Relentless determination blazes from both sides of the forest battle, neither side even fancying the thought of surrender. The forest dwelling Exhumans now need to take an aggressive approach after the loss of their defensive card, with no choice but to ignite their flames to rival the hellfires of their enemy, whose cold blue eyes exude unshakable will, dangerous will, one that strives for inexorable victory.

The tales no shorter from attested, the legend visible, the myth incarnate, stalking its prey in the blinding night that most hide from. For the night itself isn’t the subject of fear that strips home of comfort, it’s not a solid construct, it cannot inflict pain itself, thus there is nothing to fear from the state of night alone. Rather, the night is a warning, a caution, an omen. Now, the true subject of fear hovers over the five apprehensive men, its blue eyes piercing their soul.

As each of the Exhumans stop vibrating, Rodge throws his fist towards the Tempest while the light triangle manifests beside Bernie. A branch and the triangle both dart towards the Tempest, who leaps backwards, boosting up as he creates distance before dashing to the side, evading both the triangle and branch.

Rodge grits his teeth as he begins rapidly throwing his arm forward, taking control of more tree branches and thrusting them towards the Tempest, whose cables pull him aside as he begins to start circling around the group, using the trees for anchoring.

The illusionary user steps forward, watching the Tempest’s movements. His irises then flash bluish gray, maintaining steady focus.

As the Tempest dashes away from the convoluted network of branches, leaping off some and using others to swing around, his vision once again malforms, as the colors of the world seem to shift into increasingly bland, simpler tones, and the edges of each of the five Exhumans as well as the outlines of the three thicken. The shadows become clearer and more rigid, but furthermore, the facial structure of the five Exhumans change as their eyes become inhumanly large and sharp, the strands of hair visible on their face becoming thicker as though the Tempest was watching an animation.

Even then, Rodge continues hurtling branches towards the Tempest, keeping him moving as he spins in the air, dodging a flurry of three branches shot towards him in quick succession, as the rates of his control quicken.

Strafing to the right before then boosting forwards, the Tempest begins flying over the group, changing his flight patterns to better avoid the branches and triangles, although with every branch the area becomes more covered thus more difficult to navigate, forcing him to need to dive in between branches and kick off them to maintain momentum.

The illusionist’s eyes change to a greenish gray instead, and from the Tempest’s perspective, the world once again is recomposed. The colors, while still remaining simplistic, become brighter, and the bark of the trees change as the trees as a whole become solid brown with darker dots seeming to convey detail, albeit heavily simplified.

What’s far more apparent however are the five enemies, as their bodies seem to shrink, their proportions becoming uncanny as their heads enlarge as well as their torsos, becoming disproportionately larger than their limbs. Their eyes become freakishly large, overall resembling a cartoon character rather than a real human being. Also, while the Tempest moves quickly in what should be a three dimensional space, his depth of field seems to be reduced to make it feel as though the world is a flat image.

Every moment seems to turn the situation more intense, and the Tempest couldn’t keep waiting. After dashing a distance away from the group, he aims both of his hands at two extended branches before flinging himself towards the group, soaring over them.

However, just as he passes them, a cable projects from his chest downward, striking Dean, the one protecting the group earlier. Dean’s body is suddenly yanked upwards, causing Alexander to shriek. In one shift motion, whilst airborne, the Tempest grabs Dean by the collar before spinning like a bullet, his body flashing blindingly blue.

Alexander’s shocked expression stares at the sky for a moment before in the corner of his eyes he notices an object drop from the blue bullet, to which he turns his gaze to the ground. His jaw drops in terror, as laying on the ground about fifteen feet from him was Dean’s body, completely unconscious, as he lays on the ground limp.

The shocked expression sharpens to determination before Alexander swings his arm, screaming “Get him! He’s picking us off one by one! Bernie, don’t aim for him, enhance Rodge.”

Bernie nods his head before yelling, “Mm!” before he faces Rodge while Alexander raises his head, watching the speeding bullet flash again before revealing the blurry Tempest, who then fires another cable, changing directions on a dime.

Soaring through the air, the Tempest glances at the remaining four, formulating his plan of attack by listing each of them in the order of danger they present.

