The Riftborn Hunter

Aiden Kain stood at the edge of an abyss.

The Rift loomed before him—a churning mass of unnatural darkness that had swallowed a city block three days ago. He couldn't see its warped glow, couldn't trace the way reality bent and twisted around it like a shattered mirror.

But he could feel it.

The pressure wasn't just heavy—it was suffocating, a slow, rhythmic pulse that pressed against his skin, like something enormous breathed deep within the void. Something alive. Something waiting.

No one who'd entered had come back. The first response team—S-Rank Hunters, the best of the best—vanished without a scream. Drones sent in after? Fried husks spat back out.

And yet, here he was. Blind. Defenseless. Powerless.

An F-Rank stepping into a slaughterhouse.

Aiden wasn't supposed to be here.

Neither was Squad Eclipse.

They weren't elite Hunters, not Association-sanctioned—just a ragtag crew of scavengers slipping through cracks in the lockdown, chasing a desperate score. Dain, their so-called leader, had pitched it with that cocky grin men couldn't resist.

"An opportunity," he'd said, voice thick with bravado. "A golden one. Get in, scan the Rift, grab something valuable, and get out before the Association locks it down. The guilds will notice us—maybe even recruit us."

Aiden had known it was bullshit from the start—Dain's plans always were.

And yet, he'd followed.

Because even a Kain family reject had to claw for survival.

The Kains were legends—Hunters born with power in their blood, Core Traits that could shred steel or bend fate.

Aiden was the stain.

Born blind, mana-less, Trait-less—a defect they'd cast out the moment he drew breath. To them, a Kain without power wasn't a Kain at all—just a ghost they'd rather forget.

So here he was, expendable bait for a squad that didn't give a damn if he dropped dead.

They pushed forward, boots crunching over shattered pavement, weapons loose at their sides. Aiden trailed by sound—the scuff of soles, the rustle of gear, the quick, jagged breaths of men hiding their fear.

No one looked back.

They never did—not at him.

Aiden exhaled slow, cold air biting his skin.

His wristband vibrated—a low hum cutting through the silence.

The System's synthetic voice droned, merciless as ever:

[Hunter System Status | Rank: F | Strength: 0.6 | Agility: 0.8 | Perception: 0.3 | Mana: 0.0 | Core Trait: None]

Numbers etched into his skull—numbers his family had spat at him like a curse.

F-Rank. The weakest classification possible. Even a civilian could outmatch him with a week's training.

In a world where power was everything, he was nothing.

Aiden clenched his knife—a flimsy blade, useless against whatever had butchered an S-Rank team in minutes.

The wind didn't stir. No echoes hummed from below.

Not silence—absence.

His fingers twitched.

Something wasn't right.

He trailed a hand along a wall—smooth, too smooth, not glass or concrete or stone, but something else, pulsing faintly under his fingertips like a heartbeat trapped in shadow.

His wristband buzzed sharper, insistent.

[SYSTEM NOTICE: ENVIRONMENTAL DISTURBANCE DETECTED.]

[Perception: 0.3 → ERROR.]

His blood iced over.

The System didn't glitch—not ever. Until now.

Dain's voice cut through, brash and blind. "No threats detected. Keep moving."

Aiden's gut twisted. Idiot. You'll get us killed.

A single step echoed—slow, dragging, wet.

Then the screaming began.

The first cry slashed the dead air—raw, gurgling, a man's voice breaking into sheer agony before choking off in a wet snap.

Aiden froze, heart slamming against his ribs.

It wasn't just a scream—it was a shattering.

Dain's voice barked, "What the—?!"—then cut to a strangled yelp as flesh tore, loud and wet, like fabric ripped apart by claws.

A second scream—Varon's—rose sharp and desperate. "They're in the—"

A sickening crunch silenced him, bone splintering under a force too fast to dodge.

Aiden's breath hitched.

Boots pounded pavement—running—but the echoes warped, stretching too long, rebounding from impossible angles, like the Rift was swallowing sound itself.

The air thickened, heavy as sludge.

Something shifted in the dark—no growl, no screech, just a weight that crushed the silence.

A wet squelch slid closer—slow, deliberate, raw meat dragging over stone.

Tomas—he recognized the grunt—yelled, "What the hell is—"

His voice severed with a gurgle, a sucking noise following, like blood bubbling from a slashed throat.

A thud hit the ground—hard, final.

Aiden threw himself against the wall, its slick surface flexing under his palms—warm, alive, like flesh stretched taut over bone.

Another scream—Jace this time—rose and twisted into a high-pitched wail. "No, no, no—"

A crack split the air—limbs bending wrong, snapping like dry twigs.

Something heavy dragged—a body, maybe—then a ripping sound, wet and brutal, as flesh peeled from bone before it even bled.

The Rift pulsed, a low thrum that shook Aiden's core.

The beings didn't roar—they carved.

No claws glinted, no forms took shape—just shadows slashing through the squad like blades through meat, fast and relentless.

This wasn't a fight.

It was a slaughter.

Aaron stumbled past, his voice a rasp. "They're in the shadows—don't move like—"

Aiden lunged blindly, grabbing for him. "What's—"

A choked gurgle answered as Aaron's weight yanked away—dragged into the dark with a scrape of boots and a snap of spine.

Aiden's chest heaved, shallow and sharp.

Something watched him—a presence stretching beyond the physical, cold and vast.

The Rift pulsed harder, like it'd locked onto him.

A whisper slithered through—low, amused.

"One remains."

His body locked, every muscle screaming to bolt.

Another, closer— "He does not belong."

His pulse roared, drowning his thoughts.

The Rift knew him.

"Shall we show him?" The whispers turned gleeful, sharp as knives.

Something slammed into his chest—a force like a battering ram.

Aiden crashed to the ground, ribs rattling, breath gone.

A growl rumbled above—deep, vibrating, not human—decay flooding his nose like rot from an open grave.

The shadows reached for him.

Something cracked behind his eyes—a pressure, a pulse, something ancient stirring awake.

Then—light.

Aiden's breath snagged.

For the first time in his life—

He saw.