No nuances are needed to admit the natural fact that for many people who inhabit a planet, they’ve lived on a planet most of if not their entire lives. Even for those who haven’t, they’ve eventually grown accustomed and comfortable to these planets, being able to traverse freely in intensely populated urban centers and socially desolate rural biomes throughout the day.

While there are a plethora of lethal dangers that people dance by daily, whether it be something as dramatic as horrific large scale destruction as acts of terrorism or something that can be applied to anyone such as being struck by a fast vehicle, the inhabitants of these worlds don’t seem constantly preoccupied by these concerns, or at least it doesn’t deter them from openly navigating the regions that very may harbor such threats.

Paradoxically while news broadcasts may persistently inform countless citizens about the harsh menaces that plague their world – crime, warfare, fatal incidents, natural disasters –, those very citizens that consume such terrorizing knowledge still manage to carry on their day within that hazardous world as though without anxiety. Even acknowledging the possibility of being put in a perilous position, nonetheless these people will continue to roam their world freely under the greater acknowledgement that it is their world, their home, and thus ultimately they do not fear it. For as long as the sun is out, there is nothing restraining people from wandering the world, there is nothing preventing people from being exposed outside to a world of cruel possibility.

That is but the exception of when the sun is not out, when the sky is not bright blue, and when the air is not warm. For beyond the day and within the night, city alleyways become fearsome, and deep forests become eerie. Regardless that the world has not changed, regardless that the threats plaguing the world have not changed, regardless of it all, just the fact that the sun is not visible in the sky suddenly turns the familiar home people have lived their whole lives in into an alien territory, a dangerous lands, a pandora’s box of nightmares.

When the sky is black, neighborhoods are devoid of activity. When the clouds can’t be easily detected, nobody dares trek the nefarious forests that’ve predated humanity for incalculable generations. When people are engulfed by the night, the outside world is no longer a home safe to travel, for that’s all it takes to render home unfamiliar: darkness.

Deep within one of those dark, daunting forests, built with huge countless trees that cover the vast territory, a ghastly breeze rustles the umbrella of leaves roofing the land, blocking even the minimal light projected by the moon. Below the umbrella lacks visible wildlife, for it seems even the animals fear the world in dark. The array of lonesome colossal trees gives the impression of an abandoned city, towering structures without habitation.

Within the bleak, barren city of trees, an anomaly miraculously manifests, for emerging from the shroud of darkness behind the trees steps out a figure, a sole explorer who takes the chilling hike of journeying through the woodland.

Enveloped in the absence of light, the figure’s footsteps are delicate on the gentle grass, carrying a casual poster with its arms by its side and its head lifted. The figure appears solus, hiking through the borderless forest, passing enormous trees whilst seemingly gazing on their leaves that dance in the wind.

Although not presented with substantial lighting, the body is slightly illuminated from the minor moonlight that seeps through the thick leaves. The body is dressed in a full body suit covering all but the hands and face, a dark gray ensemble compressed to the body and composed of some variant of spandex. A hood is fitted on the being and they wear shoes with the same color albeit consisting of a mesh material instead.

The suit is draped in a pattern of deep orange zagged lines which branch off into more lines, as though resembling a tree. On each of the top of both arms is a long branch that emerges from the collar of the hood and reaches down to the end of the sleeve with two pairs of branches protruding from the main branch that wrap around the arm, one on the upper arm and another on the lower arm, each joining on the bottom of the arm.

From the hood collar, two branches rain down on the front of the body, symmetrically lined up with the breasts, reaching down to the pelvis before branching out considerably into a vast array of branches that intensely cover the pelvis and upper thighs in an intricate network that continuously expands with every line.

Down approaching the knees, the profuse branches reconnect together similar to a reflection of the upper body until there are only two branches on each knee, which then continue down to the ankles where the pants end.

Ultimately, the dark gray mesh shoes have three small inwardly curved orange rectangles on the top, but beyond markings along the sides of the shoes, they aren’t as intensely decorated.

The figure’s hood is up, which has two branches that start on the edge of the hood above where the eyes are and reach around the hood to the bottom of the hood’s collar.

