In a whirlpool of disorientation, I spin, tumble, and crash around the interior of the carriage. The floor becomes the roof and the roof the floor in a repeated cycle as I'm tossed around the coach like a leaf in a hurricane. My face meets the brutality of the sides, top, and floor, as the coach spirals out of control. The violent rotations cease, dropping me to the ground. Frantic revolutions no longer occurring, the coach slides on the terrain outside, forcing me, with its forward motion, into the lopsided seats at the back.

Splintered wood erupts overhead as bullets of condensed energy burst through the carriage. The bullets fly above me, punching holes through metal and wood on exit. Without the time to acquiesce to my reeling senses, I break through my confusion and flood my muscles with Tension.

'Do you think he's alive?' I hear a man say.

'The information we have on him paints the portrait of a real tough bastard.' Another man replies.

Standing to my feet, I leap through the carriage door above me and land on the grass below. Without hesitation, I run towards the two men that I can only assume are responsible for my objectionable awakening. Rapidly, they condense Tension into bullets and release the projectiles towards me. Maintaining my motion, I fall to my knees, lower my back to the ground, and slide. The bullets whizz past my face as the friction of my skid burns my shins. Gritting my teeth, I suppress the pain.

With a forceful kick of my legs, I leap from sliding to soaring towards my foes. As I pass in-between them, I form a bullet of Tension from both of my hands and release them behind me. A delightful thud reaches my ears, informing me of the accuracy of my shot.

In what I hope is the last time for a while, I crash to the ground. With aching arms and burning legs, I lift myself from the grass. With both hands, I attempt to wipe mud from the remains of my trousers. The effort a failure, I succeed in spreading its taint instead.

Just over an hour.

From the corruption I've managed to purge from my body, it couldn't have taken them much more than an hour to find me. Crooked chuckles reverberate through my chest and throat, bouncing the soft thud of pain across my ribs.

If I had known I'd be dropped into a mess like this…

No.

I would have still killed that arrogant bastard.

My chuckles mutate into manic laughter. Uninhibited, it bursts from my mouth as I stretch my arms to the sky and bask in the moonlight.

If this is all that the Yung Clan have to throw at me, then I made no mistake in slaughtering their young master. I would do it again, and again, and again. The ascent to the highest peaks is not without its challenges, this is simply one of them, but I will not look back and regret the climb. I will reach the summit, and from that height, I will rain horrors down upon those who impeded my path.

Xan Yung…

Wait for me. I will repay this nuisance with fire and blood.

Regaining control over my fatigue-induced hysteria, I walk towards the bodies of the deceased mercenaries. Checking their pockets for anything useful, a frown descends on my face as I find nothing. I walk towards the carriage the two had arrived in. One of them must have manned the vehicle himself because there is no coachman at the head. Climbing into the coach, I scan the belly of the carriage but am left, once again, disappointed as I find little of value.

I exit the interior of the carriage and climb to the front. Taking the seat and the reins, I instruct the harnessed beast to move forward. Without rest, it should take no longer than two days to reach the academy. I have no doubt that the attempts on my life are far from over. It's unlikely that I'll find the opportunity to expel any more corruption, so my best chance of survival lays in avoiding combat for as long as I can, and getting back to safety as soon as I can.

Nine Arts remaining…

It doesn't matter how far I exceed the dregs and the low-lives that are being sent my way; a Tension Master is nothing once he can no longer use Tension. These constant battles will wear away at me, killing me not in one large strike but a thousand tiny cuts…

Enough!

I've been through worse. In the weeks after Father left me, I went through much worse. Stranded within an Earth-Bound Tower, I survived terrors. I waded through swamplands, crawled through burrows, and marched through deserts alone. Hounded by monsters, I fought, and I bled for my right to survive. Compared to those days, this is little more than a minor setback. Compared to the horrors I've seen, what are a few mercenaries? Compared to the abandonment I felt…

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

When Father left me, I swore to renounce him and all of his ways. I was to live a life of honour and pursue justice. The heights of power have always been my goal, but I truly believed I could reach them without him.

Without him…

Who am I without him?

Well, It doesn't matter. I am what he made me. I was never able to escape his hold on my life. He taught me to steal, so I steal. He taught me to kill, so I kill. I stood in the sunlight for mere seconds before retreating into the dark. The dark is where I belong; I will no longer question that.

Ice floods my veins, solidifying my resolve; all doubt and fear are extinguished by its chill. I have chosen my path. Nevermore shall I stray from it.

Glancing to my right, I see a blur in the distance behind me. The blur grows in clarity at an alarming pace. Racing towards me, fifteen, maybe more, chariots, manned by two Tension Masters each. Tethered to the chariots are three land-dragons.

