Fragments of the Little Person in the Bottle

Maya City.

Chaos erupted within the city lord's mansion as panicked shouts echoed through the halls.

"Something terrible has happened..."

"The young lady... she fell into the water!"

The city lord's daughter had fallen into the river just outside the city. By the time they pulled her out, she had already stopped breathing.

Under the Suinhor city-state system, each city operated with a high degree of independence.

In many ways, a city lord functioned like the king of a small nation, wielding significant hereditary power passed down through generations.

Consequently, a city lord's daughter was essentially no different from a princess.

Maya City's situation, however, was somewhat unique. Power was delicately balanced among the noble families, the divine servants, and the wealthy plantation owners. The city lord could rarely make crucial decisions without first consulting the divine servants for divination.

Despite this, the city lord remained the nominal holder of supreme authority.

A beast-drawn carriage returned, halting at the mansion's entrance.

The city lord, clad in light clothes and a hat, rushed out only to be confronted by a corpse.

"My daughter!" he cried out in anguish.

Overwhelmed by grief, the city lord drew his sword, intending to execute the princess's guards and maids on the spot.

Cough cough cough!

Just then, the apparently lifeless body suddenly began to cough violently.

She expelled water as a strange power surged through her body, healing all her wounds.

Not a single scar or blemish remained.

It was a complete rebirth.

She seemed transformed into someone entirely new.

"She's awake! The young lady is awake!" the guards and maids, having narrowly escaped death, cried out in astonishment and relief.

"A divine miracle!" someone gasped. Everyone present was stunned.

"This truly is a divine miracle!" they whispered in awe. They had clearly seen her without breath only moments before.

"The Divine Beings saved the young lady!" Crowds of people immediately prostrated themselves on the ground. There seemed no other explanation besides divine intervention.

Everyone stared in shock, but the city lord quickly issued a strict order forbidding anyone from spreading news of the event.

Whether it was a true divine miracle or not, he instinctively felt that such rumors would not benefit his daughter.

This was especially true in Maya City, where the populace held deep superstitions regarding divination and fate.

Simultaneously, throughout other parts of Maya City, a group of seemingly unconnected individuals turned their attention toward this incident.

They encompassed all ages, including men, women, and children.

Though possessing different personalities and occupying various identities, they were all controlled by the same shared memories.

They were the Camon clan.

While Shana's kind passed down personalities through generations like a parasitic legacy, Camon employed force and violence.

Camon seized the bodies of others, forcefully implanting their own memories.

On a nearby rooftop, a young man holding a whistle observed, "It worked."

Several hundred meters away, peering through a second-floor window, a middle-aged man raised his wine glass. "The mark of spirituality... The path of reincarnation has opened."

"She is the catalyst," he continued, "the one who will open a door, guiding spirituality toward the source of life."

An old man paused on the street, his gaze fixed on the distant city lord's mansion.

"She is the catalyst for spirituality," he murmured. "Next will come the seed of wisdom."

"The union of spirituality and wisdom shall birth the perfect life."

"The final moment has arrived."

"Desire and knowledge will descend... they will find their way back."

A man clad in leather armor clung to the railing of the city lord's castle tower, having witnessed the young lady's revival firsthand.

His former name was Lendel, but now, like the others, he shared only one name.

Camon.

He had once gazed upon the Lost Kingdom above the sea of clouds and had personally pushed someone from heaven into the abyss below.

"Life is indeed a miracle," he mused. "Only the Divine Beings comprehend its secrets."

"The birth of life is also a door... a door that leads into mythology."

The leather-armored man's eyes shone with longing and anticipation.

"For us, that is also a door."

"This door leads to..."

"Liberation."

After all the members of the Camon clan had finished arranging their affairs, they gathered.

They convened in a village outside Maya City, an unremarkable place belonging to one of the city's plantation owners.

However, not a single ordinary person resided in this village.

