Together at once the four invaders drop to the rocky floor, the sound of their clothes ruffling following as their defeated bodies lay before the gang, who had nearly lost their opportunity, who had nearly lost everything.

But now, laying before the bodies, the captain, Mavrik, watches with a completely astonished expression, one initially of pure speechless awe to the unbelievable sights he’s witnessing.

Eyes gleaming from the heavenly image, a grin of relief stretches across Mavrik’s face, a grin of joy after such a turbulent battle, one that dictated the fate of his friend’s lives forever. One that he almost lost, something he couldn’t allow, for he told himself never again would his friends have to wake up to this horrible world.

Mavrik tries to lean forwards, held back by the slime which contains his body but not his excitement, one he projects with the exclamation: “Wait! Did it! Actually did it! Finally put em down! Free at last!” He then instinctively glances beside him, overjoyed beyond his own comprehension.

Beside him is his crew composed of Laiysa, Haige, and Bari, who all stare at Mavrik, all of them with the same euphoric faces, all of them jubilant in this moment that felt like a miracle. They then all erupt into cheers and laughter, Laiysa congratulating delightedly, “Knew you could! Always had it in you!”

On the other side, Haige chuckles and comments, “Brother got no competition. Them thought they some hot guns. Gold bodies and light swords. But got them in one shot. Nobody gonna stop us when we up!”

Next to him, Bari fervently sways as forward as she can while applauding, “Thought you slipping up at the last second!”

Still exultant, Mavrik glances to Bari before retorting playfully, “Thought they had me there too. Imagine it ended like that. But nah. Course we got em. Nobody can stomp us down. We only just now rising! Come on! Gotta get us outta whatever this is.”

He then faces and leans forwards as magenta rays crawl out from his spine just as before, which spiral down and seep into the blue slimy substance, causing the entire substance to begin emitting a magenta glow as it starts to vibrate, gradually faster as more rays are pushed through into the slime.

It only takes a few seconds for the entire blanket of slime to explode into innumerable bits, scattering all over the floor and racks, repelled from the inside to completely destabilize. Immediately Mavrik throws himself onto his feet and staggers forwards, breathing heavily with relief to the freedom, finally able to move his body without restraint.

He glances down on his bomber jacket to find himself covered with fragments of the icky slime, to which he shows disgust before remarking, “Gotta get this washed sometime.”

He then turns around to face the three of his group, also freed with only small pieces of slime left on them, but no oppressive restrictions on their body as prior. They still lie on the ground however, visibly fatigued from the hard fought battle, victorious but drained.

A genial smile spreads on Mavrik’s face, able to witness all of his friends out of harm’s way, a sight that he couldn’t help feeling warm inside over. He then chooses to aid his friends, stepping forth.

Discerning the prominent exhaustion Bari is left with given all the exercise straining her petite build, Mavrik first approaches her in a casual manner. He then offers his hand to her, the other two still laying down to get a few more moments of rest. Bari in particular lifts her head up high upon being approached, to which she wears a hearty smile, her body clearly tired yet her soul very much lively. In acceptance to the offer, she then reaches her own hand out to Mavrik, bringing her open palm towards his own, the two about to join in this tranquil moment of triumph.

It is that very moment where the heavily slime-covered Mavrik whose eyes constantly flicker red extends a dense lilac cluster of rays which grows claws that ensnares a panically shivering Bari just before the claws clench, combusting her entire body in an instant in a crimson explosion that covers Mavrik’s whole body as does Haige’s, who watches right next to the discharge with wide eyes.

Shrieks and squeals of Laiysa’s voice release as Mavrik blankly stares down with a warm grin on his bloodied face, his eyes continuing to flicker red as he remains entranced.

Past the bloodied captain’s shoulder, the Tempest staggers backwards although standing upright fully conscious, standing in front of the Artificer, Alchemist, and Vanguard all unharmed physically thanks to the shield wall projected before the Tempest, although all of them are left completely horrified by the unfathomable act.

On the ground Laiysa finds herself unable to move, frozen by the flood of feelings short circuiting her body, only able to cry as Haige throws himself off the ground and to his feet, stumbling backwards with his gun still in hand, for neither of them were covered in the slime as about the only consistency.