With a sharp crack of the reins, I spur my beast faster. It tears through the soil and increases its speed. It's not enough. The chariots slowly close their distance from me. The spinning of wheels rattles in my ears. Without looking, I know they're close.

Steering my carriage to the left, I speed past a hill. I continue in my mad-dash across the planes until I see a legion of Tension-beasts before me. Gathered together like a swarm, they aimlessly congregate in a mass ahead of me. I could avoid them, but I don't. Without a second thought, I charge directly into their midsts.

'You think we're going to let you go because of a few monsters. Men, keep forward!'

My land-dragon thrashes through the horde of monsters, charging forward and rams them down. A creature leaps at me. With one hand, I maintain my grip on the reins. With the other, I draw my sword and cleave the beast in two. Bumping and jolting in my seat, I swing my blade at every creature that throws itself in my path and tunnel further into the mob.

Behind me, my pursuers follow the path that I clear. Making gains on my location, I hear the deep exhalations of the beasts pulling their chariots forward. Breaking through the low-tier beasts, a circular clearing presents itself to me. In the centre of that clearing, a group of corpulent ravagers lay belly down in a trench, seemingly, of their own creation.

Roused by the commotion, the ravagers stand.

The mercenaries on my tail begin to panic. A chariot crashes behind me, I hear the screams of the riders hurled from their mount. Voices rise to my rear. The music of retreat dances in my ears.

It's too late for that.

Channelling the powers of a gryphon, I sprout wings and leap from my seat. As the ravagers bound towards me, I beat my wings and rise above the calamity destined for my hunters. The mercenaries' screams announce my escape. I take to the sky and leave them to the creatures below.

Flying past the horde of monsters, I find a safe place to land. Dipping low, I cruise above the black-grass terrain before I touch feet on the ground. Cancelling my Art, my wings retract into my back, my talons morph back into fingers, and my paws revert into feet.

My escape cost me five Arts leaving me with only four remaining. I didn't have any better plan, but still…

It's not good.

I need to expel the corruption. I don't have a choice. Without any means of transportation, it will take me days to arrive back at Sapphire Academy. With only four Arts, I'll never make it.

"A thousand tiny cuts."

My own thoughts haunt my mind. I try to suppress them but I can't. There's nowhere safe for me. I can't hide; I can't rest; I can't run fast enough to avoid all conflict. All I can do is keep moving forward, but that isn't enough.

Baring my nails into my palms, I keep moving forward. I walk beneath the night's sky, ignoring exhaustion and pain. Sneaking past Tension-beasts, I cross through the planes of this region, fighting back bolts of rising despair. It will not serve me.

Like an oasis in the desert, buildings come into sight. I draw closer and see that those buildings are part of a larger whole, an abandoned village. With shaking legs and trembling hands, I pull myself closer. I pass the threshold of the village and stop. Strewn across the streets, bodies. Men, women, children, all dead, but their wounds, they're from blades, not bites.

Heads severed from necks, eyes gouged out…

Tension-beasts don't do this. Tension Masters do.

I turn to leave, but it's too late. From every door of every rickety cabin, mercenaries walk out. Hundreds of them. All armed, all here for me.

Muskets, swords, axes, pistols, spears, every weapon forged for the taking of life is pointed in my direction. From the army of killers, a black-haired man walks forward. From his neck to his face, he's covered in deep scars. His trench coat flaps freely in the wind. Defacing his mouth, a grin. Not the grin of a man, but the grin of a beast with his prey in sight. The grin of a monster that enjoys the kill more than the sustenance it provides. The grin of a tyrant that knows with absolute certainty that he stands above all others.

Father's smile on another's face.

Disgusting.

'Nero XIII, I've heard a lot about you.' Walking towards me, the black-haired man extends his hand for me to take. My eyes linger on his hand before I raise my own and slide it onto the rough of his palm.

'And who might you be?' To my question, the man breaks into laughter.

'The reports were right about you. You're a real tough bastard. I have to say, I'm impressed. I've never seen a bounty rise so fast. You must have pissed someone off proper to warrant the price on your head.'

'I killed a high-born bastard.'

'Yeah, that'll do it, kid. I can't say I blame you, though. I'd love to carve up one of those self-righteous pricks myself. Course, I'd never be dumb enough to try, else I'd end up where you are now. Tell me, kid, why aren't you scared?'

'Will fear change my situation?'

'Can't say it would.'

'Then what use is it to me?' Once again, my words trigger the man's mirth.

'The name's Geo VI. Thought you might want to know the name of the man who kills you.'

'Kills me? You're not going to kill me.'

'Oh? Why'd you say that?'

'Because I still have one card left to play.' Placing my hand around my neck, I slip two rings from beneath my shirt, my spatial ring and the ring embedded with a warp-stone. My treasures exposed, Geo's eyes flash wide. He reaches to grab me, but he's too slow.

With a mental command, I activate the warp-stone.