As he ponders how to proceed, Rodge directs another branch his way, to which the Tempest prepares to make a minor dodge once again, making precise movements exactly to what is necessary, not going overboard.

That is when Bernie then fires another light triangle, but rather than directed at the Tempest, it flies into the branch. The entire branch then illuminates with blue dots, and in an instant, the branch suddenly grows horrifyingly, thickening greater than the tree trunks themselves, its radius greater than the Tempest’s body as it flies straight for him.

In an instinctive reaction, the Tempest boosts again, but far more drastically, throwing his whole body forwards to empower the thrust as greatly as possible, just barely dodging the massive tree-sized branch. He tsks from the sudden change of pace, not knowing Bernie’s abilities gave way to something as dangerous as size manipulation, immediately marking him as the next target.

Quickly rebounding, Rodge trains another branch towards the Tempest, which is once again enhanced as indicated by the flashing dots before it resizes to a colossal extent, forcing the Tempest to make another strafe, dodging two gigantic branches in succession.

The Tempest dashes backwards again as a third massive branch forms right in front of him, for it seems the group has lost all restraint. Reacting quickly to quell the increasingly dangerous situation, he alters his flight pattern, he boosts up and backwards, remaining hidden with the branch covering him from the group as he creates more distance while lowering his hands towards the enormous branch.

Two cables fire, one from each hand, anchoring to each of the two first enlarged branches. His entire back then blazes as he accelerates towards the branch as jet speeds, his body an obscure blue blur.

Just before striking the central branch, the Tempest’s sight is manipulated again, reconfiguring the world, but to an even more detrimental extent. As though his sight was worsening yet in an inhuman manner, the world becomes composed of distinct squares, the distinct colors of objects becoming one as all objects simplify to the extreme.

The trees become rigid rectangles, and the Exhumans on the ground are also made of squares. Their eyes become squares as shadows absolutely vanish, the Tempest’s vision appearingly transforming into 8-bit.

Still, there’s no time to waste, as the Tempest lands into the branch, snapping it in half as his body penetrates straight through. Using the shock of the fracture as a diversion, he approaches the group once again, passing pixelated bark before his speeding feet slam into the face of Bernie just before cables fire from his shoulders, pulling him up.

In that quick action, Bernie immediately collapses, immobile with closed eyes. Only managing to enhance three of the branches before being taken out, he abandons the rest of the group, leaving them to fend for themselves while he naps on the grass.

Alexander glances at Bernie’s body, processing the sudden motion while the Tempest spins around, turning back to face the group. All three of the titanic branches suddenly shrink to their normal size in unison, as though Bernie’s defeat also reverted his effects.

Now being the one overwhelming, the Tempest projects four cables on different extended branches, yanking him towards the group. An immense barrage of branches race towards him in a rageful succession, to which he dodges each of them while diving, the sides of his body pushing him gently away from trajectory.

After himself upwards to dodge two branches from below, he reorients his body with a gentle push up, allowing his feet to grab onto the two branches, able to step on them. He breaks into a sprint, running down the branches to accelerate greater, approaching the three before leaping to dodge another branch sent straight to him. Diving for the remaining distance, he extends both of his arms to his side, to which both Rodge and the illusionist face him with mortified expressions.

Both of their faces are then grabbed by the open hands of the Tempest, who dashes forward before dunking both of their bodies into the ground, handling them both simultaneously. As they both hit the floor, the Tempest’s vision reverts as the world clarifies, the pixelated effect dissipating and the realistic proportions and coloration of the world restoring. At the same time, all of the extended branches that had been making a huge tent vanishes, as similarly to Bernie, it seems the effects of Rodge’s powers leave with his consciousness.

Besting most of the group, the only remaining man standing is Alexander, who turns around behind him to glimpse at the Tempest, holding the faces of both comrades.

The beast rises up from the ground, both of his hands open and relaxed as he faces away from the final victim, standing in the center of two dirt trails he just dug. He lowers his head in silence as Alexander staggers back, drowning in despair, for they both knew he was effectively defenseless alone due to the limitations of his ability.