Through Haige’s eyes, he stares straight at his captain’s extended claws, which clings onto the deflated remains of his comrade, whose body is no more than a skinsuit deprived of color, her white hair completely red before it then slips off of the crushed head, coming off as a complete separate piece that drifts down to the ground.

In a gentle drop, the long reddened wig hits the red floor, every strand of the artificial hair drenched and soaked thoroughly, the mask fallen off the bygone face.

Overwhelmed in thoughts he couldn’t read, Haige steps back again away from his captain, whose lilac claw opens up, releasing the bald corpse to drop to the ground, disposing of his friend whom he’d sacrifice his all for.

Shivering and quaking, Haige tries to raise his pistol at his captain, exclaiming desperately: “He-Hey! Wha-what happening..? Mavrik? You good? Talk to me man!”

Upon request, Mavrik slowly rotates his head to face Haige, the pleasant grin still present below his flickering eyes on his red face.

But to him, Mavrik faces a calm, unbloodied Haige who stands with his arms by his side, who faces back at Mavrik whose bomber jacket is clean with the exception of the blue slime chunks, whose eyes remain their natural tone.

Mavrik then approaches his friend, walking away from Bari who stands behind him with her sleeved arms raised in the air whilst yawning leisurely, able to stand on her feet after the helpful pull but still low on energy.

Haige stands over Laiysa, who remains on the ground to catch her breath, smiling peacefully while Haige inquires eagerly, “So we good now? Can finally get out? Probably should in case more come. Close call, but still got a leg in.”

Approaching Haige, Mavrik nods his head and answers brightly, “We good now! They should be out for a bit, should least fill our lugs before heading out. But we getting out of here. Just as I promised:”

“We grabbing your dream,” before a dense coil of lilac rays burst out from each of Mavrik’s shoulders, curling around his body with large sharp claws that pursue Haige’s trembling body as he aims point blank at Mavrik but is unable to take the shot on his own captain, unable to before the claws grab his own body and squeeze it in an instant in the same red explosion.

Right below the second corpse that is hoisted up by the lilac claws, Laiysa squeals in horror again to the second murder, her head winced away from the second splattering over her body, another layer of her friends smeared over her.

She then returns her gaze back at the captain who stands before her, carrying Haige’s squeezed corpse which by its deflated fingers releases his pistol, letting it fall to the ground.

Striking headfirst, the pistol bounces off of the rocky red surface, sliding to the side beside the pebbles.

Only a few seconds later follows the shriveled corpse of the gunslinger, whose eyes have been completely popped from their sockets, his jaw left dropped in a horrific contorted form, staring blankly hauntingly.

Observing the slaughter from a distance, the group watches with wide eyes of terror, frozen in place all but for the Tempest, whose eyes sharpen into a glare upon anticipating the next action, one he could alter.

He lowers his body as his azureus eyes flash, and he then charges forwards, away from the group including the Artificer who lunges her arms forwards and squeals, “Wait!”

Ignoring the warning, the Tempest sprints straight for Mavrik, accelerating as indicated by the blue residual trail, intent to intercept the execution of his former adversary, but now a victim in imminent danger.

While Mavrik keeps his flickering gaze straight ahead at where his gunslinging comrade last stood, multiple bursts of magenta rays grow from his back initially in tightly packed spots that then widen in a cone to form colossal arms the size of entire bodies, all of them racing straight in the same direction unbeknownst to the summoner.

Ahead of the Tempest who sprints towards the massacre, the gigantic clawed arms begin to curve organically like tentacles, slithering around to create a complex system of coils functioning as a barrier before then charging straight at the incoming attacker.

Swiftly the Tempest strafes away from one of the tunneling arms, able to continue onwards a few more steps before then dodging another, then projecting two cables into the ground before leaping high off the floor to pass one that was coming straight for him, using the cables as anchors to arc at a slight curve thus landing slightly offset to his original path before immediately needing to slide from another, for there seems to be no end.

Still, the Tempest keeps moving, and after leaping forward with a short spin he passes the final claw, now able to make the final stretch towards the coil of arms.

Along the magenta arms that form the barrier, many of the rays producing the arms splinter perpendicularly, all in smaller clusters which then form claws of their own which upon being formed then accelerate to their targets.