Below the hood is the exposed, human face of a man, who is decently into adulthood. He lacks facial hair but has sharp blue eyes which are relaxed as he breathes softly through his slightly hanging mouth. Engulfed in scenery, he casually strolls with his exposed hands by his side, evidently traversing the middle of nowhere. He doesn’t speak, for there are no visible companions and he likely doesn’t have the urge to talk to himself. He moves outwardly fearless as though there is no need to feel anxious. His hands appear to be shaking, although it’s unclear if it’s due to weather or something within him.

“Alexander Joseph, I assume you’re on patrol,” speaks an unsettling, distorted inhuman voice from behind, one familiar yet still far distant from what one could consider comfortable.

In just those words, the man halts, freezing and stiffening in an instant. While his hand muscles become tense, they shake only more intensely, as his eyes sink into their sockets. Beads of sweat visibly rain down from his temples as his heart begins accelerating.

Behind the man, outed as Alexander, a pair of two blue lights radiate like demonic eyes in the darkness, stalking him from behind a tree. The two eyes, parallelogram-shaped, freeze the man as their shine refines in clarity as though adjusting. From the man’s position, the eyes are superficially separate from any greater entity, like individual bulbs of light in the absolute darkness that haunts the man, a force unrestricted to the confines of a human body.

For it is not only a being that has come to haunt the man, but rather the embodiment of the fear of darkness that deter the masses from roaming the dark world. A grim reaper whose scythe curves around the neck of the next victim.

Without receiving a response from the petrified man, the voice cruelly berates, “So this is how you choose to spend your nights, out here on guard rather than in your home on 1742 Firehill Lane, hmm? You shouldn’t need me to tell you that a father’s absence is unhealthy for a developing child. Recently turned 4 years old is Martha, they grow up so fast; if you keep wasting time eventually they’ll be all grown up with a father complex. While you might’ve had time had you been anywhere else tonight, you might’ve just lost a few more years to be in her life. But it was your choice to be here, I guess you’ll need to come up with an intelligible excuse, children are surprisingly adept at sensing deceit.”

That man’s heart too comes to a stop, for in that single monologue, his entire life has shattered, raining down a flurry of sharp glass onto his body. He’s heard the myths and legends. They all have. But in that very moment, he realized they were all wrong.

None of them had truly depicted how horrific this experience would be.

His body locked up, Alexander temporarily lost himself in a sudden influx of standing nightmares, unable to remember how to react. Of course, he was never properly trained on how to deal with such a threat but rather to act as though it didn’t exist. A costly mistake, for in this time where a comeback was most needed, nothing could be said, for he can only stand silently.

Snipping the silence in a quaint reversal, the voice commends, “I see you’ve made yourself the only one visible on patrol, you walk in the open like you’re completely susceptible to ambush, a lone innocent man who could be taken on by anyone. So you’ve been getting smarter, haven’t you? I’m well aware that you people travel in groups of three, so I assume two of them must be hiding up in the trees, it is a great environment for stealth. You can let them down now, it must be uncomfortable up there, and there’s no need to hide.”

Now Alexander’s tactics superficially revealed to his face, he’s snapped back to reality, his heart once more beginning to beat again albeit erratically and he regains focus.

Yet it’s not only that the voice seemingly exposed Alexander, but rather there’s an interesting catch. The voice apparently concluded that the man was in a group of three, thus there’d be two hiding, and while it is true that there were at least two others hiding, there was an error in that statement. Upon first glance it appears that the voice had the man all figured out, yet he just openly admitted to an oversight.

That minor misconception imbues the man with a sudden sense of confidence, as while he faces away from the glaring eyes, he smirks mischievously. In that moment, the mortifying myth seemingly was reduced to the scale of imperfect man, and in that moment it seemed very possible that this threat could be dealt with.

Alexander releases a dramatic sigh before raising his head and admitting with a slightly noticeably disingenuous tone, “Okay okay, you’re right, I do have two up here. I’ll let them down now, I guess they’ll do no good if you’re anticipating them.”

He then raises his right hand with two fingers up before exclaiming, “Come down here Bernie and Rodge, it’s okay!”

