The fracture did not release them gently.
It rejected them.
Ghost felt the world tear sideways—gravity flipping, sound compressing into a shriek as space folded like wet paper. His body slammed through layers of heat and cold in rapid succession, nerves screaming as if every cell was being dragged through a wire mesh.
Then—
Impact.
Hard.
He rolled across concrete, momentum carrying him into a broken barrier. Pain flared across his ribs, sharp and immediate. Ghost sucked in a breath and forced himself upright, rifle already coming up.
Rain.
Cold, real rain—slick against his gloves, soaking into scorched fabric. The smell hit him next: burning fuel, wet ash, cordite.
Earth.
He was back.
Rook groaned somewhere nearby. "Next time… we use a door."
Ghost ignored him, scanning the area.
They were in a city—what was left of one.
Skyscrapers leaned like broken teeth against a storm-dark sky. Fires burned unchecked across multiple blocks. Sirens wailed in the distance, overlapping with gunfire and the dull thud of explosions.
But something was wrong.
The rain didn't fall straight.
It bent slightly, curving as it descended—pulled toward invisible seams in the air. Red veins flickered faintly along building edges, fading in and out like dying neon.
Ghost's HUD lit up with cascading alerts.
ANOMALOUS ENERGY DETECTED
REALITY STABILITY: 78% AND FALLING
FRACTURE SIGNATURE: CONFIRMED
Rook pushed himself up, armor sparking. He looked around slowly, then laughed once—short and humorless.
"You really did bring it with you."
Ghost clenched his jaw. "Where are we?"
Rook checked his internal map, frowning. "Somewhere that used to be Eastern Europe. Grid markers don't match anything current."
A scream cut through the rain.
Human.
Close.
Ghost was moving before the sound finished echoing.
They rounded a corner into chaos.
A civilian transport lay overturned in the street, flames licking at its undercarriage. Half a dozen people huddled behind it, panic etched into their faces.
Across from them—
Something stepped out of the rain.
It had once been a man.
Now its limbs were elongated wrong, joints bending backward as red light pulsed beneath translucent skin. Its face sagged, mouth open too wide, eyes glowing faintly as if lit from inside.
A fracture-spawn.
It turned its head sharply—locking onto Ghost.
And smiled.
"CONTACT," Ghost barked.
He fired.
The round punched clean through its skull—
—and the thing kept walking.
Rook swore and drew his blade. "They're stabilizing faster here."
The creature lunged.
Ghost sidestepped, slamming the butt of his rifle into its jaw, then fired again—this time not at the body, but through it, aiming at the shimmering distortion behind it.
The air ruptured.
The creature screamed—not in pain, but in loss—and collapsed into ash that evaporated before hitting the ground.
The civilians stared.
One of them whispered, "What… what was that?"
Ghost didn't answer.
Because more were coming.
Three more shapes emerged from the rain, drawn by the rupture like sharks to blood.
Rook charged the nearest, blade carving a red arc through the air. It split the creature in half—but the halves crawled toward each other, trying to reconnect.
Ghost adjusted tactics instantly.
"Don't kill them," he said. "Sever the anchor."
Rook looked at him mid-swing. "The what?"
Ghost pointed with his muzzle. "Behind them. They're being projected."
Rook pivoted, slashing into the distortion instead of the creature.
Reality screamed.
The remaining fracture-spawn collapsed simultaneously, unraveling into nothing.
Silence returned—broken only by rain and distant sirens.
The civilians didn't cheer.
They ran.
Ghost watched them disappear into the smoke.
"Containment failure," Rook said quietly. "This is how it starts."
Ghost looked up.
Across the street, a building façade shimmered—then cracked open like glass. A vertical seam of red light pulsed once… twice…
Then stabilized.
A new tear.
Smaller than the one in Kyrgyzstan.
But growing.
Ghost felt it resonate with him—pulling, aligning, responding.
His presence made it easier.
Rook noticed his stillness. "Don't tell me you feel responsible."
Ghost didn't look away. "I am."
Before Rook could respond, Ghost's comm crackled violently.
Static.
Then a voice.
Familiar.
"—Ghost? Simon, if that's you, respond!"
Ghost's breath caught.
"Mara?"
Her voice came through distorted but real. "We've got eyes on a developing anomaly in Sector D. Dominion just locked down the entire district. Kade's pinned and—Simon, the air is moving wrong."
Ghost closed his eyes for half a second.
Then opened them, resolve settling in like a loaded magazine.
"Hold position," he said. "I'm coming."
Rook stared at him. "You're going back in?"
Ghost turned toward the forming tear, rain steaming off his armor.
"I don't get to walk away anymore," he said. "Every step I take changes the map."
The tear pulsed brighter—as if in agreement.
High above the city, unseen satellites realigned.
Dominion command rooms lit up with red warnings.
And deep within the fracture layers, the Watchers observed silently—
Because the bleedthrough had begun.
And Ghost was no longer just inside the war.
He was where it spread.