Talia blazed her way through the spacious hallways, the speed of her passage sending a wake of air to rock the expensive paintings on the wall. She paid them no heed, panic flooding her mind. The moment she’d felt the energy shackles closing in, fear of capture drove her nearly to madness. She wouldn’t be taken again. She wouldn’t end up as she had, once before. No matter what, she would avoid that fate. It was all she could think about as she raced down the hall.

It wasn’t until she reached the lobby that she started to regain her senses. It was just in time, too, because the moment she stepped into the spacious lobby, she saw a horde of Spiders surging through the room. Almost at the same time, the building shook as if under the influence of an earthquake. A few of the surprised Spiders stumbled to the marble floor, but most were far too coordinated for that.

Talia never stopped moving. The combination of her own speed and enhanced perception meant that, to her, they appeared to be moving in water. It gave her the opportunity to identify the various members of the group, and what she found was disturbing. All were between levels twenty and twenty-five, with a clear trend toward the latter. More than that, though, she felt power wafting off some of them, marking those members as genuine elites. If there were less than a hundred such people, Talia would have been surprised. And that wasn’t even counting the lesser members, which numbered at least as many.

The Spiders had come in force, and it was a truly daunting sight. Their reputation seemed well-earned, and Talia wondered if even her mother’s Radiant Guard could match the might on display. It was a silly thought. Of course they could. They were the preeminent fighting force on the continent.

But for the here and now, Talia had to deal with the Spiders.

Briefly, she considered going around them. She was certainly fast enough, and they likely didn’t care all that much about her. But could she abandon her friends? There wasn’t even a question.

Another rumble shook the building, and it wasn’t difficult to imagine that Zeke had begun his assault on the shield Talia had only briefly seen before fleeing. The only question was whether or not she should go back and help. She shivered at the thought. No – she didn’t want to go anywhere near those council chambers, lest she run the risk of capture. Instead, she would focus on whittling down the reinforcements.

With that decided, she activated her various skills. [Chill of Undeath] and [Plague Strike] came first, but she embraced [Flood of Death] as well. Against so many strong opponents, there was nothing to be gained from holding anything in reserve. She needed to hit them hard and fast before they had a chance to react.

Talia changed directions, and even as yet another rumble swept through the building, so too did she sweep through the enemy’s front ranks. Her claws lashed out, slicing and ripping with every movement. Each time she pierced someone’s defenses, her skills injected a combination of cold and decay that both slowed and infected her opponents with rotting disease. In the space of two seconds, she’d already hit seven Spiders, and more were soon to come.

With a mental push, a black cloud of deathly energy erupted from her body, enveloping everyone within a ten foot radius. In an instant, the air was filled with the agonized howls of Talia’s enemies as their blackened skin sloughed off their bodies. Most died immediately, but some of the more powerful Spiders that had been caught in her cloud of death merely fell to the ground, injured and tormented by their rapidly decaying bodies.

It was a good beginning.

Suddenly, a golden light bloomed in the center of charging Spiders. It rolled forth like a wave, and where it passed, men and women were healed. Talia immediately recognized the skill. [Circle of Healing], and an evolved version at that, given the range. When she’d had the skill, it had only affected a few feet around her. This one was far more powerful, which did not bode well for her method of fighting. She wasn’t like Zeke, who could destroy his enemies with a single swing. Her strategy was to employ hit-and-run tactics where she let [Plague Strike] slowly overwhelm her opponents. With a healer around, that wouldn’t be possible.

So, as Talia swept past the group of charging Spiders, she adjusted her mindset to employ a new strategy. The healer needed to go down first. The problem with that was that, judging by the skill use, they were right in the middle of the group. On top of that, high-level healers were a notoriously difficult targets to neutralize. Often, the only way to do so was to run them out of mana, which was a tall order for someone who was built to maximize their potential output.

But, so long as Talia wanted to fight, she didn’t have a choice but to climb that mountain.

