With a push of my arms, I pull my face from the water it was submerged in. Leaning on the end of the bath, I squeeze my long, black hair and allow the excess wetness to stream into the bathwater.

I slip the ring, tied by a thin rope around my neck, onto my finger. Closing my eyes, I allow my mind to explore the ring's contents.

These gains cannot be said to be bad at all. Darmite metal, the ink of a one-thousand-year nightmare squid, an assortment of rare herbs and roots, and elemental stones of different varieties. Though these stones are useless to me, were I to trade them with Solomon and Emma, along with the corresponding activating Arts, they would be able to convert into elemental Tension Masters without trouble.

Examining the herbs more closely, I fail to prevent a smile from shaping on my lips. Opening my eyes, I lift myself from the bath and stand. With the sound of thunder, water gushes from my naked form and tumbles into the tub below.

Stepping foot out of bath, I grab a white towel, dry my hair, and wrap the cotton sheet around my waist. Wasting no time on dressing myself, I extract from my ring small glass jars which hold different herbs and plant life.

Making my way through the bathroom and the main chamber into the laboratory that adjoins them, I place the jars onto a workbench. I weigh the herbs on a golden scale stationed on top of the counter. Satisfied with their volume, I take a scoop from each of the jars. Using a mortar and pestle, I grind them into a multi-coloured powder.

Sifting the powder into a boiling-flask, I add a range of different solutions from labelled beakers within the workshop. Securing the glass within the grip of a clamp, I light the gas burner beneath the flask and allow the fire to lick at its base.

The liquid begins to boil, and I swiftly remove it from the flame. A moment too long or a moment too short and the potion would have spoiled.

Draining the flask into a sterilised glass vessel, I leave the jar on the table and allow for it to cool.

To find the ingredients needed for a will severance potion, my luck couldn't be better. Of the nine principles of higher-form Tension, body Tension is the most versatile. While Tension Masters, within the mortal realms of cultivation, are limited to a single element, body Tension Masters are able to bypass that limitation with the signature Arts of our path, absorption and transmutation.

Through absorbing the energies within a Tension Beast, we're able to morph our bodies into a hybrid form of that beast. Taking on the monster's attributes while the transmutation is active, a body Tension Master gains access to a portion of the abilities the beast is capable of using.

As of this moment, of the three beasts that I'm able to absorb at my rank, I have only absorbed one mid-tier Tension Beast; a three-eyed lightning wolf.

Fortune being my conspirator, when the black parade and I raided the Wyatt Clan stronghold I became the rightful possessor of a living gryphon egg. As for how a low-tier Clan came into possession of such a treasure in the first place? What business is that of mine?

All that matters is soon I will sever the lingering will of the egg's mother and absorb the powers of a gryphon.

With steam no longer rising from the glass I had placed the potion in, I deduce that it's ready. I take the jar and walk into the main bedroom in this chamber. From the emerald mist of my spatial ring, I extract the gryphon egg.

The shell, sapphire-blue, radiates a soft glow from the scarlet patches around the egg, indicating the vitality of the creature within. Unwrapping my towel from around my waist, I construct a nest in which I place the egg.

After drizzling the will severance potion on top of the shell, I sit, cross-legged, on the floor. In order to absorb the essence of a Tension beast, the will of the Tension Master must overcome the will of the beast.

Were I to attempt this Art against even a newborn gryphon, the force of its will would lead to severe backlash. The consequences of such a result, unknown. They can range from death to the breaking of a man's mind, to something far more bizarre. Presumably, the Dread Mother's childlike appearance is the result of a failed absorption.

Even still, her power is…

It's beyond words.

Pushing that thought to the back of my mind, I begin to spiral Tension throughout my body. Feeling the energy criss-cross from my feet to my head, I expand its range until it's no longer internal but externally emanating from my being. Engulfing the egg within the outpouring of Tension, I manipulate the energies, seeping them through the shell.

Contact.

I feel the creature within. I feel the tug of its will. As if attempting to snatch something from my fingers, the creature draws my will into itself. Beads of sweat form on my brow; I ignore them.

