Four days.
Four long, bumpy, dust-choked, barely-slept days later, the wagon finally pulled up to the towering gates of Virelia Kingdom. The grand walls rose before them, silver banners fluttering high in the wind — and to their weary eyes, it might as well have been paradise. The wagon creaked to a halt. A pair of armored kingdom guards stepped forward, halberds crossed, expressions stern as they peered into the wagon.
"You lot," one said, voice sharp. "State your business."
All they saw were four dust-covered, dark-eyed adventurers who looked one night short of collapsing into sleep right there on the road. Khyla groaned and tossed a rolled parchment toward the nearest guard. "Delivery contract from the guild. Check the seal."
The guard unrolled it, frowned, and gave a nod to his partner.
"You're not entering the capital," he said. "Instructions say to deliver this to the outskirts, near the old east watchtower."
Khyla raised a brow, exasperated. "Seriously? We have to travel more?"
The second guard — older, with a bit more sympathy in his voice — added, "It's not far. Fifteen minutes up the eastern ridge. You'll see the outpost with the gold pennant."
Khyla groaned. "Of course it's on a ridge."
The wagon creaked forward once more.As the gates of Virelia loomed behind them, Lirae glanced at Caelus and Althea, her voice soft but warm. "Well… I suppose this is it. After the drop-off, we head back to the capital. Guess our paths split here."
Althea said nothing, just folded her arms and looked toward the hills. Caelus blinked, then looked over at the two.
"…Is it alright if we come with you?" he asked. "I mean, I've never seen a rift before. Might as well take a peek while we're out here."
Khyla squinted back at him. "What, you planning to stare the rift closed or something?"
Caelus grinned, leaning lazily against the wagon wall. "Yup. I'll glare it into submission. Works most of the time."
Khyla rolled her eyes. "Fine. Suit yourself, Rift Whisperer."
Althea sighed, muttering under her breath, "He's going to get himself vaporized one day…"
And with that, the four of them rolled on — toward the border outpost, toward the growing pulse of arcane energy ahead. In the distance, the clouds shifted unnaturally above the rift zone, and the horizon shimmered like heat off metal. Their delivery was nearly complete. But something much bigger was just beginning.
The wagon finally rolled to a halt at the border outpost — a fortified ridge station nestled against a rocky rise. Banners flapped in the rising wind, and the air tasted faintly of ozone… and smoke.
Guards approached, weapons at the ready, but when Khyla handed over the sealed delivery note, the lead guard glanced it over, nodded, and waved them in.
The heavy gates opened.
The wagon creaked inside the camp, flanked by high wooden barricades and scattered tents. Soldiers bustled about, grim-faced and worn. The atmosphere was tense — the kind that said danger wasn't far off.
As soon as the wagon stopped, everyone spilled out with groans and exaggerated stretches.
"Four. Days. On that bumpy wagon," Khyla muttered, cracking her back. "I think my spine fused."
Caelus bent backward, nearly falling over. "I can't feel my legs. Do legs just... stop existing after day three?"
Althea dusted herself off with a sigh. "Mortals and your delicate joints."
They were approached by the Commander Garron Vireth— a broad-shouldered man in reinforced armor, face lined with sleeplessness but sharp-eyed.
"Thanks for making the delivery," he said with a curt nod. "We appreciate it."
Caelus stepped forward, eyes drifting toward the crates being unloaded. "Just out of curiosity... what's in all this, anyway?"
"Healing potions. Enchanted blades. Ward crystals," Garron said briskly. "Gear we desperately need. Monsters have been hitting harder. Smarter."
Khyla's brow furrowed. "Wait—are your soldiers still out there? Right now?"
Garron nodded grimly. "A squad's holding the line at Rift Perimeter Four. Reinforcements are mobilizing in shifts."
Lirae's expression tightened. "Then let us help. I can fight."
The Garron hesitated. "That's noble, miss, but we've got this handled."
Without a word, Lirae slipped a pendant from beneath her cloak—a delicate sigil of the Virelia royal crest.
The Garron's eyes widened. "Your Highness—?"
"I'll explain later," Lirae said calmly. "But right now, let us assist your people."
The commander straightened, then nodded. "Of course. I'll assign you to a reinforcement squad. Departure in ten."
Khyla grabbed her sword and rolled her shoulders. "About time we stretched our legs for real."
Caelus stepped forward, eyes lit. "Then I'll come too—"
"No," Khyla said flatly, cutting him off. "We don't need a performer out there. This isn't a stage act, Caelus. It's real. It's serious."
He opened his mouth, but her words hit hard. His jaw clenched. He bit back his response and looked away.
Althea stood quietly nearby. Watching. Listening. But she said nothing.
The commander motioned to a squad forming near the southern post.
"You're with them," he said to Lirae and Khyla. "You leave in five."
And just like that, the two women were gone — blades at their backs, determination in their steps.
Caelus stood there, fists clenched at his sides, staring at the ground.
His voice was low.
"…What now?" he muttered. "We just… stay here? Let them go off while we play it safe? Pretend this doesn't matter?"