From up in the dense green sea, more leaves begin rustling although at a greater intensity than what the wind caused, and the rustling appears chaotic and omnidirectional as though being shaken from within. The rustling comes from above Alexander, whose head remains up, watching carefully.

Emerging from different spots in the thick leaves, two men drop down presumably from hiding. Both men drop down onto one of the large branches coming off the trees before hopping down a network of branches, carefully descending.

Both men reach the ground with one final leap, standing beside Alexander. They both wear similar compressed spandex gray suits with the same orange branch pattern, although their faces differ as one has faint black facial hair and another seems more mature with wrinkled skin and sunken eyes.

Arising from within the black shadows, the glaring eyes approach forth towards the three. Stepping out of concealment, the eyes are revealed to be from the carbon fiber mask under the black hood.

The man in the leather jacket steps forward, approaching the group, the modest moonlight shining on the dark silver upper half of the sleeve, illuminating the metallic arrangements on the jacket.

All three of the men’s faces are dressed in discomforted terror as they are finally face to face with the urban legend in the flesh. Both of the new men, named Bernie and Rodge, step back behind Alexander, as though cowering behind in fear.

Standing in front, Alexander grits his teeth with an anxious expression, watching the myth stride towards him a few more steps before stopping, planting himself in the open space with no more trees obstructing them from viewing each other.

Alexander’s eyes squeeze tight for a few moments as he’s momentarily overwhelmed with fear before releasing a deep breath, cooling himself down. He opens his eyes and returns his gaze to the approacher, his plan having been designed. For while at first it seemed a hopeless situation, now it seemed for Alexander that he had the legend trapped.

The delightful thoughts of being praised for besting the beast come to mind, exciting him with the prospects of being a great hero. Yes, this was his time to shine as an intellectual adversary to someone seen as beyond man, this was his time to prove himself. All of them knew the plan now, and now they just had to watch it unfold.

Letting out a dramatic sigh of defeat, Alexander admits, “Well, I guess we surrender, we three know better than to try picking a fight with the Tempest of all things. We won’t hurt you, so please don’t hurt us, we’ll make sure never to get in your way again!”

While conveying this great speech, a sense of relief comes over Alexander. For a moment, the terrorizing thoughts of his family being harmed had flooded him, as it was nothing short of agonizing to picture what would happen if he let this beast get away. But now that Alexander had a surefire way to deal with him, it seemed the great threat of the Tempest could finally end, and he’d never have to worry about his family again.

The Tempest nods his head before proceeding forward, evidently intending to do something to them, potentially restrain them. His footsteps are steady and consonant, like a mechanical droid, lacking the imperfections of posture. His slow, menacing steps get louder as he approaches the three, his razor blue eyes glaring at them as he begins extending his left arm.

With the Tempest getting closer and closer to his grasp, Alexander mentally releases another flood of concern over his family. They’ll be fine. They’ll be safe. Even if he can’t be with his daughter, they’ll understand one day that he was fighting for them. One day, it’ll all be worth it. For in this moment, he would solidify himself as one of the greatest heroes of his time.

As the left silver shoe of the Tempest plants itself on the soft grass ground, the sole squeezing down on the many blades beneath, a cluster of leaves from behind him rustles, and two men suddenly leap out from the leaves into view.

Both of them wear the same suits as the other three, all of them with their hoods up and their eyes trained on the one target. The man on the left holds his open hand out towards the Tempest, and for a moment, his brown irises flash completely black.

In that very instant, the back of the Tempest’s entire body shines blue as it erupts an immense explosive blast of blue energy towards the two, releasing a gargantuan wave of dangerous radiating energy at the ambushers.

Upon the blast, Alexander’s eyes widen in a sudden flood of dread that drowns his previous anticipation, for in that moment, he realizes he had horribly taken the open bait. The pride he felt in thinking he intellectually bested such a menace completely clouded his mind, for upon a retread of events, it becomes crystal clear that he was lied to.

In all these many years of disrupting their efforts, it was nonsensical for the Tempest to truly believe squads were composed of three members, for it was simply impossible that he had never faced a full squad. However, by speaking a half lie in showing that he was aware of the existence of squads, but simply wrong about the size, he managed to puppet Alexander into making what in hindsight was a terrible move, openly having two of his men rush without cover.

