The vast fields were surprisingly quiet in daylight, a stark contrast to their usual nighttime chaos.
Golden grass stretched to the horizons, endless enough to make the mind ache just trying to track it. Even with his heightened perception the man could barely make out more than a yellow blur at the very edge. And monsters were everywhere—some hiding in the tall grass, others patrolling the skies, ordinary animals or monsters with eerie stars glowing in their cores.
Airborne predators dove into the fields like jagged comets, while ground hunters launched themselves like fish from a pond, snapping anything in their path with cavernous, teeth-filled jaws.
a man stood among it all, arms crossed behind his back, frown locked onto his face as if it had been carved there by a sculptor with a dark sense of humor. Red robes with thick violet accents fluttered in the wind, long white hair partially obscuring pale, sharp features, and eyes glinting like ghastly lanterns.
After more than a day of scouting, he finally had confirmation: a zero-step passage to realm C-000421 had appeared.
It was just one of many portals to the dangerous expanse spanning multiple worlds, but it was the first to appear with a direct link to New Earth. The man exhaled slowly. The faintest hint of satisfaction crept onto his face—the closest he'd come to a smile in years.
Things were moving. Chaos was coming. And his clan was perfectly positioned to make the most of it.
Nearby, a serpentine monster slithered cautiously toward him. With a flick of his wrists, jagged blood blades erupted from his veins, shredding the creature before it could even blink.
Well then. Time to report his discovery.
The passage had already been secured with a heavy metal door. He pressed a thumb to the surface, and the barrier rose to reveal a cramped alley stuffed with messengers, all waiting for confirmation.
After a deliberately long pause, he simply nodded. The crowd dispersed instantly, communication crystals buzzing and footsteps rushing to pass the news along.
With unhurried precision, he strolled to a nearby tent that stretched across the street. The area had already been evacuated, and the citizens compensated for the inconvenience.
Inside, the man he least wanted to see awaited.
"Janhalar, lovely to see you!" chirped a cheerful figure in casual streetwear, jet-black hair and serpentine eyes gleaming, face forcing a grin as if it were physically painful to keep it polite.
Janhalar responded with a curt grunt and a hard stare. That was all.
"Come on, bro," the man said, stepping closer. "Not even a hug? Really?"
He was the closest thing to a city lord Pittersville had. Equal in rank, yet utterly insufferable. Janhalar was in a decent mood today, though. "Hello," he said.
The city lord laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. "Still as talkative as last time, huh?"
"Why are you here?" Janhalar asked bluntly.
"Thanking you in person for your favor," the lord said, mock offense dripping from every word.
"If possible, I'd like to forbid that," Janhalar replied. "I'm here for my payment. No games."
The city lord feigned disappointment. "So… you've confirmed it?"
Janhalar nodded.
"Good. Good," the man said, grinning. "You'll want to see the goods. Follow me."
The room was filled with display cases of objects: clothes soaked in blood, weapons, jewelry, items of self-defense. Each carried the unmistakable aura of tragedy—items touched by the appearance of a passage.
Janhalar closed his eyes to inspect more deeply, immediately drawn to one particular item: an ordinary plastic bag, covered in a brown, dried substance—not blood, but… something significant.
"Harold!" he spat, furious.
The city lord tilted his head. "What's wrong? Oh… that. Pretty wild, huh?"
"Where is it!? Did you think I wouldn't notice?" Janhalar demanded, waving the bag.
Harold's eyes darkened, asphalt serpents curling from his legs to restrain Janhalar. "Calm down," he said. "If it's a unique, it might have used a vessel and escaped. Perhaps latched onto a victim's clothes. Manifested later."
Janhalar scowled but realized arguing was pointless. His rashness had been a mistake. Harold removed the constraints, and Janhalar dusted his robes.
The lord examined a paper on the pedestal. "Eryk Stern… still alive. Could have hitched a ride on this man. You wait here; I'll fetch it."
"What!?" Janhalar shouted.
"You don't have a choice," Harold said. "Poor kid went through hell recently. Besides, you'd probably have a heart attack if you saw him like this."
Janhalar gritted his teeth. There was no way to argue. He could only wait.
Later, back in his apartment, Eryk exhaled, clean after a much-needed break. He picked up the guide on his bed, careful not to open the seals prematurely.
The book was a slog. Rift history, Arch history, major organization histories… every page dragged him through concepts he mostly already knew. He muttered, "This book is boring as hell…"
He powered through, scanning for anything critical. Eventually, the section on gathering caught his eye. Wisps—particles of attuned ether—were the first step to activating his star. He'd need to collect them, starting with water.
Seated cross-legged, then lying down after realizing the pose gave him a backache, he calmed himself. Meditation, focus, inner doors, and then…
A massive white star appeared in his inner ethercosm.
Holy crap. A star in my soul.
Excitement coursed through him. Still unfilled with essence, it was like staring at an empty cup—but one that could hold infinite potential.
Breathing steadily, he prepared for the next, riskier step: projecting into the Netherecho. A door appeared in his mind, and with intent, he stepped through.
The Netherecho was surreal—a rainbow fog overlaid reality, turning the mundane into exaggerated projections. Wisps floated freely, moving against nonexistent air or gravity. Eryk's projection, tiny and cartoonish, mirrored his real body perfectly for movement but left his heart racing in a cartoonish thump.
The fog slowly revealed his first target—a small, gray vestige resembling an alarm clock. Nearby, other strange entities stirred: a shriveled old man, a floating glass panel, and a transparent orb. Each called out in bizarre voices, none immediately hostile.
He had to collect the water wisp, but tension coiled like a spring. Then a deep, gurgling voice cut through:
"It-It is you…"
All the other vestiges turned. And behind a trash bin, a massive skeletal monster thrice the size of any vestige appeared, maw dripping.
"You have finally arrived."