Run!

'Run!'

With no other words, Abbigale turns on her feet and does just that. She runs. She keeps running. She doesn't turn back to see whether we'd follow because, of course, we would. A high-tier Tension beast is a living disaster. Not one of us here is fool enough to harbour any thought of confronting that thing.

Jumping to my feet, I run. Driving Tension through my legs, I run. I run faster and harder than I could have thought possible. The scenery blurs, my eyes are not my focus. I navigate through sound and memory back in the direction of our land-dragon drawn coach. Solomon, the first to catch up, runs beside me. Tabitha's shadow creeps into the corner of my eye. I don't see her, but the heavy breaths from behind inform me of Emma's presence.

Screeching tears through the sky.

I don't look back.

It's getting closer. The stench of rot and sulphur wrestles my nostrils.

I don't look back.

The bracing chill of death pricks at my skin.

I don't look back.

Burning oxygen in my lungs, I push past the fatigue of my sustained Tension fuelled sprint. My hair whips in the wind of my acceleration as I push forward and forward, ignoring the protests of my body.

Shit.

For a high-tier Tension beast to show up here? What could you be plotting? What could be so important that the Dread Mother would let slip such calamity in order to attain it?

Thoughts cut short, the indistinguishable features of wandering shades block my way. Slowing not one step, I draw my sword from my hip, leap into a forward spin, and decapitate the obstacles in my path. Reorientating myself, I continue my escape.

The screaming gets louder. The foul odours intensify, accentuating in my mind the closeness of death. Hurling myself into a sidewards into a roll, a shrieking blur passes by. Glancing up, I see from the smog of the Abyssal Wraith ethereal streaks pouring from its cloak. The faces that had been writhing on the inside of the creature's garment are let loose. Wailing apparitions spread through the sky, dispersing in every direction.

I get back to my feet and run.

Spotting from a distance our carriage, I redouble my efforts and rapidly close the distance between myself and a chance at escape.

'We're nearly there!' I hear the shout and ignore it. What good is wasting breath that is better spent on my frantic escape?

Approaching the vehicle, all relief drains from my heart as one of the ghostly beings flies overhead, dives into the land-dragon, and strips from it all traces of vitality until it falls down dead a desiccated corpse.

From the body of the land-dragon thick, green smoke seeps out. Reconstructing itself, the eerie form of the creature that had just possessed the dragon, reforms. Its body, if it can be called a body, is immaterial and emerald-green. The same fog-like substance forms its outstretched arms and claws. Suspended within the spectral glow of what should be its head, a skull coated in thin strips of decayed muscle and rotting flesh.

Spears of condensed water shoot through its incorporeal form. Unaffected, the creature launches itself into the direction of its attack. Tabitha leaps out of the way, but the monster flies around to intercept her. Protecting my investment, I cast a barrier to block the assault. The ghostly being rebounds from its impact.

'Idiot, attack the head.' I yell.

Forming from the ambient Tension three vibrating spears of energy, I direct them towards the beast and release their hold, sending them flying towards my foe. The spectre rises further towards the sky. My attacks miss the head of the enemy and pass through its discarnate body.

Shit.

Swirling bullets of Tension shower the beast. Of the few that don't pass through its gaseous form, the ones that strike its head bounce off. Its skull, too dense to be penetrated by the Art.

Thrusting itself towards Abbigale, the incarnation of death plunges towards her. Reaching out her hand, the Tension in the surrounding atmosphere fizzles and pops with excitement. Claws extended, the beast freezes in place.

'I can't hold it for long!' Sweating and grunting, Abbigale holds her position, straining against some invisible force, keeping the creature at bay.

Taking the opportunity presented, I manifest energy into two more spears. I launch the projectiles towards the head of the monster. Hitting their mark, the spears penetrate its head, dispersing the aeriform body of the Tension beast.

Collapsing to her knees, gales of panic pour in and out of Emma's lungs. 'We- we're going to die. We're all going to die!'

'We don't have time for this', Walking to where Emma is kneeling, Tabitha reaches beneath Emma's armpits and drags the girl to her feet.

'Control your emotions. We don't have time to worry over dead weight.'

'She's right.' Walking to Emma, Abbigale stares into the eyes of the cowering girl.

'If we're going to survive, we can't give in to fear. Not now. Once this is over, once we've made it out if you want to cry yourself to sleep at night, then do it, but not now. Now, we get out of here.'

'How?' Emma asks back. 'How do we get out of here? Our transport is dead, I can barely circulate Tension, we can't run back to base camp. Where do we go? How can we possibly outrun that thing.'

The looming shadow of the Abyssal Wraith draws closer to our position. The streaking spirits pouring out of the beast fly wildly in every direction.

Breaking the silence, I step towards the group, now huddled around the distraught figure of the bespectacled girl.

'The good news is, it's probably not targeting us. Undead Tension-beasts are drawn to the largest gatherings of life. There are several villages and a large town in this part of the region. It's probably heading towards those locations. I doubt it has even noticed us yet.'

