Chapter 10 — Lightning and Loss
By the third day, the Rift had sunk into our bones. The alien sky bled sickly green light, and the air itself seemed to gnaw at us, thick with static and the copper sting of blood. Every tree whispered with movement, every shadow hid teeth.
We hunted anyway. We had no choice.
The first beast fell to Hank's spear before sunrise—an ugly feral deer, its eyes glowing yellow, bone spurs jutting from its shoulders. It screamed like a man as it died.
[System Notification]
– Beast Consumed: Feral Deer (Common Tier)
– DNA Essence Gained: 2 strands
– No Trait gained.
The second was a boar with tusks so jagged they looked carved from stone. Mara's flames seared it down, filling the air with the stench of burnt flesh.
[System Notification]
– Beast Consumed: Feral Boar (Common Tier)
– DNA Essence Gained: 1 strand
– No Trait gained.
By mid-day, we had killed a feral wolf pup, small but vicious.
[System Notification]
– Beast Consumed: Feral Wolf Pup (Common Tier)
– DNA Essence Gained: 2 strands
– No Trait gained.
And that was it. Three beasts. Five strands total. No Traits.
The System's voice cut sharper than claws. Cold. Indifferent.
Rob spat into the dirt. "Three days in, and all we have is scraps."
Hank slammed his spear butt against the ground, face twisted. "Meanwhile, Tyler's probably polishing his noble daggers while his servants feed him grapes."
Mara flexed her fingers, blue-black fire flickering weakly across her palms. "Power doesn't come easy. If it did, the Towers would be full of kings. Be patient."
Kira's tails lashed, her fox eyes glinting. "Patience doesn't keep you alive when monsters twice your size leap out of the dark."
I didn't argue. She wasn't wrong. Our bodies were aching, our blades dulling. If we didn't find something stronger soon, the Rift would swallow us just like it had swallowed countless others before.
---
The campfire was burning low when Squad Six stumbled into camp. At first, I thought it was more orphans returning with kills. But the sight froze my blood.
Half their number was gone.
Michael Lanister, their leader, stumbled at the front, his face pale and streaked with blood. His armor was split across the chest, one arm bound hastily with torn cloth. Behind him, four survivors dragged their feet, eyes wide and glassy.
Laura ran to meet them. "Michael—what happened?"
He collapsed onto a log, clutching his chest. His voice was hoarse, every word heavy with exhaustion. "Ambush. Saber-tooth wolves. Two of them."
The camp fell silent. Even the fire seemed to pause.
Michael's gaze was haunted. "Six feet tall. Bigger than any wolf we've seen. Their fangs glowed white. Their fur crackled with lightning, arcing with every step. Fast—so fast none of us could track them. We barely saw the first strike. Shields split apart like glass. Every claw, every bite—lightning seared through it. Men burned alive before they even hit the ground."
One of his squad began to sob, clutching a charred wound across his arm. Another vomited in the dirt, body shaking.
Michael's voice broke. "We were lucky. That's all. If they'd pressed harder, none of us would be here. Half my squad gone… just like that."
The survivors looked around camp as if searching for proof that they were still alive. No one could meet their eyes.
---
And then came worse.
A figure stumbled from the treeline—alone. His armor was shredded, his hair wild, his eyes glassy. He swayed toward the fire like a sleepwalker.
Laura's breath caught. "Squad Four…"
We all stared.
The boy's lips trembled. His mouth opened, but no words came. Only a faint, broken sound—half gasp, half whimper. He collapsed onto his knees, digging his fingers into the dirt as if trying to anchor himself to reality.
"Where's your squad?" Mara whispered.
The boy didn't answer. Couldn't. His gaze was locked on something only he could see, his body trembling violently.
Only one survivor. A squad of fifty reduced to one.
The fire crackled, throwing harsh light on his hollow eyes. The Rift had eaten him alive, even if his body had crawled out.
---
The silence in camp was heavy, almost unbearable. No one laughed. No one boasted about kills. Even Tyler's smug squad kept quiet, polishing their daggers without a word.
I sat by the fire, staring into the flames, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles whitened.
Three days. DNA strands. Nothing else.
The Rift wasn't a trial. It wasn't a game. It was a meat grinder, chewing up lives and spitting out bones.
If we didn't grow stronger—fast—we'd end like Squad Four. Broken. Forgotten.
Mara's flames flickered faintly across her hands. Kira's tails swayed in the dim light. They had power now. But it wasn't enough.
Not yet.
I made a silent vow, my heart pounding against my ribs. I won't let us die here. Even if I have to bleed this forest dry, even if I have to tear every heart out with my own hands, I will find us power. We will survive.
The Rift howled in the distance. And I howled back in silence.