What was once only five claws to dodge has now tripled, quadrupled, for along every arm new arms grew from splinters, all of them coming from all angles along the wall of wires, ferociously slithering with fingers animated to open more organically.

The entire army of claws converges on the Tempest all at once, each of their edges sharp like beasts, ganging up all on the man who apprehensively is forced to leap backwards high in the air, backtracking from his destination with clenched teeth of dismay and a consistent blue burst.

High up in the air where he’s able to observe the disoriented summoner, the Tempest lowers his head to find that from straight below him erupts a volcanic magenta stream formed by an amalgamation of branches to concatenate one so colossal its open claw is large enough to cusp an entire human body.

Hastily the Tempest strafes left, narrowly evading the stream that extends past him like a pillar, completing its followthrough until coming to an end where it closes its titanic fist, leaving a great arm of rays by the center of the warehouse.

From that arm spur more that splinter sporadically at the Tempest still titanic in scale, who strafes with rapid bursts and reels from danger with hasty cable projections, dashing from side to side to dodge the constant firing of the branching claws which upon missing their target continue onwards in a thrashing motion so uncontrolled that they begin to slam into the nearby racks with such overwhelming strength that the racks begin tipping over, a collateral the Tempest spins to glance to in notice.

At the source, Mavrik blankly stares at where his gunslinging comrade once stood, grinning in a manner intently genuine yet resultantly deranged. In front of him sits Laiysa, unable to move, her metal body splattered with the fluids of the friends she committed her life to. Stuck right in front of the disoriented captain, she also takes note to the collapsing of the racks, which are indicated by the loud booms that bring her attention to the swells of dirty fog that bursts from the wreckages as every tip triggers another, a sequence triggered by multitudinous feral claws that gradually brings down every single rack along the central aisle.

In silent horror Laiysa watches her home collapse before her very eyes, the home she thought she’d move on from with her friends, but not like this. In the reflection of her teary eyes the final racks at the far end are tipped over and come down.

In that same reflection appears Mavrik, who turns to face her with a smirk on his red face. A single tear releases from Laiysa’s eyes upon hearing her captain gleefully remark, “Gotta get up sometime Lai! Stretch those gears and whatnot.”

Preoccupied by the insistent flurry of magenta claws all splintering from the arms already grown, the Tempest dashes backwards before turning his head to face the source of the fist, to which his eyes expand in anxiety.

Distant from the Tempest, down on the rack where all of the arms originate from, Mavrik stands in front of Laiysa, clearly having moved his attention to her, for now her time was truly running thin.

Reinvigorated with determination through a glinting glare, the Tempest projects two cables one from each shoulder straight upwards before bursting up, dodging another claw but climbing higher past the peak of the fist.

He climbs all the way to the ceiling of the building, where he then drops himself onto the beams before then beginning to sprint forwards, skipping along the beams propelled forth by a blue trail to help him maneuver past the claws.

He glances down through the rafters to find however that all of the magenta claws below turn to face him before then bolting straight up too, to which he returns his focus ahead on his path which is thus immediately obstructed by magenta claws all extending from between beams before grasping thin air in an attempt to catch the error.

Now traversing a more dangerous zone, the Tempest begins incorporating zips with his cables to more quickly reach beam to beam, leaping with bursts to pass multiple layers of beams just before the hands could reach him. He strafes left and right, although maintains a forward motion, not letting himself backtrack again.

Leaping and zipping through the rafters, he’s met ahead by a lengthy row of claws barricading him, but without slowing down he zips towards one of the angled beams, throwing himself in through the tight triangular aperture with his arms and legs tight together in a spinning dive, and through his keen eyes he stares down at the floor that he begins his descent towards, having closed much of the distance.

Both of his hands flash blue, prepared to lay down a swift strike. He brings his right arm up to prime for the hit, straight for the man below whose body projects another colossal magenta cluster bolted straight for him with the claws enclosed in a fist.

Just as he was nearly about to reach the target, the Tempest is forced to cross his arms over his chest and instinctively project a blue shielding wall in front of his body which is immediately struck by the magenta fist, its overwhelming force absorbing the entire barricade without hindrance, striking the primarily target square in the chest, who then is thrusted straight in the opposite direction, blasted off far from the victim.

