The Riftborn Hunter

Aiden exhaled sharply, boots scraping stone as he squared up. The warband leader loomed—a hulking titan, twice the size of its minions, gnarled muscle bulging under mismatched armor plates. A scavenger king draped in scavenged steel—rusted, dented, but unyielding. Its jagged greatsword dragged as it stepped forward, the screech of metal on stone clawing at Aiden's ears like a banshee's wail.

The surviving Ruin Dwellers skittered aside, forming a jagged ring around him. Not fleeing—just waiting, beady eyes glinting with feral patience.

Aiden's jaw tightened. "Not just dumb meat, huh? You're trained."

The leader's guttural snarl rumbled—deep, a predator's call.

The horde pounced.

Snarls erupted, weapons flashing—rusted blades, crude spears, axes swinging wild. No time to think—only move.

Aiden didn't back off. He charged in, knife a blur of steel and intent.

The first Dweller swung—jagged sword arcing for his neck. He ducked, golden foresight flaring: now, under, strike. His blade slashed its forearm—black blood sprayed, a wet hiss on stone. He twisted past, dodging a second's spear thrust by a hair.

One darted low—dagger aimed for his ribs.

Aiden grinned, sharp. "Cute trick." He stomped a loose stone, flipping it up like a loaded spring. It cracked the creature's chin, head snapping back with a sickly crunch. His knee drove into its chest—ribs caved, and it sprawled, wheezing.

An axe-wielder lunged next—big, sloppy swing.

Aiden rolled, snagging a fallen spear mid-motion. He snapped it over his knee—wood splintered, jagged now—and spun as the axe crashed down. It buried into stone with a shuddering thunk. Before the Dweller could yank it free, Aiden drove the spear-shard through its thigh—deep, twisting. It shrieked, dropping to one knee, black ooze pooling.

He didn't pause—ripped the axe free and turned it back on its owner.

The blade sank—flesh parted, bone split. Dead.

"Two down," he panted.

Three more closed—fast, rabid.

No breather.

A heavy axe roared toward him—aimed to cleave his skull. Aiden twisted, the blow missing by a breath, shattering stone where he'd stood. Dust exploded—his vision flickered, golden threads blurring: half-second, side, now. He was barely ahead.

The warband leader stirred.

Aiden's gut clenched.

Its massive blade dropped—a vertical slash, brutal, unstoppable, steel screaming through the air.

No blocking that. He dived.

The impact hit like a bomb—stone shattered, cracks spiderwebbing out, a shockwave slamming his chest. He pushed off, twisting mid-fall—just as a Dweller speared from the side. Golden sight snapped: incoming, rubble, kick. He vaulted off collapsing debris, boot smashing its knee—it crumpled with a yelp.

The leader roared—earth trembled.

Another swing—horizontal, a wall of death.

Futures flashed: back, clipped—dead. Left, stabbed—dead. Up—clear. Only one shot.

Aiden leapt.

The blade sliced beneath, inches from his gut. He twisted midair—golden eyes blazing—landing in a roll, momentum shoving him upright.

Then—a spear.

It punched his side, steel biting flesh.

Pain detonated—ribs screamed. He gasped, golden fire stuttering.

A Dweller had baited him—smart little bastard.

"Not… yet," he growled, teeth gritted. His hand clamped the shaft before it twisted deeper—blood slicked his fingers. He yanked it free—agony flared, hot and blinding—and pulled the creature off-balance. His knee smashed its skull—bone cracked like dry wood. It dropped, limp.

Breath ragged, he spun.

The leader charged—full tilt, blade rising.

Aiden barely raised his knife—metal clashed metal.

Force slammed him back—boots skidded, stone grinding underfoot. He clung to his grip, arms trembling, barely upright.

Strong. Fast. And the swarm's still here.

A Dweller lunged from behind—knife glinting.

Aiden saw it—twisted sharp, blade arcing perfect. It fell, throat slit, dead before it hit.

No pause.

The leader barreled in—not swinging now. Killing.

Its greatsword tore through—a brutal crescent of steel and fury.

Aiden threw himself sideways—the crash split stone, shockwave punching his lungs empty. Dust choked the air, pillars groaning as debris rained.

[SYSTEM UPDATE: AGILITY +0.3]

Golden vision flared—futures spun: slow, gutted. Fast, exposed.

A Dweller blurred from the side—last of the pack, spear stabbing.

Pain burned his side—new wound waking old ones. He choked a gasp, twisting into it—knife flashed, slicing its throat clean. Blood sprayed—hot, stinking—coating his arm as it collapsed.

Another leapt—axe high, aiming for his head.

He saw it tick ahead—knife snapped up, redirecting. The axe grazed his shoulder—pain jolted, sharp but alive. His free hand shot out, throttling it, slamming it into a crumbling wall—stone dust puffed. His blade buried deep—chest pierced, it went slack.

The last hesitated—eyes darting to its fallen kin.

Aiden shifted, exhaling hard. "Run or die."

It bolted.

"No you don't," he snarled. Visions flared—he snatched the fallen spear, pivoted, and hurled.

The shaft spun—perfect arc—nailing it mid-sprint. A choked cry—it crashed, still.

Silence slammed down.

Aiden wiped blood from his cheek—his, theirs, didn't matter—breath heaving. His side throbbed, ribs a furnace of pain with every move. Not crippling. Survivable.

A growl rolled through—low, guttural, vibrating the ruins.

He turned.

The warband leader stood alone—massive, unshaken, crimson eye boring into him. It hefted its greatsword, stance locked—steel scraped stone, a predator's promise.

Aiden rolled his shoulders, exhaling slow. "Finally. Just us."

[SYSTEM ALERT: COMBAT STRAIN DETECTED – ENDURANCE +0.4]

No distractions now.

The fight wasn't done.

It charged—sudden, earth-shaking, blade high.

And something pulsed—deep, unseen—watching.