Taylor sat silently on her bed in the psychiatric ward. Apparently, having a complete mental breakdown made people wonder if you were mentally stable. Taylor honestly couldn't argue, though, because she remembered very little between waking up and being in the room she'd found herself in.

Taylor lay her hand on her chest. Much to her relief, it was still intact, as it had been when she'd woken up.

Per her memories, it shouldn't have been.

Perhaps she had gone crazy, and the horrific place she'd seen had been nothing more than a nightmare conjured by her mind in the aftermath of the locker.

… She didn't think so, but it was a possibility.

In the same manner, the constantly increasing sense of danger she felt around her could be nothing more than her imagination. And perhaps the symbol that had been carved into her flesh; a symbol no one else could see, of a burning torch surrounded by fog, could be equally imaginary.

Something only she could see? Practically the definition of a hallucination.

Perhaps if it hadn't hurt so much when she'd touched it, she would believe that. Instead, she could feel the mark trying to drag her back, just gently enough she was sure that she'd be able to resist… up until she couldn't. Because while it was nowhere near as prevalent as the overwhelming sense of danger she felt, both were growing at a steady rate.

When she'd first woken up, the mark's drag had been so small she hadn't noticed it. But if it kept growing, she might be forced to return to that – nightmare.

And then there was the sense of danger. Another thing which could just be her going crazy. If she hadn't remembered the note she'd found in her jacket's pocket, a jacket she was somehow still wearing, that no one else seemed to bat an eyelid at. The note had explicitly said things would hunt her if she didn't perform her 'duty', and the sense of danger was growing… almost as if whatever was hunting her was getting closer.

She didn't want to take the risk.

Which meant she'd have to return to the nightmare.

In the nightmare, she'd survived having her chest torn to shreds and her organs ripped out by that... husk of a torso, and the torch, with its incredible regenerative powers, had been somewhere there as well.

The last thing she'd felt hunting her had been a gauntlet which dissolved things on contact.

Taylor didn't want to have to test whether she'd survive being killed outside of the nightmare.

She felt her hand rest along the imaginary marks where the husk had dug into her flesh, and flinched. After that, the locker felt… well, not small, not by any means. But… less big than it had been.

If she had to choose between getting ripped to shreds again or being locked back in the locker? She'd probably choose being ripped to shreds – but it was close. Still, somehow having another, almost equally traumatic thing happened to her had mellowed it out somewhat. Now, instead of being horrified and grossed out from the disgusting thing she'd been trapped in with, she was just horrified in general.

She felt like she was about to break down into another fit of crying and screaming, just to try to vent, and get some of the horror out of her system. The impending sense of danger, crawling towards her didn't help.

Perhaps the psychiatric ward was the right place for her, after all.

She still hadn't seen her dad, but that was apparently because they needed to assess how mentally sound she was, and the fact that she might pose a risk to others. Something didn't feel right about that, but considering the gashes she'd apparently left in the arms of the doctor who'd been brave enough to sedate her she was willing to accept their precautions.

… She wanted a hug, or even just a friendly face to talk to. Just something to do to distract her. Instead, she sat silently with no comfort, forced to try to process all of the horrible things that had happened to her, from the locker, to her agonising run, to her maiming, and to her DEATH.

Taylor shivered again, clutching her hand where the torch symbol had been engraved into her flesh. It was aching. It wanted to take her back. She didn't want to go.

She briefly considered cutting off her hand, but dismissed that. Partially because she logically knew it wouldn't stop the… things, from coming for her. Mainly because of how impractical the removal of a limb would be while in a ward specifically for people who weren't of sound mind.

Taylor began to hear a faint noise, and looked around in confusion.

Nothing she could immediately see, but it sounded like bells were ringing. It was very faint, but it was there.

Another surge of pain radiated from her engraving, and she clutched her hand harder; her nails beginning to dig into her flesh, her eyes scrunched shut and her breathing unsteady.

The bells began to toll louder and louder. And image began to form in her mind, of a clock face from a clock tower laying shattered on the ground, in a sea of broken buildings.

A familiar group of broken buildings, with three passageways she recognised and a strange purplish fungus.

