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The preparations were at long last all complete. The runes, ready. The doll, ready. The catalyst, ready. The bounded field, ready. And the most important of them all, the method of execution, ready.
Touko inwardly exhaled a little. She had never doubted her own competence. Not once had she ever depended on any kind of measure, action, plan, or outcome that was even the slightest bit flimsy or uncertain. The rightful heir of the Aozaki family, Touko’s understanding of magecraft was second-to-none. The theory she had outlined and researched all stacked up perfectly; there was no doubt in her mind that it would succeed. Perfectly, in fact.
Yet her human element still felt that failure was a possibility. Still felt worried. Still felt afraid.
Her predicament was a straight-forward one. Her current body, the one she was biologically born in and had lived her whole life, was cursed. A powerful curse, so powerful and ahead of its time in fact, that even Touko had to concede that she had no answer at all as to how to dispel it. Should her body try to pass through the barrier surrounding Misaki Town maintained by those two witches, she would be polymorphed instantly and permanently, effectively killing her for good.
But death does not have to be permanent. A soul is not immediately lost once it leaves its vessel, and the soul is malleable. It can be harnessed, manipulated, and most importantly, redirected.
The plan then, was simple. Runes too are malleable and their simple concepts can be multiplied to magnitudes so great that even the tiniest of flames can consume entire forests. The puppet that stood before Touko now had been inscribed with one such rune. Mannaz, “Man”, the rune that represents life. Through the configuration of this rune, Touko was certain that her mind and soul would perfectly transfer into the inscribed vessel, should her current body experience total brain death.
On one hand Touko was incredibly proud. The naked puppet whose eyes vacantly stared into empty space looked completely identical to her current self. 165cm tall, slender build, red hair, red eyes, sharp features, and an eyeball imbued with a deadly secret. However on the other hand, Touko felt some manner of shame and disgrace that it had ever come to this in the first place. That a measure so drastic even had to occur is proof of a serious failure. But that was no longer what mattered.
A different puppet, one she had made quite some time ago, stood aside to the left of her. It whirred idly as it stood perfectly still, programmed to do nothing at all but wait for its switch to flip. One mystic eye glared out of its otherwise completely empty face. It was equipped to fire a Finn Shot, a form of runic magic capable of firing a concentrated curse so powerful that it can completely, instantly, and lethally, stop the heart of its target in a mere moment.
Touko took her position in the middle of the room, now facing her activated puppet, while also being positioned directly adjacent to her limp replica. She understood perfectly well how unpleasant this would be even in the event of a perfect success. Steeling herself one final time, she cast aside her doubts.
*CLICK!*
The switch had been activated. The cyclopean puppet’s exterior whirred to full life, leaving its dull and idle state. Just as it had been commanded, it faced its master directly, a mere 30 centimetres away from her face. The red eye in its centre glowed harshly and more intensely as it charged up a Finn Shot at full strength.
Touko grimaced. Her brow furrowed and she gritted her teeth. Her eyes burned with intense fire as she stared down her executor and prepared for her first taste of death.
*WHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRRR-!*
*KKRRRRSH!!!*
In an instant, the entirety of the devastating curse was released in one concentrated blast, piercing through Touko’s eyes and travelling straight to her beating heart.
*THUMP!*
*THUMP!* *THUMP!*
*THUMP!* *THUMP!* *THUMP!*
*-----------THUMP….*
“Nnnngh-!”
Touko’s face concerted in pain briefly and severely, before the emotion suddenly drained from her visage and became a blank slate. Eyes rolling into the back of her head, her lips went flat and her limbs numb. Unceremoniously, she crashed to the ground. Her puppet shut down immediately afterwards, as according to its programming.
A deathly silence hung over the room. Two seconds passed. Then three. Then four. Then ten entire seconds passed without so much as a gust of air passing through.
Suddenly the limp replica sprung to life violently, gasping loudly as its eyes widened and mouth gaped. The puppet fell onto its knees, instinctively shoving its two arms out in front of it to prevent it from falling over entirely. Heaving with great breaths through its naked form, the skin and flesh, so perfectly human, began to feel and understand the sensation of the cold floor.
Her head raised upwards, her vision blurred, until it cleared and saw only one thing before it: the dead body of her former self.
Realisation and complete comprehension dawned on her shortly after. Her breathing became more excited, her thoughts raced, adrenaline and euphoria defined her in that short moment. She crawled over to that old corpse on her bare hands and knees, then reached her hand out and cradled its cold face.
“Aoko…” she whispered to no one but herself, “You will regret ever being born.”