Everyone within it, dozens of individuals, were all members of the Camon clan.

They sat in a circle surrounding a large bonfire.

The gathering resembled both a ritual and a solemn meeting.

The first Camon spoke, his voice low. "This is the last time."

The second Camon responded, "Indeed. The very last."

The leather-armored Camon offered a faint smile. "It is the last time."

All the Camons lifted their heads, their gazes meeting and intertwining.

"The rest now depends on Shana."

Shana lay in bed, covered by a patched quilt stuffed with paper, cloth scraps, and crushed plant fiber.

Even such a meager blanket was a luxury beyond the reach of most Snake People families. The majority simply huddled together for warmth, while those slightly better off slept fully clothed.

Fortunately, Suinhor's warm climate meant this wasn't a major hardship.

He had a dream.

He dreamed again of the Silver-winged Flying Dragon, soaring freely through the sea of clouds, its silver wings brilliantly reflecting the sunlight.

The intense light pierced his eyes, making him feel dizzy.

Yet, he kept his gaze fixed firmly on the Silver-winged Flying Dragon.

He had never heard of such a creature, nor did he understand what it represented. Sometimes, he wondered if it was merely an illusion born from his own mind.

He did not know this was the Desire Stone's instinctive yearning for the Spirit Stone's power. Deep within, he perceived it only as his own intense longing.

He longed to become such a free, unfettered being.

He yearned for it.

A fate free from the control of others.

Huff!

Hmph!

Shana drew a deep breath, steadying himself, then slowly pushed himself up from the bed.

He folded the thin quilt and placed it into a box, carefully gathered his few belongings, and then headed outside.

This was the house of a merchant.

The lower floor served as a shop, though it remained closed today.

Shana walked downstairs and into the main hall, where he saw a corpse hanging from the rafters.

He had killed this person.

This was the seventh member of the Camon clan, controlled by threads, that he had eliminated.

Through years of relentless pursuit, he had gradually come to understand the true nature of Camon.

Camon was not a single individual, but rather a collective of monsters who used insidious threads to steal the bodies of others.

In previous years, he had often come close to discovering Camon, only to miss them repeatedly.

He had always been just one step away.

This frustrating situation only changed when he acquired a powerful artifact created through alchemy.

Unable to craft Divine Artifacts himself, Shana had paid a considerable price to hire an alchemist from the distant City of Lights.

His request was to use the glass shards recovered from the complete sacrifice of Silver Fish Island to forge a potent supernatural artifact.

Though Shana was unaware of the true origin of these glass shards, he could sense the immense power contained within them.

He could never have imagined that these shards were fragments of an ancient Divine Artifact, remnants of a genuine Mythical Artifact.

In ancient times, it had stood near the pinnacle of all artifact rankings.

Listed as Sequence Number 2.

Shana approached the corpse and reached out his hand.

An ethereal hand extended from his own body, probing the regions of the other's spirit and will.

Something in his brow began to glow faintly as his entire body turned slightly transparent.

"Soul-stealing Hand."

He had already employed this ability on the target several times.

The first use had destroyed their will. The second had obliterated the threads hidden within their body. The third had allowed him to glean fragmented information from their consciousness.

Even from a corpse, he could randomly access remnants of memory.

Having exhausted his power earlier, he had rested and was now ready to try again.

【Divine Artifact: Heart of Original Sin】

【Sequence Number 39】

【Ability 1 Ghost Form: The wielder can transform into a ghost form, becoming immune to all physical attacks. The duration depends on the wielder's power.】

【Ability 2 Soul-stealing Hand: The wielder can destroy the wisdom and consciousness of others, randomly stealing fragments of their will, spirit, and memories. Each use of Soul-stealing Hand carries a chance to strengthen this artifact.】

This was a uniquely powerful supernatural artifact possessing the rare potential to evolve.

Although its current ranking wasn't exceptionally high, it held limitless possibilities for growth.

