I stand before a mountain of bones. It towers over me, blotting out my shadow with its own. Seeping from the gaps of its skeletal frame, black smoke flows around it. Though bereft of all physical means of doing so, the mountain roars, shaking the foundations of the arena.

It beats its cadaverous wings but does not take flight; met with failure after failure, Its movements grow erratic. It claws the stone ground, carving deep gashes into the floor. It shakes its head wildly, spewing fetid smoke from its unfleshed skull. Quaking the ground I stand on, the mountain pounds the stone floor with its tail.

Lifting its head to the ceiling, it cries out once more. Though it speaks no words, for what are words to a creature such as that? I understand the meaning of its roars.

Pain.

Confusion

Rage. So much rage.

This creature…

It can feel; it can think. It knows something is wrong, but it doesn't know why. A shiver runs down my spine as I realise the nature of the beast.

'You are correct in your thinking. That beast is endowed with the essence of a real dragon.' I shift my eyes to the side, glancing at the phantom beside me. Pride emanates from her smile. She looks upon her creation, not seeing the abomination that it is, but rather the product of her genius.

'It was the only way I could ensure the artificial creature would survive long enough to act as a challenge after my demise. A dragon's essence is a powerful tool, I needed a way to power my creation long after my death.'

So, you're just like them after all? I'm disappointed, but not surprised. Classified as a native of the Towers, dragons are intelligent beings. To rip the essence from a living creature and entomb it within a mountain of bones…

Well, what should I expect from a high-born bitch? She speaks of nobility, decorates a monument to her ego with portraits of her heroic deeds, and yet she's incapable of seeing that her own heart is desperately wicked.

Though, who am I to judge? Of this great evil, I am innocent, but I wouldn't hesitate for a second to dive into the depths of depravity if I see in that pit that there are benefits to be had. The difference is, I know what I am; I don't pretend to be any better...

What does it matter?

The banality of nobility's self-righteous malevolence is nothing new to me. Why would I think she would be any different?

Because she's dead?

Because she cried?

"None are righteous, no, not one." Those words remain to be true. So long as I see gains, what does it matter which demon it is that I take them from?

'Champion, prepare yourself. The beast is readying to attack.' Thoughts broken by words, I return my focus to the challenge at hand.

Carving deep grooves into the stone beneath its feet, the dragon dashes towards me. It raises its fleshless claw and detonates the ground I had just been standing on. Dust spreads in the air around its strike. Chunks of rock are launched from below. Running to the side of the tortured creature, I summon three spears of Tension and release them towards the beast.

Striking true, the spears blast the dragon's ribs from its frame. The black smoke inhabiting the beast reaches out and gathers the bones I had destroyed, piecing them back together, the dragon's side is restored. Contorting itself, the beast bends its upper body in my direction. Parting its jaws, it lowers its head and attempts to devour me. I leap to the side, avoiding the snap of pointed teeth. Aligning its body with its head, the pitiful monstrosity pounces towards me. I channel Tension into my legs and jump. Flying over the beast, I manifest three more spears of energy and unleash them at the creatures head. Drilling holes through its cranium, the spears pierce through the skull of the dragon. I land atop the beast, press my hand on its head and blast Tension through my palms. The dragon's skull crumbles beneath my feet. Standing, I flip backwards off of my collapsing platform and land back on the arena's stone floor.

'Very impressive, but it will take much more than that to destroy one of my creations.' Rosa's words ring true as black smoke gushes from the dragon's neck and repair its shattered head.

Moving backwards on its feet, the dragon creates distance between us. Parting its mouth, it breathes a dense, black fog. The fog drifts over the ground, it separates and takes shape. Knitted from darkness, an army of spectres form.

Hovering over the ground, a single spectre flies towards me. Ink-black claws forward, it lurches onwards. I slice my blade through its hand, but its hand remains attached to its wrist. Despite its ghostly form, the weight of its strikes on my sword pushes me backwards. Two more spectres join the battle. On both sides, they flank me. Surging Tension through my body, I react to their attacks with inhuman speeds. Relying on instinct, not sight, my movements blur in a bid to defend myself from the three-pronged attacks.