Taylor's eyes shot open wide, and she began to forcefully distance herself from the tug on her hand. It worked… slightly.

The bells were becoming deafening. She might have started to scream, but she wasn't sure.

The bells filled her ear, playing a simple, familiar melody that she'd once found calming.

Instead, it sent her spiralling into a further panic.

No… she didn't want to go back there. She wanted to stay, and keep going through her shitty life – scraping through the hell that was high school, and… doing whatever came after that. She didn't want to have to go back to that nightmare.

Why. WHY WAS TH̸̸I̧͟͝S͝ ̴̡̨͟H̡͏A̷̡̨P͏̷̕͝P͏̕͜͡E̵͟͠N҉̶̵͢͡I̶͏̀͠Ń͜͜͝҉G̷̷̛̀́!?

Ṱ̴̜̻̬̘h̦e̵̤̟͙̬̹͕̻ ͜t̨̯͉h̥̟i̯̞͚̫͖ṉ̩̲̜͢g̹͎̫s̥̠͙̲ ͢c̮̯̲͙͠ͅh̷̯͉̺a͕̗͜s̼͕͚̘̞̠i̯̩̞n̺̬͖̳͕̜͡g̺̘̙̜ ̢̗͈͇̬͎̯̺h̦̰̼̪̙́e̺͕̬ŕͅ ̙̦ha̟͚̲̞͕͇̘d͈̰̮̹̗ͅ ̵̠ca̛̖̳̣̭̺̟p̲̰͜i̢̗̠̹̩̠t̤aļ̯i̬̞̰̲̗ze̵̤d̫̙̱̜̝̱͟ ̜̗͙͇͈ò̺̻̰͉ͅń͇͖̠̠̮ ̵͕h̢̳͔̰e̸̪̖̱̤͍̱r̯͈̳͎͕̠͙ ̣͍͚d̬͔͈ͅi̪̫ͅͅst͙͕̱͝r͔a͚͖̦̤͍̳̫c͞t͠i͓̼͡o̮̜̮͙ń.̩̼͕̳̫̠ ͖̀T̢h̶e̜̰̲̭̤͇y̴͈͎̹̩ ̨̺͍̲͔ͅw̻̪̺̯eŕ͍͎̣̞͍̦ͅe̴̤͇̱͕̟ͅ ҉̹ͅn̶̫̥͙̬̯̥o̱ ͏͓̼̬̭͚l͓̯͉͙̝̩ͅọ̳̝̞n̥̘̯͟g͏̙͍̰͎̼e̢̦̟̳͔̹̜̝r̹̲̞̞̹̮͘ͅ ̵̳d͚͍͚̩͔̰͖i̼̠͈̖͉ś̘̬̖t̶̙̣̤̩a̤̹̹̤̙n͉̯̝̲t̥͎̤ ͎̤̗͚f̡̪i̧̭g͔̤̜̹̣͚͖u̧̝͉̬̻͖r̼͕̫̼͡ͅe̷͙̟̯s̳̜͔.