Awakening of the Weakest Slayer

Sezel's eyes were fixed on the notification in front of his eyes.

The silver colored screen, showcased the similar words, Sezel screamed yes in his mind, without even thinking a second.

The pulsing core in his hand twitched, and then, with a sudden, violent lurch, it released itself from his grasp and started floating in the air. Everyone stopped, their gazes fixed on the strange, otherworldly occurrence unfolding before their very eyes.

The energy that had earlier seeped inside Sezel's body, the spectral, life-giving essence of his first puppet, slowly escaped from his skin. And this time, it was in a much greater mass, a swirling, chaotic vortex of eerie purple and black mist that swirled around the floating core frantically, and then, with a sudden, violent surge, it started to take form.

The same as the earlier puppet was born, its ethereal form a grotesque, beautiful and terrifying thing to behold.

First, the long, insectile, spring-like legs formed, their joints clicking and popping as they solidified into a physical form. Then, the torso. And finally, the big, fearful scythes, their edges gleaming with a malevolent, purple energy as they hardened and took perfect, deadly form.

Sezel laid on the ground, his battered body a trembling mess, the pain a white-hot fire that screamed through his every muscle. But in the face of this impossible transformation, he forgot about it all.

Soon, the Spectral Flesh Reaper, even taller, even more menacing than his previous puppet, stood before him. And then, with a deliberate movement, it prostrated itself before Sezel.

Sezel pushed his body to his feet. He looked at the spectral Flesh Reaper, his crimson eyes burning with a strange light.

Everyone else present here, beast and human alike, also had their eyes fixed on them, their aggression momentarily forgotten in the face of this strange, impossible spectacle. The wind's howl could be heard as it entered the factory area through the open gates.

[The Puppet has accepted you as its master]

A grin split Sezel's face, a wide, bloody-minded smile. His gamble was successful. He now had a Rank-5 Flesh Reaper as his puppet.

His perception of the world in his mind was again split into two, as he connected to his new, more powerful puppet. With a mental command, he ordered it to stand up.

And following his order, the about 2.5 meters tall spectral Flesh Reaper, stood up, its form looming above everything else around it.

Then, it turned towards the hoard of beasts and humans standing on the other side, the ones who had come to attack its master. It raised its scythes, a menacing declaration of war.

Behind it, Sezel slowly, painfully, walked to the corpse of the other dead Flesh Reaper. It was a Rank-3, and it would have been a waste of such an opportunity to turn it into a puppet, when he had such a great, powerful alternative.

But still, it was not as if he had already won it all. The spectral Flesh Reaper, however strong it may be, wouldn't be able to surpass Vesta, who had originally slain it.

And that was the variable here, the one thing that he couldn't account for. Sezel was sure that Vesta was fighting it, her mind was a battlefield of conflicting wills. But who knew what might happen.

One of the Flesh Reapers from the hoard, lunged, not at the puppet, but at Sezel himself. It was terrifyingly fast, its obsidian form a blur of motion. But before it could reach Sezel, its head was sliced off from its neck with an impossibly fast blur of motion.

And the next moment, the puppet was back at its original place, its movements so fluid, so impossibly fast, that they were not even visible to the naked human eye.

Shiki narrowed his eyes, his face twisting in fury. Sezel knew, with a certainty that he was no match for his puppet. Shiki had a physical-type Fable, not the best match for a beast with a speed that defied the very laws of physics.

Sezel stumbled to the corpse of the Rank-3 Flesh Reaper and placed his hand once again on its cold, chitinous carapace.

The same ethereal, purple light pulsed, first slowly, and then, with a sudden, violent surge, it swirled inside Sezel's hand, making its way to every part of his body, and then finally collapsing inside his core. The wound on Sezel's abdomen felt like it was burning as the muscles and the skin sewed themselves back together.

As the absorption process ended, the corpse of the Flesh Reaper turned to dust, its form dissolving into nothingness.

He removed his hand from his wound, and beneath the dry, crimson patch of his shirt, the skin was again whole.

He had healed completely. He could now stand straight again, his body renewed and his strength returned. But he had no weapon now, only his puppet. His body felt as if it had been renewed, all the pain, all the soreness, all the weakness, gone to the last bit.

His attention now flickered to his puppet, who was now fighting two of the Flesh Reapers at the same time. They were both flanking it. But nonetheless, they were still kids against his monastery.

The Spectral Flesh Reaper, with an almost bored indifference, effortlessly dodged both of them. And as soon as it got an opening, its scythe descended in a final arc, slashing them both right up the middle, their obsidian forms splitting apart like ripe fruit, the black ichor and beast meat falling to the thick, tangled wilderness beneath.

'Amazing, this thing is on another level.' Sezel was amazed by the sheer, exponential increment in the performance of his older puppet and this new one.

Suddenly, Sezel was pulled back to the harsh, brutal reality of his own situation by the words that came from a dangerously close distance. "You shouldn't have let your guard down." The words, spoken in a voice that was both familiar and terrifyingly alien, sent a shiver down Sezel's spine.

His gaze immediately darted to his side. Vesta was there, her eyes red with fury. She was in a perfect stance, her blade perfectly angled to cut him down.

He clenched his jaw and stumbled back, but he was still within the sword's range.

Shit.

Vesta had ignored his puppet, and without him noticing, had closed in the distance while his puppet was busy fighting the other Flesh Reapers.

"You can't run anymore," another voice startled him from behind. Shiki was ducked low, his fist clenched, his hands radiating that same faint, ethereal aura.

Vesta's sword slashed through the air, its gleaming blade a blur of deadly motion. Sezel gritted his teeth. He wanted to jump back, but that would mean falling right into Shiki's range.

In the face of absolute danger, Sezel's face lit up with a dangerous, reckless smile.

Vesta's eyes widened as she noticed him smiling, but she didn't waver.

Suddenly, the earth below shuddered, a guttural rumble that seemed to come from the very heart of the world.

A few cracks appeared around their legs like spider-webbing lines.

"What?" a gasp escaped Vesta's, and Shiki's, lips, as the cracks widened and stretched.