This isn't working.

No matter where I strike, I do no damage, and yet their attacks grow increasingly more powerful. What's the trick? How do I cut through mist?

I can't.

However…

Beneath my shoulder blades, I channel Tension. Feeling internal pathways vibrate and warm, I continue to surge energy into the patterns carved beneath my skin. My fingers mutate, warping into talons, my feet burst through my shoes as they shift into paws. A sharp pain stabs into my back, I grit my teeth as the wings of a gryphon cut their way through my flesh and tears through my shirt.

The army of spectres stands idle no more. They soar above the ground and rapidly approach. Aided by a beat of my wings, I leap backwards. Far away from the approaching foes, I gather a sphere of Tension above the palm of my mutated hands. The sphere warps and bends, twisting around itself. Changing forms entirely, the sphere shatters, replaced by whirlwinds in the palm of my hands.

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Directing my palms forward, I unleash the storm I had been brewing towards the oncoming threat. The swirling wind grows. From both hands, horizontal tornados consume the army of spectres, dispersing their gaseous form into nothing.

I take to the air, flying over the skeletal dragon. Swiping its claws upwards, it attempts to swat me like an insect. Directing my hands below, I conjure two vortexes against my opponent. The tornados drill into its skull. Tendrils of smoke attempt to piece the shattered fragments back together, but they disperse in the wind of my attack. The creature roars, but only whispers reach my ears. Corruption accumulates in my body; the stain of my Art wrestles with my will to survive.

My will stands firm.

With a roar of my own, I increase the intensity of my attack. Loose stones are drawn by the wind, circulating the twin hurricanes they fly around the arena. Surrendering the creature's head, the black smoke lashes in every direction, gathering as many fragments of bones as needed to rebuild the crumbling body of the skeletal dragon; though valiant in its effort, the smoke fails. Beneath the savage tempest of my Art, each segment of the beast is shredded, leaving only fragments orbiting the powerful storm. With nothing left to contain it, the animating smoke of the beast dissipates in the wind. Smoke rapidly thinning, I maintain my attack until the last of the dragon's essence is dispersed.

'Well done, my champion. Well done.' I lower myself to the ground and fall to my knees. Without needing to cancel my Art, my wings retract into my back, and my fingers and feet return to their human form.

In an ongoing spasm, I cough forcefully into the back of my hand. My blood drips from my hand and lands on the floor, its pit and pat echoes throughout the underground arena.

Squeezing my knees, I curl into a ball. As if a fire had been lit within me, burning torment spreads from my heart, through my veins, and into every part of my body. I hear a voice from behind; it fails to penetrate through my anguish and enter my understanding. I grit my teeth and claw into my knees. Time stretches endlessly on, and I forget all sensations but pain. Darkness tints the sides of my vision, threatening to plunge me into oblivion.

Deep growls burst from my throat as the anguish from the corruption increases. The growls become shouts and the shout become screams.

I couldn't say when, but I had closed my eyes, forcing them open, I see Rosa standing over me, beckoning me to my feet.

'Champion, stand. You'll find a potion for your ailments within my laboratory.'

Gathering my strength, I push myself off the floor. Standing, I hunch over and dye the ground black with my tainted blood.

'You must follow me now! Your condition is worsening.' She's right. In my current state, it's a miracle I'm still conscious. Unless I drink an expulsion potion soon, it will be too late to save me.

Each breath a battle, each step a war, I follow the phantom through another wall of this tomb. We pass into a hallway, reaching the end, I step through a door and enter a laboratory.

Though Rosa's words are muffled, I hear enough to follow her instructions and locate a glass vial resting on a shelf along with bottles and jars filled with different coloured liquids. With trembling hands, I uncork the potion. I lift the glass to my lips; the glass chimes as its lip knocks on my teeth. Stabilising my grip with my other hand, I pour the content of the potion into my mouth.

My anguish retreats and my vision clears. Breathing deeply through my nose, I exhale my breath and return fully to myself.

'Your trials are not yet at an end.' Locating a chair tucked into a desk, I take a seat and rest my head on the table.

