In the southern forests of No Man's Land, a lone figure ran through the uneven terrain with urgency written into every movement.
His boots struck roots and loose stones as he pushed forward with heavy breaths.
Behind him, a pack of dog-like beasts thundered through the undergrowth, their bodies wreathed in fire that scorched the earth beneath their paws.
Each bark of theirs released smoking flames.
As they leaped, their figures sent sparks of scorch into the air while they closed the distance with relentless hunger.
The figure being chased suddenly twisted his body mid-run and turned to face them, his feet dug into the dirt as he planted himself firmly.
His grip tightened around the hilt of a black, thin blade.
His knuckles whitened as he forced his breathing into a steadier rhythm despite the exhaustion of restless travel clawing at his lungs.
"Sinclair Serpent Blade Art,"
"Second form."
"Coiling Wave."
