Chapter 388: The Magic Puppet Assault
Thud.
A cup of coffee was placed on the table, its rich aroma blooming into the air with the steam.
"Apton, your coffee."
"Thanks."
Eyeglass Man Apton took a sip, then returned to typing furiously on the keyboard.
"Here, Ziq."
Red-Cloaked Woman Veronica handed another cup to the man with the ponytail.
Ziq took it, frowning. "Still haven’t found her?"
Veronica shook her head. "No. Forest’s been scoured five times over. The sensors on the beach and shallow sea haven’t been tampered with. Every possible hiding spot in the factory has been searched."
"The sausage production room?"
"Checked."
"The prison cells?"
"Also checked."
"Is there any part of the island we haven’t fully secured? The Chamber of Secrets? The cave? The dungeon?"
His voice rose, sharp and tense. The room fell silent.
No one on the island knew its surveillance network better than Ziq.
CCTV cameras covered every accessible area—except for dormitories and bathrooms, which still retained a fragile sense of privacy. Everywhere else was under constant watch.
And yet, a seemingly unintelligent adult woman had vanished without a trace. No footprints, no disturbance, no signal—just as if she’d appeared out of thin air.
Ziq narrowed his eyes, scanning the room. His voice was ice.
"Could it really be… someone inside helping her? Hmm?"
He looked one by one at the others.
Veronica—she was a woman, and sometimes showed softness toward the children, slipping them candy when no one was looking.
Apton—the short, plump man with a timid demeanor, universally unattractive to women. And the blonde woman, though foolish, had been undeniably striking.
The others? Were they spies sent by the Wizards? Or had they been magically controlled?
He’d heard of a love potion—so powerful it could make a person die for love, even abandon their own family…
Those under Ziq’s suspicious gaze shivered, afraid that the next moment would see them dragged into interrogation.
This island held too many things that made life unbearable.
Veronica swallowed, then spoke softly. "Actually… I’ve been doubting whether she’s even still on the island."
Meeting Ziq’s icy stare, she pressed on. "Maybe she escaped. Wizards can fly. They can vanish. Or turn into Merpeople and slip away through the sea…"
Ziq’s gaze locked onto her. Veronica’s forehead began to glisten with cold sweat.
Suddenly, Apton noticed the CCTV feed flicker—just for a second. He leaned in, squinting. The image snapped back.
Probably just a bird brushed the lens, he thought.
He checked the sensor signals. For a moment, he thought he saw anomalies—slight spikes in a few locations, maybe ten percent higher than normal.
He opened his mouth to speak—but the tension in the room made him close it again.
If Ziq found nothing wrong, the blame would fall on him.
Ziq didn’t notice Apton’s hesitation. He frowned. "Then how do you explain the message on the Book of Friends?"
Veronica exhaled, relieved. She knew he shared her suspicion. She picked up a blank sheet of paper from the table.
"The Book of Friends… it’s a Wizard invention. The alchemical devices it controls are similar to the originals, but not identical."
"What if the flaws were already discovered? Then her message… was just a game. A cruel joke."
"Making us believe she’s still here, drawing our forces into a single place—while giving her the perfect chance to escape."
Her voice was soft, her smile seductive. Apton, mesmerized by the reflection in the screen, unconsciously admired Veronica’s figure.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move.
He glanced over—
A calico cat was pawing at a camera.
Just a cat, he thought, relaxing.
He watched for two more seconds. Then his heart lurched—like he’d stepped into an empty void.
The island only has Veronica’s white cat as a pet. Where did this calico come from?
He spun around. The cat was gone from the screen.
Apton frantically pulled up every camera feed in the area. Finally, he found it—crouched by the distribution box, somehow managing to pry open the lid with its soft paw.
The tiny cat, the size of a yarn ball, stood inside the massive box, clawing at a cable thicker than its tail.
The sight should have been adorable. But Apton felt only dread.
He screamed, "Stop!"
Everyone turned. No one understood.
Ziq hadn’t touched Veronica. The two were calmly sipping their coffee.
But the cat didn’t hear. It casually swept its paw—
A flash of light.
The thick cable split cleanly in two, the cut perfectly smooth.
The screen went black.
Apton sat frozen in his chair, unable to process what he’d just seen.
One by one, the large screens around the room went dark—twenty, thirty feeds vanishing like a mosaic of silence.
"What happened?" Ziq and the others gasped.
The response was worse—more screens turned black. Only a few remained active.
Across the island, lights died. Machines fell silent. Conveyor belts, once endlessly moving, stopped.
In a nearby room, a boy with dull eyes suddenly lit up with hope. He whimpered, struggling against his restraints.
Beside him, several medical staff exchanged glances.
"What’s going on?"
"Power outage?"
"Wait—maybe it’s just maintenance."
Their voices were flat, emotionless, as if they hadn’t noticed the boy sobbing on the bed.
Minutes passed. Then, the backup generator kicked in. The metallic clink of tools returned.
In another room, Haley looked up at the flickering light. Her pupils contracted sharply, as if stabbed. She instinctively raised her hand to shield her eyes.