'Champion, stand and face your final test.' I ignore her words, close my eyes and rest. Rosa calls out my title behind me, but I omit to respond. Only once I feel recuperated do I lift my head from my arms and turn my attention to the incessantly persistent woman.

'You want me to craft something.'

'Um... Yes, that is correct. Beneath my desk, you'll find an incomplete formula. Complete the equation, and forge two element-stones into one.' Paying the woman no heed, I search her desk, retrieving yellowed notes from the draw. Though fading, the words and diagrams on the pages remain legible. I pour over her research, examining every letter, each word, every rune scrawled in ink.

Whatever else that can be said of this woman, she is brilliant. Her insights into forging go far beyond all but Father. Though her formula is incomplete, over the hours I spend hunched over her work, I begin to understand its meaning. I see patterns emerge, though my head aches from my sustained focus, I deduce the formula's completion.

Standing to my feet, I walk towards a counter in the centre of the lab. Taking chalk from a metal tray on the side of the workbench, I scrawl the formula into the transmission circle bound to the Omni-forge on the table.

Unlatching a hand-sized, jewel-encrusted, golden chest, I retrieve two stones, One black, the other a pale-brown. I place both stones into the circle, retrieve a match from its box, light the flame and bring my hand towards the coal within the Omni-forge.

'I should warn you. The fusion of element stones is not a riskless endeavour. If you have failed to correct my formula, the fusion will fail. The experiment will detonate, and I assure you, you will not survive the resulting explosion.'

'So be it.' Without hesitation, I ignite the coal and seal the forge. Radiating a blue light, the runes circumferencing the inner rings of the transmission circle begins to glow. The stones float above the counter, they orbit around each other. With every rotation, their orbit tightens until they are so close to each other that they begin to clash. With a flash of light, the two become one. It drops from the air; I catch it before it hits the counter.

I examine the stone in my hand. Attuning my senses, I feel the energy radiating from its core. Dyed plain white, the spherical gem isn't much to look at. If I could not feel the power within, I would, no doubt, mistake it for a pebble. However, its power is felt; I feel it seeping through my skin, spreading through my blood, and permeating my bones.

'This is incredible.'

'Yes, and it will act as the catalyst for your conversion. Champion, you have proven yourself worthy to inherit my power. I will now imbue you with the activating Art.'

Reaching her hand forward, Rosa places a finger on my forehead. From my shoulders to my hips, two rings of translucent energy form diagonally around me. They spin wildly around me. With each rotation, they transition more and more from colourless to white. Solidifying, the very nature of the rings evolve. No longer translucent, the two rings appear to be composed of bone. Drained of its power, the stone crumbles. Like sand slipping from my grip, its remains pour from my fist, dusting the floor beneath.

'My task is complete. You have inherited my greatest technique.' With a smile on her face, Rosa's form begins to fade. Fainter and fainter she becomes until vanishing completely.

One less hypocrite in the world, may your memory be forgotten and your Clan utterly destroyed.

As if reacting to my curse, the ground begins to rumble. Rocks fall from the ceiling, crashing into the equipment around the laboratory. The quaking intensifies. Bolting through the exit of the lab, I run into a vast hallway. Impeding my path, skeleton soldiers wander the hall. Their black smoke eyes linger for a moment before they charge. Time running short, I run towards the approaching foes.

In a desperate flurry of attacks, I cut down my enemies while the world collapses around me. Narrowly, I avoid being crush by the rocks falling from above. Sustaining minor wounds, I progress down the passage and make my way to a room at the end.

Suspended horizontally on a wall, a scroll. I sprint to my prize. Without thought, without question, I tear the scroll in half, distorting the space before me. As the ceiling falls, determined to crush me, I run into the distortion.

Fresh air greets my lungs, I savour its refreshing scent…

This scent…

Blood.

In a thousand lifetimes, I could never forget its stench.

My eyes adjust to my new surroundings.

Fire; and death; and war.

A cacophony of screaming reaches my ears. Entangled in battle, two armies, one of men...

The other of beasts.