His eyes lifted toward the ridge, where the sky glowed faintly — the direction of the rift. He felt the pull of it, like a heartbeat under his skin.
He turned to Althea.
"We could just leave, right?" he asked. "Go to the capital. Finish the job. Pretend this war isn't ours."
Althea said nothing.
But the look in her eyes — the steady silence, the unreadable depth — said everything.
Caelus looked back toward the horizon, heart heavy, doubt gnawing at him.
And somewhere in that ache, something inside him began to burn.
The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a molten orange glow over the camp. Long shadows stretched from tents and watchtowers. The day was ending—but there was still no sign of Lirae or Khyla.
Inside a dim canvas tent, Althea sat cross-legged on a small stool, her posture calm, her gaze unmoved. Opposite her, Caelus paced restlessly, boots crunching over dust and canvas.
"Will you sit already?" Althea asked, her voice like water on stone—soft, but steady.
Caelus ran a hand through his messy hair. "If I sit, I'll start thinking. If I start thinking, I'll panic. So no—I gotta keep moving or my brain'll eat itself."
Althea sighed with just the faintest eye-roll. "Mortals and your unnecessarily complicated coping methods."
Then—
A shout outside. Another. Then a wave of chaotic noise. Soldiers rushing. Boots slamming. Metal clanging.
Caelus was out of the tent in seconds, Althea right behind him.
The camp was stirring like a hornet's nest.
They found Commander Garron Vireth near a command post, surrounded by panicked aides and barking orders.
Caelus pushed through. "Commander—what happened?"
The man turned, jaw set. "The reinforcement unit—" he grunted. "They took heavy casualties. Something's changing near the rift. We don't know what, but it's... bigger. Smarter. We're moving now."
Caelus's stomach dropped. "Khyla and Lirae—are they—"
"They haven't returned. No word yet."
Something snapped in Caelus then. His hands balled into fists.
"Then let me go."
Commander Vireth didn't hesitate. "No."
"I have to go!"
"We don't need more dead bodies in the mud, son."
"I don't care!" Caelus barked, his voice louder than he meant. "We're gonna die anyway if this keeps up. So if I can do something—anything—then I'm going. With or without you."
A moment of tense silence passed between them. The fire in Caelus's eyes wasn't the blind heat of desperation—it was resolve.
Commander Garron studied him… then nodded slowly.
"Fine. Grab what you need. Reinforcements leave in ten."
Caelus nodded once, then turned on his heel and strode off into the supply crates, heart pounding.
He rifled through gear, looking for something—anything—that resembled a sword.
Behind him, quiet footsteps.
"Caelus," Althea's voice called.
He didn't answer.
"Caelus," she tried again, firmer this time.
"not now "he replied
Then louder: "Caelus!"
He stopped.
Turned around.
Althea stood, arms crossed, golden eyes narrowed—but beneath it, something deeper flickered. Concern.
"You still haven't awakened your power," she said. "You'll be going in blind. Do you even know how to fight?"
"I'll figure it out," Caelus replied, gripping the worn hilt of a short sword. "I've got hands. Instinct. And bad ideas. That'll do."
Caelus step closer to althea. "You should stay behind. Let us handle it."
althea shook her head. "They're my friends too, Khyla. Lirae. What if they're hurt? What if they don't come back? You want me to sit around and wait for report?"
Caelus gave her a look—half-grin, half-grim. "Then come on, goddess. Let's go see what hell looks like up close." And together, Caelus and Althea joined the next unit of soldiers, heading into the thickening dusk—toward the rift, toward the unknown.
Their footsteps were quiet, but something inside both of them had already begun to stir.
The moment their unit crossed the ridge, the damage was obvious.
Cracked stone. Burnt trees. Bloodied dirt.
Commander Garron Vireth barked orders to his soldiers, voice firm above the wind:
"Fan out! Search for survivors! Aid the wounded first—then sweep for signs of enemy activity!"
Soldiers scattered into formation, moving with practiced urgency.
Caelus leaned close to Althea, voice low but tight.
"Can you sense them? Khyla? Lirae?"
Althea's eyes closed briefly, golden light flickering beneath her lashes. "I'm trying…"
They passed bodies—some still breathing, some not. Groans of the wounded mingled with rustling leaves. But there were no monsters.
Caelus scanned the treeline. His pulse quickened.
"Where the hell did they go? Was it just a retreat… or something else?"
Althea opened her eyes suddenly.
"I found her. This way."
Caelus didn't wait. He sprinted behind Althea as they weaved past debris and boulders until—
Khyla.
She was slumped behind a scorched rock, blood streaking her brow, armor dented. One of her arms was pinned under her body. But she was breathing.
"Khyla!" Caelus dropped to her side. "You alright?"
Khyla blinked up at him, dazed but smirking. "You know me… I just needed a nap… in the dirt."
Caelus chuckled with relief. "Sarcasm intact. Good. You're gonna live."
Althea knelt beside her immediately, hands glowing as she whispered a healing incantation. Gold threads of light coiled around Khyla's wounds.
Caelus looked around, heart pounding again.
"Where's Lirae?"
