Morning light barely pierced the haze over Fallow's Ferry, the village still drowsy from the Bloomfire Festival.
Ash paced near Blackthorn,His wild, dark hair framed a scarred face, eyes sharp with determination despite the shadows of exhaustion beneath them, a short sword sheathed at his hip. His eyes flicked to the rift's jagged edge, its surface pulsing faintly under a gray sky.
Blackthorn was speaking with some villagers behind, his gray-streaked hair catching the dawn's weak rays, the two of them standing watch as the night faded into a tense morning.
Five riders stormed in, their grey-and-white uniforms with a key-and-scroll badge gleaming as they dismounted with mechanical precision, led by Magister Sol, his sharp face as cold as the steel he carried.
"Captain Blackthorn," Sol declared, voice slicing through the stillness. "I am Magister Sol of the Bureau of Regulatory Essence Matters. We've been sent by the Knights Union through BOREM. We oversee this matter concerning the rift and we need your compliance to ensure a swifter, more effective resolution."
Blackthorn's jaw clenched, but he nodded, bound by B.O.R.E.M.'s unyielding authority.
Ash winced as their devices hummed—a grating buzz that stabbed his essence like a thousand tiny needles, sending a shiver down his scarred arm.
"What's B.O.R.E.M.?" he asked Blackthorn, frowning, his voice low to avoid drawing attention.
Blackthorn's eyes narrowed, his tone hushed but firm. "The Bureau of Regulatory Essence Matters governs all matters of magic and rifts, claiming it safeguards the kingdom. They monitor, experiment, and if they judge a threat, they purge it without hesitation. I have heard of them razing an entire village in the name of their protocols, leaving nothing but ash. I didn't think the Knights Union will send them."
Ash's stomach tightened, a cold knot forming as villagers peeked from windows, their festival joy replaced by wary, fearful stares.
The air grew heavy with unspoken dread, the clatter of hooves and the hum of devices breaking the village's fragile peace.
By mid-morning, B.O.R.E.M. swarmed the rift, erecting scanners with glowing blue conduits that whined like wounded animals.
Agents scanned everything—rift, village, knights—without so much as a nod of consent, their movements cold and clinical.
"Do you feel that?" Ash muttered to Blackthorn, rubbing his scarred arm where the sensation burned. "It's like needles under my skin."
"They follow cold, unfeeling rules," Blackthorn growled, his gaze fixed on the agents with barely concealed contempt.
A child's cry pierced the air as an agent brushed past, ignoring the small figure crumpled in the dirt, and Ash's fists clenched, his anger simmering beneath the surface.
The rift pulsed in sync with the scanners, a subtle ripple suggesting it was more than a wound in the world but something alive.
A villager rushed up, cutting through the tension. "Master Ash! Princess Elis requested for your presence at the longhouse!" His voice trembled with urgency.
Ash nodded, adjusting the short sword at his side, and hurried off, leaving Blackthorn to keep watch at the intruders.
Inside the longhouse, Elis stood with a few helpers—villagers with tired but determined faces—sorting baskets of food.
She wore a pink dress that clung to her frame.
She turned, relief softening her features. "Thank you for coming, Ash. I don't know if you're free but I need your help distributing the food harvest from yesterday. I cannot manage it alone—will you assist me?"
"Yes," Ash said, stepping forward, his sword clinking softly as he moved to join her.
They worked through the day, carrying baskets of bread, fruit, and dried meat to homes.
The villagers' murmured thanks and fleeting smiles offered a brief respite, the weight of the rift momentarily lifted by their gratitude.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, night fell, casting long shadows across the village.
Ash handed the last harvest to an old lady and her daughter, their small hut warmed by a single flickering candle.
The old lady's frail voice trembled as she spoke. "Bless you, young man. May you achieve all your dreams."
Her daughter nodded, her smile shy but warm.
"Thank you," Ash replied, offering a small bow before parting.
He stepped into the cool night, the village quiet under a moonless sky, when a chill prickled his neck.
He felt watched, a presence slinking just out of sight—shadows shifting in the corners of his vision, the air growing thick with an unnatural weight.
His hand gripped the hilt of his short sword, muscles tensing.
