Her teacher's silence is, somehow, comforting. His distraction is even more so.

Ingress wields the dagger, slashing at the wall of beasts before her. Some have gone after Havelock, and her other friends, she reckons, but there are still plenty before her.

Before too long, she closes her eyes with each thrust of her blade. Her wrist hurts, and the black blood from the monsters coats her arms and splatters her face. They are no longer puffing into smoke as she kills them; their bodies flail messily about her.

It's horrible. Horrible. She wants to wake up. She can't do this. She can't save anyone.