Straining my mind, I combat the defences of the foetus. Even without its mother's assistance, its will is formidable. I suppose all beings are determined to survive. To take a life; can it be accomplished without expecting due resistance?

Ludicrous.

However…

My will is forged in blood, and death, and war. It cannot be overcome by a creature that is yet to know the heights of joy or the crushing depths of despair.

Fuelled by mad passions long restrained, I burn my fury into the creature's underdeveloped mind. I dismantle all bulwarks against my rage and allow my anger to flow freely from my consciousness.

Under the weight of my assault, I feel the hatchling's mental barricades begin to crumble and fall. With a final push, I shatter the creature's life force and draw it into myself.

Exciting the energies spiralling within me, my victim's essence surges into my body. It spreads, converting the Tension coiling through my feet, legs, chest, and arms. Congregating below my shoulder blades, the strange power carves internal pathways into my back.

Gritting my teeth and squeezing my thumbs, I bear the sharp anguish of the process. Minutes stretching to hours in my mind, the unrelenting pain continues. With the final line carved, the pain subsides and a cool relief washes over my body.

I open my eyes.

All vibrancy expended, the gryphon egg disintegrates. Congratulations little one; you'll never know the suffering of this world.

From the corruption I've accumulated, it would seem six minutes have passed. I just drank an expulsion potion. I can't drink another for twenty-four hours, and yet I've already halved the number of Arts I'll be able to use before recuperating. Even still, for the power of a high-tier Tension beast, I can count my enfeebled state as worth the price of my gain.

A knock on the door jolts me out of my thoughts. Without thinking, I give permission for my intruder to enter. Passing through the threshold, a maid, no older in appearance than eighteen. Her eyes lock onto mine before drifting below. Face, beet-red, she covers her eyes with the palm of her hand and then turns around.

'I'm sorry, my lord. I did not know that you would be in an indiscrete state. Looking down, the knowledge of my nakedness returns to my mind. Standing, I retrieve from my ring a white, buttoned shirt, black trousers, and equally black shoes. Clothes in hand, I dress myself.

'You can turn around.' Vigorously, she shakes her head.

'It is not proper for a mortal like myself to behold your bare form.'

'I apologise for my earlier indiscretion. My mind was occupied with other matters. Turn around, I'm now dressed.' Slowly, the young woman turns. She peeks through her fingers, sighs, and lowers her hand. 'What is it that you want me for?'

'My lord, the mistress of this manor has invited you for tea. Please accompany me to the teahouse.'

An entire house for tea? Is that not the height of indulgence? Resources squandered on such frivolity, what service does it render in attaining everlasting life and power?

Resisting the urge to shake my head, I gesture for the maid to lead the way. Following her through tunnelling halls, up spiralling staircases, and through vast foyers, we arrive in the teahouse.

Vast in scale, for such a place to be described as a "house", is to compare the sun in the sky to a burning long within a fireplace. With four walls stretching out indefinitely, the sheer scale of the room defies all conceptualisation of prosperity.

Hanging overhead, a dominating crystal chandelier secured by chains of what I can only assume are diamonds. How one could even craft such a thing is beyond my ability to comprehend.

At the maid's insistence, I turn my focus away from the obscenity around me and follow her lead towards a circular, clear glass table in the centre of the room. Sitting around the table, the Dread Mother and Huntress.

Having pulled out a seat, the maid invites me to sit. Accepting the invitation, I take my place between the two women. A servant pushing a silver tray arrives. He places delicate, white teacups in front of the women and myself, and pours, from a pot, a jasmine fragranced brew.

Lifting her mug from its plate, the Dread Mother holds the cup below her nose and allows its gentle steam to drift into her nostrils.

'Please, do try the tea. I assure you, you won't find better.' Allowing the delicate, warm, amber liquid to spread on my tongue, any possible rebuttal to the Dread Mother's claims wilt before sprouting.

'This tea is delicious.'