The alchemist who had assisted Shana in crafting it had become consumed by greed because of this potential.

Following a predictable tale of avarice and betrayal, the alchemist met his end at Shana's hands.

After obtaining this artifact, Shana finally gained the ability to temporarily break free from the threads' control, utilizing his Ghost Form and accumulated experience.

He then began to track down the beings who attempted to monitor and control him using those threads.

Camon's threads themselves possessed no wisdom, lacking even the capacity for thought.

Once a host body's wisdom and consciousness were stolen by the Soul-stealing Hand, both the threads and the body lapsed into a vegetative state.

The power of the Heart of Original Sin naturally countered the abilities of the Camon clan.

Employing this method, Shana had successfully killed multiple members of the Camon clan.

But it wasn't enough.

He needed to eliminate the specific Camon he sought most desperately, along with all the others who bore that name.

He vowed to destroy every last thread so that no one could ever control his fate again.

Shana withdrew the power of his Soul-stealing Hand. This time, he had glimpsed something significant within the target's memories.

"Maya City."

Shana's gaze turned toward the distant horizon, his face alight with intense excitement.

"A divine prophecy!" he realized.

"That so-called Divine Being has issued another prophecy?"

"It points to Maya City. Right there."

"All the Camons... they will appear there."

It seemed all the Camons had received some form of divine prophecy and were converging on a specific location within Maya City.

They appeared to be executing a plan there. Every single Camon had gone to Maya City.

Shana clenched his fists, his previously weary eyes now blazing with the sharp flames of hatred and fury.

"I will kill all of you there," he swore silently.

"Camon!"

Shana intended to catch them all in one net.

He picked up his worn leather case and pushed open the door, stepping out into the street.

Bang!

The door opened and slammed shut behind him. Outside, crowds bustled through the lively street market.

No one noticed Shana's presence, much less saw the corpse hanging silently in the hall he had just left.

Outside a village near Maya City.

The sky above was painted in deepening shades of dusk.

Shana had been waiting here for some time, floating high above in his Ghost Form, observing the village spread out below.

He had discovered the Camon clan gathering here earlier and learned they were executing some plan targeting the city itself.

Shana didn't know the specifics of the Camon clan's plan, but he was certain that whatever they intended, they would eventually return to this village.

He hadn't risked following them directly into the city to uncover their intentions.

Instead, while they were all occupied within Maya City, he had carefully made his own preparations within this village.

He was absolutely clear about his current objective.

His primary goal was to eliminate these monsters. Uncovering their secrets could come later.

"With beings like Camon, you cannot afford to give them even a single moment to react," he reminded himself.

"This is the only chance I might get."

"Perhaps... the very last one."

Shana understood with stark clarity that this might be the sole opportunity he would have in his entire lifetime.

He possessed patience, born from twenty long years of waiting.

But he also felt an extreme eagerness, precisely because...

He had already waited for twenty years.

Swish swish!

The Snake People, having just completed their mission within the city, returned together. They entered the village from various directions, their snake tails rustling softly as they slid across the dry ground.

They converged in the village center.

They lit a large bonfire, appearing almost as if they were praying to their Divine Beings.

In reality, they were consolidating all the information they had gathered, making their final preparations and solidifying their plans.

From his high vantage point, Shana couldn't hear their words.

Or rather, they weren't speaking aloud at all, communicating solely through exchanged glances and subtle shifts in posture.

"This is the last time," one seemed to convey.

"Indeed," another agreed silently.

"It is the last time," echoed the group's collective thought.

They communicated until their final accord was reached.

All the Camons lifted their heads simultaneously, their gazes intertwining.

"The rest depends on Shana."

They looked upward, directly toward the spot in the sky where Shana hovered.

At that precise moment, the ritual array covering the entire village fully activated. An evil light erupted from beneath their feet.

The ritual array locked onto the source of wisdom within each of them, targeting every life's divine blood.

