If the Realm of Possibility were a ladder, then Earth could not even be compared to the bottom rung. Rather, it would better be interpreted as the solid ground atop which that ladder stood.

The farther one climbed from the bottom, the greater the Possibility that could be realized. That was a universal understanding that all beings inhabiting these rungs had committed to heart.

Somewhere on the edge of the Outer Realms, an adventuring party– composed of five members to be exact– hurdled through layer after layer of foliage.

Survival– That was the only outcome that mattered in this world of beasts.

“We’re almost there!”

The man leading the group shouted back at his teammates. As he rushed forwards, the spear in his hands cleanly carved a path through every trunk and vine.

“Channel everything you have left now!”

Up ahead, the trees began to grow more and more sparse, and just beyond the gaps between the trees, they could now see a sort of mossy stone archway that almost beckoned their presence. Held up by that archway was a mist-like surface, almost reflective like a mirror but still shimmering with a view of the other side.

That was their way out– Their way up.

Within seconds, the group sprang forward at several times their previous pace. The world itself was responding to their desire– a swirling energy propelling each and every step.

Yet, with their goal just in reach, a terrible crashing sound forced them all to stop dead in their tracks.

The trees behind them snapped as a shadow lunged forwards, inserting itself in the gap between the party and the arch.

Its figure seemed vaguely humanoid and it bent in on itself in a posture that could only be described as hunchbacked. Most notably, its entire body was pitch black– or rather– that was the only description that seemed to accurately fit it.

In reality, it probably had no color at all. Its presence was less of a presence and more of an absence.

“Don’t falter! We don’t have to kill it– Just get past it!”

With those words, the man lifted his spear.

The creature lifted its own head in response.

Shaping - First Command: Creator

The air behind him rippled as a dozen spears identical to his own manifested.

“Fire.”

Only, facing this onslaught, the creature did not tremble, nor did it turn or run. Instead, its featureless face continued to hold steady on the party.

Then, its back bulged, a dozen tentacles, blank as the rest of its body, lashed out at the spears, crushing them with relative ease.

But in those moments, the party had already made their move, swarming around and past the beast.

“Go! Go! Go!”

One– Two– Three– Their bodies seemed to vaporize as they slipped through the glimmering haze.

Meanwhile, the party leader hurriedly pushed his allies through while still monitoring the threat.

There wasn’t enough time.

Seemingly inverting its own body, the creature whipped around, its arm extending into a whip that leapt towards the two remaining prey.

Shaping - Second Command: Editor

Despite his relatively low rank as a Shaper, he had already grasped the nature of the second command. Once activated, it would allow him to alter the properties of his spear– to infuse it with enough Possibility to damage this monster. 

Yet, before it activated, the beast had already plunged its limb cleanly through his chest, slamming his body through the archway as the portal quickly faded.

No blood spilled forth.

Instead, the portion of his body the beast touched started to fade, its color draining to match the beast’s own body.

“What happened–?!”

No– it wasn’t just a contest of speed. His command had already activated. It should have. But this time, the world didn’t reply.

His eyes shakily rose to behold the beast’s current form, and staring into that nothingness, he could’ve sworn he glimpsed a fading reflection of his own face.

“Damn–!”

Finally, his speartip glimmered, allowing him to strike at the limb and severing it before he collapsed to the ground.

“That thing– There should only be negator-types here but– I have to–”

Desperation began setting in as he hurriedly scanned his surroundings.

The beast slightly tilted its head as it stared back at its now injured prey.

“Get out of here…” he croaked, “It’s focused on me right now… You’ll still have a chance if you run–”

The beast pounced, countless tendrils rushing forth to riddle his body with emptiness.

As the light faded from his eyes, he could only pray for forgiveness.

The hope he had given was nothing more than an empty lie. A fake dream. Even if that boy ran now, the beast would catch up within seconds.

After all, it no longer was the same entity it was mere moments ago.

As the boy’s trembling hands clutched at his sword, he realized his mentor was no longer with him.

Where the ever-confident spearman once lay, the beast now stood, and facing towards him, its head twitching, a broken, warbled voice whispered terror through every inch of his body.

“5h@p1ng… F1r5t C0mm@nd–”