Meanwhile Mavrik takes a step towards Laiysa–as the distant body crashes by the center of the facility–, who curls up against the oppressive walls of the racks, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, only stuck shivering covered in crimson.

In between sobs, Laiysa desperately begs, “Please Mavrik! Wake up! Listen to me! Mavrik please! Please wake up! Not gonna leave you! Not gonna leave you alone!!”

Oblivious and entranced with the same joyful grin below flickering red eyes, Mavrik simply responds: “Course I got you! Come! Take my hand! Not gonna go without you Lai. Got too many adventures lined up!”

He then extends his hand out to her as though to offer her up, a gesture intended for assurance but only leading to a storm of tears flooding from Laiysa’s eyes, sobbing as she stares up at her bloody friend entirely detached from the horrors of reality.

With no other option left for her, Laiysa chooses to throw herself onto Mavrik, grabbing his hand with both of hers, clinging onto him while miserably pleading, “Mavrik! Mavrik please! Please if anything!”

While staring straight with shimmering, tearing eyes on her blood-soaked face, Laiysa breaks through her sobs to deliver her wish driven with all in her metallically encased heart: “Dun blame yourself!” just as the lilac claw grabs her chest and her eyeballs start to fly off.

Smiling warmly with a face only lightly ruffed and dirtied from the hard-fought battle, Laiysa nods her head with gentle gleaming eyes.

Across from where the four bodies of the defeated intruders dropped, Laiysa reaches out to Mavrik, whose body like hers is only scruffed from the bits of blue slime from the restraint the group’s captain saved them from.

That same captain helps pull Laiysa up to her feet, to which she stumbles forward once before fixing her footing and raising her gaze up at him with a charming grin.

Mavrik then nods to her before glancing over to Bari who stands on one side, and then Haige on the other, noting that all three of his friends were up, ready to move.

Yet in truth only stands Mavrik alone, coated so thickly by blood that hardly the blues and golds of his bomber jacket shows. Silently he just smiles, his elated eyes flickering nonstop, standing in front of the corpse of the petite loudmouth next to her precious wig, in front of the corpse of the brotherly jester next to his trusty sidearm, and in front of the corpse of the affectionate partner next to her severed arm which sparks by the socket, all three of them shriveled and crushed, left as nothing but squeezed husks in the red pool.

In front of the horrified faces of the Vanguard, Alchemist, and especially the Artificer, the Tempest groans laying on the rocky floor after the strike, bruised and battered as he struggles to lift himself off the ground.

Slowly he raises his head up towards the direction of the slaughter he intended to intercept, but upon sight of the scene, his eyes expand in dread.

Through his eyes on the ground, across the center stands Mavrik before the three corpses, staring straight at his direction with a smile. Peculiarly like the shrinkage of a pufferfish, all of the defensive claws retract back into his body, the majority of them having originated from the back where they then sink straight into and vanish entirely.

Gazing at the massacre he failed to prevent, the Tempest’s right arm extends forward with two fingers bent in and the upper remainder aimed straight at the final thief, the arm wavering from target but slowly being honed in.

Laying on the ground but desperate to end the conflict before further escalation, the Tempest jerks his wrist, firing a single blue bolt through the air at the defenseless and disoriented captain, the bolt’s power concentrated into a stable trace that perfectly follows its trajectory up to the captain before said trajectory diverges by the open magenta claw that emerges from the red chest.

His mind in another world, Mavrik’s body remains still as all along his spine crawl out tendrils one side magenta the other side lilac, converging into the long stem which then expands and rises high up above the body autonomously before its rays bloom outwards like a tree, a myriad of monstrous claws with palms wider than the human source all diverging omnidirectionally multicolored.

All of the claws ferally crash in all directions from the source, slamming into distant aisles and knocking them down, but also straight for the four intruders, its claws large enough to squash their bodies alone. From each of the huge arms sprout more branches too, and from those branches sprout more, all of them covering the warehouse in a chaotic web of annihilation grown from the blood of the source’s love.

