The sky above Echo Ridge had turned a bruised shade of twilight—neither day nor night. Rift fog spilled across the cracked earth like creeping smoke, curling around the blackened skeletons of dead trees. The van was already gone, swallowed by the fog as if it had never existed.
Shiori's boots crunched against the brittle ground as she stepped forward. Her voice cut through the tension.
"Put on your protective gear and gas masks," she ordered sharply. "Fractured, you don't need one, but the rest of you do."
Ren hesitated, pulling his gloves tight. "T-This place gives me a bad feeling…"
Kenji wordlessly tightened the grip on his spear, its Rift Crystal tip catching the dull light. Without another word, he started forward, boots silent as he slipped into a light jog.
"Let's move!" Shiori barked.
Ahead, the battlefield was crawling with low-tier Rift creatures. Class 7s and 8s—feral, malformed things that moved like beasts made of shadows and bone.
Raizo was the first to break off. A Class 8 creature crept toward them—spindly, its limbs jointed wrong, and a maw that opened sideways like shattered glass.
Raizo summoned his dual blades with a flash of Rift energy, his expression cold as ever. He moved like water—silent, smooth, lethal. The creature lunged with a screech. He pivoted, sidestepped, and sliced upward. One clean motion. The thing's head flew off in a spray of black ichor, its body collapsing in on itself like paper set to fire.
Elsewhere, one of the other squads—Squad Kasen—was in combat. One of their members ducked just as a creature's claw ripped past, tearing through his jumpsuit, and he rolled to the side.
"Hey, um, are you good, Riku?" one of his squad members called out, driving a fist into the creature's chest as it lunged at him.
Riku groaned, pushing himself up. "Tch—barely!"
Nearby, three more operatives were locked in combat with something bigger.
It was massive. Its body was a twisted mass of dark, shifting material, as if it were forged from Rift energy itself. Thick tendrils whipped from its back like furious snakes. Its head was featureless—no eyes, no mouth—until it split open vertically, revealing gnashing, crystalline teeth.
"Damn it!" one of them hissed, flipping backward as a tendril smashed into the ground.
"This thing just won't go down!" another growled, dragging a long axe from the creature's side.
A third—calm and strangely unfazed—was yawning mid-combat, his hand resting lazily on his shoulder.
"Yo, Daigo!" one of the others shouted. "Stop slacking!"
Daigo didn't look up. "It's just boring."
Back on the front, Shiori assessed quickly.
"Kenji, Raizo—take that group on the left," she said, pointing to a tight cluster of Class 7s. "Once you're done, support the team fighting the big one. The rest of you, with me!"
Kenji gave a small nod and dashed forward, Raizo right beside him. The two launched into the fray.
Three Class 8s waited. Jagged backs, stretched limbs, all snapping their jaws.
Raizo struck first, darting in with incredible precision. His blade flashed once—twice—one creature's legs were gone before it even realized it was dead. It collapsed mid-screech.
Another lunged at Kenji. He moved in a blur, sidestepping and spinning his spear. The haft connected with the creature's skull—CRACK—before the blade pierced through its chest in one clean drive.
Raizo ducked beneath a claw, slashing upward in a spiral. Kenji stepped in, leapt over Raizo's back, and flipped forward, plunging his spear into the third creature from above.
Every motion was calculated—fluid. A dance of death.
They stood back-to-back for a moment. Raizo spun his blade, flicking black ichor from the edge.
"You're holding back," he muttered.
Kenji didn't respond, adjusting his grip.
Meanwhile, Shiori charged in barehanded. One of the Class 7s leapt for her, claws out. She ducked under its swipe, drove her fist into its chest—crack. It staggered. She followed with a kick, slamming it into a tree trunk where it shrieked and melted in the Rift fog.
Kaiori swept through another with a brutal shoulder slam, low and practiced. She didn't summon another creature—just raw aggression now. She was graceful but relentless—each motion deliberate.
Ren stayed back, unsure, hesitant. He flinched as a creature screeched too close, but Kaiori stepped in, blocking its path with a low growl.
Kaiori frowned, her sharp gaze narrowing. "You planning on getting your hands dirty anytime soon?"
Ren hesitated, his voice faltering. "I-I'd prefer not to…"
The Rift katana she held shimmered faintly in the dim light, its weight unfamiliar in her grip. One of the Rift creatures snapped toward her—taller than her, jagged and skeletal.
But she didn't panic. She held her stance.
Trust the edge. Don't overthink it.
As it lunged, she stepped in—not away—and drove the katana in a clean horizontal arc across its chest. The blade sang. Rift energy burst outward. The creature staggered, split in two, and collapsed in on itself.
Hannah blinked.
"…That wasn't mine," she muttered under her breath, staring at the weapon.
She didn't get handed that Rift weapon. It had been a mix-up. A mistake.
And yet, it felt like it belonged in her hand.
The fight was far from over.
The scene cut back to the massive Rift creature. One of the operatives struck its side with a hammer, only for it to reform in seconds.
"It's healing! This thing's at least Class 5—maybe lower!"
Tendrils whipped out. One of them screamed as they were thrown into a boulder, their armor cracking.
"This thing's too strong!" another shouted, leaping back.
Daigo exhaled slowly, yawning again. "You guys are way too loud."
Just then, Kenji and Raizo arrived.
Without a word, they joined the fight. Kenji speared through a tendril as Raizo cleaved another in half. The group moved in sync, like they'd fought together for years. Dodges were narrow, counters tight. Kenji leapt from Daigo's shoulder for height, Raizo caught one of the flailing operatives mid-fall and tossed them aside to safety.
Their coordination was surgical—but even that wasn't enough.
The Rift creature roared. A tendril struck Kenji across the ribs—he grunted but stayed upright. Another slammed Raizo into the ground, dust rising around his body.
The others were worse off—blood, cracked armor, coughing in the fog.
Only Daigo stood uninjured.
The sky rumbled.
A shadow passed overhead.
They all glanced up.
"…Did we call for backup?" one of the operatives asked.
A helicopter hovered above, rotors whirling against the Rift fog.
Inside, the pilot called out, "You sure you don't need a gas mask?!"
A voice answered coldly.
"I don't need one."
And then he jumped.
Jin dropped from the helicopter like a meteor, his Squad Gamma uniform rippling. Both arms were intact—his left, once missing, was now restored.
His body twisted mid-air. Purple Rift energy surged. The claws on his hands erupted—sharp, sleek, glowing. With surgical precision, he landed behind the creature and drove both Rift claws into the base of its neck.
It screeched—violently.
It jerked. Then, with a vicious twist, it hurled Jin off its back. He hit the ground hard, skidding across the earth, but rolled to his feet, dragging his claw through the dirt.
The others froze, eyes wide.
"…Was that Jin?!"
"He's… alive?"
Shiori stared, stunned.
Jin stood slowly. Purple energy hissed from his claws as the creature's wound healed again, seamless.
He looked up, eyes cold and unreadable.
Then he muttered,
"Tch. Guess I'll have to rip deeper."