The wind howled across the Ridge of the Severance, carrying a fine dust that clung to their clothes and bit into their skin like icy needles. Where ValOmbre ended, where the last vestiges of the known world gave way to the gaping rupture of the earth, the Rift awaited.
Here, the last remnants of the civilized world buckled under the weight of the unknown.
A yawning breach carved into the world's very flesh, an abyss that swallowed daylight and belched out dark vapors.
It stretched for miles, a colossal scar more than a hundred meters wide. But it wasn't just a chasm, not some ordinary wound left by an earthquake or natural disaster.
The Rift had been forged by the fall of a fragment of Excalibur, its Severance unleashed upon impact. But that wasn't all. With the blade had descended a protrusion of the Unspeakable, a shard of the lunar entity that should never have set foot in this reality.
And their collision hadn't merely broken the earth.
It had reshaped it.
Where a simple chasm should have been, the Rift had become a labyrinth of overlapping strata, sinister galleries, and tiers twisted by the Umbra and its spawn. The abysses beneath their feet never stayed the same for long. The mining rigs built by drillers in search of luminescent shards and corrupted metals never remained in place. The layers of rock had twisted, rivers of magma had flowed before cooling into a blackened desert, where countless fissures hid even deeper horrors.
Each level obeyed its own laws. Housed its own predators. And no one had ever reached the bottom.
Gaël tightened the strap of the massive pack on his back, the weight pulling him slightly backward. The burden rose high above his tricorn-capped head, like an alien growth bending him under its load. His sword was strapped over it all, adding yet another layer of weight to his misery. His muscles, strained by the effort, protested silently, but he had no luxury to complain.
"It's… even worse than I imagined," he murmured, gazing into the abyss.
The gaping pit stretched before him like a maw of darkness, ringed by iron spikes and twisted fences, the remnants of ancient barriers meant to prevent anyone from falling in… or perhaps to stop something from climbing out.
A figure appeared at his side, fluid and swift, like a cat moving through shadows. Maera, clad in dark clothes reinforced with supple leather, blended into the night. A strand of her ash-brown hair slipped free from under her hood as she stretched lazily. Her thin lips curled into a wry smile.
"Sometimes it feels like this damned hole is alive… like it breathes. Like it's waiting," she whispered, crouching near the edge, her eyes narrowing as she peered down. "It's been quiet for years now, not spitting out anything. These days, what comes back out… well, it's because we go down there to fetch it, for the arena."
She paused, her tone darkening.
"The city fell asleep on this certainty. They believe the danger's dead, that there's nothing left to fear." Her smile twisted into a shadow of sarcasm. "Personally? I think they're wrong."
Then, as if the serious moment had never existed, she shrugged lightly, her voice turning breezy:
"Oh, and I gave the Watchers on the towers a little nap. The path's clear."
Gaël nodded, a shiver crawling down his spine. Silence. The place was deserted, and yet… it had never felt so suffocating.
The towers, rising several stories high, circled the Rift like a wall of silent sentinels. Their brutal architecture, bristling with arrow slits and darkened lutech floodlights, gave the unsettling impression of an inverted prison. Not to keep men locked in… but to keep something else from getting out.
Metal bridges spanned the abyss wherever the chasm narrowed enough to allow it, but they weren't built for crossing. Their jagged spikes, the strategically placed hatches designed to drop lutech bombs, everything about them spoke of a singular purpose: defense.
But defense… against what?
Gaël clenched his jaw. The real question wasn't what these defenses were protecting. It was what they were trying to hold back.
A metallic creak echoed in the distance, a grating sound that seemed to ripple through the depths of the gorge. Instantly, a silence thicker than steel fell over the area.
Maera and Gaël exchanged a glance.
Brann, unmoving, halted before the towering structure of the lift. A massive mechanism of black iron and reinforced glass, suspended by cables braided with steel and runes, thrumming with the strain of forces battling the gravity of the Abyss. This lutech elevator was the only access point still operational, the last descent into the depths of the Rift.
A deep groan split the air as the lift doors slid open, exhaling a mechanical breath, almost organic, as if the very structure inhaled the oppressive weight of the Rift. Beneath their feet, the void stretched out, bottomless, a hungry chasm waiting to devour them the moment they dared step inside.
But before anyone could board, a clear voice rang out behind them, light and casual, yet with a confidence so natural it had to be deliberate.
"Good thing we're right on time! Planning to leave without us?"
Maera spun around, her posture snapping taut, fingers brushing instinctively against the hilt of her weapon.
"Who are you?!"
Her tone lashed through the air like a blade drawn too fast, sharp as a dagger flashing beneath the cold glow of a moonless night.
Standing across from her was Kaien Ren, leaning casually against a metal pillar, a pack at his feet, a strange instrument strapped at his hip, and a sly smile lighting up his sharp features. He lifted his shoulders slightly, as if the sudden tension amused him more than it worried him.
"Why, your future adventure companions, of course!" He shot a sidelong glance at Brann, adding with mock surprise: "The Devourer didn't tell you, miss…?"
Maera didn't take the bait. Her amber gaze narrowed, sharper, more cutting.
"There weren't supposed to be others in the contract."
She took a step back, arms crossed tightly, her body wound like a drawn bow. Her gaze flicked between the newcomers, weighing them with barely veiled hostility, like intruders she had never invited.
Brann, true to form, remained unmoved. He didn't even bother looking at her. His voice, sharp and final, cut through the air like a naked blade.
"People competent enough to save your life, if it comes to that."
He let the silence linger before sealing it with a tone that brooked no argument:
"They're coming with us. End of discussion."
Maera clenched her jaw, irritation visible in the taut lines of her face.
"Tch… They're not even from around here." Her gaze drifted down, settling on the strange object hanging from Kaien's hip. "And that? What the hell's that supposed to be?" she asked, skeptical.
Kaien gave a sly, amused grin.
"Oh, this? Just a mouth organ. For those dark, chilly evenings down there."
But before she could reply, a subtle movement caught their attention. At first, barely noticeable, a faint tremor, a gentle stirring inside the canvas bag slung over Kaien's shoulder. Gaël frowned.
Two large, rounded ears perked cautiously from an opening, followed by a small, short-muzzled head, its huge dark eyes speckled with amber glimmers, shining with an almost childlike curiosity. The creature looked like a miniature koala, but its fur bore fine black and white stripes in eerily precise patterns. Across its silky coat, delicate bluish lights pulsed here and there, living runes etched into the very fur, glowing softly like an ancient breath.
"What the hell is that thing…?" Maera's voice carried a strange mix of disdain and begrudging interest.
Kaien gently patted the creature's head, and it folded its ears back shyly against its skull, as if embarrassed.
"Him? That's Nono." He flashed a mysterious smile. "An Harmonist never travels without his Lumko."
"A… Lumko?" she repeated suspiciously. "Tch… figures. Another one of those weird eastern empire things."
Nono lifted his luminous eyes toward Gaël, and for a fleeting moment, Gaël felt his heart melt under that gaze. But he steeled himself. This wasn't the time to be swayed by a bundle of fluff. He had a dangerous descent ahead of him.