Hastily the Tempest pushes himself to his feet, and he strafes backwards behind the three of his allies whom he projects cables to, dragging all of them back with him to evade the gargantuan hand reaching straight for them.

He does succeed in evading the first hand as well as bringing his group to safety, but without break the missed arm splinters into innumerable more branches which then curl and soar disorderly, randomly making their way towards the intruders although strangely enough completely avoiding the pod, for it specifically preserves the initial goal.

All else is prey however, as seconds after the first dodge the Tempest is met by an incoming fleet of more smaller claws, covering the floor to which his only other choice is taken: through the cables linked to each of his three teammates more emerge out and wrap around their bodies in a harness which then projects a cable of its own upwards, and once the Tempest relinquishes his own cables he allows the three to be pulled off the ground before he then strafes away from the wave.

Initially the Tempest is focused ahead at the source, but his attention shifts from the Vanguard’s shriek to which he immediately raises his head up to the three whom he thought had saved. Yet to his dismay, from all angles claws charge at the three allies who are helplessly suspended in the air, in imminent danger with no escape from their position, for the dense bombardment would grab them even if they were released this very instant.

Acknowledging the utter futility of the situation, the Tempest gazes with wide eyes while hearing the haunting shrieks until they abruptly silence, to him tapered in an instant.

Not only that, but there is a complete silence in the air, the humming of the claws, the distant caving of the racks, all of it. Gone just like that, to him.

Staring straight up, he blinks once slowly, and just in that one minor action alone afterimages of his eyes in the sequence of the blink are sustained on him.

Above the Tempest through his own perception, not only are his three allies suspended and frozen in air, but so is the army of claws just feet away from them, palms open ready to grab yet paused in space to such an extreme it’s as though they’re frozen altogether.

Just further from the magenta-lilac fingertips is the terrified face of the Vanguard, her pink eyes shut tight and her mouth wide open in wails.

Locked in the trajectory bewildered and desperate to escape is the Alchemist, his yellow eyes contracted into a stern glare, his teeth clenched in a hopeless effort.

Flooded by the continual beatdown of horrors and now reached for from all before her is the Alchemist, her green eyes wide and mouth shut drearily, hardly even able to process the imminent danger she’s in after all that has happened.

After observing his three allies, the Tempest releases a silent sigh, and lowers his head in a turn that follows all of the claws from their branch to the branch they originate from and further back in a backtrack that leads all the way to the epicenter of the chaos, the source, the captain of the lost gang.

Caught in the interlude too is the captain, his red eyes facing straight in the Tempest’s direction, that unhinged grin through the coat of his own friends. Entirely entranced so much so that not a clue is given to the horrid reality, he just stands there with a blissful innocence whilst being the root of the monstrous spine of the murderous rays.

At the center between his allies close to being crushed and the one summoning it all, the Tempest starts to walk down the warehouse, every step made leaving behind an afterimage of himself in the precise prior pose amongst the blue propulsive streaks sparking from his current frame’s back, as though he wasn’t truly moving but rather his body was duplicating a step forward. He doesn’t move with haste and terror, not sprinting and charging, but instead just leisurely strolling through the frozen landscape, the paused frame of the aftermath to what was meant to be a simple recovery mission.

He veers to the side to walk past claws low to the ground, reinforcements of the first wave that he had pulled his group away from. There was a grand surplus of them too, some just a few feet off the cave’s floor and others coiling higher in the air to reach for the face. They curve almost like tendrils, like a basilisk swarming the facility, creating such havoc that the Tempest has to meticulously maneuver around as to not get himself caught by the fields, leaving behind a trail of his former selves strung like beads along the string of residual streaks.

Both by his mental precise calculations and his own body’s acceleration, he reaches the other side through the branches, walking past the body of Mavrik himself, who remains in his same pose, no longer facing the Tempest but now just into blank space as around him is a ring of dirt clouds grown from the debris of his home’s wreckage.

The Tempest walks several feet past the Mavrik before coming to a soft stop, and pausing for a few moments in contemplation, his head low and breathing a sigh.

In a solemn, oddly empathic tone the Tempest reflects, “This is the best I can do for you,” before then lifting his right arm, two fingers curled, the rest pointing straight forward at the back of Mavrik’s head, right below the bandana by the brain stem.