͉̹̜̺̰̙̀ S̴̻͙̗̟̖̭̗he҉ͅ ͓̼̦͉̫̤c̰͞o̲͕͇̹u͉̯̥͘l̹̼͞ḍ̦ ̷͕̯̲̰fee̡̜l̻̰͇̳͉̘̫͞ t̵͎̯̠͖̜͈he̖̻ͅm͏̩,̞͍̦͕̗̟̠ ̫o̡̼h̴͉̙̣̘͕͍̺ ̦̲̳̣̼͙̣s̰̫͖͉̰͝o͏̳͕̬̺̯͚ ̮̩̹c̛̫̪̯͉̤͖̩l̞͔̹̣͇̯os̗̬͉e ̲t͉̦o ̭̯̳ẖ̘̬ḛ̹̞̯͔r͇̱͕̻͇͙ ̵͓-̘͎̦̻͚̤̭͜ ̭T̵͇͍̲̥͇̣ͅO͡Ơ̫͙̪̱ c͞lͅo̴͖̩̭s̜͔͘e̜̤̲̱͙̫̭͜!͎͎͝ ̦̮͎̱T͖̞̠he̪̟̞̟̥̖̲y̻͈̻̱̯͚̩ ̨̘̮̘͎ḙ̬r̯̞͚͕͞eͅ ̭̞̘͔p̱̟͉̝̫͈͟r̛͈͈̜a̩̫c̨̫͖̰t̳͇̗̪͍͞i̫̹̱c̼a̗̕l͉̩͚̣͙y̥͔̥̭̪ ͡i̛̱̪͈n̻̖̭̹ ͈͖͝t̗͇͖͇̯̯͚̕h҉̩̱̺̯̘ͅe͈͟ ̪̭̙̟ͅr͚͖̬ͅo̜͔̝͎o͇̤͞m̬̫̬̫!̻̪̙͙̝͡ ̷͖̗͚͇̼̝I͟f̫̳̠͎͇͘ ̥̜̫̘͢s̫͕̻h̡͕͖͙̩̘̠̜e͙͈ w̷̱͇̣̘͕̙a̡̞i̩̭ț̩e̳̩̹̩̦̻d͜ ͢a͕̻̜̜̝̘̘n̹͇̠̘̯̩͘y̵̥̥͔̥̮͈ ̦̘͙̟̺͟l͏͉̙̞̘̼͎̥o҉n̬̙̘g̹̩̟̮̘̭͔͘ ̬̤̠̳͜s͈̕h̛̘͖̦e̠̖͓̖̳ ̼̥̪w͓̝͔̟͎͇͍͜a̵s͔ͅ ͎̘̰͔̪̙s͕̰̝̮̼u̧̜rę̣̰̝ ̦̟̩͡ͅt͈h҉e̙͔y̝̙͉̹͚̪ ͉w̷̺̟̖̜o͏̼͖͎̣ṷ̢͖͉̣̳̻̭l̤̱͕̕d̴̗̺͓ ̬̠̹̦̤̥͞ͅg̪̖̝̯̱e̹͈̣̭͚̬t̴̘ ̟̳̘̪̹͓̜h̥̮͍̥̯ͅe̮̞̰̼̯͠r̻̹̤̲͈̝,̦ ̱a̰̱̖ͅņ̣̟d͎̲̤̦̳ ̲͎͓̩̻͇s͚̟h̸̪͚̖͚̳̖e̯̞̖̺ ̡̳͙h̰̟͘a̼̼͚̹d̯͓ ͕̗̭͈͕͜n͖͇͍̳̦̮̠o̹͙̱̤̙͕ͅ ̠͍̠̣͙͘ͅi̷̠̦̗̦d̯̹͇̯̟̫e̗͓͎̬͜a͚͎̝ ̱w̯͇͖h̜͍̪͍̪͍̼a͞t̗͔̮̻̯ ̩͉͉͓͔̙͎͞f̩̖̫̝͇͙́òr̘̺̪͈͘m͚̤̼͈ t̴͖̩̖he̲͔y̯͇̦̙̙̕ ̩̞̩͔̕w̠͝o͓͚̠͖̰u̖l͏̖͍̪̲d͓̗͔̟̼ ͎͈̰̝̠͙͡t̪̮a̪̣͚k̵̮̬͕͈e҉̭͖̲͍̭͈ ̤̩̜̘͙-͙̦͖̘ ̼̠̗̘́ͅt҉̗̱̖͚̰̦͎he̥ ̯̭͇͎̯̭f̨̱̼̳̳͚̮̼a͍̼̥̹͚̞c͓̭̩ṯ͕̘̗ ̠̘͓̙͠s͙͕͍̭̲͚h̰̹̮͚͍̦̹e̫̣'d̶̰̬̲͇̹ ̴͍ș̜͍̩̥͚̬́o̝̻̳̩m̨̬̯e͔̺̝̩̦h͉̬̟͇͚̙o̱̤̦w̢͎̱͕̠͕ ̪͓̱̝́s̨̥̠̪̙̹͕u͈̻͚r̪̬̩̟̭̪v̮̥̲̼̦͈͝i̤̥͔̘v̩̯̣̱̬͉̕ͅḛ̛͚͙͍d͉͕̩͇͡ ̣̀t͈͎̀h̝̼̭̝̬̠e̻̠̲̥ ̝̹f̱̬i̧͉̹r̰̕s̬͉̻̬͇͕t̵͉͇̘̳̩ ̩̯̀ẃ̘a̺s̫̜̘̞̘̹̹ ͍̭̹͚̪̻͞a̤̖͚̼͉ͅ ̻̠̗͘m͍̞͇i̴̻r͓͘a͈͈͍̥c͈l̼͉͍̣̻̦̠͟e̷̠̟̬͈̠̲ͅ!̶̮̳

