The Nightmare's Grip
Like an incarnation of violence, Adam shattered the skeletons' lines of defense, leaving behind him hundreds more that tried to catch up.
Despite the cacophony of clinking chainmail and scraping feet, he ignored them as he zeroed in on his goal: the moss-covered columns supporting a crumbling archway.
With the ticking clock narrowing closer to his mind's doom, he lunged without hesitation. His back tensed, and his fist drew back. Each muscle fiber strained, filling him with a sense of immeasurable power overshadowed by a deep-seated terror.
Yet, the unrelenting march of time didn't allow him to think about it. The only thing that mattered was to push toward the exit faster.
His fist burst forward, crushing against the howling fog first, then the column.
RUMBLE