Three hours had passed since the rift crystallized.
The sun had begun its descent toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the containment zone. Association officers paced nervously, radios crackling with updates that meant nothing. S-Rank Hunters were en route, they said. ETA: forty minutes.
Forty minutes.
Lucien stood at the edge of the perimeter, staring at the frozen surface of the rift. His hand rested on the hilt of Orc Cleaver, fingers drumming a slow, deliberate rhythm against the worn leather.
Three hours.
Six Hunters trapped inside.
How long could they survive?
Behind him, Inspector Mazen spoke quietly into his phone, his back turned to the crowd. Lucien's eyes flicked toward him briefly, then returned to the rift.
He's stalling.
The thought had been growing steadily for the past hour. Every delay, every excuse, every "protocol" Mazen cited... it all pointed to one thing.
He did not care if they died in there.
Lucien's jaw tightened.
He took a step forward.
"Hunter de Mireval." Mazen's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Step back from the containment line."
Lucien didn't stop. He took another step, then another, his boots crunching against the scorched earth.
"I said step back."
Lucien turned his head slightly, his eyes cold and unwavering. "No."
Mazen's expression darkened. He moved quickly, crossing the distance between them in seconds, one hand reaching for Lucien's shoulder.
"You don't have the authority..."
Lucien's hand shot out and the backhand caught Mazen across the jaw with a sharp, brutal crack. The inspector staggered backward, blood trickling from his split lip, eyes wide with shock.
Silence fell over the containment zone.
Every officer, every Hunter, every agent turned to stare.
Lucien didn't look at them. His gaze was fixed on the crystallized rift, his hand already drawing Orc Cleaver from its sheath.
The blade gleamed darkly in the fading light, its jagged edge pulsing faintly with suppressed energy.
"Hunter de Mireval!" one of the senior officers shouted. "Stand down! That's an order!"
Lucien raised the sword above his head, both hands gripping the hilt.
He could feel it... the skill embedded within the blade, thrumming like a second heartbeat. Waiting. Eager.
One strike. One chance.
He exhaled slowly, his voice steady and clear.
"FINAL SEVERANCE!"
The world seemed to hold its breath.
Lucien swung.
The blade descended in a perfect arc, trailing light... brilliant and blinding, impossibly bright. The air itself screamed as the strike connected with the crystallized surface.
CRACK.
The sound was deafening.
A jagged line split the frozen rift from top to bottom, glowing veins of light spreading outward like fractures in glass. The crystal shattered, fragments exploding outward in a shower of violet and black shards.
And beneath it...
The rift reopened.
Its familiar swirling light poured forth, unstable and wild, but open.
In Lucien's hands, Orc Cleaver trembled once... then crumbled.
The blade fractured into dozens of pieces, disintegrating into dust that scattered on the wind. Only the hilt remained, cold and lifeless in his grip.
Lucien let it fall.
He didn't look back.
He stepped forward, into the light, and vanished.
The world on the other side was carnage.
Lucien landed hard on cracked stone, the air thick with dust and the acrid stench of blood. Around him, the ruins of what might have once been a temple stretched endlessly with broken pillars, shattered arches, walls scored with claw marks.
And in the center of it all, six Hunters fought for their lives.
The Griffon was massive... easily four meters tall at the shoulder, its lion's body covered in golden fur matted with blood. Its wings, each one spanning twice the length of its body, beat the air with enough force to send debris flying. Its eagle's head shrieked, eyes blazing with feral fury as it dove toward the scattered Hunters below.
One of them, a young man with a shield, raised it desperately. The Griffon's talons struck like hammers, driving him into the ground. His shield cracked. He screamed.
"Formation!" a woman's voice rang out, sharp and commanding.
Lucien's eyes found her immediately.
She stood at the front, tall and unyielding, her spear planted firmly in the ground. Blonde hair, streaked with dust and sweat, framed a face set with determination. Her armor was scorched and dented, blood running down her left arm, but her stance never wavered.
The Griffon turned toward her, talons flexing.
Lucien moved.
He sprinted across the broken ground, drawing his remaining sword as he ran. The Griffon lunged, beak wide, aiming for the woman's throat.
Lucien intercepted.
His blade met the creature's beak with a metallic clang, sparks flying as steel scraped against bone. The force of the impact drove him back a step, but he held firm.
The Griffon's eyes locked onto him, intelligence flickering behind the rage.
"Another one?" the woman gasped.
Lucien didn't answer. He pivoted, using the Griffon's momentum against it, and slashed across its wing joint. Blood sprayed. The creature shrieked and recoiled.
