Cages lower from the walls of the colosseum. They swing erratically back and forth. They swing erratically side to side. Growls, howls, clawing, scratching. The sounds electrify the atmosphere. The pendulum's fierce momentum increases; the cages near the ground.

'Rules, right. There's a rule!' The blue-haired man yells from the centre of the coliseum. 'You'll have plenty of opportunities to kill each other, this isn't one of them. killing anything other than the Tension beasts is an automatic disqualification. That being said, don't feel the need to jump in to save anyone either, though I guess that one isn't forbidden.' The instructor pauses, 'Eh, I'm sure you guys can work it out.'

'At least that's something', Tarik says, relief unashamedly mounted on his features. 'The monsters in the cages are one thing, the monster over there…' Pointing at the girl and two boys who had just done battle, Tarik continues. 'That's something very different.

'I was kinda hoping I'd get to fight them', I say.

'Sorry, were we watching two different things? Fire, water, force overwhelming! Did you miss all that?' Gripping his hair with both hands, Tarik paces between Amy and me. He reaches both arms out, Amy in-between. He presents her to me. 'We already have a battle maniac; we don't need two.'

'Comparing me to Amy, I'll take the compliment,' I say back.

'What compliment?' Tarik inquirers. Amy places her hands on the soft curve of his shoulder. Her fingers close. 'Oh, that compliment', he answers quickly. A chorus of laughter embraces us.

The cages touch ground. Our laughter retreats. I draw Tension into my core. Pressure. I push it out in every direction. My bones creak in protest. I push harder. I force Tension into my arms, legs, back and chest. The pressure builds; my muscles swell with the force. Circulation, the secret to enhancement, I was once told, is circulation. Tension mustn't flood, it must only flow. Drawing internal pathways, I channel Tension in spirals throughout my body. I exhale. the pressure subsides.

The sounds of the colosseum intensify. I hear everything. Every sniffling nose, whispered doubt, beating heart. I feel the wind like fire on every surface inch of my skin. The air radiates colour as my sight comes into focus. The harmony of scents discord. The indistinguishable body of smells, separate. Subtle distinctions manifest with every breath. Every sense I possess refined, giving me superior awareness of what surrounds me.

Surrounded, that's what we are. Around us, every nightmare to ever haunt a dream. They ram their cages in preparation. The cling and clang of chains tumbling from the walls to the ground displaces every sound in the arena. The soft thud of metal hitting sand echoes out. As if waiting to exhale, silence falls. An eternal second passes; the cages fall apart.

From every direction, monsters charge our location. Foot, hoof, and clawed appendage kick up a cloud of sand in their wake as they barrel towards their prey. In the distance, a boy disfigured, as short, green horrors ascend his legs, chest, and arms, tearing flesh from their summit. Beside him, the body of a girl, dragged kicking, and screaming, and thrashing, and crying, and screaming, and screaming, and screaming, and screaming towards the walls of the coliseum. Left, or right, backwards, or forwards, wherever the eye lands, atrocities follow. Seconds pass; countless dead. The dismantlement of their bodies, thorough and complete. Shutting out the sights and sounds of meaningless carnage, I focus on my immediate surroundings.

Slender, elongated clawed hands slice the air my head had occupied. Stepping forward, I catch the fiend's arm by the wrist and armpit. Holding the creature in place, I force my foot through its knee. It howls in pain. My right hand on the creature's head, I force Tension out of my palm and into its skull; It crumbles.

No chance to congratulate myself, I duck as a winged beast hurls itself in my direction. Stretching out a hand and condensing Tension, I form bullets of translucent energy in front of my palms. The bullets rotate rapidly, exciting the air around them. I hold the bullets in place, restraining the magnetic like force drawing the bullets to their target. The pull of the bullets intensifies. Straining to keep the bullets from launching prematurely, I take aim.

The winged beast turns, its claws extend. As if aware of my intentions, the beast desperately propels itself towards me. It's too late. I release my hold. With violent force, the bullets puncture the body of the winged beast. No sooner does it fall than it is trampled underfoot. Wasting no time, I fire Tension bullets at the winged beast's successor. The eight legs of the spider-wolf bend and spring the monstrosity out of harm's way.

I reposition myself to fire more bullets at the evasive creature; before I'm able to condense the energy into a swirling singularity, the oversized fist of a large horned beast careens towards me.

Holding out my arm, I catch the fist of the monster. Using the momentum of the punch, I lift myself off the ground and balance myself on one arm on the limb of the horned beast. The momentum of the punch and gravity my conspirators, in one fluid motion, I grip the monster's arm, wrap my legs around its neck and allow myself to fall forward. With devastating force, I drag the beast to the ground.

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I feel the swoosh of the eight legs of the spider-wolf fly above me as I lay on the ground. A scream. Amy's Scream. I flip myself to my feet and stamp through the head of the felled beast. Turning my attention to my friend, I see her wrestle with the vertically standing spider-wolf. Without thought, I blast a hole through the centre of the eight-legged creature. My friend's face is showered in viscera.

'A warning would have been nice.' Amy pushes the ravaged corpse of the creature to the ground. She wipes gore from her face and continues, 'There are more coming this way, stay close.'