'Isn't it just? I received it from a herald as a reward from the Skyward Tower in the Grimhal region of Area IV. At first, I thought, myself, cheated, but when I tasted this beverage, all animosity melted away. They say the Towers provide you only with what you need and what you deserve. Until these leaves fell into my hands, I couldn't have believed that the Towers are so able to anticipate one's unconscious desires.'

'Tell him how you earned your reward, mummy.' Practically vibrating with excitement, Huntress, rejuvenated from her subdued appearance, lifts her head and grins.

'Beatrice! Control yourself.' Having dampened the woman's hysteria, the Dread Mother faces me once more. 'I did nothing much. The Tower floor had requested the extinction of a country of natives. I simply fulfilled that request.'

For tea.

She slaughtered millions for tea…

'It took me three whole weeks to hunt down the last of those creatures. As you can imagine, I was less than impressed by my gains at first. Looking back, of course, I can see that it was worth the trouble it had caused me.'

Decadence and barbarity. With all her might, those are the ends of her desires? Her ambitions are as narrow as her power is broad. She may have discarded the fetters of the Clan system, but the Sect she has developed is aimed towards nothing of worth. Substituting one set of shackles for another…

That will never be the path I walk.

Taking another sip, I retable my cup. Tilting my head to the host, I look into her ancient eyes. 'What do you want from me? Why did you save me?'

'Bold and direct. In this world, that's a dangerous combination.' Allowing traces of her aura to leak from her being, the table begins to shake. Abruptly, her energies retreat.

'Then again, I do find those traits rather admirable in a young man. To answer your questions, I don't want anything from you. There's nothing you have that I need. That includes that little trinket you keep around your neck.'

Shit! How does she know? Heart spiking in my throat, I push down the rising panic and maintain my neutral demeanour.

'As for why I saved you, you can say I was repaying an old debt.'

'A debt to who?'

'Who do you think? A debt to you, of course.'

Searching every thought for some insight into the incomprehensibility of her words, I reach no conclusions. What could she possibly mean? What favour could I offer her? She said from her own mouth that I have nothing she needs.

'What debt-'

'Do not concern yourself with that matter. For now, it's unimportant. I told you there's nothing I want from you. That wasn't strictly true.' Lifting her cup to her lips, the Dread Mother takes a protracted sip, exhales her satisfaction, and places the ceramic vessel back onto the table.

'If I know you and the man who raised you, I'm certain that you are harbouring malicious intent towards my dear Beatrice. You're probably concocting schemes for how best to do away with her. Resourceful as you are, I'm sure you'll eventually stumble on some method for concealing your actions from me.'

Parting my lips, I prepare to defend myself from her factual indictment. She raises a hand and stops me in my track.

'I understand completely. I love all of my children dearly, but they can be a handful; Beatrice more than most. Having said that, as a mother, it's my duty to protect my young. I can't allow you to bring harm to my daughter. Is that understood?'

'Perfectly.'

'Good. Now, in return, I guarantee that whatever she's been doing that has aggrieved you so will stop. You can continue your business together with that Black Parade, or whatever you call it, safe in the knowledge that all ill-will between my daughter, you and yours, is now put to rest.'

Ignoring bashful glances from Huntress, I drink my tea in silence. Liquid expended, I return the teacup to its saucer.

'You're free to go.' The Dread Mother says.

'Go where? I don't know where we are.'

'And neither will you find out. However, I have a surplus of relocation scrolls. Feel free to use one to return to your academy. Or should I say, what's left of it?' Unconstrained, Huntress bursts into a haunting fit of laughter at her "mother's" remark. With a raise of her hand, the Dread Mother brings an end to her "daughter's" merriment.

'As I was saying, I will grant you a relocation scroll to use in returning to your academy. I assure you, it's quite safe. However, as the coordinates are not fixed, the scroll will only be able to place you within the general vicinity. From there, you'll have to make your way back on your own.' Reaching out her hand, the Dread Mother draws from the air a scroll and passes it to me.

Nodding my gratitude, I stand from the table, scroll in hand. With a tug, the page unravels. I rip the paper, creating a distortion in front of me.

'I'll see you soon, my sweet boy.'

Disregarding the madwoman's threat, I step through the portal.