Khyla coughed, wincing. "She went up ahead… tried to cut them off."
Without another word, Caelus bolted.
A few yards deeper into the trees, he found her.
Lirae lay still on a slope, her green cloak soaked in mud, a gash across her leg. Her silver hair was fanned out like a halo in the dirt. Her bow lay beside her—but her hand was still clutching it.
He dropped to his knees beside her, pressing two fingers to her neck.
Still breathing.
With a soft breath of relief, he gently lifted her into his arms.
"You're… heavier than you look, princess," he muttered.
And to his utter surprise—
"…I'll remember that."
Her voice was faint but alive.
Caelus laughed under his breath. "Of course you're conscious."
He carried her back quickly. Althea had done what she could for Khyla, who now sat upright, holding her side. When she saw Lirae, her expression softened with concern.
Caelus laid Lirae beside her, careful not to disturb her leg.
Althea leaned in, checking her breath, placing a glowing palm gently on her chest.
"She's stable. Rest will do the rest."
Then Althea looked around. "Where are the monsters? Did you kill them all?"
Khyla shook her head grimly. "No. We were doing fine at first—small numbers. Then out of nowhere, a wave of them came. Like they were waiting. We were surrounded before we knew it."
Caelus stood, brow furrowed. He turned to glance at the quiet field. His gut twisted.
"…Too quiet. Did they just leave? or"- his eyes widen "they are luring us in, for another ambush"
His eyes darted toward the tree line.
He climbed the nearby ridge rock, scanning.
And then—he saw it.
Shadows shifting in the trees. Eyes. Dozens. No—hundreds.
His breath caught.
He yelled at the top of his lungs:
"AMBUSH! THEY'RE COMING BACK—FORM UP! "
Too late.
From the treeline, the hounds of the Rift burst forth—monstrous dog-like beasts, eyes glowing crimson, jaws dripping black ichor.
They howled in unison and charged.
"TO ARMS!"
Commander Garron's voice tore through the chaos like thunder. His blade flashed in the dying light, already slick with black blood as he charged headfirst into the onslaught.
"HOLD THE LINE! PROTECT THE WOUNDED!"
But it wasn't a battle.
It was slaughter.
The hounds hit the front lines like a meteor storm. Armor crumpled. Shields shattered. Men screamed. Bled. Died. Their bodies were thrown aside like broken toys, buried beneath claw and fang and fury.
Steel rang. Spells cracked. The ground turned red.
Caelus stood at the edge of it all—frozen.
The world blurred. His heart slammed against his ribs. Every instinct screamed to run. But his legs wouldn't move. Garron was already being surrounded—swinging, roaring, his soldiers falling one by one around him. And still more beasts came. The forest behind them churned with movement. It was endless.
"Caelus!!"
Althea's voice cut through the chaos, sharp as lightning. She appeared beside him, her divine robes scorched and her face streaked with sweat. Her radiant staff spun in her hands, and glowing glyphs of ancient power swirled around her like a solar halo.
She raised her hand—chains of blinding light snapped through the battlefield, binding monsters mid-air before shattering into brilliant flame. Another wave came—she raised a burning wall to hold them back.
But even she—a goddess—was panting. Her power, limited here, burned fast.
"I can't hold them all!" she shouted. "Not like this!"
She faltered.
Behind them, Khyla staggered to her feet, a makeshift spear in hand, her shoulder wrapped in bloodied cloth. She threw herself in front of Lirae's unconscious form, teeth gritted, holding her ground despite the limp in her step.
It was chaos.
A storm with no end.
And Caelus—still just a man, just a body standing in the middle of a waking nightmare—did nothing.
he looked around, gripping his short sword tighter. Soldiers dying. Althea panting. Khyla bleeding. Lirae unconscious.
This is it, he told himselfThis is where I'm supposed to do something. Be a hero. Be useful. But…
But his feet stayed rooted.
His hand gripped a sword he barely knew how to hold. The world was too loud, too fast.
Then—
A snarl. A shadow.
A monstrous hound lunged from the side.
"CAELUS!!" Althea screamed.
His eyes widened—no time to react—
But before the jaws clamped down, a bolt of searing gold light exploded through the beast's skull, It obliterated the hound mid-leap, blowing it backward in a burst of burning ash.
Caelus blinked.
His hand was… glowing.
A faint sigil pulsed on his skin, etched in light and ancient power—a symbol like a rising sun bound in spirals. It shimmered, alive. Awakened.
His breath hitched.
"…What… what is this…?"
And suddenly—he felt it.
Not just heat.
Not just energy.
A presence. A current beneath the skin. A force that wasn't his. A warmth that was both terrifying and comforting. Power.
It wasn't human.
It wasn't divine.
It was something in between.
A force that whispered, "Now."
He looked up.
The hounds were coming again—dozens.
Behind him, Althea braced herself, Khyla dragging herself to stand, Lirae stirred-coughing in pain.
And something in him finally broke free.
No hesitation.
No fear.
Just a pulse of purpose in his chest.
Caelus gritted his teeth, lifted his glowing hand, and charged into the chaos.