There was a dull silence, cutting off all the pain, and one, final, bell toll finishing the simple melody she had constructed. Taylor's breath stopped. The silence continued for a moment as she lay motionless, afraid even moving might invite the unknown. Whatever was hunting her was nearby.

She heard something move – but she hadn't heard anyone enter her room… so it had to be present.

She felt a firm tug on her midsection, as finally, without any other options, she let herself be pulled back into the nightmare.

There was a surge of sudden darkness, and an enormous pressure began to weight down on her back. Taylor struggled to a stand, and the feelings faded, light slowly filtering in and revealing her surroundings.

She bit back a sob, and forced the fear from her mind, focusing solely on the calming warmth radiating from her hand. It was fading rapidly, but she used it to steady herself, as much as she could.

Crying wasn't going to accomplish anything. She was stuck here. Last time, she had died… but now she knew the corpse wasn't a corpse, so she would avoid it, and try out one of the other routes.

If that didn't work, she'd try to find a weapon of some kind, and see if it could be hurt, or properly killed.

Perhaps she would've felt bad about thinking that, but the thing had torn her to shreds and was an abomination against nature.

Taylor breathed out, and thought about the routes she could take.

She decided to start with what she thought was the dead end; either she'd be proven wrong, or she'd be finished very quickly.

Sadly, her first impression was… mostly accurate. She could see where the pathway would link up to other things, had it not been mostly collapsed. The only intact part contained an incredibly whole gate. A locked gate. One that looked too spiky to climb over, and a quick test of its strength ensured her that the gate wouldn't be breaking any time soon.

Taylor could see a very unusual keyhole, but she had no key, so it was irrelevant. Still, she made a mental note that if she found any 'L' shaped keys, they were probably for the gate… would it still be breaking and entering?

She forced that out of her mind, deciding she didn't care. Either it would be irrelevant, or she'd get to it if she found the correct key. Either way, a place as rundown and horrifically tainted as the one she was in wouldn't have any form of law enforcement. As far as she was aware, it didn't have any inhabitants at all; literally nothing had so much as shifted since her last visit.

Taylor once again forcefully repressed her last memories of the place, instead walking back to where she'd started, and trying to decide where to go from there.

There was another main road, the one with the living torso, and the hole in the side of a building.

She'd originally wanted to avoid going there as much as possible… but if corpses were a thing she'd have to encounter, getting used to them might be a good idea.

Taylor considered the fact, weighing her options, before deciding against it for the moment. She didn't feel quite ready for that yet… and for all she knew that body could be alive as well. The last thing she wanted to do was wake up some gigantic werewolf-minotaur hybrid thing.

Though it did seem to be holding something that looked somewhat sharp. Which meant either it would be very dangerous… something she'd find out when it stabbed her, or it had something that could serve as an impromptu weapon if she needed it. Hopefully. She couldn't tell much about the object, and she didn't want to get any closer unless she had to, not just because of the body.

It was less 'holding' the object, after all, and more 'had it impaled through its stomach'. She supposed that was just another reason for her to not go that route. It would be… messy, getting that separated from the body.

She didn't think she'd be able to… even if she might be able to leverage it free despite her lack of strength, tearing a weapon from a dead monstrosity was something her sanity couldn't handle just yet. She was barely handling being forced to exist in the place. It was strenuous, and she had no doubt her brief control over her emotions would be astoundingly easy to break.