Closing ranks, Amy, Tarik, and I form a triangle of sorts, each of us facing a different direction. Feeling for Amy and Tarik, I synchronise with their movements. Maintain the triangle. Fight in one direction. For an impromptu formation, the strategy is sound. The three of us battle wave after wave of Tension beasts in our triangle. Utilising Tension and my enhanced senses, I form barriers at decisive moments, protecting my friends.

The strategy fails, the triangle breaks. Our formation is overwhelmed. Pushed back, Tarik falls to the floor. With bloodied hands, he strains to keep the blade-like appendage of a mantis beast from piercing his heart. Amy, surrounded, screams out in pain as sharp, elongated claws carve into her flesh. Panic rises in my chest as my friends struggle to survive. Abandoning restraint, I concentrate Tension into my back. I feel it transverse my spine and pool into the four corners of my lower back. From the whirlpool of Tension emanating from my lower back, colourless tentacles sprout.

In a crescent arc, the tentacles to my left whip the creatures oppressing me, severing their upper and lower parts on impact. My right tentacles reach out and constrict the mantis creature set on Tarik. With a flex, I crush the insect within the constriction. I pull back then thrust the tips of the tentacles through centre mass of the beasts drawing jagged lines into Amy's skin. The beasts cry out and drop to the sand. Releasing the art, the tentacles fade to nothing.

'Are you okay?'. I run to Tarik and help him to his feet. Shaking, he closes his eyes as if in deep concentration. He nods his head.

'This isn't over yet', Amy yells over the discordant chords of battle. She's right. The enemy's numbers have been reduced, but so has the number of applicants fighting them. Bodies line the blood-drenched sand in differing states of desecration. Only once before had I seen such wanton disregard for human life… Pushing the memories from my mind, I turn my thoughts to the true cruelty of this test.

We're not allowed to kill each other. The rule, it's not there to protect us, it can't be, there are too many dead…

The air ignites. There are enough dead. Spears of water crash into the remaining monsters. Spikes of rock burst from the ground, impaling monsters en masse. There are enough dead for the lives of the weak to no longer restrain the might of the strong. Large scale attacks ripple throughout the arena. The beasts fall, bleed, and die alongside the victims that had shielded them. Clouds of smoke and sand pollute the sky, as the clouds disperse, the last beasts are struck down.

'This place is Hell', Tarik sinks to his knees. He looks to the sky and allows tears to roll freely down his face. Amy and I move behind him. Silent. What is there to say? "You're going to be okay" The shallow words stick to my throat; I make no sound. Amy kneels next to our friend; she places an arm around his shoulder and gently lowers his head to her lap.

'Just this once.' Amy strokes Tarik's hair, his silent tears replaced by roaring cries. His cries join a chorus of lamentation blaring out from the hoarse throats of the survivors. 'It's okay now', Amy whispers gently to Tarik.

Time passes, Tarik's cries dull to soft sobs and finally to nothing. He lifts himself from Amy's lap and sits next to her.

'Are you just going to stand awkwardly?' Amy asks, her face angled at me.

'This is new for me. I don't know the protocol', I say, eliciting a chuckle from my friends.

'Sit down', Amy says. 'Sit with your friends, that's the protocol.' I sit by Amy's side. 'I'd say you're hopeless, but honestly, you were incredible, what was that with the tentacles?' At the mention of my art, Tarik perks up.

'You're name- ', Tarik catches himself as Amy's face turns towards him. 'I mean you're not part of a clan, how could you have such a powerful art?'

'It was granted to me on the top floor of an Earth-bound Tower', I reply. Both Tarik and Amy stare at me.

'You've climbed a Tower? How is that possible?' Tarik asks, astonishment palpable in his voice.

'Who cares? All I know is it's amazing.' Stretching her arms, Amy pulls Tarik and me into some form of embrace.

'What did I tell you, the three of us are unstoppable', her tone is gentler, not devoid of confidence, but without the energy, I had come to expect from her. The gruesome scene around us leaves no room for that kind of energy.

'I hope you enjoyed your rest.' Every eye still lodged in its socket turns to the blue-haired instructor. Stepping over the rend body parts of human beings and tension beasts alike, the man makes his way towards the centre of the coliseum. As he walks, he points at still breathing applicants and counts under his breath. 'ninety-six, a nice even number', he mutters. Addressing the survivors, the man yells. 'You have ten minutes to find a partner. Your next test will be conducted in teams of two.'

My stomach swells with anxiety. Tarik looks to the floor. We sit; no one speaks.

'You two should pair up', Amy says, breaking our silence. She stands and dusts sand from her clothes. 'I could probably do the next challenge on my own', She says. 'There's no way either of you will make it on your own.' I stare at the ground; Amy reaches out her hands and helps both Tarik and me to our feet.

'Nope, no moping, you're still part of my crew, and I expect to see you both at the finish line.' Somehow, Amy's smile cuts through the scene around us. Facing Tarik, Amy continues, 'You're a lot braver than you think you are, you're going to show me that when we pass this thing. As for you', Amy directs herself at me. 'I can only imagine what you've been through, but that anger you carry, you have to let it go.' Before I can say anything back, I'm pulled into a hug. 'Right, I need to find a partner, see you two at the finish line.'

Without another word, Amy turns and runs.