Goal in mind, she reversed course and plunged into the group of Spiders, dodging a wide variety of attacks along the way. She narrowly avoided a sword strike by ducking under it only to be forced to leap over a scything beam of fire that, when it missed, tore into a Spider that was trying to cleave her in two with a green-glowing axe. On and on it went, with Talia dipping, dodging, and ducking until, at last, she saw the healer.

Dressed all in white, with a pendant of the Church of Purity hanging from her neck, her hands glowed with golden power. Her fluid movements looked like nothing so much as a dance as she whipped healing energy in every direction. Where that golden light landed, men and women were made whole.

Talia instantly hated the woman.

Once, she’d been on the path to become just like her, but it was all a lie. Her mother only wanted a stand-in for her husband. Talia’s father. The man who, before his death, had been the most powerful healer in the Radiant Isles. That her mother had intended to sacrifice her in order to resurrect the man wasn’t that surprising; after all, it made sense. Back then, Talia hadn’t been powerful. She was always a disappointment.

But still, regardless of whether she understood her mother’s actions, it was still painful enough that, when she looked upon that beautiful healer, she only felt seething hate. The monster seized upon her anger and frustration, spurring her on. She let it guide her forward, a snarl on her lips.

The first swipe of her claws ended with a satisfying fountain of blood, staining the healer’s white robe a deep crimson. The priestess clearly hadn’t invested much in endurance. The second swipe snagged on her innards, but a minor tug ripped them apart. The healer howled in torment, music to Talia’s ears. Yet another swipe ruined her perfect face, ripping huge chunks away to reveal the bone beneath. Sometimes, destroying something beautiful came with a special kind of satisfaction.

Golden light enveloped the healer, and in an instant, her flesh mended back together. Panting, she looked down, and even as the flesh on her face regrew, she looked down at her torn and ripped robes, saying, “I just bought this outfit.”

Talia kept going, but her efforts were for naught. Dozens of strikes, all so fast that her movements were a blur, and none of them did any lasting harm. The woman’s healing ability was too strong. Her mana seemingly inexhaustible.

But Talia was undead. She didn’t feel fatigue. And eventually, she would wear the woman down.

Or she would have if it weren’t for the dozens of members of the assassin’s guild howling for her green blood. It was all she could do to continue her assault on the healer while avoiding the attacks of the Spiders. As slow and clumsy as they were, there were just so many of them.

And all the while, even as Talia ripped her to shreds, over and over again, the healer wore a smug smirk. It was infuriating enough that, after only a minute, Talia had descended fully into her monstrous nature. Rational thought was discarded, and only the single-minded hunger for death and decay remained. The fact that her efforts had no lasting effect only served to send her tumbling further and further into her monstrous side.

Or perhaps there was no such side. Maybe, she was wholly a monster, and whatever she’d been clinging to was merely an echo of her old life, her former personality.

Suddenly, something pressed down on Talia, slowing her body to a crawl.

“I’ve got it!” yelled a nearby man. Talia looked up to see that he, too, was wearing the insignia of the Church of Purity, though his robes were the deepest blue. She recognized the color for what it signified.

An Exorcist had joined the battle.

Talia had spent enough time in the Church of Purity to know the different factions within the organization. Most prominent were the simply named Healers who endeavored to eradicate disease within the population. They were well-liked and well-respected for their efforts. There was also a militant wing of the church called the Templars, and they were charged with guarding the Healers. Bishops took care of the church’s administrative needs, and they were led by the Patriarch, who was said to be Purity’s own Chosen.

But there was one other faction within the Church. Rarely seen, they were the subject of a good deal of Beacon’s gossip. Having seen them for herself, Talia didn’t need gossip to know what she faced. Exorcists were a militant wing of the organization that specialized in dealing with undead, spirits, and ghosts. They were even rumored to have means of combating demons, as rare as they were.

And now they were after her.

