Becoming Whole

Slamming her tail into the orc doll's stomach, making the orc tumble, Yazmin finally managed to free herself from the oppressive battle axe locking her weapon.

But she wasn't off the hook just yet, quite the opposite in fact as she was now beset on all sides, all of Izma's dolls tried to tackled her, only for Yazmin's superior agility letting her wade to the side. The knight from earlier unleashed a barrage of slashes, but Yazmin's masterful skill with the her dual daggers let her parry them with with ease, her moves fluid and beautiful as if she was dancing with the daggers. Their exchange ending with Yazmin grabbing one of the dolls trying to tackle her and using its own momentum to jam it into the the knight's armored abdomen.

The sound of steel on steel echoed in tandem with creaking wood. Yazmin was in a brutal struggle for her life, the dolls one after another kept coming at her. Relentless, fueled by the singlemindedness of carrying out their master's order no matter the cost. A destroyed limb? These dolls can simply shake them right off, evidenced by the doll that Yazmin threw into the knight's stomach, standing up as it's missing a head.

A cornered assassin is a dead assassin. Even the Dollmaker was aware of this fact as Yazmin caught him smirking amidst the agony of her venom coursing through his veins. He needed to withstand it, Izma would have an exotic new doll to play with if he is able to.

"You're only making this harder for yourself, there's no point resisting. My dolls cannot feel fatigue, can the same be said of you, I wonder?" Izma condescended. The moment he gazed at the wounds in his hand his smirk faded. The bite marks are now pure black, like giant bruises colored the extreme. The Nasuea he was experiencing was getting worse and worse as each moments pass. Not only that, he was now having trouble balancing with only one leg.

"Hah, we'll see about that!" Yazmin responded as she kept evading the charging dolls while parrying and retaliating against those that are armed with weapons

It was indeed a battle of attrition. Not with the dolls, but with their master's fading life against Yazmin's stamina.

Izma grinded his teeth. Drat! By the pace thay Yazmin was holding off his base dolls, the Gorgon's venom would claim him soon enough! He needed to bring out his ace, he needed to unveil all his masterpiece, the special dolls that harbored souls.

He has no choice, Izma was sure the twins will understand. With time, he can always make them more, something that he won't have if he doesn't put an end to this pesky Gorgon!

Limping, Izma rushed towards the back rooms, where the secret entrance into his profane underground workshop was located.

"Leaving so soon? My dance with your dolls is not over yet." Amidst her twirling daggers, Yazmin taunted the escaping dollmaker.

"Hah....You motherfucking snake...hah...just you wait! Once I unveil my most prized creations, you are as good as dead!" His breathing already labored, Izma still managed to curse.

What an ungrateful audience. Yazmin must make him pay the price for leaving in the middle of her performance.

Yazmin's powerful tail curled like a spring as she lowered herself, using all the force that her tail muscles would allow, Yazmin jumped high into the air. The majestic jump suspended her mid air, as if gravity was giving her an applause. Yazmin contorted her body as she withdrew all her hidden blades, she momentarily turned into a whirlwind of death, raining daggers down on the dolls below and one specifically for the fleeing Dollmaker.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Izma once again howled in agony as he fell to the ground. A dagger was embedded into his back, narrowly avoiding his spine. Was this his karma for all the crimes he committed, all the lives he claimed in the name of his art?

No. He cannot die here, he still had more dolls to make, more masterpieces to sculpt!

Yazmin wanted to give chase but the remaining dolls all corraled to prevent her from catching up.

As Izma crawled towards the an inconspicuous doll in the image of a black haired woman whose beauty paled to the images of overly gorgeous women, molded in the image someone dear to him back in his academy days in Vanluc, its stillness despite its mannequin brethren trying.

"Christine... it brings me great shame for you to see me like this..." The doll maker winced, standing up to twist the doll's hand, rotating her along with it into a hidden passage.

A few more minutes of crawling, Izma managed to get close to his desk, right next to the wooden dog was the dagger of sundering. The enchanted artifact serves as the key in activating his unstoppable army.

Using all his remaining strength, Izma managed to stand up. Even as his vision was dimming, he was able to smile. The plan is to activate his splendid creations while he makes his escape in the ensuing chaos, dropping by in the cleric's temple to get his wounds cleansed.

Limping, Izma turned around. The smile in his slips fading, replaced with disbelief and intense coughing of blood.

Almina stabbed her arm inside of her creator's chest.

Surprised, Izma let go of the dagger as he tried to pull the dolls arm buried inside of him. The discomfort and agony brought about by the ironclad grip of Almina's hand around his heart made Izma wince in pain.

With desperation, Izma tried to pull the arm out...

"Almina, what...are you doing!? Let..*cough*...let go or I'm going to make you suffer! I'm warning you, you idiot doll!"

... only for Almina to respond by wriggling her arm in her master's tender flesh. The disgusting queasy sound from his chest cavity combined with his scream were both music to Almina's ears. It was the beginning of an awakening, the blooming of a sadistic glee inside she did not know she harbored.

The fading life force of his master allowed her to break free from the contract of being a familiar. The desire to be whole exacerbated her free will, allowing her to commit the ultimate taboo amongst familiars, harm her master.

Almina needed not the dagger, for she and her master are one. At last, the time has come to become whole. Almina grinned as her arm glowed blue.

Izma's eyes widened in terror, "You... you can't... please, I'm begging you! Noooo!"

He could feel it, his very essence being sucked into his doll. The burning physical agony of his soul being ripped from his mortal shell is only matched by the dread of his memory fading with every second as he transitions into his new body.

His end will not be from the Gorgon's venom, but by the hands of his own creation.

As the doll was almost full, her mental faculties sharpened, along with it he knowledge of spells, dollmaking, and every other skills pertaining to arcane, all without his master's troublesome memory. With all this knowledge, she was free, free to create the utopia of dolls she had dreamt of!

Almina pulled her hand out, hugging her arms around herself and putting on a blissful expression, welcoming the full gift of consciousness. Finally, she is almost whole.

Izma collapsed to the ground, his eyes darting into nowhere as he was now in the same invalid state his doll was into before.

Almina spoke as she retrieved the dagger before claiming the wooden dog on the table.

"Despite your cruelty to me, I am well aware that it is you that gave me life..."

Holding the wooden dog on one hand and the dagger of sundering the other, her lips twisted into a wicked smirk.

"...let me show you how grateful I truly am."