The moment she felt truly safe, something she would never feel in the nightmarish town, she'd probably have another break down.

Was it bad that she was missing the psychiatric ward? It was warm in there… and safe.

It was less lonely, too. At least she knew there were people nearby.

Taylor shook her head and focused on the present.

Always on the present… that was where she had to be. She had to just keep moving.

She couldn't go back the way she'd first gone, on the far left of the… market, she decided to call it. The torso would seriously wound or kill her again; it was some kind of killing machine and had cut straight through her, while she was unarmed, scared, inexperienced at fighting and actually afraid of being injured.

Taylor bit into her cheek until she felt blood, forcing herself to ignore that.

If she had to go that way, she'd have to take a weapon or she'd stand no chance. Even just one of the loose bricks would do; it hadn't been moving when she'd first seen it, so if it was stationary she could try to bludgeon it to death. Or if she felt up to it, she could… retrieve whatever the were-taur thing had.

She needed to think of a name for it, if she encountered anything else like it. For the moment, however, she didn't care.

That path wasn't viable for the moment, so she took her final option; what once might have been a major pathway, which was now barely wide enough for her due to the collapsed buildings and the growing, pulsating fungus. Thankfully, she was able to walk through with relatively little manoeuvring.

Unfortunately, as she was walking she accidentally bumped a piece of rubble with her foot.

It barely shifted; not surprising given the sheer weight of larger pieces of rubble that rested atop it. She couldn't even tell what it was rubble of, and not just due to the darkness; it was basically just plain stone.

But considering how precariously that rubble was balanced, even the minor shift was noteworthy.

After all, the rocks were still rippling. Slowly, but with a concerning noise.

Taylor began making her way back out of the path as quickly as she could. That was the wrong decision. The moment she turned around, she was faced with a steadily advancing wall of rock, which was the origin of the noise.

There was no way rocks could naturally move like that. It was literally forming a moving wall.

A very fast moving wall, forcibly shifting rocks aside or grinding them underfoot.

Taylor didn't have a chance to finish turning back around.

She felt her back leg be ground up first, torn to shreds beneath the sharp rocks.

When she stopped screaming, she was glad she had died only having experienced losing her leg that way.

Taylor took a shuddering breath as her eyes snapped open.

Much to her horror, she was still in the nightmare.

She'd remembered, slightly, waking up screaming and then having something jabbed into her shoulder.

It must've been a tranquiliser, because between then and now was a blank for her. The only thing she remembered was the same burning feeling in her palm she'd felt the last time her mark had dragged her back into the hellish other world.

But that didn't matter what mattered was she was stuck again, and had to try to get out, and it seemed death was her only way back to the normal world. And while that had sent her to safety twice, she still didn't want to bet her life on it. It might not work if she killed herself… it might stop working in general, so she couldn't rely on that.

Even if she was internally certain that death was meaningless, she planned to be as careful as she could.

If she'd thought having her chest torn open, having her leg… and body, ground to dust, was worse.

She mentally shoved the thoughts aside. No, she had to keep moving, so she considered her options.

The second path wasn't collapsed. That caught her off guard, and surprised her. But that didn't matter, because she'd set it off so easily the previous time; she could only assume it would be set off just as easily the second, and there was no way she would make it all the way through without bumping something.

Likewise, she wasn't going through a solid metal gate any time soon.

So her options were a pathway which she knew lead to a hideous corpse-monster, which she'd established as very lethal, quick, and strong despite its stature, or a ruined building with a literal corpse hanging through the only entrance.

Taylor felt a wave of revulsion run through her, and supressed the urge to vomit.

She decided to go towards the house. Not to enter it, though… the corpse still had something in it that looked a lot like a weapon. There was no way for her to get into the building without literally walking on the corpse, due to its sheer size, and she refused to do that. But… pulling something sharp out of its body… she might be up for it.

And considering she was planning to use said sharp thing to kill another corpse, the dead – she would have to get used to seeing them. She was sure of that. Despite how horrifying it was, the only pathways out of the hellish market contained a death trap, a locked door, a monster, or a corpse.

She would have to toughen up sooner or later. And the sooner she toughened up, the sooner she'd be able to not die in a horrific fashion.

