After much searching, they finally locate the rebels’ base. Standing before what looks like half of a gray, metal-covered sphere, Beatrice crosses her arms.

  The door sits at the center of the structure, directly facing her. Unlike the rest of the base, its metal looks flimsy, like it might blow away in a light gust of wind. Yet despite this, its surface is covered in hundreds, if not thousands, of deep scorch marks, scratches, dents, and other signs of heavy damage

  ‘Boom!’ ‘Boom!’ ‘Bang!’

  Even as the last strands of asura are cut down by one of her soldiers, quickly eradicating the final traces of its defenses, the door still holds strong. At this, the undead can’t help but feel a brief sense of admiration for the intricate patterns.

  ‘What an impressive design,’ Beatrice thinks. ‘To think these rebels still have someone this talented left.’

  Turning toward one of her subordinates, the Essevian gestures at the door.

  “Has everything been secured?” she asks.

  The soldier simply nods, his head slightly lowered.

  “Yes, General,” he replies curtly. “The area is secured enough to break through.”

  Letting out a sigh of relief, Beatrice simply pinches the bridge of her nose.

  ‘I know I’m rushing things a bit, but it can’t be help,’ The undead thought. ‘If what I suspects is true then I need to stop them as fast as possible.’

  With the go-ahead, Beatrice begins to turn toward the others—those in charge of breaching the door—but stops when something flashes across the soldier’s face.

  “What is it?” she asks, even as she signals the others to begin the explosion prep.

  The man hesitates, then slowly shakes his head before speaking.

  “Nothing, General,” the Essevian answers. “Just that… was it really necessary to do that to the rookie?”

  Beatrice gives him a brief glance. “This is war, Lieutenant. Everyone should be aware of the risk.”

  “But…” the man begins, then pauses.

  He opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally nodding.

  “Right,” he says quietly, looking away. “Of course.”

  Narrowing her eyes slightly, Beatrice presses her lips together, briefly entertaining the thought of disposing of the man.

  Before the conversation can continue, a strange-colored mist begins to seep out from the metal door.

  Most of the other Essevians continue as usual—seemingly, or perhaps more accurately, unable to see or sense the strange asura.

  “Everyone!” Beatrice yells. “Get out of here!”

  ‘BANG!’

  The door suddenly bursts open, releasing waves of thick asura. Several varieties swirl together, unevenly mixed, with no clear pattern or string. The sheer force and sensation radiating from the asura make Beatrice’s head spin.

  From the corner of her eye, the Essevian sees some of her own troops buckle under the pressure.

  ‘What are they even doing inside?!’ The Essevian thought.

  As she wipes away some of the blood trickling from her nose, Beatrice bites down on her lip from the pain.

  “Anchor yourselves!” the undead yells, straining against the invisible force. “Anyone who can’t withstand it, retract your tentacles and get to higher ground!”

  Thinking fast, Beatrice drives her tentacles into the ground just as the wave hits her.

  Closing her eyes, she braces for impact—like a thousand blades piercing her body—as the asura crashes over her.

  Barely clinging to the earth with her tentacles, Beatrice forces herself upward, rising above the flood.

  She gasps, struggling to ignore the sensation of her brain being torn apart as she tries to process the chaotic flow of asura around her.

  “Aghhhhh!” someone screams nearby. “Help!”

  Before she can turn, the scream abruptly cuts off. Beatrice stares at the spot where bubbles rise from the wave of asura, then promptly turns to the rest of her soldiers.

  Most have avoided the worst of it, perched atop trees. Others—like her and a few more mentally sturdy Essevians—are doing their best to stay afloat above the churning asura.

  Turning to the Essevians still caught in the current, Beatrice closes her eyes again, trying to center herself through the pain.

  ‘Looks like these Essevians are all I can take,’ Beatrice thinks.

  Seeing how overwhelming the asura surge is, the undead seriously doubts whether she should call down the ones still in the trees. Who knows if they could handle the mental strain?

  “A handful of us down here will go in,” Beatrice commands, then looks up at the Essevians above. “The rest of you; provide support if needed.”

