The Riftborn Hunter

The moment Aiden crossed the threshold, the Rift collapsed.

No slow fade, no lingering distortions—just a silent implosion, like reality itself had been rewritten. One second, the fractured sky loomed overhead. The next, they were standing in an abandoned street under an overcast sky, the Rift's eerie glow erased from existence.

Jenna cursed under her breath, her pistol still half-raised. Silas muttered something, shoulders tense. Marko's fists clenched and unclenched, like he was still waiting for something to come lunging at them from the shadows.

Aiden barely heard them.

He turned back toward where the Rift had been. Nothing remained. No energy, no distortions—just a dull, empty silence.

The hair on the back of his neck rose. Something about this felt wrong.

Before he could dwell on it, a deep, measured voice cut through the tension.

"So. That was unexpected."

Aiden turned.

A man was approaching from the ruined street, his steps slow and deliberate. He was older than Jenna, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, with the build of a seasoned fighter—not bulky, but solid, like a blade honed through experience. A long combat knife rested at his belt, his black tactical jacket marked with the emblem of the Black Summit Mercenaries—a jagged peak against a blood-red sky.

A C-Rank Hunter.

Jenna stiffened slightly beside Aiden. That alone told him enough.

The man's sharp gaze flicked over the group, assessing them one by one. His eyes lingered on Aiden last.

"You made it out," he said. "That's a surprise."

Aiden didn't answer.

There was something about the way he said it—like he'd been expecting a different outcome.

The man's gaze drifted to the space where the Rift had once been. His brows furrowed slightly. "And the Rift closed."

His tone was neutral, but something in his expression shifted.

Jenna exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple. "Yeah. Which makes no damn sense."

The man's gaze flicked toward her. "Why's that?"

She hesitated, just for a second. Then she turned toward him fully, jaw tight. "Because we never killed the boss."

Aiden's breath caught.

He hadn't even thought about it—caught up in the shadow, the voice, the phantoms—he had assumed the Rift had ended naturally. But that wasn't how Rifts worked.

The boss had to die before the gate closed.

That was the rule. The system's rule.

But the Rift had broken it.

Something else had decided to let them leave.

Aiden's fingers curled slightly, but he kept his expression unreadable.

Jenna crossed her arms. "We fought through an entire battlefield in there. Got stuck between two factions tearing each other apart. But we never saw a real boss." She glanced at Aiden. "Unless you saw something I didn't?"

Aiden exhaled slowly. "No."

Technically, that was true. The shadow hadn't been an enemy. It had acknowledged him. Spoken to him.

And then it had given him something.

The C-Rank Hunter—Garran, Aiden realized, now recognizing the name stitched into his jacket—studied them for a moment longer before giving a slow nod. "Unusual."

Jenna let out a dry laugh. "That's one way to put it."

Garran turned back to Aiden. "You're not Black Summit."

Aiden held his gaze. "No."

The man studied him for a moment longer. Then, his lips quirked into something resembling a smirk. "You might as well be."

Jenna shot him a glance, but didn't interrupt.

"You handled yourself well in there," Garran continued. "Better than expected. And from what I hear… you're full of surprises."

Aiden didn't respond. He didn't need to.

Garran exhaled through his nose, then nodded slightly. "Aiden Kain, right? I've read the reports."

Aiden's stomach twisted slightly.

Reports.

Someone had been watching.

Black Summit had been watching.

"You're wasted as a soloist," Garran said. "Come to Black Summit. We can offer a lot more than what you've got now."

Aiden exhaled slowly.

A week ago, that might have tempted him.

Now?

His mind flickered back to the Rift. To the shadow. To the creatures that had knelt before him.

To the power that wasn't entirely his.

Aiden met the man's gaze, steady. "I'll think about it."

Garran studied him. Then, after a long pause, he gave a slow nod. "Fair enough."

But Aiden wasn't stupid.

This wasn't just an invitation.

It was a warning.

Black Summit was watching.

After the cleanup team arrived. After the debrief. After the questions that Aiden answered as vaguely as possible.

He found a quiet place.

A dark alley, far enough from the Black Summit's eyes. The city lights hummed faintly overhead, a dull contrast to the golden flickers still swimming at the edge of Aiden's vision.

He exhaled slowly.

And reached inward.

[SHADOWBOUND.]

The moment he tapped into it, something shifted.

A presence. A connection to something lingering just beyond the edges of perception.

And then—

A shape flickered into existence.

A phantom. Just like the ones in the Rift.

Except it wasn't the same.

It was smaller. Weaker.

Its form flickered unstably, its edges frayed like it was struggling to maintain its existence. It had the same unnatural fluid movement, the same distorted outline—but it lacked the presence of the Rift-born phantoms.

Aiden's pulse hammered, but he forced himself to stay calm.

He stepped forward.

The phantom didn't react—not with hostility, not with fear. It simply existed. Waiting.

Aiden inhaled.

His instincts screamed that this power was still incomplete, that he had only scratched the surface.

This wasn't like his golden foresight.

This wasn't even like Surge Sight.

It was different. Fundamentally different.

A power not entirely his own—but one given to him.

Aiden's golden irises flickered, his mind racing.

Could he control it? Could he command more?

He focused, pushing deeper, trying to reach further.

But the moment he did—

The phantom shuddered violently. Its form flickered, twisting, as if struggling against something unseen.

Then—

It collapsed.

Gone.

Aiden let out a slow breath, staring at the empty space where it had been.

He clenched his fists.

It wasn't enough.

He had called something back, but it was unstable. Weak. Like an echo of what it had once been.

He exhaled sharply.

Not yet.

But soon.

Something deep in the shadows was waiting for him to understand.

Waiting for him to use it.

Aiden turned away from the empty space, his golden gaze burning in the dim alleyway.

This was only the beginning.