"Who's there?" he called, turning to his sides, scanning the darkness.
When he looked forward again, a shadow stood at a distance, its purple eyes glowing like embers, its form solidifying into a towering figure wreathed in mist.
"I am not here to fight you, Ash," it said, its voice a low, resonant hum that vibrated through the ground.
Ash's grip remained tight, ready to unsheathe his blade. "What do you want?" he demanded, his voice steady but edged with caution.
The shadow's eyes narrowed, its form shifting slightly. "I know what you want, I will reunite you with your friends—Noah, Kelvin. I will give you a better purpose, a worth beyond this broken place. I can make you conquer this world. And more—I can take you back to your world."
The last words hit Ash like a blow, his grip weakening as the phrase take me back to my world echoed in his mind.
"—but in return, I want your will—I want to own your soul— I want you to serve me." the shadow continued.
Ash breath hitched, eyes squeezing shut as memories flooded—laughter with Noah and Kelvin under New Year's fireworks, now a distant ache.
He sank into a deep thought, the shadow's offer tempting him with a return to his lost life.
But Elis's warning cut through the haze: "The rift preys on longing. You cannot trust it." His eyes snapped open, grip tightening on his sword as resolve hardened.
"No," he said firmly, drawing his blade and channelling his essence, in one swift motion and slashing at the shadow.
The steel bit into its form, and the head dissolved into mist, the voice fading with a shocked, "Why?" before it retreated, its laughter a lingering threat in the night.
Next morning, B.O.R.E.M. unveiled a metallic arch, its runes blazing with an eerie light.
They activated a shimmering energy veil, the ground trembling beneath their feet.
"What is this?" Blackthorn demanded, stepping forward, his voice a growl.
"A Cleansing Ignition," Sol said flatly. " From our report this is the only way to close the rifts."
"You can't do that, innocent lives will die and the princess of the kingdom is in the village!" Blackthorn roared, lunging, but the veil repelled him with a crackle of energy.
Ash's essence flared, tendrils of power lashing out, yet the barrier held firm.
Sol's smirk—"The greater good demands it"—ignited Ash's rage, villagers gathered around, curious, Elis's voice calling faintly from the crowd, a desperate note in her tone.
The device hit peak energy, runes flaring white-hot against the gray sky.
The rift shrieked, a sound that clawed at the ears, absorbing the blast before unleashing a black-violet beam skyward, breaking the veil, knocking almost everyone close to it into the dirt.
Across half of the Clover Kingdom, rifts answered, their beams converging high above in a blinding nexus.
The energy crashed down, forming an obsidian dome that blotted out the sun, plunging the land into an eerie twilight.
Silence fell, broken only by distant screams, terror seizing the village as the dome's surface reflected warped faces—Ash's own twisted among them, a haunting mirror of his fear.
Chaos erupted.
The dome sealed with a thunderous boom, its weight pressing the air into a suffocating shroud.
Sol staggered, pale and stunned, his authority crumbling, as the shadow reappeared, now a solid mass, its purple eyes blazing with triumph.
"You could have been saved from this but you refused me, Ash. Now suffer with all of them" it snarled, its voice reverberating through the ground.
Void Reavers—hulking beasts wreathed in mist—phased through the earth, their claws slashing as they targeted B.O.R.E.M. agents first, blood spraying across the square, their roars shaking the village to its core.
Ash and Blackthorn fought back, Ash's Unweave slicing through a Reaver's misty form, Blackthorn's katana flashing in a deadly arc.
A beast cornered Sol, who fell to his knees, begging, "Help me!" Ash hesitated, the image of the old lady's prayer clashing with his fury, but he struck, his short sword piercing the Reaver's side, saving Sol despite the bile rising in his throat.
The village huddled in the shadows of burning huts, B.O.R.E.M. broken, Reavers rampaging unchecked.
Ash's mind raced—his refusal had unleashed this, yet the entity's intent to destroy was clear, a pawn's role he couldn't escape.
As ash and blood filled the air, the scent of charred wood and iron heavy on the breeze, he gripped his sword tighter, vowing to fight on.
The rift's hum grew louder, a deep, resonant pulse that vibrated through his bones, the clover kingdom was in a great danger.