  With that, she turns back toward the base. Retracting some of her tentacles, Beatrice launches a few at the metal, sphere-like structure ahead.

  ‘Pak!’ ‘Pak!’ ‘Pak!’ ‘Pak!’

  Her tentacles sink deep into the metal, much more easily now, with most of the asura strands thrown into disarray.

  With a snap, Beatrice uses them to reel herself in.

  Now at the entrance, she gestures for some of the nearby Essevians to go in first, then follows after.

  The moment she enters, the first thing Beatrice notices is the almost claustrophobic narrowness of the tunnel.

  Looking around uncomfortably, the undead hunches her shoulders, trying not to brush against the walls.

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  Focusing forward, she does her best to ignore the tight space and concentrate on the asura instead.

  The farther they descend, the more the air begins to condense around them.

  “The asura here is a mess,” one of her soldiers mutters. “There’s too much of it in too little space.”

  Biting her lip, Beatrice frowns.

  ‘It hasn’t started already, right?’ the undead thought.

  As if to answer her, the tunnel suddenly becomes so dense with asura that it’s hard to move.

  “Ack!” one of her soldiers cries out, slumping to the ground as his legs give out.

  The others aren’t faring much better, many are crouched or half-collapsed under the weight of the pressure.

  Glancing farther down the tunnel, Beatrice spots what looks like several blasts of energy headed their way.

  Biting her lip again, she narrows her eyes. Slowly, she closes them, beginning to channel the surrounding asura.

  Many of the strands respond immediately, thanks to the asura organ she gained from the cobra.

  With practiced precision, she weaves the chaotic asura into a pattern: stacks, organized and tightly enclosed layered like crates.

  Opening her eyes, she thrusts out a hand.

  Several earthen walls spring up farther down the tunnel. They’re not as strong or spectacular as Travis’s creations, but they look solid enough to hold back the blast.

  ‘Bam!’

  The blast slams into the earth wall, causing it to partially crumble. Blood immediately spurts from Beatrice’s mouth.

  She wipes it away, along with the sweat from her forehead.

  It seems her body still hasn’t fully adjusted to—or absorbed—the cobra’s power.

  “Everyone,” Beatrice begins, coldly staring at the path ahead. “We—”

  Before she can finish, the asura around them suddenly shifts, feeling strange again. Just as she opens her mouth, something constrictive coils around her ankles.

  Glancing down, Beatrice sees clumps of asura winding tightly around her legs. Every blinding color swirls together, sometimes pushing, swallowing one another whole. Despite their unstable forms and mixed types, they still manage to hold a shape.

  Before she can react, a sudden, violent tug yanks her forward.

  Dragged like a rag doll, more tendrils of asura wrap around her, making it harder to move.

  She struggles against them, trying to break free—but each time she tears one away, more rise to replace it.

  As her resistance continues, the speed of her movement increases. The wind lashes her face, blurring her vision.

  ‘Great,’ the Essevian thinks, briefly glancing at her missing arm. ‘If only I still had both arms.’

  The stump has already closed, and small stubs are beginning to grow back.

  “General!” one of her soldiers shouts, their figure shrinking in the distance as she’s dragged farther and farther away.

  After what feels like an eternity of being dragged along, Beatrice sees a light at the end of the suffocating tunnel.

  ‘WHIRRRRR!’

  The atmosphere suddenly grows denser, making it hard to even blink.

  Emerging from the tunnel, Beatrice enters a wide chamber lined with metal-covered walls.

  In the center stands a massive, oval-shaped device mounted on a metal platform, with wires and tubes snaking into it from all directions.

  Hovering just above the machine is a large mass of asura—every variety clumped together into one unstable core.

  Biolights flicker along the device’s surface, blinking in and out. Sparks begin to fly as some of the metal plating peels away, exposing the machinery beneath.

  ‘WHIRRRRR!’

  More of the asura in the surroundings begin to mass above the machine, making the atmosphere even denser. Some of the bones in Beatrice’s fingers begin to crack from the force.

  From the corner of her eye, the Essevian sees someone get sucked into the swirling mass.

