Talios-Chapter 48: A Psycho

The city of Omah took its first breath after mourning.

And with the dawning of a new day, the great city of Omah regained its colors—the sky itself seemed animated—alive in a way that felt deliberate, almost aware.

Somewhere within the city, the ground trembled. There was no rhythm to it, only persistence—each shudder heavier than the one before, as though something beneath was steadily losing restraint.

Within one of the designated training grounds, a tall, imposing man relentlessly slammed puppets into the ground, each impact carving fresh cracks into both wall and floor.

Roah stood on the same training grounds, positioned off to the side, his arms folded as he observed the scene with complete detachment. His expression remained blank, eyes deadpan as they fixed on the figure at the center of the grounds—the very source of the morning’s chaos. The man had become a nuisance, charging through everything in his path, headlong and reckless, his fists imbued with aura. Bare-chested and drenched in sweat, he wore a feral grin as he laid waste to the area.

Roah himself was also bare-chested, yet perfectly dry. One would hardly believe the only sweat his thick frame had produced was from the walk over.

He had left his temporary residence early that morning, intending to use this particular training ground to stretch his muscles. His irritation toward the nuisance before him was rooted in a simple fact—he had arrived first, only for this so-called General to burst in uninvited and begin his destructive rampage. Near where Roah stood, several headless Grade 12 puppets lay strewn across the floor, while the man now clashed violently with two Grade 13 puppets.

Forced backward, he slammed into the wall, the rush of displaced air brushing across Roah’s unmoving face—his arms still folded. The man straightened not far from him, legs set wide as he cracked his neck, fists already swinging, eager to reenter the fray.

"Linh... what exactly are you doing?" Roah asked, a rare note of genuine puzzlement seeping through his otherwise unreadable expression.

"Hahaha!" He laughed loudly as he lunged at one of the puppets, his fist flying toward its face, only to be blocked at the last instant. "Did you see that? Do you see how great these things are?" he exclaimed with exaggerated delight, unleashing a barrage of heavy punches.

Roah was at a loss for where to even begin with the man’s shenanigans. "Why are you acting like some backwater donkey that just stumbled onto greener grass?"

"Isn’t this greener grass?" he said, launching another punch at the puppet as it was cornered against the wall. The puppet slipped aside, and his fist smashed into the stone instead. His eyes lit up with excitement.

"The King’s training grounds really are the best. See?" He gestured at the wall. "It’s still intact."

Roah didn’t even have the energy to slap his own forehead. He merely spoke, flat and unbothered. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"It’s magically reinforced tile. Of course it’s durable."

"Should I punch harder?"

Roah’s expression didn’t change as he stared on. The second puppet suddenly lunged, its fist aimed for Linh’s face, forcing him to dodge and slide several meters back.

"Aren’t they just the best?" he said, brimming with excitement.

"Is that why you destroyed these?" Roah asked, gesturing toward the five or six ruined Grade 12 puppets scattered around the grounds.

Linh smacked his lips and waved a dismissive hand. "The King is rich. He wouldn’t complain."

"Do you have any idea how much those cost?" Roah asked. "How many do you think your salary can actually cover?"

Without a shred of hesitation or remorse, he replied, "Cover? What do you mean, cover? Who’s covering anything? The King wouldn’t mind—I’m telling you. Besides, do you know how rare it is to get a chance to play with these things? Even in my battalion, the highest we have are Grade 10 puppets. How am I supposed to enjoy those?"

"Are you serious? Your battalion isn’t the only one—every battalion caps at Grade 10 puppets, and there’s a reason for it," Roah said. "A Grade 10 puppet matches an Early Stage 3 Awakener. Beyond that, puppets become rarely impactful for learning and refining one’s aura. That’s why sparring is encouraged instead."

"But nobody ever wants to spar with me," he said. "And even if they did, I wouldn’t be able to go all out."

