Lyrrise POV
The massive steel gates of the Academy's outer wall groaned as they opened, revealing the untouched wildlands beyond. For most students, stepping outside for the first time was terrifying. For me… it was thrilling.
Beyond the wall, the world was quieter. The air smelled different—fresher, cleaner—but underneath was something subtle, almost metallic, like a storm waiting to break.
Kaelen's voice echoed from the comm in my earpiece:"Team Veil, you are cleared for Zone Delta reconnaissance. Stay within range, monitor Riftborn activity, and engage only if necessary."
Cyril adjusted the strap on his twin blades, calm as ever. "Clear sky, clear ground. Let's make this quick."
Mathilda scoffed. "Don't give orders like you're the leader, transfer boy."
"And don't call me that," Cyril replied with his usual relaxed tone.
I walked a few paces ahead, scanning the horizon. The sun was still high, bathing the fields in golden light. We wouldn't see Riftborn until Dris—until the crimson twilight. Which meant… we had time to wait.
---
We settled on a small ridge overlooking the treeline. Cyril sat down against a rock, sharpening one of his blades. Mathilda leaned on her spear, clearly impatient, and I sat on the opposite side, resting my katana across my lap.
The silence lasted about thirty seconds before Mathilda broke it. "You really think you're some kind of prodigy, huh?"
I looked up, already knowing where this was going. "I never said that."
"You didn't have to. Mythical rank, special training, and now Edric himself treating you like some kind of chosen one…" She glared at me. "You don't even deserve it."
I sighed, leaning back on my hands. "Here we go…"
"I worked my whole life for SS," Mathilda continued, stepping closer. "You just walk in and get a rank nobody's seen in decades. Why? Because you've got scary red eyes and a sword you barely know how to use?"
That hit a nerve. I sat up, eyes narrowing. "Barely know how to use? I saved your life during that Riftborn breach, in case you forgot."
"You think that makes you better than me?!"
"Do you *want* me to be better than you? Because it sounds like you can't stop thinking about me."
Her face went red. "You—!"
Cyril's voice cut through the rising tension. "Ladies, save it for the monsters, yeah?"
We both glared at him. "Stay out of this!" we shouted in unison.
He sighed, muttering under his breath, "This is going to be a long mission."
---
The golden sky slowly deepened, shifting toward that dreaded crimson hue of Dris. Shadows stretched longer, and the once calm wind grew colder.
Cyril stood, scanning the treeline. "Alright, focus up. If Riftborn show, they'll come fast."
I tightened my grip on my katana. Mathilda twirled her spear. The earlier argument simmered between us, but we both knew this was about to get real.
---
The last rays of sunlight slipped behind the horizon, painting the sky the dreaded crimson of Dris. My grip tightened on my katana as the silence deepened. Even the wind seemed to vanish.
Then a message pinged in my comm from Edric:
"Team Veil, delivery incoming."
A small drone zipped toward us, carrying a weapon wrapped in black fabric. It stopped before Mathilda, scanning her ID before unlocking.
She pulled the cloth away—and gasped.
It was a scythe, long and sleek, its black handle wrapped with crimson-lined grip. The blade curved elegantly, sharper than any weapon I'd seen. The metal reflected her face perfectly, like a mirror.
Another ping came through, Edric's voice calm but firm:
"That scythe once belonged to a legendary Red Shield Division captain. Treat it with respect."
Mathilda's eyes lit up like a kid at a festival. "A legendary scythe… mine." She twirled it once, showing off the perfect balance, then rested it on her shoulder. "Looks like someone finally recognizes real talent."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh great, now she's more unbearable."
"Jealous?" Mathilda said, smirking.
Before I could reply, Cyril spoke, standing suddenly. "Focus. We're not alone."
The Riftborn Attack
From the treeline, red portals tore open with a hiss, releasing a wave of Riftborn—four wolf-types and a larger humanoid type wielding blade-like arms.
"Positions!" Cyril ordered, his calm demeanor dropping into pure battle focus.
