Reality is comprised of three attributes-

The mortal plane, where all the physical concepts humans know can be distinguished through their basic senses.

The spiritual realm, which goes beyond what people normally perceive as it relates to one’s soul; which holds no physical properties but is as palpable as it is influential to an individual’s individuality.

And the metaphysical, a dimension filled with concepts, elements, and other wonders that surpasses our level of comprehension but serves as the ultimate connector.

Of all of them, the average life in the living world is most conscious of the events on the mortal plane for its simplicity to understand compared to others. Only a minuscule amount of the spiritual realm is truly grasped in any sense during a lifetime, and by definition, aspects of the metaphysical are inconceivable.

Horrendous! Two-thirds of what makes up reality, mired in unawareness and ignorance. No solace could be taken in our knowledge of the mortal plane either, as there are still many properties we’ve yet to realize or want to accept. Simply, horrendous.

With an imbalance of this disproportionate chaos, disaster, confusion, and tragedy commonly occur.

Yet, there’s a plane of existence where this trio of attributes has equal opportunity to be perceived and understood by those who inhabit it.

A whole new world, ripe for the utilization of people connecting to all aspects of their existence.

Traveling through this different analogous world was a Masked Wanderer, dressed in black with a red and gold cape coat.

The field she was walking on was quiet and barren, not an uncommon kind of scenery but isn’t the only one. From her travels, she has encountered variations of many lands from deserts to grassland, mountains to forests, and a slew of other environments that are in flux with each other.

While traveling, The Masked Wanderer went unbothered until she suddenly snapped her head toward a certain direction as if something caught her attention. Though her eyes weren’t visible behind the mask, the way her head was moving showed she was trailing something in the air but nothing new from her surrounding had appeared. Regardless, she went off full speed in that direction.

For a while, The Masked Wanderer ran in a direction with no clear road until finally, she came across a devastated farm estate. Scouting the area, she saw how tarnished this land farm was. From the irregular marks and debris, this estate wasn’t abandoned but attacked; recently judging from how fresh the tracks were.

The ground shook and a loud shout came from one of the partly destroyed buildings causing The Wanderer to rush over. Right as she was arriving, a woman carrying a young boy came running out, in a hurry the mother tripped and tumbled onto the ground. 

“Help, somebody, help,” weakly groaned the woman on the floor, slowly recovering from the fall. She already seemed weary from her tattered clothes and bruises.

The Masked Wanderer came over to help, which caused the woman to jump up from the ground, grabbing one of The Wanderer’s hands. A move made purely out of her intense distress as she quickly became terrified seeing the masked face off this stranger. The long white horns sticking out from the temples and empty black eye sockets were frightening for the stressful situation the woman was in.

‘A-another monster?’ the woman immediately thought, her body screamed for her to try running away. With everything she was currently dealing with, another potential threat was a nightmare scenario for her.

But something felt different.

Aside from the superficial physical reaction to seeing the mask, something deeper told another story. Holding this wanderer’s hand in her own made the woman sense not animosity or malice but warmth; the feeling of being able to ask for help.

With shaking arms and tears streaming down the poor woman’s face, she gave a trembling cry, “M-monster! My, m-my husband! He- oh god! Please, my husband needs help in there!”

A bellowing roar came from inside the building, the cracking of wood quickly followed as some beast was ravaging inside of there.

The Wanderer looked down at the young boy who wasn’t conscious before turning her attention back to the older woman.

Still breathless, the woman continued to beg, “Please, please, please! I don’t know what to do.”

Seeing the desperate look in the woman’s eyes, The Wanderer returned the firm grip on her hand as a gesture. Exchanging no words, the woman felt assured her plea would be answered, convincing her to release The Wanderer’s hand so they could act.

While The Masked Wanderer stepped toward the building, the haggard woman quickly attended to the unconscious boy, moving him out the way from the soon-to-be danger zone.

Another booming noise erupted as the echoes of destruction increased, signaling the coming threat was drawing near. Preparing herself, The Wanderer got into a ready stance for whatever was heading her way.

For a moment, the noise stopped and all was calm. But no one felt safe as danger could still be sensed.

From the openings in the house made by the damages, a wicked aura was felt when big yellow eyes with thin pupils appeared from the shade, being the illuminating source in the darkness. It gave way for only its giant mouth filled with jagged teeth that rip apart bodies to accompany the eyes, shown in all its glory.

A frown appeared on The Wanderer’s face, upset at the sight.

With a wave, she opened up her cape coat showing off the rest of her black attire. Wrapped around her waist were what looked like chains but they weren’t made of metal or any normal material one usually associates the object with. The way it gleamed white with a thick red outline made it seem mythical in appearance. 

Reaching behind herself, The Wanderer pulled out a weapon. A rather unique spear, quite thin, almost like a javelin. With how sharp the top portion was, many would see it as wielding a giant needle. Ready to pierce any through the core of any creature.

The monster residing inside the house snarled seeing this, letting out a deep growl and baring its fangs. Truly an unhinged beast.

Calmly approaching, The Wanderer’s expression remained stern, showing no signs of pleasure as the battle ensued.

She couldn’t get enjoyment from this even if she tried, not this time.

A great tragedy had occurred, one of many like it.