Beside her sat a plump woman, smiling. "Probably just a loose connection. Don’t worry. Let’s keep reading, shall we?"
Haley whispered, "After this… can I go back?"
The woman tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "Go back? Where? Do you like the prison?"
"No," Haley shook her head. "But Mabel’s waiting for me!"
The woman stroked her soft hair. "Mabel has her mission. You have yours. Be good, Haley."
Haley trembled. She lowered her head, silent.
The woman praised her. "Good girl."
They sat in silence. Only the turning of pages broke the stillness.
Haley was thirsty—but she dared not ask.
She looked up once more, then lowered her head again.
The book in her hands told the story of Little Red Riding Hood, devoured by the big gray wolf… only to be rescued by a hunter.
In the margin, someone had written a tiny, smudged name in pencil.
Salah
Haley remembered the strange child—dark-skinned, from the room across the corridor. He sometimes sang songs no one could understand. Other times, he spoke broken English, describing animals from distant grasslands, or how he’d fought other kids for water.
It all sounded like a world far away.
Had he been brought here too, a month ago?
Suddenly, the door to the reading room swung open.
A woman in green stood in the doorway.
"Bring her in."
The plump woman pulled Haley to her feet. Haley turned, glancing back at the book—where the hunter was leading Little Red Riding Hood joyfully to her grandmother.
A gust of wind from the corridor flipped the page—
The image changed.
Little Red Riding Hood was being swallowed whole by the wolf.
…
At that moment, most of the island was already in chaos.
Strange creatures—adorable in appearance, but with razor-sharp claws—suddenly emerged from every shadow.
They sliced through thick cables and steel beams with ease. Automatic guns on the walls were severed before they could fire.
Sparrow-like birds dove from high above, their beaks piercing through legs like bullets. Guards fell screaming in agony.
A warrior in armor marched forward. A woman in a housewife’s apron swung pruning shears, smashing arms. Tiny humanoids—some as small as fists—charged forward, their strength enough to knock adults flying.
The most bizarre sight? Brooms and sieves joined the attack.
The broom, with no one riding it, spun wildly, smashing weapons and people alike. The sieve swung like a hammer, driving soldiers to flee.
Someone managed to fire a gun. Bang, bang, bang!
The wounded cat, missing one leg, still leapt with agility.
Others—beings, machines, creatures—continued attacking, even after being shot. They didn’t flinch. Didn’t scream. Only a few collapsed, lifeless.
"Hit the head! Target the heads!"
One soldier, having just killed a leopard, shouted his discovery.
A soldier, barely clinging to his broomstick, cried out, "Where’s the head? Tell me where it is!"
The broom’s twiggy branches looked no different from any other part.
The next second, he was flung into the air, arcing through the sky.
But not everyone was so unlucky. Most attackers had clear heads.
So bullets snapped into focus, aiming for the head.
The first female servant’s skull was reduced to a sieve.
The soldier grinned, shouting, "Die, freak!"
Then—thud.
A brutal blow sent him flying, embedding his body into the ground.
Silence.
The headless servant reached up, touching her ruined face. Then, with a sudden, furious roar, she charged.
Panic erupted. Soldiers screamed, dropped their guns, and fled.
The servant chased. Behind her, a horde of bizarre attackers advanced.
A guard dog, freshly released, saw the headless woman sprinting toward it. It whimpered, cowering, tail tucked, then turned and ran—howling in terror.
No one thought to fight back. They only wished they had more legs.
Hummmmm…
A low, resonant hum filled the air.
Everyone knew the sound.
It meant the island had activated a powerful magnetic field. Most people stayed put. Those who had to patrol wore radiation suits.
As they ran, the shouting behind them faded.
They hesitated. Turned.
The once-unstoppable attackers lay motionless—crumpled like scrap metal. Only a few twitched weakly.
The soldiers stared. Then, one by one, they cheered. Someone even jumped on a fallen creature, bouncing on it like a trampoline.
They knew the field harmed them too. But what choice was there?
Better to endure the pain than die at the hands of monsters.
At that moment, while the Magic Puppets distracted the base’s defenders, Wade and Dumbledore—hidden within the facility—heard the hum.
One leaned on the table. The other pressed against the wall. They clenched their teeth, enduring in silence.
The concrete walls and their shielding suits blocked most of the effect. But even the smallest trace of interference felt like needles piercing every nerve, every organ.
Wade saw the headmaster’s arm trembling. He turned away, sparing him the sight.
It wasn’t about magic strength. The stronger the magic, the more sensitive the perception. And that made the pain worse.
They couldn’t cast shields or barriers—any magic leaving the body was disrupted.
After a few seconds, the hum faded.
Minutes passed before Wade could stand. Cold sweat soaked his back.
"Amazing," he breathed. "The machine needs at least half an hour to cool down. This is our chance."
"Don’t remove your cloak," Dumbledore warned. "They might have more weapons like this."
"...Right." Wade re-fastened his suit. Then, hesitantly: "Professor… do we still need to hold back on these people?"
On the table beside him, a stack of photos lay—each one stained with blood.
(End of Chapter)
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