In the eye of the storm, the gang leader stands still in a blissful ebullience, no idea the mixture his flashy leather bomber is drenched in, no idea the rays projecting from his own body, no idea the finger pointed right to the back of his head, the finger of the other leader who stands right behind him at the head of the path of his mirages, whose grayed leather biker reflects the withered skin off its wearer, who just stares at the back of his target’s head not with persistent determination nor blazing vengeance but rather with a gloomy pityness.

“This will be your final restful sleep,” he speaks into the abyss before a black flash appears over his fingers, the shot taken, yet in this frozen frame all that appears in that initial flash, for not even the bolt has begun to take form.

Yet that sliver of a moment is extended further into a solitudinous silence, the two captains standing, at first facing one another, but now one’s back has been turned away. At last, one of the two captains would win. At last, one of them would be set free in this very match. But in truth, the outcome would hardly serve either of them.

Eventually the story has to continue, and so the Tempest lets go, allowing himself to perceive the world through real time, simultaneously causing all his mirages to vanish and the black bolt to summon where it then immediately drives straight into the back of Mavrik’s head, followed by his entire body flashing black, followed by the instant fading of all the rays emerging from his body which then collapses to the floor unconscious.

Stuck in the air, the three allies all embrace their ends as the humming claws bolt straight for them ready to crush their bodies into husks, and yet abruptly the humming silences, and neither of the three bodies have been shriveled up.

For an extended period the Vanguard keeps her eyes tight shut, prepared for the worst, however after the long pause that should have already been snipped, she slowly opens her eyes in perplexion. She then turns her head towards where the claws are, where her perplexion grows into bewilderment as her, the Alchemist, and the Artificer all stare around themselves to find that there are no longer any claws chasing them, for there are no claws or arms at all in sight. They instead are completely left alone in the air, tied up by their harnesses, strung up yet in complete safety.

Then each of them turns their attention ahead to where the eye was, and upon each of their discoveries shock comes to their face. Their expressions fix as their bodies are gradually lowered to the ground by the Tempest who approaches them slowly, his hands by his side, his white locks waving in the breeze.

All three of the allies’ feet are brought to contact with the ground where their harnesses then unravel and fade away, allowing them freedom of movement, yet they all remain still.

Behind the Tempest’s dreary blue eyes, in the center of the dust cloud and rubble, the Mavrik lays on the ground unconscious, his body having relinquished all the rays as he now lies amongst his crew, his sleeping body before the shriveled husks of his friends, eyes shot out and jaws left open.

At the heart of the destroyed home, the Tempest stops in front of his three allies, all shaken up and processing the events around them. The fog of the collapse continues to rise into the air, entering through the ventilation shafts on their way out as in the distance are piles of shelves and crates all fractured and spilled.

The Tempest then turns his head towards the matte pod which through it all was left unscratched, for even in the feral rage of the captain did he protect his mission, as though through the cloud the only component of himself which passed through was the escape. Yet not even those whom he was trying to help escape managed to be inherited.

The pod doors are still open through it all, and without speech, the Tempest pivots and strolls towards the pod’s driver door, prepared to now reset the vehicle so they operate it and exit the warehouse, victorious after the long battle.

Yet none of them appear celebratory, not even relieved, instead they’re just left with a hollow sinking feeling, for while their mission was just, there was no sense of justice.

They just stare blankly with miserable eyes, but first steps forward the Alchemist, breaking out of the trance and making his way to the pod.

Next follows the Artificer, who had just witnessed the worst of her nightmares come to fruition, a horror that has continued to haunt her decades through her life. If anything all she wanted to do was escape the sight, the sight of the aftermath to such a simple mission.

Lastly lags the Vanguard, who at first just stands still with a jaded expression. That is until the sudden roar of the pod’s engine awakens her, causing her to blink twice, raise her head, and approach the vehicle where the rest of the group is, ready to depart.

So she walks ahead, away from the wreckage of the warehouse, away from the corpses left behind, away from the captain who’d have to wake up to the most horrendous sight imaginable. All left behind to face forwards, unsure if they were even facing a better option.

Yet it was the only option they had.

Face forwards.

Move forwards.