The Puppeteer's Gambit: Strings of Blood

Shaka rose from the armchair, politely greeted the men on his sides, then emerged from the niche and walked to the ground floor. The plan was that Wu's group would attack the warehouses just after the auction. Only ten fighters were not enough, so he had to help them from the inside by becoming one of the technicians who ran backstage and create a clone of Shaka to entertain humans. It was strictly a last-minute idea, like all of his plans.

Usually, this operation would be unthinkable even for a middle demon, but for A-Yin, it wasn't a problem at all. Unlike humans, who had learned to manipulate shinat and condense it into instruments, crystals, or simple auras, each demon had a distinct type of rasuah, which developed innately in the first years of life. The demonic hierarchical level was based on each kid's potential, recognizing it as minor, middle, or, in exceptional cases, Great Demons like Mo Yin, master of Deception with a face of a thousand masks, with everyone and no name: Shaka, A-Yin...

In any case, corruption was individual and developed according to the temperament and character of the subject. A-Yin's rasuah allowed him to manipulate blood to modify his flesh and control the mind of the one that came into contact with his marks. Of course, the only real problem was that he couldn't recreate clothes, so to avoid completing the mission with his butt out, he went to the employees' dressing rooms and stole a uniform.

The fake human had almost reached the first floor when an irritated voice stopped him.

"Where are you going?"

The redhead turned to kindly stare at the new head of the city guards. 

Mark. A real pain in the ass. 

"I'm getting old, my boy, so I'm looking for a toilet."

"You can do better than this."

Shaka chuckled and looked at him badly. "I've been placed in the niche of those rich geezers, and I'm just trying to escape. Do you have anything to ask me, or did you just want advice on how to get laid?"

Mark grunted and turned around. "Aron asked me to call you for advice." Every word seems to weigh him down like a boulder as he adds, "He doesn't really want to retire."

The captain of the guards began to walk, followed by a very annoyed Shaka. The good part was they were actually going where he planned. The bad part was he had Mark on his ass for who knows how much longer. After putting a sardonic smile on his human face, he asked, "Why are you here?"

"We are guards, so we guard. This is the season's most important event, so where else should I be?"

Ah, right…the little Shuì brat, Marvin, has a crush on you. It's legit. "Will you tell me what he wants?"

"The less you talk, the better. Your voice is annoying."

Shaka sighed, falsely sad, "These young people today have very little respect for adults." The other one didn't respond, and they proceeded toward their destination. Once they arrived, they found Aron observing the remaining demons to sell. He turned and called Shaka back with one hand.

"Why don't you let our Mark-boy work peacefully and nap? What do you want?"

"Stop bullshitting for a second and come take a look." Aron's tone was serious. So the merchant approached and observed what the old guard was pointing at. The chains looked normal, except for a small white light stone set in the center emitting shinat. "Well?"

"On what does the different degree of gleam depend, in your opinion?"

Shaka leaned a hand to his beard with a thoughtful expression while Mark said, "Why do you continue to call this crook for things like this?"

"Shut up. He knows more than you do. With all his travels and stuff, this man is a fucking encyclopedia."

The merchant smiled at them and answered, "I think it's because of how much energy the various crystals can store or how much rasuah they block."

Aron nodded. "I spoke to one of the Duatié guards, and he gave me the same answer. I found it odd that the handcuffs of these minor demons glow more brightly than that commander's."

"Maybe because they drugged him to keep him quiet."

"The experts said that, no matter what they gave it, they couldn't get it to calm down for more than ten minutes. Considering its movements and time on stage, I'd say it is no longer drugged."

There may be a third reason behind it. 

A smile hinted on Shaka's lips just before a roar abjected the air. It came directly from the second warehouse behind them, one of the purchased goods. 

Suddenly, a scream so loud that the backstage walls trembled, followed by the frightened voices of the audience beyond the burgundy curtains. A technician in charge of the cages ran out of the warehouse. His eyes were terrified, and his breath was gasping. Behind him, a body was suddenly blown out of the big wooden door, crumbling against a wall in front of it.

Somebody woke up. Shaka mentally giggles.

Aron walked up to the man and helped him hold on. "What's going on?"

"He's out!" were the only words he could say before a scary roar filled the air. The guards in place followed Mark, who hurried to manage the situation quickly. Shaka went after him, dragged by Aron. The scene before their eyes would usually make A-Yin laugh. Kahn broke free by opening the bars of his cage. The handcuffs were down. A lump of metal and crystal pieces was scattered everywhere; the energy absorption device was deactivated. The drug given to the demon had worn off, and he was set loose, falling wildly to his instincts.

"How did it get free?"

He's a middle demon, you morons. Obviously, his rasuah was more robust than that fucking toy, and it consumed it.

Mark pulled a harpe blade out of its sheath. It was exceptionally sparkling as if he had spent much time polishing a desired present for the new promotion. He adjusted his grip on it and reached the few guards under his control. He blocked one, yanking him by the arm, and ordered him, "Call the others! And get those Duatiè's asses here!"