Despite her mental resolution, her breathing, and her legs, still shook as Taylor slowly made her way towards the partially collapsed wall into one of the buildings. Officially the last route for her to see. Whether she decided to go in or not, she would have to commit to one path or the other eventually.

So far… death was the only thing that let her leave. But she also felt, deep down, that if she accomplished the mission that had been given to the Taylor Hebert native to that world? She would be free.

She had literally nothing to trust in, if not her instincts. So far whenever she'd been sure about something to do with the nightmare… she'd been right. Even if she had no way to prove she was.

She took a moment to look over herself. All of her wounds were once again healed, and her jacket was once more in pristine condition.

Taylor thought for a moment. She knew the torch was the source of that mending, but… did that make her a cape? She was regularly travelling to another dimension, albeit against her will, and she was literally coming back from the dead in pristine condition.

If that was her power, she had the shittiest power ever. Not in terms of usefulness, but rather because she didn't want to use that, and never wanted to have to visit the hell-scape again.

Though when she thought about it, there were apparently a lot of capes in similar situations. A few notable Case-53's sprung to mind, people whose powers had warped them, taken all of their memories, and usually taken any chance of a normal life.

Maybe that's what her power was doing.

If it meant forgetting the horrific wounds she'd been experiencing, Taylor would probably have to consider accepting said amnesia.

It wasn't like she had many positive memories anyway. Her life was shit, she had no friends, her dad was broke and constantly at work, she was tormented by someone she'd once thought of as a sister, and she'd accidentally killed her own mother.

Taylor snapped herself from her thoughts, and looked down as she finally came within arm's reach of the body.

It hadn't been far away… she'd been walking rather hesitantly.

Up close, the corpse was even worse.

The first thing to hit her was the smell. If she'd thought the rotten, decaying flesh had been bad from a distance, that was a drop to an ocean when compared to how bad it was up close.

Then there was the fact that the pulsing fungus was what was decaying the corpse, rather than maggots or flies.

It was incredibly creepy and sickening, but Taylor wasn't sure if she'd find maggots any less so.

The final horrors came from the fact that the mino-wolf wasn't entirely whole. Multiple chunks of its body were missing, and in other parts the skin – and fur – had been torn clean off.

Taylor almost threw up again, but barely stopped herself. Instead, she forced herself to tunnel vision on the weapon impaled into the creature's chest.

Up close, she could tell with even more certainty that it was a weapon. A fairly well made one, from what little she could both see and knew of weapons, but it was a weapon nonetheless, and with it, she might just be able to fight off the torso monster.

She reached down, and gripped it.

The handle was covered in blood, and protruded from the side of the body. The blade stuck out towards her. It would be hard to pull it free without having to turn the body.

Especially considering how much blood coated both the handle and the blade. It was rather impressive, considering the blade was only about a foot long. She hadn't realised you could literally stain metal with blood.

But despite its appearance, it was a comforting feeling in her hand. She felt far less vulnerable, far less exposed… even if she had no idea how to use it.

She applied a bit of force, and much to her surprise, the knife came free without any resistance. The beast must've been cut quite thoroughly for it to slide out so easily.

The moment it was free of the body, she stood back up and turned around.

Ignoring the rather horrid feeling of the blood beginning to drip onto her hand, Taylor began making her way steadily down the path she'd first taken.

Thankfully, despite the knife being slick with blood, she could grip it firmly – which was just as well, because she didn't have anywhere to wipe the blood off if it had become a problem. Except her jacket. But that was something she strongly didn't want to do.

It wasn't a long journey, in part because she was taking far more confident strides than she had the first time, partly because it wasn't even a hundred metres away from where she'd started.

When the mostly intact water fountain came into view, Taylor stopped, and looked around.

Sure enough, in a corner to her left she could just see the immolated husk's arm protruding. It must've hidden back there after it killed her the first time… or it could've been there the whole time. The rocks had reset when she'd died, maybe everything else did, too. Logic didn't have to apply to world filled with such inhuman beasts.