Talia looked down to see a complex rune, comprised of pure light, at her feet. She tried to push past it, but it was like trying to move in mud. Or quicksand, given that every inch was exponentially more difficult than the last. Before long, she was entirely stationary.

Swords and axes cut into her limbs. Spears pierced her pale flesh. And various skills descended upon her, freezing her. Burning her. Searing her with holy light.

In that moment, she knew she was going to die. For all her speed, for all her abilities, she was still just an undead monster. She had tried to play the part of a human being. She wanted to cling to her old self. But her vulnerability to the Exorcist’s insidious skill had driven home the reality of her nature. And with that realization in mind, she welcomed the end. She closed her eyes and surrendered to it, embracing every blade, every skill, with exhausted resignation.

Until it all stopped.

When she opened her eyes, the Exorcist had been impaled by an umbral spear. The healer had been ripped in two by the same. A dozen people all around her had been subjected to similar attacks. One bore a spike through the bottom of his chin. Another had been caught mid-swing, with a shadowy spike through her stomach.

“Go,” came Carlos’s strained voice. Somehow, he was right beside her, coated in writhing shadow. “I can’t hold these forever.”

The Exorcist’s skill faded, and Talia felt her mobility return. Still, she’d endured so many attacks that her skin – indeed, her limbs – barely hung on by threads. But she pushed through it, hobbling away as quickly as she could.

Because she knew what was coming.

Her goal was the hall, and when she finally reached it and turned the corner, an explosion resounded through the lobby. She knew that Carlos had used his ultimate skill, detonating the shadow spears into blades of pure darkness that likely cut the entire room to shreds. It was a cathartic thought, imagining all of those Spiders being ripped, limb from limb, and for a moment, it distracted her from her own injuries.

But only for a moment.

Then, the weight of her wounds dragged her to the ground. Green blood pooled all around her, visual evidence of her very life slipping from her body. Then, Carlos was beside her, cradling her head in his lap. When had that happened? Something warm touched her lips. Instinctively, she bit into the heart. Blood gushed down her chin and vitality flooded her body. Another bite, and she activated [Focused Reformation]. Even as she consumed the heart, bite by bite, her body healed until, at last, she was whole.

“Y-you saved me,” she breathed, emotions coursing through her mind. Tears leaked down her cheeks as she reached up to stroke Carlos’s face. He flinched away, reminding her precisely what she was.

Monsters didn’t love or deserve to be loved. Her emotions, her feelings – they weren’t real.

“Did you kill them all?” she asked, mentally shoving her feelings away and resuming her stoic demeanor.

“Some,” he said. “Not enough.”

“The healer?” she asked. “The Exorcist?”

“Both gone.”

She nodded. “Very well,” was her response. She pushed herself to her feet, bits and pieces of her leather armor falling away until she was barely decent. She didn’t care. Monsters didn’t worry about modesty. She would go into battle naked if that was what it took. “I will finish them off.”

Carlos, who’d found his feet as well, reached out to grab her upper arm. She ignored it.

“Wait…”

Talia turned to see his anxious, painfully handsome face. “What?” she asked, her voice devoid of emotion.

“I didn’t mean to flinch,” he said.

“No. You did not,” she stated. “But it is not your fault. People fear monsters.”

With that, she jerked her arm away and slipped around the corner to behold a scene of carnage. Talia felt a small smile play across her lips as she drank in Carlos’s handiwork. But as he had indicated, he hadn’t gotten them all. There were still dozens left alive. Talia meant to remedy that.

She reactivated her skills, not even remembering when they’d been cancelled, and waded into the sea of gore. Free from the Exorcist’s binding skill and without the healer’s influence, she went through them like a scythe through wheat, sowing disease and death in her wake.

Behind her, Carlos merely watched, presumably wondering why he had saved such a creature. Talia might have imagined it, but a brief glimpse of his expression showed clear regret.

She didn’t blame him at all.