"Who would want to spar with a brute like you?" Roah replied. "With your strength, can anyone in your battalion even survive a simple cross? You old bull in the Late Stage 3."

Linh wore a smug grin. "Didn’t you celebrate your birthday early this year? Last I checked, you’re the older hoot." He turned his attention back to the two puppets, whose movements had begun to synchronize. Smiling, he bumped his fists together.

"Time to get serious."

As his fists bumped together, he activated his aura. Concentrated, flaming blue plasma wrapped around his fists like thick gloves and clung to his feet like heavy greaves. The air around him shifted, growing searingly hot as he spread his legs back, settling into a stance primed to pounce.

Roah’s expression sharpened, draining of what little tolerance it held.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"What does it look like?" he replied, dashing toward the puppets. Everything about his movement had changed—his speed surged dramatically, and the floor cracked beneath the weight of his aura. From the moment he launched forward, each space he passed was scarred by fractured stone, the result of sheer momentum.

The resulting impact shook the grounds again, a spiderweb of fractures racing across the wall from the force alone. Yet his punch met nothing. Both puppets slipped aside simultaneously, drifting out of reach—two bodies moving with a single, unified intent.

This outcome didn’t surprise Roah in the slightest. These were high-grade puppets—facing an opponent a stage above them didn’t mean they would collapse instantly.

Graded puppets were fully automated, equipped with built-in system intelligence. They adapted to the strength of their designated targets—but only within defined limits. Pair a lower-stage Awakener with a higher-grade puppet, and no degree of adjustment could bridge the gap. The result would be absolute destruction.

Their adaptive capability made graded puppets one of the most effective training tools, particularly within the army. Against this degenerate excuse for a General, the puppets adjusted accordingly. Their inbuilt systems were far from helpless against aura, capable even of determining appropriate counters. And despite their opponent’s superior level, they leveraged their numerical advantage without hesitation.

Like two limbs of the same body, they shifted and interchanged seamlessly. After evading the powered strike, they seized the initiative—one attacking from above, the other from below—closing in with no path left open for escape.

The corners of Linh’s lips lifted into a grin. He didn’t even consider dodging. He took the full brunt of their combined strike and was launched into the wall like a bolt released from a fully drawn bow. The impact etched an even denser web of fractures into the reinforced stone.

Linh burst into laughter. Despite the earth-shaking collision, he appeared entirely unscathed.

"I didn’t realize they had that much packed into them," he said with clear approval. "Good. Very good."

His words had barely left his mouth when the puppets were already back in front of him, erasing the distance they had hurled him across in an instant. Before a thought could form, their hands—this time moving as one—drove straight toward his face.

His aura-coated fist shot forward to meet theirs. The collision rippled outward, widening existing cracks and triggering another tremor. The force was evenly matched, and the clash devolved into a rapid exchange of blows.

Their blows landed squarely against his face, while his own strikes missed far more often than was flattering. Blood slowly trickled from his mouth—only for his smile to widen further, his eyes burning with excitement.

Roah didn’t move from where he stood, his gaze locked on the sheer absurdity of what he was witnessing. What was wrong with this man? Unable to restrain himself any longer, his voice cut through the chaos.

"What is your problem? Are you even supposed to be fighting with your fists? You’re not a close-combat warrior. Aren’t you meant to keep your distance and land your shots? Since when did the Sapphire Battalion become a fist-fighting division?"

Linh’s voice boomed through the exchange of fists, laced with roaring laughter.

"This fellow here prefers to play bare-handed. How else am I supposed to make up for my weaknesses—assuming I even have any?"

His laughter erupted once more.

Roah regarded him with a dry look, the thought passing quietly through his mind. So much for the Kingdom’s Bow.

A complete psycho.

In a room once devoid of light, a trembling quake of uncertain origin jolted a lone individual from his sleep. He sat up, legs crossed, dissatisfaction clear in his eyes as they rebelled against the intrusion of wakefulness, his mind struggling to grasp what had disturbed his rest.