Mathilda twirled her new scythe, grinning. "Finally, some fun."
The wolves came first, sprinting low and fast. I moved before I even thought, sidestepping the first and slicing its neck cleanly. My body flowed like water—no hesitation, no wasted motion. My blade found weak points like I had been doing this my entire life.
"Lyrrise, right flank!" Cyril's voice rang out.
I pivoted just in time to intercept another wolf, cutting low and spinning upward, severing its head in one strike. It dissolved in a burst of crimson energy.
On the left, Mathilda lunged into her first real strike with the scythe. She moved differently now—less spear-focused and more sweeping, fluid. The scythe tore through two wolves in one swing, its blade slicing so sharp that sparks flew from the impact.
"Whoa…" I muttered, momentarily impressed.
"Don't blink, Mythical," Mathilda shot back, clearly enjoying her new power.
The Humanoid Riftborn
The humanoid Riftborn shrieked and leaped high, aiming for Cyril. But instead of dodging, Cyril stepped into it, twisting his blades into a cross block that snapped the creature's arm clean off before spinning behind it and stabbing straight through its back.
That movement… it was too smooth, too precise. He fought like someone who had seen this exact creature before.
Even the Riftborn paused for a fraction of a second before dissolving into nothing.
I stared at Cyril as he stood, calmly shaking blood from his blades. "You fight like… you've done this a lot."
He gave me that small, knowing smile again. "Maybe I have."
Aftermath
The clearing went silent again, the Riftborn gone, only faint traces of crimson mist left behind.
Mathilda rested the scythe against her shoulder, smug. "Did you see that? Two in one swing. This thing's perfect for me."
I sighed. "Yeah, and your ego just tripled in size."
Cyril chuckled quietly, sliding his blades back into their sheaths. "Nice work, both of you. But don't celebrate too soon—this was just the opening wave. More will come next Dris."
Mathilda smirked, spinning the scythe one more time. "Let them. I'm ready."
I looked at my katana, still humming with faint energy, and frowned. My movements during the fight… they weren't normal. They were too perfect. Something inside me was waking up, and I didn't know whether to fear it or embrace it.
We thought we were done.
The last Riftborn wolf dissolved into red mist, and Mathilda swung her scythe triumphantly. "That's it? That's all they had? What a waste of—"
The ground shook.
A deep, resonant rumble rippled through the earth, rattling the trees and sending loose stones tumbling down the ridge. Even the air grew heavier, thicker, like something massive was tearing reality apart.
Cyril froze mid-step, his green eyes narrowing. "That's… not normal."
The crimson rift ahead of us didn't fade like the others. Instead, it widened—grew—until it towered above the treeline. A blood-red light pulsed from within, blinding for a second, and then it stepped through.
The Original Riftborn
It wasn't like the others.
Twisted bone-like armor covered its body, jagged spikes protruding from its limbs. Its face… gods, its face. Elongated jaws lined with uneven, blood-stained teeth and hollow, glowing eyes that seemed to pierce straight through the soul.
The thing stood twice the height of a Riftborn brute, its claws the length of swords. Every step it took cracked the ground, shaking dust from the trees.
Mathilda stumbled back, gripping her scythe tighter. "What… what is that?"
Cyril's hand flew to his comm drone, fingers flying over the controls. "Cyril Avencrest requesting immediate support! Crimson Veil Agency, we have a—"
The ground shook again, harder this time, cutting his signal as static filled the comm.
Mathilda cursed, pulling out her drone. "Come on, come on—send the message, dammit!" But it was useless. The rift's energy was jamming everything.
My First Time Seeing One…
I stared at the creature, my breath catching in my throat.
This was an Original Riftborn. The type you only heard about in stories—the kind that destroyed cities, that had made the world fear Dris in the first place.
I should have been terrified. My body should have frozen like Mathilda's or tensed like Cyril's.
But I didn't feel fear.
I felt… excited.
A strange grin crept onto my face, my heart pounding—not from panic, but from something else entirely. This is it… this is what I've been waiting for.