All that confidence Alexander felt a moment ago has been utterly decimated, for he not only had his family threatened, but he was played effortlessly into having hope, and that magnitude of hope had now become despair. Now, two of his strongest men were flying directly into a potentially lethal blast, and he couldn’t do anything about it, for it was too quick.

The black-eyed man’s expression displays mortifying shock, flying straight into defeat. Beside him, the second man also exudes fear, his pupils drifting towards his comrade. There’s only a split second to react before the blast strikes the both of them, a blast that already had a clear sight that wouldn’t be deterred.

Blue energy travels towards both of their bodies as the blast catches up to them, nearing their skin as their bodies are illuminated in the blinding light. As the right side man faces his ally, both his and his comrade’s bodies suddenly begin seemingly vibrating with an odd purplish distortion effect reminiscent of a visual glitch emanating off their skin.

The deep roar of the explosion tapers as the blast passes both targets, rustling the leaves in the distance. The air around the Tempest momentarily vibrates before normalizing, leaving him to glance behind himself in a moment of hesitation.

To his unexpected dismay, behind him stand both of the men he just fired at, both of them unharmed. They stagger forwards, seemingly astonished themselves, as the man on the left glances at both of his arms before raising his gaze to the Tempest. The well-planned strike had failed for an unknown reason, leaving the full squad surrounding the outsider.

Thoughts race in the Tempest’s head, puzzled by the failure of his strike. His first ideas were that he potentially missed, yet upon a second thought that made no sense, for his strike was a blast without required precision, a blast they were definitely caught in. They didn’t seem to have moved either, or at least they shouldn’t have been able to, and if they did have enhanced speed it wouldn’t make sense for them to voluntarily return right where they were before the move.

The next thought was on the concern that he made an error in calibrating his weapons from earlier, although he didn’t think he tampered too much, at least not enough to lose the effectiveness of his abilities. But if he didn’t miss nor was the blast inherently weakened, how did the attack fail nonetheless? That one swift move was meant to render nearly half the squad, and the most important half at that, neutralized. Instead, he now finds himself surrounded by all five of them, agitated and enraged, clearly intending to fight.

Time wasn’t being lenient to contemplation, as the man Rodge makes a move, as he swings his arm backwards before closing his hand into a fist. His fist then illuminates in a soft green fiery light, and at the same time, one of the hanging branches of a tree behind him also begins radiating a glow of the exact same color and effect, as though being linked to him.

Rodge then swings his arm forwards, aiming it at the Tempest. At the same time, the glowing branch suddenly apparently begins growing rapidly, extending zaggedly towards the Tempest at speeds like a bullet, with the front still glowing as it races towards its target.

In swift action, the Tempest leaps upwards, narrowly dodging the extending branch as it passes right below him. The blue glare moves towards Rodge after having experienced his abilities, albeit not entirely sure of its nature. Regardless, he makes his right hand into his projectile position, extending two fingers out and balling the rest. He raises his hand at Rodge to fire at him, attempting to make a rebound.

Right before a shot can be fired, bright blue dots of light begin appearing all around the Tempest’s body, covering him. In the very next second, his entire body suddenly flips, his legs being swung up against his will above his head, with the point of rotation appearing to be the top of his head, as his fingers no longer aim at Rodge but rather the harmless trees.

All the sudden movements startle the Tempest from the barrage of odd events taking place, but before he can process it, he hears the sound of branches rustling. His eyes dart to Rodge, whose hand is still glowing green, to which it immediately dawns on him that the extending branch is right behind him, zooming towards his heart.

A burst of blue light flashes behind the Tempest, thrusting his body in the air and once again narrowly dodging the branch. Whilst rising in the air, another burst of blue luminescence albeit coming off his lower body spins his body around to face upright, adjusting his frame of reference. Now able to view his surroundings properly, he raises both hands forward, each of which projecting a blue light cable at swift speeds. The blue dots are relinquished off his body as well as he begins being reeled away.