"Who are you?!" the woman shouted.
"Someone who's here to help," Lucien replied, not taking his eyes off the beast. "Your name?"
"Layla. Layla Al-Hassan."
"Lucien de Mireval." He shifted his stance. "How long have you been fighting?"
"Three hours."
Lucien's jaw tightened. Three hours without rest. No wonder they're exhausted.
The Griffon lunged again, claws raking the air. Lucien rolled aside, came up behind it, and struck at its hind leg. The blade bit deep, severing tendons. The creature's leg buckled.
"Now!" Layla shouted.
Her team moved instantly. The mage, a pale, trembling boy, conjured a sphere of flame and hurled it at the Griffon's exposed flank. The archer loosed three arrows in rapid succession, each one finding gaps in the creature's hide. The swordsman, bloodied but still standing, charged with a roar.
The Griffon thrashed, wings beating wildly, but it was faltering now. Wounded. Desperate.
Layla stepped forward, her spear gleaming.
"Lucien! Pin its wing!"
He understood immediately.
Lucien darted forward, his blade flashing, and drove it straight through the Griffon's left wing, pinning it to the ground. The creature screamed, twisting violently, but it couldn't pull free.
Layla leapt.
Her spear descended like a lightning bolt, piercing straight through the Griffon's skull and into the stone beneath.
The beast convulsed once.
Twice.
Then went still.
Silence fell over the ruins.
Layla pulled her spear free, breathing hard, and turned to Lucien.
"You..." She stared at him, wide-eyed. "You broke through a crystallized rift."
Lucien wiped his blade clean. "Yes."
"How?"
"A skill." He sheathed his sword. "Are your people alive?"
Layla looked back at her team. Two of them were unconscious, being tended to by the healer. The others were battered, bloodied, but standing.
"All of them," she said quietly. "Thanks to you."
Lucien nodded once. "Then we need to leave. Now."
But even as he spoke, the System's familiar chime echoed in his mind.
[Boss Defeated: Griffon – Rank B]
And then... pain came...
Sharp, blinding, like a spike driven through his skull.
Lucien staggered, one hand clutching his head. His vision blurred, the world tilting.
"Lucien?!" Layla's voice sounded distant, distorted.
He fell to one knee.
And the vision took him.
Fire. Smoke. The thunder of hooves on stone.
Lucien rode hard, his horse's breath ragged beneath him. Ahead, a cloaked figure fled through the burning streets of Jerusalem, something clutched tightly in his arms.
"Stop!" Lucien roared.
The figure didn't slow. He leapt onto his own horse and spurred it forward, disappearing into the smoke.
Lucien cursed and urged his mount faster. The distance closed. Ten meters. Five. Three.
Now.
He launched himself from the saddle, crashing into the rider. Both men tumbled from the horse, hitting the ground hard. Stone scraped against armor. Blood filled Lucien's mouth.
He rolled, pinning the traitor beneath him, and ripped the hood away.
A face stared back at him... familiar, handsome and young. A brother. A friend.
"You..." Lucien's voice broke.
The man smiled, blood on his teeth.
"Forgive me, Lucien."
And Lucien whispered the name aloud, the word tearing from his throat like a curse.
"Hugues de Sangreal."
Lucien's eyes snapped open.
He was on his back, staring up at the broken sky of the rift. Layla knelt beside him, her hand on his shoulder.
"Lucien! Can you hear me?"
He nodded slowly, sitting up. His head throbbed, but the vision was already fading, slipping through his fingers like water.
Hugues de Sangreal.
The name burned in his mind.
A translucent blue window flickered before his eyes.
[Skill ??? – Progress: 5.5%]
Lucien exhaled shakily and pushed himself to his feet.
"We need to go," he said hoarsely.
Layla opened her mouth to reply...
And the world screamed as the air itself tore open.
Not at the edge of the rift, where they'd entered.
But here right In the center of the ruins. Right in front of them.
A second rift... black as void, writhing with shadow... split reality like a wound.
The System's voice echoed, cold and mechanical.
[Error: Dimensional Breach Detected]
[Unknown Entity Approaching]
Layla raised her spear, eyes wide. "What the hell is that?!"
Lucien didn't answer he didn't understand either.
From the darkness, a figure stepped forward.
Tall and armored head to toe in black steel that seemed to drink the light. No face visible beneath the helm... only shadow... deep and endless.
The figure stopped a few meters away and spoke.
Its voice was low, distorted, layered with something inhuman.
"Lucien de Mireval."
Lucien's blood ran cold.
The knight tilted its head slowly, as if observing him.
"I have come to bring you home."