Cyril Notices
"Lyrrise, move!" Cyril shouted, stepping in front of me as the creature's gaze shifted our way. "That's not a training target, that's an Original!"
"I know," I said quietly, tightening my grip on my katana. "I can feel it."
Mathilda snapped at me. "Are you insane? That thing will kill us!"
But I couldn't look away. My katana hummed faintly, almost as if responding to the Riftborn's presence. Deep inside, something surged—like the same instincts I had during my rank test, only stronger, hungrier.
The Original Moves
The Riftborn opened its jaws and let out a roar so loud it shook the ridge and sent birds fleeing miles away. Its claws dug into the ground, carving lines into the dirt as it lunged forward.
Cyril cursed, drawing both blades. "We need to hold it off until the signal clears!"
Mathilda twirled her scythe, face pale but determined. "Fine. But if we die, I'm haunting both of you."
I stepped forward, ignoring them, eyes locked on the Riftborn. For the first time since this nightmare world had changed five years ago, I wanted to fight.
"This is what I was made for…"
The Original Riftborn moved with terrifying speed for something its size, its claws ripping through the ground as it lunged straight for us.
"Spread out!" Cyril shouted, already diving to the left, blades drawn. Mathilda spun her scythe, meeting it head-on, striking with a wide, elegant swing.
The blade connected—CLANG!—but barely scratched its armored chest. The creature roared, swiping at her with one massive claw. Mathilda tried to dodge, but it was too fast.
BAM!
The claw slammed into her side, launching her through the air. She slammed into a jagged rock with a sickening crack and fell to the ground, her new scythe tumbling out of reach.
"Mathilda!" Cyril shouted, immediately sprinting to her. He knelt, quickly checking her pulse. She was breathing, but unconscious. "Dammit…" He grabbed the scythe in one hand and lifted Mathilda with the other, glaring at me. "Lyrrise, fall back—we need to regroup and call for evac!"
But I didn't move.
Instead, I stepped forward. My katana hummed as if alive, vibrating faintly in my grip. My heartbeat quickened, but it wasn't fear. It was that feeling again—the pull.
I smirked. "No, Cyril. Get her out of here."
Cyril's head snapped toward me. "Are you insane? That thing is an Original—we're not equipped for this!"
I turned my head just enough to look at him over my shoulder. I knew what he would see—my eyes glowing crimson, reflecting the cursed Dris sky.
"I'll handle it."
"Lyrrise—"
"Go!" I shouted, my voice sharper than I intended.
Cyril hesitated for a heartbeat, his green eyes narrowing as if he recognized something in me—something dangerous—but then he hoisted Mathilda onto his shoulder, gripping her scythe in his free hand. "Don't you dare die, Marcilles."
I grinned wider, pointing my katana at the Original Riftborn. "Wouldn't dream of it."
The Clash
The Riftborn roared, charging at me with claws raised high. I sprinted forward to meet it head-on, instincts blazing. My katana slashed upward, deflecting one claw while I spun under the second, striking at its exposed joint. Sparks flew as the blade bit into the tough armor, leaving a glowing crimson scar along its limb.
It swung again, but I ducked low, sliding under its body, slicing at its leg. It howled in pain, stumbling slightly.
"Faster… stronger…" I thought, every movement flowing like I had done this hundreds of times. I wasn't fighting like a trainee. I was fighting like a predator.
The Riftborn lunged again, snapping its jaws at me, but I pivoted sharply, bringing my katana up in a vertical strike that caught its jaw and forced its head back. My eyes burned brighter, glowing like twin shards of crimson light.
Cyril Watching
From a distance, Cyril glanced back just once as he carried Mathilda to safety. His eyes widened slightly as he saw me standing against the monstrous Riftborn alone, crimson eyes shining like the blood moon itself.
Under his breath, he muttered, "…So it's true."
The Riftborn lunged again, claws aimed straight for my chest. My katana rose instinctively, every muscle in my body screaming to strike back.
