THE Valerius Empire was once known for its vast fields, abundant water resources, and strong army. For many generations, it stood strong despite being surrounded by rival empires, and all its people lived happily and in peace.
Until one peaceful day, a rift tore open in the sky. Monsters with hides no sword could pierce poured out, laying waste to everything in their path. As chaos spread across the land, people gathered with their Saintess to pray to Gaea for salvation from the hell they had fallen into. On the brink of humanity's collapse, some began to awaken with mana and extraordinary abilities to defeat the monsters and seal the rifts.
And from that day on, they were called "Espers."
Outside a shimmering yellow rift, looters scattered about, waiting for Espers to clear the area, so they could start their work.
Rifts are color-coded by threat level: Yellow houses E to F-class monsters; Orange is for C to D-class monsters; and Red houses A to B-class monsters.
But one color strikes terror into every heart: the Black Rift, home to S to SS-class beasts. Thankfully, the last Black Rift occurred 500 years ago and has never appeared again... yet.
Jullian stared at the skyscrapers before him, sitting atop a transport truck and still amazed at how the old Valerius Empire had become so modern. From vents that released hot and cold air to small devices that let people call one another from anywhere.
Though some changes left him shaking his head.
Women now wore clothes that would have scandalized the noble ladies of his time, who had been careful not to show even an ankle in public. They were also far bolder when confessing their love—he'd already witnessed three public proposals in as many weeks.
Though time flowed differently inside the Black Rift, leaving him trapped in his 21-year-old body, Jullian's appearance set him apart just enough to draw glances. His brown hair was tied back in a style slightly outdated by current standards, and a faded scar cut across his left eyebrow from his days fighting in the rift. He wore the standard looter's uniform, but his broad shoulders and calloused hands—marked with old burns and blade scars—spoke of years spent facing down horrors most could never imagine.
Jullian chuckled as he remembered his best friend Dylan, who had climbed into his lover's room after her father forbade their union but the smile faded fast, replaced by a familiar weight in his chest. He recalled how Dylan had thrown himself in front of a monster's claw meant for him, breathing his last with Jullian's name on his lips. When Jullian woke in the hospital three weeks later, he had gone to find Dylan's family only to discover their home had been replaced by a bustling supermarket. That was when the truth hit him like a punch to the gut: 500 years had passed since the Black Rift swallowed him whole. Everyone he had ever known was dust and memory, and he was the sole survivor from a bygone world.
Shortly after, their leader called out to inform them the rift was clear and Espers were exiting.
"Coming!" Jullian replied, leaping from the truck bed in a single fluid motion to join his two co-workers. They watched as Espers filed out with only minor wounds.
"Must be nice being an Esper," Jeffrey said. "You'd get to have all kinds of adventures and enjoy all the benefits."
"If I were an Esper," Clyde added, "I'd grab every energy stone and selenite stone I could find and sell them for a fortune."
Two valuable materials can be harvested from rifts: Selenite stones, found in monster carcasses, which double mana output and are used for crafting weapons and items; and Energy stones—once discarded by Espers after replenishing their energy, now refined to power everything from streetlights to personal devices. The idea still baffled Jullian.
Jullian scoffed. "It's not as simple as you make it sound," he said. "Being an Esper means risking your life every time you go in. If your weapon is lost, you might have to use even a tree branch to kill a monster. Worst of all, you'd only get paid one gold coin."
After he shared his thoughts, his co-workers stared at him like he had grown two heads.
"What?"
"You talk like you've actually worked as an Esper for a long time," Jeffrey said first.
"Yeah, you sound like my great great grandpa telling his war stories," Clyde added. "And Emperor Fedor Sokolov raised their pay tenfold many years ago, so no one uses gold coins anymore, either."
Jullian's chest tightened. Fedor Sokolov. Five hundred years ago, the Hildebrand line had ruled Valerius, and Jullian himself had been crown prince. But just three years after he'd entered the Black Rift, the Sokolov family had staged a coup, banished his father, and seized the throne. The Hildebrand name had been scrubbed from history entirely. Fedor had reigned for 200 years; after his second son fell to a monster, his first son took the throne and remains emperor today.
Jeffrey narrowed his eyes as he studied him. "Not to mention... how do you jump so high? Lift heavy things like they're nothing? You never even look tired after a full day's work. Are you sure you've never been inside a rift as an Esper?"
Jullian snickered and smacked Jeffrey's head, which makes the latter yelp. "How could I be? I'm registered F-class, and you know E and F-class Espers can't enter rifts for safety reasons." With that, he turned and walked toward the rift entrance, his boots crunching on gravel.
...
Everyone, including their leader, stared in amazement as Jullian carried two heavy crates of energy stones like they were pillows, loading them onto the truck with ease.
"Jullian, you're a real asset to this crew!" the leader praised as he approached him after he returned to the rift. "So I hope you don't quit."
"Then how about raising my salary if you really appreciate me?" Jullian shot back with a grin.
The leader laughed and walked away.
It had been two months since Jullian resolved to live as a normal civilian. After accepting that everyone he knew was gone, he had registered as a citizen at Immigration and sealed his attributes during reclassification to become F-class, then taken a job as a looter for Thrive Corporation.
When the team finished harvesting energy stones and extracting selenite from monster remains, their leader ordered everyone out as Thrive Rift Management prepared to seal the rift.
Jullian hung back as Clyde slung an arm over his shoulder. "Come on, let's go get a drink with Jeffrey! My treat... mostly."
"Wasn't it just two days ago you were drinking yourself silly?" Jullian asked.
"You're right. But Alcohol's the only happiness I've got in this life!" Clyde said shamelessly.
Jullian elbowed him to his side and was about to scold him when he heard a sharp crack and when he turned towards the entrance, he saw a new rift beginning to form inside the yellow one.
"CLYDE, RUN!"
Jullian grabbed his co-worker and dragged him out at full speed—if they were trapped inside when the rift stabilized, their only way out would be to defeat its boss. He'd been down that road before.
They burst out just as the transformation finished. Clyde collapsed to the ground, panting, while Jullian stood frozen, staring at the glowing red rift that had taken shape. The sight sent a chill down his spine—eerily familiar, just like when a rift had opened within the Black Rift centuries ago. Except this one was active.
Their leader pulled out his walkie-talkie. "We've got a red rift forming inside a yellow one! Requesting S-class Espers immediately!"
Within minutes, five Espers arrived. Four walked ahead with their heads high, but when the fifth stepped forward—Jullian's breath caught in his throat.
The man had sleek blonde hair and sharp red eyes that burned like embers. He wore an olive green cotton tee stretched tight across shoulders and arms built like a master builder's—thick, defined muscles shifting under fair skin every time he adjusted the harness crisscrossing his chest. Dark cargo pants were tucked into sturdy boots, paired with a worn leather vest and fingerless gloves.
Even the way the harness straps settled over his broad frame felt intentional, every buckle and clip in place. His skin was pale but not washed out, catching the light to highlight a faint, silvery scar that cut across his left bicep.
But what struck Jullian most was how familiar he looked—his blonde hair and red eyes identical to the boy he'd once cared for like a brother but the difference was night and day: the man before him oozed authority and command, nothing like the timid boy who had once thrown a funeral for a dead sparrow in the palace gardens.
"Is that the little timid boy that I knew?" Jullian thought, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.