He yanked the threads again, and Rosana let out a sharp gasp as her body was pulled forward, her face inches from the dirt. She could feel the heat of her own flas, but they were fading fast, and her strength was nearly gone.
Ty, bound and straining against the invisible threads, caught sight of Rosana's struggle. "Rosana, don't...!" His voice cracked, his own flas sputtering weakly as he fought to free himself. "You can't...!"
But Rosana's body trembled, her strength ebbing away with every passing second. The fire inside her was dying, and she knew it.
The caras zood in, capturing the desperation in her eyes, the flickering flas around her hands. Her gauntlets, once fierce and glowing, now seed dull, the flas barely clinging to them. The perfect shot for the spectators—watching a hero fall.
In JJ's Viewing Room
JJ gripped the edges of her seat, her eyes wide with horror as the cara zood in on Rosana. "No... Rosana..." she whispered, her heart pounding in her chest. The screen flickered with the image of Rosana's weak, trembling form, the flas around her hands almost extinguished.
"She can't... she can't give up," JJ muttered, her voice trembling. "Co on, Rosana... you can't let him win."
Her fingers trembled as she watched the puppet user lean closer to Rosana, his grin widening as he pulled her lower to the ground. "Get up!" JJ shouted, as if her voice could sohow reach through the screen and give Rosana the strength she needed.
But the image on the screen remained the sa—Rosana struggling, her flas flickering weaker and weaker. JJ's breath caught in her throat, tears welling in her eyes. "You can't die... not like this..."
Back in the Arena
The puppet user stood, satisfied with the damage he had done, and turned his attention back to Ty. "Now, where were we?" he said, his voice smooth and calm as if nothing in the world could touch him.
Ty's muscles tensed as he strained against the threads. His fists clenched, the black flas around them sputtering, but still burning. His eyes, sharp and defiant, never left the puppet user.
"You think you're so powerful," the puppet user taunted, his fingers dancing through the air as he tugged the threads tighter around Ty's neck. "But look around. Your team is falling apart, and you can't do a thing about it."
Ty's breath ca in short, ragged gasps as the pressure around his throat increased. His vision blurred, the edges of his consciousness fraying, but he forced himself to stay focused. Kern was bleeding out, Rosana was barely clinging on, and John was hanging limply, the threads cutting deeper into him with every mont.
The cara zood in on Ty's face, the sweat dripping down his brow, the faint glow of flas still flickering around his fists. The audience watched in tense silence, their breaths held as they waited for the inevitable.
"Well, the fun has died out now," the puppet user said, his voice cold and sharp. His fingers twitched in the air, the threads tightening their grip around Ty's body. "Let wipe you all out and move on to so more fun prey."
Ty felt the threads coiling around his neck, biting into his skin. His breath hitched as the pressure increased, the thin strands burrowing into his muscles, wrapping around every fiber. Every ti he tried to move, they jerked him violently in another direction.
Hey, hey, hey, a voice echoed in Ty's mind, taunting and familiar. You're not going to die like a pathetic worm, right? Just blast his face off already!
Ty's vision blurred as the threads constricted further, his face paling. His body was growing weaker, unable to break free. "I'm... stronger than this string..." he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice strained. "Then why can't I..."
Suddenly, a sharp crack rang out, cutting through the tension like a bullet. Ty's shoulder jerked as a bullet tore through his flesh, spraying blood into the air. The threads, once pulling him in every direction, went slack, and Ty slamd hard into the dirt.
The caras whirled around to capture the sudden shift, zooming in on the source of the shot.
High in the trees, still bound but barely hanging on, was Gisorn. His body dangled lifelessly for a mont before he coughed, his fingers twitching around the gun he'd sohow freed. "I noticed..." he wheezed, his voice barely audible. "Your string... isn't that strong. You just...
have to move in the direction it pulls... to loosen it."
Gisorn's hand shook as the gun slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground below. Blood dribbled from his mouth as he looked at Ty, his eyes burning with determination. "Finish this, Ty... you damned demon, acting all pathetic."
With that, Gisorn's arm dropped, his body going limp as he passed out, hanging loosely from the tree. The cara zood in on his bloodied, unconscious face, then whipped back toward the puppet user, whose expression had shifted from smug confidence to sothing darker.
"Nonsense," the puppet user spat, fury dripping from his voice as he flung his hands out toward Ty again. But when he turned, Ty was no longer where he had fallen. He was standing right in front of him—face to face, his black flas flickering back to life.
The puppet user's eyes widened, and he swiped at Ty with his remaining strength, but Ty ducked effortlessly under the blow. With a savage roar, Ty slamd his fist into the puppet user's side, sending him stumbling back. The puppet user's hands shot outward, trying to regain control, but Ty's entire body ignited in black flas, snapping the threads as if they were nothing.
"Wh-what?!" the puppet user stamred, his voice cracking. "My threads are supposed to be perfect!"
Ty's voice was low and dangerous as he stepped forward, the flas around him growing hotter, darker. "I noticed before they fully latch... they're nothing but spider silk. They feed off energy to get stronger. Just slightly stronger than you, but not nearly strong enough."
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