Lucien stepped out of the Rift, the air around him shifting from the dense mana of the dungeon to the crisp evening wind.
He was silent. His mind replayed the vision, flames, steel, and that voice calling his name. Was it divine? A message from God?Or was it the System itself, showing him something beyond his comprehension?
His gaze dropped to the faint blue interface still lingering before him.
??? (0.003%)
He frowned. That symbol. That fraction of a percent.What did it mean?
A sudden shout broke his thoughts.
"Sir! You're back already?"
One of the guards near the gate rushed toward him, clearly startled. The man's expression shifted from confusion to alarm as his wrist device began to beep.
The Rift behind Lucien shimmered, then sealed itself in a burst of light.A notification appeared on the security monitor:
[Rift Sealed]Reactivation in 47h 59m 37s
The guard blinked. "Wait... what? The timer started already? Did you... did you clear it alone?"
Lucien didn't answer. He simply looked at the now-quiet fissure, then at his sword.
A crack ran down its length.Moments later, the blade shattered, scattering fragments onto the ground.
Lucien's lips curved slightly, a faint smile beneath the fatigue.He murmured to himself, almost like a prayer:
"I still have a long way to go…"
Meanwhile, in the North
Snow drifted over the mountains as Mira de Beaumont stepped out of a glowing portal.Behind her, her guildmates of Blades Of Lyon emerged one by one, worn, but victorious. The Rift they had cleared was classified as A-Rank, one of the most dangerous currently active in Europe.
Outside the containment zone, a crowd had already gathered. Reporters. Drones. Applause.The flashes of cameras painted the snow in bursts of white light.
"Mira! Over here!""Lady de Beaumont, one photo please!""Can you comment on your victory against the A-Class Rift?"
Mira gave a polite smile, waving briefly as she moved up the marble steps of the hotel that served as their base. Her red hair caught the sunlight, a flare of fire against the gray sky.
Then one question stopped her mid-step.
"Miss Mira! There are reports from Russia THAT an evacuation near Yaroslavl! They're saying it might be a breakout! Do you know anything about it?"
The crowd quieted for a moment.
Mira turned slightly, her expression calm but her eyes sharp."I don't deal in rumors," she said evenly, "but I have no doubt that Russia knows what it's doing."
Polite. Professional. Controlled. She smiled once more and entered the hotel.
Inside, she was met by Renan, her right hand and strategist."Mira," he said quietly, "Allan Rey is here. He wants to speak with you."
Her brows lifted. "Allan Rey? I didn't know we had a meeting scheduled."
Renan hesitated. "We didn't. He said the circumstances demanded it."
She sighed softly, adjusting her gloves. "The circumstances?"
A deep voice answered from the lounge:"You've heard what's happening in Russia, haven't you?"
Allan Rey stood near the window, tall and composed, his long coat dusted with snow. The emblem of Aegis, the top guild of the United Kingdom was visible on his shoulder.
Mira entered the room, her heels clicking on the polished floor. She gestured toward the tea service and sat."I heard a journalist mention it," she said calmly, pouring herself a cup. "But I assumed it was just speculation. Though, I suppose it's real, since you're here."
She raised her gaze to meet his. "So, what's happening in Russia? Don't tell me RedStar isn't doing its job."
Allan's expression darkened. He didn't sit."Dimitriev of RedStar is dead."
Mira froze. Her hand paused midair, the porcelain cup trembling slightly before she set it down.
Allan continued quietly, each word heavy."They haven't announced it yet. But the intel is solid. The Rift he entered mutated. It's no longer A-Class."
Mira's eyes narrowed. "How high?"
Allan met her gaze."Category S."
Silence filled the room. Even the air seemed to still.
The first S-Class Rift in history.