Shaped as a perfect pentagon, each of its surfaces are etched with a strange symbol. As Ambrose’s eyes cast over the symbols, the moonlight above shines down on them. The symbols begin to glow, brightening as their own light trail begins to reach upward.

Like two threads connecting, the deep red of the moon above and the object below careen toward each other. Ambrose observes for a moment as it reaches higher and higher, before covering it completely with the cloth, the light dissipating as if it was never there.

“Aghhh.” Meize’s scream cries out from the other side of the shack, and Ambrose whips her head around. She glances at the four villagers racing toward them before moving toward the other three.

“Four more are coming.” Ambrose says as they enter her sight. Meize is half-kneeling on the ground, a long cut sliced across his waist. The cut is shallow, but blood is continuously seeping out as Anastasia presses bunched up cloth to its surface. “Deal with him later.”

“Fucking hell.” Meize moans. Anastasia looks between, but he gestures to her. “Go. Get rid of the threat.” Ambrose steps closer to them and observes the bodies of the villagers. In their remains she spies the glint of a red object. One of them is partially revealed, her eyes following a light that trails up and connects to the moon above. She walks forward and kicks some dirt over it, covering its surface and breaking the connection.

“What was that?” Bunny walks over.

“Later.” Ambrose says. “On your left.” The four of them come running out together through the grass, their movement swift. More fluid Ambrose observes as they race toward them. As if something is controlling them. She reaches down and picks up one of the weapons on the ground. A hoe, except the blade had broken away and only the solid stick with its metal clasp remained.

Meize stumbles farther away, groaning the whole time, while Bunny and Anastasia move closer to Ambrose. Bunny raises her staff. It lights up with a flash and one of the villagers' pounces at their side, leaving the other three behind. Another flash and another attacks the grass in front of it, leaving Bunny panting.

“I’m out.” Bunny gasps, leaning on her staff.

“I’ll send the right one to you.” Ambrose tells Anastasia as she steps to the side. She breathes in and out, feeling the flex of her muscles as she finds her centre. Fighting with such sheer power felt unusual to her, and yet so invigorating. Indescribably good. An almost feral grin fills her face before disappearing just as quickly.

The two villagers see her move to the side and pounce toward her, recognising that she’s alone. Their blades swing across her waist and chest, and Ambrose steps just far enough away to avoid their edges. As their arms follow their blade’s momentum she steps into their space and flicks her staff.

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The villager’s red eyes stare at her own as he brings his weapon back. Though Ambrose can see the lifelessness that fills the eyes, the intensity of the gaze feels all too real. The staff hits his body and sends him staggering to the right. He’s forced to quickly meet Anastasia’s own blade as Ambrose turns to the remaining one.

Ambrose holds her staff square as she takes the strength of the villager’s second swing. Their long butcher’s knife attempts to cut into the wood, but only leaves a shallow cut as Ambrose forces them to stumble back.

They quickly recover and pounce toward her. As Ambrose sends her own staff to meet their blade, something changes. The villager fighting Anastasia suddenly sags, losings most of its strength as Anastasia makes quick work of it. The remaining two villagers fighting their own battle against the grass equally sag and grow lifeless.

And the one fighting Ambrose suddenly blazes to life. A red hot flame sears out from her chest, her body heating up as a vigor fills her eyes. Her weapon digs into Ambrose’s own and almost cuts it in two as Ambrose rapidly moves back.

Bunny raises her staff and flashes it again, but it seems to cause no affect as the villager presses on. Her vivid, almost glowing red eyes stare into Ambrose’s as she takes another step forward.

“….Para…sites.” Her voice hisses in a discordant rhythm, fuzzy and broken like a connection barely held together. Ambrose observes her carefully as she continues to take slow steps backward.

She jumps toward Ambrose. With a battle cry Meize suddenly appears from the side, his right fist taking a wide swing as it drives into the monster's side. She staggers a step, before turning to face Meize. Before she can attack, Anastasia is by her other side. Her blade cuts a shallow depth into it, meeting an uncanny resistance, before a small boom comes off its edge and sends the villager reeling back further.

Ambrose steps in and swings, her staff sending a strong strike against her head. It twists, her neck snapping as she staggers to the ground in a half-kneeling position.

The creature cackles. The broken voice grating against their ears as she reaches up and twists her head back around. She goes to stand up, but Meize is upon her again. His fist drives into her and sends her reeling back to the ground. But not before she slashes her own, tearing another wide cut across his stomach.

Meize staggers backward and Ambrose takes his place as she slams her staff against her body. The villager only continues to cackle, its ember eyes watching them. Anastasia grips her weapon tight and takes a strong step forward. She pulls on her blade with as much strength as she can muster as she slashes down, and tears directly through the monster's throat.

The laugh cuts off as the head is sent flying, rolling across the grass until it comes to rest facing up. Its eyes quickly dimming, until returning to their lifeless state.

“Thank Messarah.” Anastasia gasps, her breaths coming in great heaves as she stares heavily at the headless corpse. “This is crazy-“ her words cut off to a scream as the body suddenly sits up, latching onto her leg with a strong grip. “Get it off me.” She cries. Anastasia struggles to move but the hand refuses to let go. The red gem that had begun to dull in its stomach begins to glow again, rapidly heating up. The hand begins to scorch Anastasia’s skin, burning her flesh as her screams intensify.