The smoke had cleared, but the silence that followed was worse than any scream.
Valen stood at the edge of the crater. Ash drifted around him like dead snow. His arms were shaking — not from fear, but from the strain. His Echo had burned through him like wildfire. The twin blades flickered, unstable, then dissolved into wisps of black.
Lira crept up behind him, clutching her jacket.
"You shouldn't have done that alone," she whispered.
He didn't turn around.
"You would've died if you stayed," Valen said.
She didn't argue.
He was covered in monster blood and his own. The flesh on his shoulder was burned where the Echo had overheated, black veins crawling under the skin. It wasn't a clean power — it was raw. Wild. Hungry.
But he'd survived the first Rift surge.
That meant something.
For a moment, he thought they'd have time.
Then the world answered with footsteps.
They didn't echo like boots.
They were soft. Slow. Measured.
Like a man walking through snow with all the time in the world.
Valen's eyes narrowed.
Something's wrong.
From the far side of the crater, something stepped into view.
A man — or what looked like one.
Clad in black armor that shimmered like liquid. Pale skin stretched tight over sharp features. No pupils. His eyes were full white, like milky glass. He moved with unnatural smoothness, as if gravity was a suggestion.
Lira whispered, "That's not human."
Valen's pulse slowed. "It's Riftborn."
"A monster?"
"No," he said grimly. "A commander."
The Riftborn Elite
The creature stopped ten feet away. His mouth twitched into a half-smile.
"You shouldn't have this power," it said in a voice that didn't sound like it came from a throat — more like a sound that just existed.
Valen's hand twitched. The Echo tried to form — flickering shadows along his fingertips.
The Riftborn took a step closer.
"You carry the Echo of the End," it said. "That was not meant for you."
"Too bad," Valen replied.
The Echo flared — a single blade bursting to life in his hand.
The Riftborn didn't flinch.
"You don't even understand what it is," the creature continued. "You're using a piece of extinction like a child swinging a stick."
Valen didn't speak. He was watching. Measuring.
The way it moved.
The way it talked.
There was intelligence here.
But not human intelligence.
Alien.
Cold.
Predatory.
"You can still surrender," it offered. "The Rift will consume this world. All futures end the same way."
Valen's grip tightened on the Echo blade.
"No," he said flatly. "Not this time."
Battle Against the One That Walks Between
The Riftborn vanished.
Valen turned instantly — instinct kicking in. Echo slashed behind him. Sparks. Pressure. Pain.
A gauntlet slammed into his ribs. He flew sideways, crashed into a rusted car frame. Metal shrieked.
Lira screamed.
Valen rolled, coughing blood, but didn't stay down.
The Riftborn flickered forward again, blade forming from his arm — fluid and shifting.
Valen blocked.
The Echo screamed in protest. Shadow clashed with liquid metal. The impact knocked the wind from Valen's lungs.
He's too fast.
The creature was toying with him.
But Valen had seen worse.
In the future that never was — he'd faced armies of these things.
He knew how they moved.
How they thought.
This one was slower than a full ascended commander.
That gave him a chance.
He ducked low, spun behind the car, and whispered, "Echo — cut through sound."
The blade changed.
It didn't glow brighter — it became silent.
Valen dashed forward.
His footfalls made no sound. His breath vanished into the wind.
He struck.
This time, the Riftborn was caught off guard. The blade grazed its side — not deep, but it cut.
Black vapor hissed from the wound.
The Riftborn let out a strange sound. Not pain. Not rage. Just… surprised.
"You adapt," it said.
Valen's eyes locked with its hollow white gaze.
"I remember the war," he said coldly. "I remember what you did to the world."
The Riftborn shifted.
"So you're the echo," it whispered. "You're the one who came back."
Turning the Tide
The air changed.
Power coiled in the Riftborn's body — enough to kill him in one blow.
Valen couldn't take it head-on.
He didn't plan to.
He dove into the wreckage, Echo blade shrinking to a dagger.
Hit-and-run. Move. Strike. Vanish.
He cut low.
The Riftborn blocked — too slow again.
Valen danced between its strikes, never stopping, forcing it to react.
Each time he hit, the Echo grew clearer. More controlled.
More his.
Finally, with a leap and a spin, he slashed across the Riftborn's chest — deep.
It stumbled back.
Breathing heavily — no, mimicking breathing.
It wasn't dying.
But it was impressed.
"I see now," it said. "You are the failure that escaped the last apocalypse. The dead thing that walks backward through time."
Valen's heart was pounding.
He was almost out of strength.
But he said it anyway.
"I'm not walking backward," he growled. "I'm carving a new path."
The Riftborn smiled — just a flicker of teeth.
Then vanished.
Not in speed.
Not in blur.
It literally unfolded out of reality — gone.
Just like that.
The air was still again.
Valen collapsed to one knee.
Lira ran up beside him. "Is it over?"
"No," he said through gritted teeth. "It just marked me."
Aftermath – A Mark and a Warning
Valen looked at his chest.
There was a burn there — new. Shaped like a Rift spiral. Black and glowing faintly.
The commander had tagged him.
A warning?
A curse?
Or a beacon?
Lira didn't ask. She helped him stand.
"We need to move," Valen said. "Now. Before the next wave."
She looked at him, eyes wide with fear and awe.
"What are you?"
Valen's voice was quiet, cold, final.
"The last survivor of a world that doesn't exist anymore."