A final scheme comes to mind in the fight-or-flight state of the leader, as he raises his right arm, pointing his hand forwards the Tempest. His arm shakes horrendously however, forcing him to cling to it with his left hand to steady it. He had to make this work, he had to win. Too much is at stake, his family, his home, his life. He had to win for them, he had to stand up to the monster and slay it galiantly.

As his shaking hand aims at the Tempest, who simply stands over the bodies of the fallen allies, Alexander conspires, “Wait…heh…you’re finally standing still…which means now I just need to…move you somewhere else…somewhere far away…and then I’ll wi-.”

A streak of blue light flashes on the ground with a storming whoosh, as the leaves in the distance tremble from the overwhelming gust of wind.

As the streak between where the Tempest and Alexander once stood dissipates, the Tempest now appears right behind Alexander, facing the other way, leaning forwards with his right hand beside his left hip, relaxed and open.

A few seconds after the flash, Alexander’s body curiously drops on his knees, limp. After a couple more seconds of kneeling on the grass, his body then falls sideways, collapsing on the ground, defeated swiftly.

The Tempest straightens his body before turning around and analyzing the heap of bodies he’s just collected. He hums softly before kneeling down by Alexander’s body before placing his hand on the back of the unconscious enemy’s head. A soft blue light exudes from the contact point for a few moments.

Eventually the light fades, and the Tempest stands up before approaching Bernie’s body, which lays behind Alexander, and he kneels down and continues the same routine, placing his hand on Bernie’s forehead to which it illuminates.

During the extraction, the British voice speaks through the Tempest’s head, remarking “Well well, that was severely longer than ‘a quick errand.’ Also quite messier than what you claimed would be clean, this was quite exacerbated. Tell me, was it worth it?”

As the glow dissipates once again and the Tempest stands up before approaching Dean’s body to repeat the process, he calmly answers, “I’ll admit it took slightly longer than expected, but for that now I have a collection of samples, which will make the analysis more accurate. I see this as a beneficial result.”

The voice sighs in defeat before admitting, “Huh, I guess it will, but still, that was impulsive and dangerous. You could’ve been eliminated right there, if you struggled to hold your own against one prior then how did you expect yourself to tackle an entire squad?”

After finishing with Dean, the Tempest turns around and strolls over to the last two Exhumans before kneeling down and first placing his hand on Rodge’s head. He then composedly explains, “I was caught off guard that time, and my tactics operate most optimally in wide space rather than tight corridors. Also, this time I didn’t have so many obstructions, on top of not needing to concern myself over a hostage I also didn’t need to avoid anyone else’s mess.”

He alternates to the illusionist’s head before recommencing, “It’s less complicated when all beings in the scene are hostile, then there’s no collateral or irritations. That’s why I prefer to work alone, excess presence is intrusive thus adverse.”

The voice lets out another sigh, however this one seems more sentimental before quietly murmuring, “I remember a time when you actually preferred ‘excess presence.’”

“What did you say?” probes the Tempest with an abruptly sharp tone.

“Regardless, I’d prefer if we wrapped this up and left soon. Sunrise will begin in eight minutes, twenty two seconds, and if one squad was a handful, I’m not sure if an entire base worth of them would be easy to manage,” cleanly shifts the voice from potential danger.

The blue light shining from the last man’s head dispels before the Tempest turns his head to survey the scene, glancing at each of the five men. He hmms before devising, “I’d rather permanently neutralize their abilities, but I must be discrete. I’ll need to heal them and get rid of any evidence of my presence. I’ll administer proper dosages to each of them so when they wake up, they’ll figure they fell asleep outside. While that may not be a perfect deception and may lead to conspiracies, tucking them in bed is too dangerous.”

“Self restraint? I’m impressed,” retorts the voice sarcastically.

“Why did I even bother spelling that out to you?” verbally reviews the Tempest. He then returns his gaze to the illusionist before hovering his hand over the sleeping face, which projects a soft light that gently shines down on the bruised skin.

“Because, even if you don’t like to admit it, you enjoy relying on me. I only wish you’d talk to me more in battle again, I reminisce on those good ‘ol days,” softly confesses the voice.

“Don’t fault me over you becoming more insufferable,” callously retorts the Tempest.

“I guess in that case, we’ve both sunk.”