The puppets' eyes swiveled with a sickening mechanical click. A raspy, artificial voice filled the air: "The performance has ended. The next act will commence exactly at midnight. The audience is invited to return when the bell tolls."
Then, without another word, they turned back to their labors, meticulously wiping the seats until the wood gleamed like polished bone.
Sofia, emboldened by her own terror, crawled closer to the auditorium. She didn't dare sit in a chair—at least, not until it was time for the "show"—but she allowed herself to sink onto the cold ground nearby.
She realized that if this strange Artist could turn five monsters into puppets in a single breath, then staying here was far safer than anywhere else in this wasteland.
*— "What is Sofia doing?"*
— "I don't understand. Where is she? The camera only shows empty space, it's so quiet it's giving me the creeps."
In the livestream chat, comments continued to scroll at a breakneck pace.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of footsteps echoed from the darkness.
Sofia snapped to her feet, alert. She couldn't be certain if the Artist would protect her or if she was on her own.
From out of the mist emerged Alex.
He had noticed Sofia's strange expression earlier in the cave, and when she slipped away, he had followed shortly after. The journey through the fog was treacherous, delaying him by several minutes.
"It's me! Alex!" he shouted, seeing Sofia's defensive stance.
Sofia recognized him, but she did not relax. "Stay there. Don't come any closer."
Alex stopped, confused. "Don't be afraid. I saw the look on your face back in the cave. I followed you because I was worried... and curious. Did you find something?"
He knew a woman like Sofia wouldn't wander off alone unless she had a lead. Inside the Hell of Decision, being alone was a death sentence.
Sofia hesitated. She opened her mouth to tell him about the video, about the "extra" people in the cave—but then, her eyes locked onto the shadow behind him.
Her breath hitched.
Alex's shadow was splitting in two. One part remained flat on the ground, but the other part was writhing, sprouting jagged claws and baring teeth like a living thing.
The words died in Sofia's throat. She stared at Alex with pure horror. She could no longer tell if the man standing before her was human or a monster wearing his skin.
Instinctively, she scrambled backward.
*— "Crap! Did they just say Abyss?"*
— "No way. How can there be internet inside the Abyss?"
— "Is this real? Is Sofia actually inside a rift? Someone record this, NOW!"
The viewer count began to skyrocket as links to the stream were shared across social media. The myth of the Abyss/Hell of Decision was being broadcast live for the first time in history.
Alex saw Sofia retreating. His expression shifted. A strange, dark film began to coat his eyes, turning the whites into a pitch-black void.
"Don't go," he whispered, stepping toward her with an outstretched hand. "Come here... what are you afraid of?"
Sofia tripped over a chair in her frantic bid to get away.
Click!
The puppets nearby rotated their heads 180 degrees again. They dropped their cleaning cloths in unison. With a chorus of wooden creaks, all five moved toward Alex.
By now, Alex's consciousness had been swallowed. Something hiding in his shadow had taken control. The shadow on the ground lunged forward, targeting Sofia—its planned next host.
The puppets struck.
They seized Alex's limbs, hoisting him off the ground. One puppet reached down with a wooden hand and—impossibly—grabbed the shadow on the floor.
The shadow shrieked, a sound that bypassed the ears and vibrated directly within the soul. The creature thrashed, sprouting a dozen long, needle-like appendages covered in fine barbs. It looked like a mass of raw, pulsing, writhing meat.
Disgusting.
*"Only perfection... only perfection is acceptable."*
The Illusionist appeared in the center of the auditorium. His mask stared at the chaos with a cold, mocking smirk. His voice was laced with a manic edge, the tone of a man seeing something offensive and feeling the need to erase it.
With a subtle flick of his fingers, he commanded the puppets. They didn't just hold the monster; they began to tear the shadow creature apart right there on the floor.
The thing let out one final, ear-piercing scream as its shadow-form was shredded into fragments, eventually dissolving into a thick, foul-smelling black smoke.
The shadow monster was gone.
Alex, now nothing more than an empty shell with a shattered mind, collapsed to the ground. Even with the monster removed, there was nothing left of the man he once was.
The Illusionist didn't even glance at the body.
He snapped his fingers.
Crack.
Alex's body jerked. In the next second, his skin hardened into wood, his joints becoming hinges. He stood up—no longer a man, but a puppet.
The sixth puppet joined the line, picking up a cloth to help wipe the seats for its new master.
Sofia couldn't speak. The Illusionist's behavior was so "wrong," so predatory by nature, that she was paralyzed by the sheer cruelty of his efficiency.
The Illusionist ignored her completely. Having "cleansed" the imperfection from his theater, he vanished back into the shadows.
Sofia's legs gave out, and she slumped to the ground, gasping for air.
*"I made the right choice,"* she thought, her mind racing. "The Artist and the monsters... they aren't on the same side. But it's not because he's a hero. He just... hates the mess they make."
A man like this—paranoid, obsessive, and a dangerous perfectionist—would be a nightmare to encounter in the real world. But here, in this hell, those traits were the only reason she was still alive.
In the livestream chat, the screen was flooded with rapidly scrolling white text.
*— "OH MY GOD! WHAT DID I JUST WATCH!"*
— "Lord... I... I have no words left."
— "Did he just turn a person into a puppet? Like it was nothing?"
— "That's not a hero. That's a Boss."