Immediately, the subordinate ran away as his comrades jumped to attack; someone failed to avoid a mighty punch from the demon and ended up in a strip of blood. If Ronny were still alive, maybe A-Yin would kiss his forehead and then wipe his own lips, of course. He was pretty sure he was the informant who leaked to the Demonic Resistance such an exciting presence on that ship's cargo, the one that docked the same night he was killed.

He had always been an enterprising little guy. And Kahn is outstanding. I want him, Shaka thought, looking at him with ecstasy that almost made him forget the omnipresent tension due to Randal. 

"Stand back!" Aron stepped in front of the others and drew his sword. The muscular demon noticed his movement and charged them, defeating three armed guards trying to tackle him. He had extraordinary strength but was tired and beaten, emitting a slight halo of corruption that sent thunderous shocks against opponents, stunning and electrocuting them. Mark coordinated his men while the Duatiè finally arrived. The power systems implanted in the handcuffs were theirs, so maybe they could do something.

Heavy steps got closer as Kahn released irregular waves of corruption, dampening rasuah against his enemies. With a left hook, the demon hit a man in the belly. The body squirted backward from the backlash and fell on another guard, wedging between the floor and the wall. His amber-red eyes moved towards Aron. Shaka grasped the human just in time, switching positions before sharp claws drew a crimson cut on his side. He let go of the older man, who rolled off the floor and turned to stare at the demon. 

Ah, I can do that. 

The merchant just staggered backward in false fright. Kahn jumped at him and grinned, intoxicated by the sight of the blood around him, but as soon as he touched his body, his eyes tightened in confusion. His rasuah seemed to flow as it should, yet the human body didn't have the expected reaction.

The masked man fell to the ground, pretending to be scared to death, until a harpe blade crept between him and the half-naked demon, cutting through the air.

"Piss off!" Mark entered his field of vision with a leap forward and put himself as a shield, covering Aron and Shaka. The merchant crawled off with his butt on the floor, then grabbed the old guard, and they came out of the warehouse, looking carefully at those around him to find someone just right for the job he intended to give. A girl dressed in a theater uniform had a wound on her arm that bled enough, and her complexion was a little pale due to fatigue and fright. Shaka approached her, moved his hand on her arm, right on the cut, and pressed. A tiny crimson droplet entered her as his voice reached her ears. "Get out of here. It's dangerous."

She looked at him confused, then her eyes numbed softly, and she nodded mechanically. Under the hand of the fake man, a tiny red rune took form, like a little horned butterfly, attached to the young woman's skin, invisible to human eyes. Her body was composed and totally neutral, as if the situation wasn't so alarming, a bit in contrast with her feared expression, yet it took a second to adjust, and she looked petrified again. As soon as the merchant separated from her, the girl took a deep breath and ran away like a terrifying ghost, slipping into a door just before the stage.

Shaka grinned. It's time to play. He felt his blood in the girl's veins as she was walking away from them steadily, more and more inside the building.

It's a valuable technique that allows the demon to control at will a body within which there is his blood. The puppet will follow his every command, whether verbal or not. When he was younger, A-Yin didn't know how to manage the link established with the rune, and his victims remained conscious throughout the technique. He had headaches because of it. Now, instead, he could control them at his will. Of course, there were limits to what he could do, or he could have all the Rèn as one giant puppet. The mark worked on demons, too. Indeed, his group, the Scarlet Jaws by humans and the Demonic Resistance by demons, had been marked by him. Yet, most of them were partially unaware of it, recognizing the mark on their body as a symbol of belonging. They didn't know that the leader knew precisely where and in what condition they were in every moment.

Aron helped the merchant to sit on an armchair on the ground floor. People were being cleared out, and the theater was now semi-desert if not for the fierce combat backstage.

"You're an idiot. What would you have done if Mark hadn't saved your ass?"

Shaka chuckled, "I'd be dead, I guess." The man looks badly at him and shakes his head, so the fake human adds, "You're retired, and I couldn't leave you all the glory. Veteran saves famous womanizer of Aryo. I can already imagine tomorrow's newspapers. What would I look like?"

Aron friendly punched his shoulder and grumbled, "If you had died, Madame Shuì would have had my head cut off!"

A loud laugh came out of the merchant's mouth. He nodded and gave him a pat on the back. "You're right, my bad."

"We should go out too. The other guards have arrived, and they should fix this mess."

"How did you notice that the handcuffs were emitting different light?" he asks in a curious voice. The human shrugs and beckons him to follow him. "Years and years of experience, certain things you perceive before you even see them."

"If it weren't for you, it probably would have made it to the stage and killed lots."

"Security would have caught him in time."

A smile popped up on Shaka's face. They'd never make it in time, and you know it too, sly fox. A click in his mind surprised him as soon as he got up from the armchair. It lasted only an instant, but his expression didn't betray him. The young woman marked just now was dead; the blood link was abruptly broken.

Wu and the others must have managed to get into the theater and killed the one who opened the back door. 

Shaka followed the old guard from the exit to a meeting point. The survivors of the dreadful tragedy were gathered here. Many complained about the auctioneer, who seemed to want to sink underground. They looked like spoiled children to whom the new toy was taken away. The fake human glanced behind his back towards the theater, which still rumbled with sounds and crashing blows. I'll leave the rest to Wu.