"Rise!" Shana commanded silently.

The Light of Original Sin shone down from above, centered on Shana, sweeping across every Camon gathered below.

Twisted, shadowy forms extended upward from the ground, wrapping around the members of the Camon clan like dark tendrils.

In the sky, Shana harnessed all his power, preparing to deliver a decisive, lethal strike against them.

His face contorted into a ferocious mask, his entire body trembling with anticipation and suppressed fury.

He had waited for this moment for so long.

"Die!" he roared inwardly.

"All of you, die!"

"You monsters! Cursed threads! Worms who manipulate the fates of others!"

"Every last one of you... die..."

Before Shana could even finish his silent curse, he watched as the twisted shadows below coiled tightly around all the Camons, constricting like ropes.

Bang bang bang bang!

One after another, Shana mentally crushed their bodies, reducing them to splatters of gore around the blazing bonfire.

Countless white threads streamed out from the destroyed bodies of the Camon clan members, snapping apart in mid-air.

Finally, they dissolved into points of light that vanished into the night.

Only one remained.

Shana descended slowly from the sky, his gaze fixed on the last surviving body of the Camon clan.

Once he killed this final one, the insidious threads of the Camon clan would have nowhere left to exist.

"Don't move, Camon!" Shana commanded, his voice tight. His ethereal Soul-stealing Hand maintained its grip on the last Camon member. If Camon attempted to control him with threads now, Shana could end him instantly.

Despite knowing the extreme danger his enemy posed, Shana had deliberately left this one Camon alive.

He had searched for them for twenty long years, and now he had finally found them.

There were so many things he desperately wanted to say, so many questions burning within him that demanded answers.

Even now, he still didn't understand who their mysterious Divine Being truly was, or what the ultimate purpose of their mission entailed.

Who had created them? What significance lay hidden behind the recurring names of Shana and Camon?

Shana looked intently at Camon, who was bound tightly by the twisted shadows. He had locked down the other's brain, securing the source of their wisdom and consciousness.

While the Heart of Original Sin's power wasn't the absolute strongest, its special properties were terrifyingly effective.

Corpses and blood stained the ground, illuminated by the writhing flames of the bonfire behind them.

Camon leaned weakly against the earthen wall of a nearby house, while Shana stood beside him.

"Long time no see," Camon rasped, his voice thin but steady.

His life hung by a thread, completely at Shana's mercy.

Yet, his expression showed no change, as if he didn't care in the slightest.

"Chasing me for so many years..." Camon continued, a hint of weariness in his tone.

"Aren't you tired yet, Shana?"

Shana didn't look directly at Camon, instead staring intently at the flickering flames and the dark blood flowing across the ground.

"But I caught you, didn't I?" Shana replied softly, his voice rough.

"If I hadn't succeeded, perhaps none of it would have been worth it. But... haven't I succeeded now?"

He paused, then spoke again through gritted teeth, his voice low and strained.

"Haven't I... finally caught you?"

He finally turned his head, growling out the other's name with contained fury.

"Camon!"

Shana's face bore none of its former youthful vigor. All traces of nobility or scholarly refinement were gone, replaced by the hardened look of a stray dog that had fought for survival for too long.

Camon offered a strange, almost detached smile, one that Shana couldn't comprehend.

"After all these years," Camon asked quietly, "why remain so fixated on the past?"

"Why did you feel you absolutely had to find me?"

"Except for those crucial moments," Camon stated, "we didn't truly control your entire life, you know."

"Within the boundaries allowed by the plan, you could have still had a life of your own."

Shana let out a loud, harsh laugh, filled with bitter mockery.

"And create another puppet?" he spat back.

"Wasn't it enough for you to enslave me? Did you want to enslave my descendants too?"

Camon calmly told Shana, "Although the Shana clan might not count as true life in the purest sense, they can still bear offspring."

"The true origin of the Shana clan wasn't through normal reproduction, of course."

