The Riftborn Hunter

The Rift hummed around them, its pulsing blue glow throwing jagged shadows across cracked pavement. Aiden hung back, hands loose at his sides, eyes sharp—always watching.

The team wasn't sweating it.

Why would they?

Just an E-Tier Rift—small fry.

To them, these were training wheels: easy cash for weaklings, a little danger to puff up their egos. Nothing worth a damn.

Aiden knew better.

Something was off—gnawing at his gut.

He just couldn't pin it yet.

Jenna prowled ahead, scanning the warped streets with eyes that cut like steel. "Standard formation. Sweep, clear, regroup. Boss is still kicking, so stay sharp."

"Yeah, yeah," Garrick muttered, flexing his hands. His reinforcement Trait shimmered, thickening the metal sheen over his gauntlets. "E-Rank boss in an E-Tier Rift? I've had scarier naps."

Jenna shot him a look. "Get careless, and it's your funeral."

Aiden tuned them out—his focus elsewhere.

His vision flickered—just a split-second twist.

The Rift bent, subtle but wrong, like something pressed against it from the other side—hungry, waiting.

Then it snapped back, like nothing had happened.

"Maybe I'm just paranoid," he muttered under his breath.

Maybe.

Jenna waved them in—"Move."

The air inside hit stale and thick, the sky a flat, gray slab that didn't budge—a fake world stitched by Rift rules.

Ruined buildings loomed, crumbling like they'd rotted for centuries, edges peeling into dust. Streetlamps flickered, their weak glow buzzing from some unnatural juice—not electricity, not anything sane.

"Spread out," Jenna ordered, voice clipped.

The team scattered without a hitch.

Aiden lingered at the rear—watching.

They weren't just swinging steel—they flexed their Core Traits.

Weak stuff—D-Tier, E-Tier at best—but it worked.

Marcus, wiry and quick, darted ahead, twin daggers humming with faint vibrations—his Trait sharpening the edges enough to slice deeper.

Tess glided beside him, boots silent as death—her Trait muting every step, perfect for a sneak stab, useless in a brawl.

Even Garrick—loud, cocky jackass—had something decent: his gauntlets gleamed, skin hardening beneath with a thin metal coat. Better than the rest, but still chump change next to real power.

Fodder ranks—just like him.

Or what he used to be—Kains didn't breed failures who ranked up, right?

The first strays hit fast—thin, spindly things, all limbs and jagged teeth, E-Tier trash.

Jenna struck first—one clean slash, and a throat split, dark blood spraying the pavement.

Marcus lunged, daggers buzzing, carving through flesh like it was butter—guts spilling in wet clumps.

Tess slipped behind one, silent as a ghost, knife sinking into its skull with a soft crack—it dropped like a sack.

Soren flicked his wrist, a glowing wire lashing out—superheated, slicing two beasts clean through, their halves sizzling as they hit the ground.

Aiden didn't budge. Didn't swing.

Just watched.

The others barely clocked him—fine by him.

It let him see.

And his vision?

Not normal—never was anymore.

Every twitch, every shift in their stance, every breath before a strike—he caught it before it landed.

Like the Kains' golden brats, only he didn't need a fancy Trait to cheat fate.

The strays dropped in seconds—half gone in minutes.

Routine. Simple. What they expected.

Aiden's fingers twitched.

Something was wrong—not the team, not the fight.

The Rift itself.

[SYSTEM UPDATE: PASSIVE SENSORY SYNCHRONIZATION IN PROGRESS.]

[STAT ADJUSTMENT: PERCEPTION +0.4]

[WARNING: ENVIRONMENTAL DISTORTION DETECTED.]

His stomach clenched, a cold knot tightening.

There it was again—that System tick, like a clock winding him up.

It wasn't just the Rift entry—this was now.

His Perception bumped again—small, but sharp.

Something here was screwing with him.

He glanced up—buildings in the distance flickered, not crumbling but shifting—like the Rift was rewriting itself in real-time, walls bending, shadows stretching too long.

A low grind rumbled through—metal scraping stone, slow and deliberate.

Aiden stiffened, pulse kicking up.

No one else twitched—they didn't hear it.

"Fantastic," he hissed under his breath. "Just me and the creepy soundtrack."

The ground jolted—hard.

A guttural screech tore the air, warped and raw—echoing from the Rift that'd chewed his squad to pieces.

A building ahead buckled, collapsing inward with a dusty roar.

A hulking silhouette loomed from the haze—the E-Tier Rift Boss.

Or what was left of it.

Its torso was caved in—ripped wide, shredded from the inside, guts dangling like wet ropes, blood pooling black beneath.

Aiden's breath caught.

Crouched in the boss's ruins—something else.

Something that didn't belong.

[WARNING: UNIDENTIFIED ENTITY DETECTED.]

[SYSTEM ERROR—THREAT LEVEL ABOVE EXPECTED PARAMETERS.]

The thing rose—slow, deliberate.

Low D-Tier, maybe high—too big, too strong for this hole.

Too strong for them.

And the kicker?

It wasn't lunging—not yet.

It watched—still, hulking, eyes like pits boring through the dust.

Aiden's gut twisted, cold and sure.

It wasn't eyeing the team.

It was locked on him.