"Alright."
The moment the change finished, Rowan Mercer spoke.
Chris stared at him.
"That's it?"
From start to finish, not even five seconds had passed. The mermaid hadn't completed a single verse.
Even the most gifted practitioners required time for stabilization after an advancement. And advancement itself always carried risk, no matter how perfect the preparation.
Higher stages only made it worse.
Within the Church, there were countless cases of people failing while attempting to cross this threshold.
Some died.
Some lost control.
Some were crippled for life.
Chris wasn't here only to guide the mermaid's song.
He was here in case Rowan collapsed.
So were four other senior operatives hidden nearby, each carrying sealed artifacts.
Even the Archbishop was monitoring the ritual.
And yet…
Rowan looked like he had just finished drinking a glass of water.
"I didn't expect it to be this easy either," Rowan said mildly.
Chris felt something twitch in his left eye.
Easy.
He had spent years preparing for his own advancement.
Countless nights of prayer.
Unending mental conditioning.
And this child called it easy.
"Thank you for overseeing the ritual," Rowan added. "If there's nothing else, I'll head back."
He turned, preparing to leave.
Chris quickly stopped him.
"There is something else.
"The Iron Front operative you captured earlier had a hidden curse inside him. The moment interrogation began, he died.
"So we believe there may be additional Iron Front emissaries operating in Backlund.
"If you happen to notice anything unusual, we'd appreciate your assistance.
"And if you uncover their plans, the Church is willing to exchange that information for the formula to advance to the next stage."
Rowan's eyes flickered with interest.
"So the next step is called…?"
"Spellweaver," Chris said.
Rowan nodded.
"No problem. I'll keep an eye out."
For Rowan, it was trivial.
If new emissaries appeared, he could simply seize one and tear through their memories.
Snap.
Flames swallowed him.
He vanished from the Church.
Back home, Rowan began examining his newly acquired abilities.
The Puppet Master stage greatly amplified everything he had gained earlier, while adding a new function.
Spiritual threads.
Threads that could pierce into another being's essence and take control.
Turn enemies into puppets.
Normal Puppet Masters were heavily restricted.
At first, they could only control one puppet.
Conversion took around twenty seconds.
Full control required several minutes.
Even after complete stabilization, most could only maintain three puppets simultaneously.
Those limitations existed for one reason.
Mental capacity.
Spiritual threads were extensions of the mind.
Stronger mind.
More threads.
Faster control.
Rowan's mind…
Surpassed gods.
Which meant the normal restrictions were meaningless.
In terms of speed and quantity, he already exceeded what most at the summit of this path could achieve.
If he ever allowed his incarnations to merge their consciousness…
He suspected even true gods could be turned into puppets.
With the original creator confirmed dead, Rowan no longer bothered hiding his mental strength.
Next came stabilization.
How to properly embody a Puppet Master.
Rowan reasoned that it involved secretly controlling others.
No exposure.
No inconsistencies.
The stronger the puppet, or the more numerous the puppets, the faster stabilization would occur.
"That's easy."
He could drag a target into his inner world.
Read every memory.
Perfectly imitate behavior.
No cracks.
No tells.
He wouldn't even need to leave his house.
Normal Puppet Masters had a maximum control range of around one hundred fifty meters.
Rowan's effective range…
As long as it was on the same planet, distance hardly mattered.
He leaned back.
"So…"
"Who should become my first puppet?"