Taylor took a moment to consider how she could proceed, nervousness and anxiety welling up in her gut.

The knife was long, she'd probably be able to stab the protruding arm, but then the body would come at her.

From what little she could remember from her panicked last encounter, the husk hadn't been too fast, but it was still fast. Her own reflexes weren't exactly top notch, and she'd literally never held a weapon before.

She wasn't even sure a weapon would work on it. The husk should by all rights already have been dead – it was missing its lower half, and that separation was neither clean nor covered. On top of that, it was almost skeletal. There was no way any living organism should be able to move with that little muscle.

But considering a floating gauntlet had attacked her before, she had no choice but to plan for the worst.

If it couldn't be hurt by a weapon, she could theoretically run back to the marketplace. If it followed her, she could run into the path with the falling rocks. Best case scenario, it got trapped or she made it through without triggering the rocks. Worst case, they hadn't killed her the first time. And that was the only place she could think of that she might be out of the equally lethal husk's reach.

So she would just have to hope her… acquiring the weapon hadn't been a waste.

She turned to one of the broken walls, keeping an eye on the arm. Unless it started moving, she'd take advantage of it laying there and give the knife a few practice swings.

It had a fair weight to it, she wouldn't be able to use it for long, but it wasn't heavy enough to slow her down too much, and she felt confident she'd be able to swing at a decent speed. It was also remarkably easy to hold onto, even though by rights the blood pouring from it should've rendered it slippery.

There was also once more interesting facet she discovered about the knife when she performed an experimental stab, and accidentally collided with the wall.

Or, rather, two interesting facets.

The first was that the knife was impossibly sharp, and carved straight through the wall with what felt like no resistance – once again making her very glad she wouldn't easily drop it.

Second, she wouldn't be using any more stabs any time soon, because a surge of blood had shot forwards from the knife and punched a massive hole in the wall, in time with her swing. She'd also felt herself weaken greatly, and was internally sure that the blood had come from her. Just one stab and she'd begun to feel lightly dizzy; passing out or dying from blood loss was something she very much didn't want, and not just because of how embarrassing that would be to her.

Why should the husk even bother fighting if she was going to kill herself for it, hey? It could just stay motionless and let her do the work.

She had a suspicion that it wasn't only stabs that would result in her blood loss. But she knew diagonal slashes were fine, so she'd have to stick to that. Going into her first fight dizzy from experimenting would give her even more of a disadvantage.

She already didn't know how to use or even hold her weapon, nor how to stand, though she'd heard that was rather important. She'd just have to slash wildly and hope for the best.

She really, really didn't want to have to do it, but Taylor forced her fears aside and stepped into the small, circular courtyard with the water fountain.

This was the only way she could go. She'd have to just tough it out.

Taylor closed the gap between herself and the husk slowly, with careful steps, and thankfully it didn't notice her despite the frankly absurd amount of noise her shoes were making against the cobbled streets.

The moment she was close enough, she slashed at the arm. It came clean off, and the husk let out a familiar screech that rattled her to the core, causing her to freeze up for just a moment.

In that moment, the husk tore its way out of the pile of rubble it had been lying under, seemingly unfazed by its now severed arm. It spun to face her, and began dragging itself towards her at an alarming rate.

Taylor stepped back and slashed downwards again, taking off a few of the husk's fingers, and again as she felt it grab her arm, taking off its hand at the elbow, her knife carving through the flesh and bone like it wasn't even there.

How it was still moving forward so quickly, she didn't know, but she felt its teeth clamp down on her foot, and the surge of pain almost caused her to topple. Instead, Taylor cried out and panicked, stabbing down right through the creature's head – and her own foot.

The creature let out a horrifying wheeze to accompany her shout of pain, and its jaw loosed, releasing all tension on her foot. She yanked the knife out, kicked the husk away even as a lance of white hot pain radiated from her foot, making her want to curl up into a ball and whimper.

Instead, she got ready to slash again, only for the husk to stop moving entirely, looking just as dead as it should.

She felt a surge of something course through her, but she was in too much pain to process what it was or why, instead whimpering on the ground, and trying desperately to fight back the tears cutting off her vision.