  “Ahhhhhhh!” the person lets out a bloody shriek.

  The man’s limbs are ruthlessly torn apart, shredded like string cheese. Blood from his body spirals into the intimidating mass of asura.

  Biting her lip at the sight, Beatrice feels her nonexistent core race.

  ‘Damn,’ The Esseivan thought. ‘Forget bringing the rebels back, I’d be lucky to get out of here unscathed.’

  With most of her remaining strength, Beatrice launches several tentacles from the crushing grip of the asura coiling around her body.

  ‘Puak!’ ‘Puak!’ ‘Puak!’

  The tentacles dig into the metal walls and floor, some breaking or crushing them in the process. Electrifying pain shoots down her spine.

  With the tentacles serving as anchorage, the force dragging her forward suddenly halts, causing some of her bones to slam together.

  Biting her lip through the pain, Beatrice pushes one of her remaining arms through the tear the tentacles made. With her free limb, she grips the nearest crack in the floor.

  As she begins to turn onto her belly, she sees someone directly behind her—a familiar figure with a large, staff-like scepter held tightly in both hands, embedded deep in the ground. Dark blue asura flows from it, chilling the air around them.

  This blond-haired woman is none other than the known remaining leader of the more powerful group of rebels that Beatrice had personally been tasked to hunt down by the Lord.

  “Damn it,” the familiar blond woman curses. “Why can’t luck just smile upon us for once?”

  “Penny?” Beatrice shouts.

  At her cry, the blond woman simply glares at her.

  “Oh, this is just getting better,” Penny mutters under her breath, tightening her grip on her staff. “Why does a general have to be here? Might as well have the Lord come down.”

  “Excuse me,” Beatrice begins in her usual flat voice, “is that our biggest concern?”

  As if to reinforce her point, the air around her suddenly tightens. The pull on her body worsens, causing some of her tentacles to lose their grip.

  Chewing on her bottom lip, Beatrice quickly readjusts her position with one hand. Successfully freeing one leg, the Essevian begins to push herself forward.

  “I knew you were stupid, but I didn’t think you were this stupid!” Beatrice yells over the chaos. “Building a time machine?! What were you thinking?”

  “What about you?!” Penny yells back, some of her words swallowed by the whirling wind. “Aren’t you supposed to be the cautious one?! Why did you think it was a good idea to jump in here?!”

  Staring at the blond woman with a flat look, Beatrice slightly tilts her head. “Well, what’s the use of being cautious when there’s a spell that could wipe us all out if it activates wrong?”

  Time travel and all that nonsense? Not possible. Sure, theoretically, one could achieve it under certain conditions, but those were so difficult to reach that it might as well be a fairy tale. What was possible, however, was the destruction of their world.

  As Penny opens her mouth—maybe to argue—she suddenly turns back to the machine behind Beatrice.

  “We need to shut it down,” the woman says. “If it keeps going…”

  Penny lets her words trail off. Even without her finishing, Beatrice understands.

  “Is there some kind of shutdown button?” Beatrice asks, gritting her teeth as she pushes herself up, trying to give herself more space between her and the contraption. “Or some kind of weakness I should know about?”

  Penny remains silent, her gaze dropping to the ground with a sigh.

  “Not that I know of,” she admits. “…There was a lot of technical stuff.”

  Staring at Penny with a deadpan expression, Beatrice’s left eye twitches uncontrollably.

  ‘WHIIIIIRRRRR!’

  The force from the contraption suddenly yanks hard on her body.

  ‘Kiek!’ ‘Kiek!’ ‘Kiek!’ ‘Kiek!’

  All of Beatrice’s tentacles release their grip from the force. Everything suddenly freezes in place for the Essevian.

  Before she can react, the undead feels her body being violently yanked backward.

  ‘Ziekkkkk!’

  Electrifying pain floods her body, frying every nerve. White spots begin to appear in her vision as she struggles to keep her eyes open.

  The last thing Beatrice sees before everything goes black is a flash of light.

  ‘Boom!’

  With that, her consciousness quickly slips away.