Read Novel Full Chapter 1254 Puppet
Chapter 1254: Chapter 1254 Puppet
Cyrus Thorn tried again.
He extended his divine sense into it, attempting to form a connection, to establish even the faintest resonance.
Still nothing. It was like trying to command the sun by touching its surface. Useless.
Cyrus slowly lowered his hand, his expression darkening. The anger did not explode. It condensed.
He had lived long enough to know that blind rage solved nothing.
His eyes narrowed slightly as his thoughts shifted away from the World Heart and toward himself.
If he could not control it, then the issue was not the artifact… it was the chain binding him.
A faint pressure began to rise from his body—not the overwhelming aura of the Bone Emperor that the outside world feared, but something deeper.
Something more focused. Like a blade being slowly drawn from its sheath. He exhaled once, long and steady.
“I won’t remain like this,” he said. Not a vow shouted to the heavens. Not a declaration meant for others.
Just a simple truth spoken to himself.
Because Cyrus Thorn had not survived until now by accepting being a puppet.
He would persevere down to his last breath.
***
Meanwhile, the survivors of Earth were dealing with a completely different kind of nightmare.
“Look… what is that beast?!”
“Where the hell are we?!”
“Are those dinosaurs flying in the sky?!”
Panic spread through the crowd like wildfire.
Over a million humans had survived Earth’s destruction, a number that once seemed miraculous until one remembered that Earth had once held billions.
What remained now felt less like a civilization and more like scattered remnants of a broken world.
And they were no longer on Earth.
They stood within an unfamiliar, boundless magical forest, a place where the trees towered so high they seemed to pierce the clouds.
The air itself felt different… thicker, alive with strange energy.
Every breath carried an unknown pressure, as though the world itself was watching them.
Monstrous roars echoed in the distance. Massive shadows moved between the ancient trunks.
Some creatures had wings like dragons, others had limbs that bent in unnatural directions, and a few even seemed to float without touching the ground at all.
People huddled together in tight groups, fear tightening their voices.
“This… this can’t be real…”
“We were just on Earth yesterday!”
“Is this some kind of mass hallucination?”
“Where are the zombies?”
But the confusion soon gave way to something sharper… dread.
Because this was no illusion. This was real.
“Look! There’s a man flying in the sky… he’s riding a sword!”
That single shout shattered the fragile calm that had begun to form.
Every head snapped upward at once.
At first, many refused to believe it. It sounded absurd, even in this impossible world.
But then they saw it.
A streak of light tore across the sky, slicing through the clouds with incredible speed.
It curved gracefully, circling once before locking onto their position.
The light slowed.
And descended.
BOOM!
A burst of wind erupted as the flying sword halted abruptly above the crowd, hovering in place as if gravity itself no longer applied to it.
Dust and leaves spiraled outward from the impact, forcing people to shield their faces.
When the wind finally settled, silence fell like a heavy curtain.
Standing atop the suspended blade was an old man.
He wore simple, dark robes that fluttered slightly in the lingering air currents.
His posture was upright, almost rigid, as though even time itself could not bend his spine.
His long white hair was tied back neatly, and his expression was carved from stone… cold, stern, and deeply serious.
His eyes swept over the crowd. Not with curiosity. Not with sympathy.
But with the detached scrutiny of someone assessing something far beneath him.
The pressure that radiated from him alone made several people instinctively step back.
A few even stumbled, unable to endure the suffocating aura pressing down on their shoulders.
He did not speak immediately.
Instead, he looked at them as if confirming something… counting, judging, measuring.
Only after a long moment did he finally open his mouth.
And when he did, his voice was calm… but carried an authority that made even the air feel heavier.
“A manga tay ea mow ta none!”
The old man spoke in a strange, unfamiliar tongue.
Yet, to everyone’s shock, the words were perfectly understood in their minds as if they had always known the language.
It was clearly some form of magic… an unseen force that translated his speech directly into meaning within their consciousness.
The survivors fell silent immediately. No one dared to interrupt.
Even those who had been shouting moments ago now stood rigid, eyes fixed on the old man with fear and confusion.
He slowly lowered his gaze over the crowd as if inspecting livestock.
“You are here in the Ghost Wood Forest,” he said coldly. “Follow me, and I will escort you to your new home.”
His tone was flat, almost indifferent, but beneath it was something far more unsettling… disdain.
He looked at the people of Earth as though they were no more significant than insects crawling at his feet.
In truth, he could not understand why his master had ordered such a task.
Why would someone of such overwhelming power bother with these fragile, useless mortals?
In his eyes, they were weak beyond measure, their very presence almost laughable.
Still, he did not question it.
Obedience to his master was absolute.
Without waiting for a response, the old man turned and stepped onto his flying sword again.
It hovered just above the ground, waiting.
The crowd hesitated for a moment… fear, confusion, and uncertainty clashing within them.
But with no better choice, they slowly began to follow.
For nearly thirty minutes, they were led through the endless expanse of the Ghost Wood Forest.
The deeper they went, the more surreal the world became.
Trees twisted in unnatural shapes, their bark etched with faint glowing patterns.
Strange beasts occasionally watched them from the shadows before disappearing without a sound.