'So, if we can just find somewhere to hide…' Breaking away from the group, Abbigale rushes through the door of our carriage. Jumping back out, she waves a folded map in the air. Unfolding the map, she scans the page, pokes at a section, refolds the map, and slips it into the inner pocket of her coat. Lifting her hand, she points towards an overhanging cliff in the distance.

'You see that cliff up there? Underneath, there's a cave we can hide in. It's currently being used as the hideout of a dark guild my guild was going to exterminate before the Tower breach. If we can make it there, I'd much rather deal with a small band of rogue Tension Masters than a high-tier Tension beast any day of the week.'

'It's not too far. We can make it', Solomon says.

'Come on! There's not a moment to lose' Turning from the group, in the direction of the cliff, Abbigale readies herself to run.

'What about our supplies?' Emma asks.

'Leave them.' Without another word, Abbigale runs towards the cliff, and we follow.

Dashing across the black-grass terrain, we steadily pull closer to the cliff. Goblins, Spider-wolves, and all manner of nuisance impede my path. Cutting through them with reckless abandon, I clear my way, sustaining inconsequential wounds as I do.

With my constant enhancements and the Arts I've used to get past the apparition, I only have fifteen, maybe sixteen uses of Arts left before I'm rendered defenceless. I can't afford to waste time or energy on such insignificant things as low-tier Tension beasts. There's still a dark guild to reckon with and, of course, her…

Reaching beneath the lip of the cave, Abbigale points out an entrance. With the sound of wailing behind us, I pound my legs past the grass onto the sand surrounding the beach that hosts my escape.

I enter the narrow tunnel of the cave. Running towards the gentle flickering of orange light, I burst through the entrance into a broad cavern populated with three or four armed men.

Diving to the floor, frost bites at my back. A spectral being hurtles over me. It lifts from the neck one of the armed guards, carries him towards the roof of the cave, and drains from the man all moisture until he's bereft of any appearance of life.

Releasing its grip, the corpse of what had once been a man drops to the ground. I stand to my feet.

The three remaining men target the beast with a single bullet of Tension each. Fazing through the attacks, the ghostly being flies into the centre of one of the three surviving armed Tension Masters. A muted scream scrapes his throat before he too drops dead.

'Aim for the head', I hear someone shout. Responding to the call, the two men fire two bullets of rotating energy aimed at the skull of the fiend. The bullets rebound off the creature, leaving it unaffected.

From a tunnel to the left of the broad cavern, masked men and women rush into this chamber of the subterranean hideout. Deafening screams resound through the cave as more apparitions fly through the entrance.

Madness erupts around me.

Scores of Arts violently whizz through the air. They burst, crash, and detonate wherever my eyes are pointed. The malevolent spirits soar around the cave, swooping down to claim the lives of all who fall into their grasp. Shouts and cries of fear and encouragement reverberate off of the walls of our enclosure. Desperate attacks are launched one after the other as an impromptu coalition between the members of the dark guild and my own party forms.

United against the bigger threat, I stand back to back and shoulder to shoulder with the masked inhabitants of the underground base.

'What's going on?' I hear one woman yell.

'Just keep fighting', another woman yells back to the first.

Focusing Tension to my back, I summon four tentacles of pulsating energy. Curving one of my additional limbs in front of my face, I whip it forward, shattering the skull of an oncoming phantom. Careful not to strike my new allies, I retract my appendage before it eviscerates, from his shoulder to his hip, a masked man stood nearby.

Time, measured not by the ticking of a clock but by the thumping of my heart, goes by. With every yell, grunt and scream, Tension Masters fall, but so do the adversary. The final Art cast against them, a whip of torrential water, screeches through the air and carves the head of the final spectre in half. Dissipating in a burst of green, the last spirit vanishes.

Pounding breaths fill the silence of the cavern. Every hand on every knee as the victors and I hunch over in exhaustion.

'What was that?'

'Who are those people?'

'Isn't that the symbol of The Peace-Keeper Guild?'

The few voices remaining of the dark guild we had invaded sound out their rising suspicions while my party and I inch our way towards one another.

'This was the Peace-Keepers!' A male voice yells out.

I have around three Arts remaining, there are five of us, and fifteen, maybe sixteen of them. They seem to be true rank-two Tension Masters, no sign of higher-form Tension among them. Even still…

This is too dangerous.

Raising her hands in a sign of goodwill, Abbigale addresses the remnant of the dark guild.

'We're not here to…' I block out the noise. My blood freezes solid denying my doubts their due.

So what if I'm outnumbered? Am I not the one who will stand above all others? Is the path to supremacy and revenge so easy that I need not take risks?

No!

Pain racks through my body, I dismiss it. Pooling Tension into my lower-back, thick, translucent tentacles sprouts from behind me. Extending them past my arms, I target each masked face in my sight. Like an eruption of gore, I splatter the heads of the enemies before me. The surviving foes attempt to flee. Whipping my tentacles in every direction, I slash through their shoulders, tear through their stomachs, and burst open their skulls, drenching the cavern in flesh and bodily fluids.

'What have you done?' Eyes reflecting eyes, Abbigale stands in front of me, mouth agape in horror.

Sans reply, without hesitation, I draw the sword from my side and shower myself in blood as cut through the woman standing in my way.