But then… it stopped.
The creature froze mid-attack, its massive claw hovering just inches from me. Its hollow red eyes locked with mine—and for the first time since I'd ever seen one of these monsters, there was hesitation.
Its head tilted slightly, the guttural growl in its throat changing to a low, almost… questioning sound.
I took a step back, tightening my grip on my katana. "What… are you doing?"
Instead of answering with another roar or lunge, the Riftborn straightened. Its claws lowered, and it slowly turned away, walking back toward the crimson rift it had emerged from. The ground trembled under its massive steps, but it made no move to attack.
It stepped through the rift and disappeared, leaving only silence and the faint crackle of Rift energy fading into nothing.
The Shock
I stood there frozen, my chest rising and falling. Did… did it just… retreat?
Cyril's voice came from behind me as he returned, still holding Mathilda's scythe. "Lyrrise… what the hell just happened? Why didn't it finish you?"
I turned to face him, still gripping my katana. "I… I don't know. It just… stopped."
His eyes narrowed slightly, studying me carefully. "It looked like it recognized you."
I frowned. "That's impossible."
But deep down, a chill ran through me. Because for a moment, when the Riftborn's eyes met mine… I had felt something. Not fear, not rage—something like… familiarity.
Aftermath
Cyril set Mathilda down gently; she groaned, still unconscious but stable. "We're done here. I'm sending an emergency beacon now that the rift's gone."
I nodded, still staring at the place where the Riftborn had disappeared.
Why did it walk away? Why did it feel like it knew me?
And for the first time… my excitement was replaced by unease.
The faint hiss of hover engines broke the silence. Three sleek, black transports descended from above, kicking up dust as they landed near us. The insignia of the Crimson Veil Agency gleamed on their sides—a crimson crescent with a line through its center.
From each transport, assassins stepped out in perfect sync—black combat suits, full helmets with tinted visors, and weapons humming with Riftborn energy. Their presence alone made the air feel heavier, sharper. These weren't students. These were professionals, the ones who went out when even elite Academy operatives stayed home.
The one in front, taller than the rest, stopped in front of me. His voice was mechanical through the mask. "Status report."
Cyril stepped forward, his usual calm voice clipped. "Original Riftborn encounter. It withdrew. One casualty—nonfatal," he added, gesturing to Mathilda, who was beginning to stir.
The assassin leader tilted his head slightly, looking at me for a moment longer than necessary before nodding to his team. "Secure the zone. Track residual Rift energy. No one else leaves until we're done."
Following the Assassins
While Cyril helped Mathilda sit up, I found myself stepping after the assassins as they moved toward the rift site. I didn't even think about it—I just… needed to see.
The ground still bore the creature's massive claw marks. The air crackled faintly, humming with lingering energy. One assassin crouched, scanning the area with a handheld device. Another dragged some kind of containment pod into position.
I stopped just short of the claw marks, staring down at them. They were huge, deep, unnatural. But my focus kept drifting back to what I had seen: that Riftborn looked at me and walked away.
"Why? Why me?"
Cyril's Warning
"Lyrrise."
I turned—Cyril stood behind me, Mathilda leaning on his shoulder, still dazed but conscious. His green eyes locked on mine, sharp. "Don't get too close. The Agency doesn't like curious students hovering around their cleanup."
I looked at the assassins again, their precise, silent movements somehow… cold. "I just want to know why it didn't kill me."
Cyril frowned slightly, lowering his voice so Mathilda couldn't hear. "Yeah… I want to know that too."
The way he said it sent a shiver down my spine.
The Agency Leaves
Minutes later, the assassins finished their scans and loaded their containment pod back into the transport. The leader gave a simple nod to Cyril. "Academy will handle your debrief. Don't discuss what you saw outside official channels."
And then, just like that, they were gone—disappearing into the crimson sky as fast as they came.
I stood there, gripping my katana tighter. My thoughts spun with one impossible image: those hollow Riftborn eyes… hesitating.