All things within the turtle's gaze froze. The heretic and all the people he controlled couldn't move a muscle.
"Mhn!!"
The only sound he could make was a muffled groan. It seemed like a checkmate, but the turtle's power didn't allow either him or Hilda to act.
Theia's power stemmed from a particular book, Grim's Children's Tales. A dark fantasy collection of short stories.
On their way to Tumidus, John had asked her about her power, and she revealed that she could summon entities from the tales. One such entity was Yurdle, the turtle, who could rule over everything it saw.
In the book, Yurdle didn't have this ability, but Theia believed that it was what the turtle could do.
The book contained twelve tales, ranging from sweet bedtime stories to darker, more questionable ones.
John's investigation revealed that the book was once a second-circle object with only a fraction of the power it now held. After becoming Theia's foundation, its power grew immensely, making it a formidable force.
However, there was a major downside: being a second-circle item, the backlash was enormous, incapacitating the user. The only defense was Theia's soul-sucking eyes.
Another limitation was that she could only summon creatures from two of the tales: Yurdle the Turtle and Prince Frog. Both were extremely powerful in their own right.
Yurdle could stop everything within its line of sight.
The turtle couldn't see John or Hilda right now, but once anything entered its vision, it would freeze. Hilda couldn't simply throw a knife at the heretic to kill him—it wouldn't work.
"Hilda, get ready."
John had come up with a potential solution. If the turtle froze everything it could see, he needed a way to limit its vision to gain an advantage.
"Now!"
In an instant, he covered half of the turtle's eyes, allowing the mystic to move again, though his lower body remained frozen in place. John bit his lip. He had only meant to free the heretic's head, but this would have to do.
His hand was in front of the turtle's vision. Now, all he could do was hope Hilda would finish the job.
Hilda swiftly sent her knife toward the heretic's head.
Thng.
The knife was about to strike when a red crystal floated up to intercept it. The knife lodged into the crystal, causing it to lose power and fall. Before it could hit the ground, it floated right above the mystic's belly—entering the turtle's line of sight.
"B...Brother... I can't hold on."
Theia's body weakened, and she collapsed to the ground. John caught her before her face hit the stone road.
The effect on the mystic's lower body ceased, but his face filled with fear as Hilda rushed to finish the task.
After the red crystal shattered, some of the people he controlled collapsed to the ground. The mystic's emotions shifted from fear to pure rage.
"You piece of shit!!"
He waved his hands, forcing the few remaining people under his control to step in front of Hilda's knife. However, they offered little resistance to her. Trained to kill, she made quick work of them, their necks easily severed.
In a matter of seconds, Hilda was already in front of the mystic, her sharp eyes locked on his neck.
"You think I would let you do that!?"
He clapped his hands together, producing a sharp sound. He had only four people under his control, and two of them stepped forward to block Hilda. Unlike their predecessors, these two were agile and intelligent. This time, the mystic directly controlled them, making them much more difficult to deal with.
While Hilda was engaged with the two smarter puppets, John took the opportunity to grab a pitchfork dropped by a villager and charged forward.
The mystic's low circle body still had a normal form. John only needed to exploit the timing while the mystic was distracted by Hilda.
"You think I wouldn't notice!?"
The old man screamed as he noticed John's approach. John couldn't help but curse his own slow reflexes and injured leg.
The remaining two puppets, now animated, rushed at John. One wielded a butcher knife, and the other had a wooden pole. John wasn't a fighter like Hilda—he could only retreat and try to slow their advance. Truthfully, he didn't have the heart to kill them.
In the back of his mind, he wondered if these people could still be saved and returned to their families.
With the mystic's focus on Hilda, the two attacking John were slower and more sluggish. But John's lack of combat experience made the situation harder than it should've been. The pole jabbed at him from one side, and the butcher knife came dangerously close to landing a fatal blow.
John could only block and backpedal, but even that was too much for him. The pole tapped his shoulder, throwing off his balance, and the butcher knife slashed across his arm. He blocked the worst of it with his pitchfork, but some strikes still landed, leaving wounds that added up quickly.
As the battle dragged on, John found himself growing weaker. He half regretted getting involved and half felt grateful. He had drawn more attention to himself, testing the mystic's multitasking capabilities—but he was terrible at fighting, and all he could do was hold his ground.
"Maid, your master is dying!"
The old man shouted, landing a slash on John's arm. The words snapped Hilda's attention back for just a split second. The two puppets she'd been fighting seized the opportunity and launched their first strike.
But when they made contact with Hilda, they screamed in agony, their bodies recoiling in pain.