Dawn crept slowly over Arnvale.
Light spilled across the sleeping town, glinting off rooftops and catching the mist that rose from the forest. Birds chirped in the chilled air, and the distant sound of water wheels creaked awake along the river.
Inside Lyra's cottage, silence clung thickly.
Not peaceful silence.
Not restful silence.
A silence born of fear.
Arden was the first to wake.
His hand reached for his sword the moment consciousness returned.
He scanned the room—
the extinguished hearth,
the cold lanterns,
the lingering pressure of last night's intruder—
And then his gaze landed on Friezzar.
The puppet sat exactly where he had been last night.
Back straight.
Hands curled protectively around Lyra's lantern.
Eyes dim but alert.
He hadn't moved an inch.
Arden exhaled and rubbed his face.
"Did you… stare like that all night?"
Friezzar blinked slowly.
"…watched."
Arden grimaced.
"Yeah, that answers that."
Lyra stirred next, hair tousled, eyes still puffy from fear and exhaustion. She slid off the bed, wincing slightly at the cold wood under her bare feet.
Her gaze found Friezzar immediately.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly.
Friezzar tilted his head.
"…Lyra.
Safe."
Her chest tightened.
He remembered.
Arden stood and stretched.
"We need to report last night's threat to Oren. And the guild. And possibly the Crown. Whatever that thing was, it wasn't just a rogue mage."
Lyra frowned.
"It said Friezzar was theirs. That they created him."
Friezzar lowered his head.
The carved lines under his wooden ribs glowed with faint distress.
"…mine?"
Lyra placed her hand on his arm.
"No," she whispered. "You aren't anyone's. You're you."
Friezzar stared at her hand—
then at his own—
then at her again.
His runes warmed slightly.
"…Lyra…"
Arden groaned.
"Please don't teach it to imprint any harder. We barely survived last night."
Lyra glared.
"He is not an 'it.' And he is not imprinting—"
She paused.
"…well. Maybe a little."
Friezzar blinked slowly, confused.
"…little…?"
Arden slapped a hand over his face.
"Oh gods."
The Guild Summons
They stepped outside after sunrise.
Friezzar paused at the doorway again—as if expecting last night's shadow to return. His posture was protective, shoulders slightly hunched, runes flickering faintly with caution.
Lyra reassured him gently.
"He's gone. The sun is here now. You're safe."
Friezzar looked up at the sky.
Sunlight washed over him like warm water.
His carved limbs relaxed.
His runes brightened.
"…warm…" he murmured.
Lyra smiled.
"Yes. Sunlight is warm."
Arden stood behind them, shaking his head.
"He's learning too fast."
They walked down the forest path toward the town. Villagers watched from their windows, whispering cautiously.
"That puppet again…"
"Why is it with them?"
"Is it safe?"
"Should the guards be told?"
Friezzar heard every word.
He didn't understand the language fully—
but he understood the tone.
Fear.
Rejection.
Unease.
His steps slowed unconsciously.
Lyra squeezed his hand.
"Just look forward," she whispered. "Ignore them."
Friezzar did.
But something inside him shifted painfully.
He didn't know the word.
But it felt like:
Unwanted.
The Guild Hall
When they arrived, the guild doors were wide open.
Oren Valen stood at the threshold, arms crossed.
"You three," he growled. "Inside."
Lyra paled.
Arden straightened.
Friezzar froze.
Inside, nearly two dozen adventurers were gathered.
Some stood with arms crossed.
Some with hands on weapons.
Some with pure curiosity on their faces.
A few with fear.
A tense hush fell as Friezzar entered.
The puppet's steps echoed on the wooden floor.
Arden stepped forward.
"Guildmaster. Last night we were visited by—"
"I know," Oren cut in.
Lyra blinked.
"You knew?"
Oren nodded grimly.
"We heard a surge of mana throughout town. And half the lanterns near the forest went out at the same time."
He stared hard at Friezzar.
"Tell me what happened. Every detail."
Arden recounted the confrontation.
Lyra added what she sensed.
Friezzar listened, unmoving.
When they finished, the hall was silent.
Oren stepped closer to the puppet.
"You fought off an intruder capable of suppressing magic."
Friezzar tilted his head.
"…intr…u…der…"
"You shielded Lyra."
"…Lyra. Safe."
"And you disobeyed the intruder's command."
Friezzar stiffened.
Something in Oren's tone made him feel like a child being scolded—though he didn't understand why.
The guildmaster leaned in.
"Creature."
Friezzar reacted—
—not in fear, but with faint confusion.
Oren continued.
"You are no ordinary construct. And last night's visitor proves there is a faction out there—unknown, powerful, and intent on taking you."
A ripple of tension spread across the hall.
Lyra grabbed Friezzar's arm instinctively.
"He's not going anywhere."
Oren scrutinized the puppet's hollow eyes.
"Do you want to stay with humans… or go with them?"
The hall held its breath.
Friezzar lowered his head slowly.
The memory of the intruder's voice slithered through his mind:
You were never meant for humans.
His chest glowed faintly—
with resistance.
He looked up.
And placed his wooden hand over Lyra's.
"…Lyra."
Lyra's breath caught.
Friezzar's voice grew stronger—
"…stay."
The hall stirred.
Oren held up a hand.
"Very well."
He turned to Arden and Lyra.
"From this moment forward—
Friezzar is under formal guild protection."
Gasps filled the room.
Arden blinked.
Lyra covered her mouth.
Friezzar simply stared, not understanding the weight of those words.
Oren continued.
"Any attempt to seize him or harm him will be treated as a direct threat to Arnvale under Adventurer's Law."
He stepped back.
"However."
His gaze sharpened.
"This means the guild is responsible for his behavior, safety, and… training."
Arden groaned.
"Training the puppet. Wonderful."
A ripple of laughter—nervous but curious—moved through the room.
Lyra took Friezzar's hand.
"You'll learn," she said softly. "We'll help you."
Friezzar blinked.
"…learn…?"
"Yes," Lyra smiled. "Learn."
Friezzar paused—
then repeated:
"…learn."
Oren nodded.
"Good. Because if he's going to stay among humans, he must learn to control himself."
He pointed toward the training hall.
"Starting now."
Friezzar tilted his head.
Lyra whispered reassuringly:
"It's okay. Training is good. It helps you grow."
At the word "grow," Friezzar felt a familiar spark inside his chest.
And nodded.
"…grow."
Lyra squeezed his hand proudly.
Arden sheathed his sword.
Oren folded his arms, exhausted already.
"Gods help us all."
And so, on a crisp morning beneath the rising sun…
The puppet who devoured monsters took his first step into the human world—
—as a student.