideways.
The mana from the spell faded. I felt the weariness in my bones, the shortness of breath, the weight of the sword.
"Zirinos!" Fenísia shouted from outside. "Are you all right?"
"I am," I replied. "The monster is dead."
"Not yet," said a voice behind me.
I turned.
The ventriloquist was standing. His chest open, blood dripping, but his eyes open.
"Trussum doesn't die like this," he said. "I'm just a puppet. You can kill me today. Tomorrow he'll make another."
"Then I'll kill you today. And tomorrow I'll kill him."
"Do you think you can?"
"I have to."
The ventriloquist advanced again.
---
The second part of the fight was uglier.
The ventriloquist no longer defended himself. He only attacked, non‑stop, without rest, as if his body felt no fatigue. The black sword hit my leg, my arm, my shoulder.
I was bleeding. My vision blurred.
'Two hundred mana units', I thought. 'Enough for an Iridium‑maleriud. The first part.'
'I swap places with him. I go where he is. He goes where I am.'
'And then?'
'Then I kill him.'
I used the spell.
The swap was instantaneous. The ventriloquist appeared in my place, I in his. The confusion lasted only a second – long enough for me to drive my sword into his back.
The ventriloquist fell. This time, he didn't get up.
"Zirinos…" Fenísia called from outside. "Mira… Mira is…"
I ran to the door.