His body is then yanked forwards with another burst of light behind him, and right as he dashes the glowing branch soars through his past position, still in hot pursuit.

Now knowing swiftness is key in this engagement, the Tempest thrusts his arms forward, detaching the cables and throwing his body forwards before giving himself another boost. He then fires another cable at a nearby tree before tightening his fist and pulling, which causes his body to swing around the tree to change directions, anticipating the branch to chase him.

Peculiarly, there’s no sight of the branch, as it seems it’s already failed to follow. While this is no excuse to slow down as he continues moving past trees, he tries to start processing the current events in order to plan ahead. His eyes move towards where the group were previously while recounting the abilities he’s experienced so far and trying to link them with the users of them.

The most prominent ability he’s experienced is the extending branch, which is clearly linked to Rodge due to the matching lights. It’s noted that the branch is clearly extending rather than being thrown around as the flying tip is still connected to the tree it’s initially from, although that would mean he isn’t only manipulating the tree since such grand lengthening would mean something else, although there wasn’t enough time to conduct tests, for that would be a reserved activity upon next encounter.

The next ability he experienced firsthand was the odd rotation, which while he wasn’t able to see who used it, there was a clear indicator: that being the glowing dots. While being able to know the user would be a great help, at least knowing how to sense the effect would be great aid, as it seemed it took a moment extra before the effects settled.

There were two other abilities which were used, although those weren’t as well observed. The first was the mysterious one that somehow protected the two ambushers from the blast, although the mechanism used to do so was still not clear. He wasn’t able to witness it with his own eyes, he only knew it happened. For the final ability, this had the least information, as it was only a preliminary feeling rather than a full showcase.

In the moment of the ambush, he could feel the air around him being distorted, a prime symptom of a domain-based ability, something he’s had to deal with quite a lot. In fact, many of these abilities seemed manipulative-centric, from controlling branches and rotations. Still, those were only four abilities observed, yet there were five users, and it was unclear if he’s even experienced all the powers of those former four.

The retrospection is concluded abruptly as while moving speedily, the sight of one of the men suddenly arises in the corner of the Tempest’s peripheral. The man is Bernie, who’s stunningly floating in the air in that moment of reveal, high up off the ground as he’s leveled in altitude with the Tempest, who’s airborne in movement.

Bernie’s eyes blaze with a blue light, as beside him hovers a simple triangular construct of light, which then tilts down to aim its tip at the Tempest. Bernie then swings his arm towards the Tempest, and the triangle soars forward at incredible speeds.

Instinctively, a burst of blue light projects off the Tempest’s side as his body begins barrel rolling midair to evade the triangle. However, the speed of the triangle is greater than anticipated, as it just barely graces the Tempest’s elbow before vanishing.

Immediately after, glowing blue dots once again begin appearing all over the Tempest’s body, and only a moment later, a fierce invisible force shoves the Tempest at a downward angle.

Vision blurry, the Tempest barely manages to notice that in front of him, a leafless branch on a nearby tree illuminates green, and beside it stands Rodge, who too is miraculously midair, his fist also blazing green. He swings his arm again, and once again the branch begins extending rapidly towards the only possible target.

That target in quick response boosts to the side just slightly, meticulously evading the branch. As the branch passes him, his eyes seem to track it, observing the nature of the extension carefully, studying the movement attentively whilst being chased to death.

He notices that rather than the front branch exactly flying forwards like a projectile, instead it seems the glowing tip is an entire segment branch, and at every moment of flight, a segment of the same length appears in front of the former tip, attached to its end. In fact, it seems that rather than the branch being moved by some sort of telekinetic means, the end is being repeatedly duplicated by the tip, allowing it to have the appearance of flight while also letting it technically move at greater rates since it covers greater distance at every instant.

Now having collected the desired information, a cable projects off of the Tempest’s rib, anchoring on a tree before reeling him away from the attackers. The cable detaches in such a way to let his body slingshot past the tree before a boost rotates his body back upright, allowing him to more easily begin aiming cables at other trees to pull towards it, continuing to move at all times, now knowing his enemies have surprisingly capable following capacities. After becoming mobile, the glowing dots cease from his body once again.