"Long ago, there were indeed Shanas who built families of their own."

"Although..." Camon trailed off, leaving the implication unspoken, hanging mysteriously in the air.

But Shana felt a sharp pang. He truly longed for such a simple life. If he hadn't carried this heavy mission, if the Shana family had just been an ordinary family...

By now, shouldn't he have formed a family with someone? Had children of his own?

Shouldn't he have lived an ordinary, yet happy and fulfilling life?

His eyes flickered with that brief, painful longing, but then he hardened his gaze, staring directly at Camon.

"How could I possibly rest easy while you still exist?" he demanded, his voice raw.

"What if... what if you simply appear again someday, carrying another 'divine mission'?"

"What am I supposed to do then?"

"Repeat the entire nightmare from Silver Fish Island? Become your puppet all over again?!"

Camon actually laughed then, a dry, rattling sound, speaking with surprising casualness.

"That's true!" he conceded readily.

"How could you possibly find peace knowing I might still be out there?"

The two shared a strained moment of dark humor, an eerie echo of a connection long broken.

But this exchange, occurring amidst the carnage and imminent execution, felt profoundly ironic and deeply unsettling.

Halfway through his chuckle, Camon suddenly turned serious, looking directly at Shana.

"Shana," he said, his voice low and intense, "fate hasn't reached its end. And Shana and Camon... we cannot truly die."

"Only through death can we finally be freed from our predetermined fate. Only then can we find eternal peace."

"Besides," Camon added, his eyes glinting strangely, "if I die... will you genuinely control your own fate then?"

Shana asked him warily, "Isn't that how it should work?"

"You once told me that you were the thread, and I was the puppet."

"Now that the thread is gone, who else could possibly control the puppet?"

Camon laughed again, a short, sharp sound, seemingly unable to contain himself.

He looked at Shana with an expression bordering on pity. "Shana..."

"What controls the puppet isn't the thread itself," he explained patiently, "but the hands holding the puppet."

Shana pressed him urgently, "Whose hands? Whose hands are they?"

"Who is this Divine Being you serve? What exactly is our mission?"

"Why must the Shana family bear the name Shana, generation after generation? And what does the name Camon truly signify?"

Camon didn't answer Shana's desperate questions directly. He only stated:

"The Divine Being has already arranged everything. No one can resist fate."

"This cycle, this destiny spanning millions of years, is preordained to reach its conclusion in this very era."

"Our mission... is now complete."

He grinned then, his smile suddenly twisting into an expression full of chilling madness.

"Shana," he declared, "now... it's your turn."

Shana wanted desperately to ask more, to understand, but at that precise moment, Camon activated his remaining threads.

Dense white threads instantly poured out from his body.

Shana reacted immediately, tightening his grip with the Soul-stealing Hand as the twisted shadows wrung Camon's body like a wet towel.

Bang!

Fresh blood sprayed violently outward, drenching Shana completely.

Shana stood silently facing the bonfire, letting the warm blood flow down his face and body, soaking his clothes crimson.

His face was initially calm, devoid of expression, but then his facial muscles began to twitch uncontrollably.

He lifted his head and repeatedly slammed it against the rough earthen wall behind him, the impacts dull and heavy.

He possessed too many pent-up emotions that desperately needed release, making him look like a man driven to madness.

Finally, he let out a long, shuddering breath that seemed to empty his lungs completely.

"Ha!"

Shana leaned heavily against the wall, his entire body suddenly going limp as if strings had been cut.

He slid slowly down to the blood-soaked ground, spreading his arms wide.

"It's finally... over."

Shana should have felt completely relieved, having finally severed the threads that had bound his destiny for so long.

But Camon's final, cryptic words echoed relentlessly in his mind, filling Shana's heart with a boundless, chilling dread.

"What controls the puppet isn't the thread, but the hands holding the puppet."

He suddenly felt a strong urge to go home.