The world around me was a haze of swirling colors and distorted shapes, as if reality itself had splintered into fragments. I drifted, weightless, through a void pulsing with a rhythm I couldn't understand. Each pulse reverberated through my being, pulling me deeper into this strange, dreamlike state.
Suddenly, the colors coalesced, and I found myself standing in the middle of an ancient, ruined city. The sky was a turbulent mix of dark clouds and crimson light, as if the heavens were bleeding. The air was thick with the scent of decay and ash, and the ground beneath my feet was cracked and scorched, as though a great fire had swept through this place.
In the distance, I could see towering figures, their forms obscured by shadow and smoke. They were colossal, their presence dominating the skyline, yet their faces remained hidden. I could feel their eyes on me—cold and unfeeling, as if they were judging me, weighing my very soul.
A voice echoed through the air, deep and resonant, yet distorted as if spoken through layers of time. "The one who bears the heart of the storm… will be the key to the reckoning."
As the words hung in the air, I felt a surge of power within me, familiar yet foreign, like a distant memory returning to the forefront of my mind. My heart pulsed with energy, the same pressure I had felt during the battle with the Naga, but this time it was different. It was as if the very essence of this place was seeping into me, filling me with a sense of foreboding.
The vision shifted, and I was no longer in the ruined city. I stood on the edge of a cliff, overlooking an ocean that stretched endlessly into the horizon. The water was dark, almost black, and the waves crashed against the rocks below with a deafening roar. But there was something in the water—something moving just beneath the surface.
A figure rose from the depths, its form obscured by the churning sea. It was immense, dwarfing even the cliffs, and as it emerged, I could see that it was made of water, its body shifting and flowing like a living tide. Its eyes were deep voids, endless and cold, staring into my very soul.
"You cannot escape your destiny, Lucian," the figure intoned, its voice a mixture of the ocean's roar and a whisper carried on the wind. "You are the storm, the flood, the harbinger of change. The world will bend or break beneath your power."
The words sent a chill down my spine. The figure wasn't just speaking to me—it was challenging me. The storm, the flood... were these the forces I was meant to wield, or the ones I was destined to become?
The scene shifted again, and I was falling, plummeting through the darkness, the wind rushing past me. I reached out, trying to grasp something—anything—to stop my descent, but there was nothing but the void. As I fell, images flashed before my eyes: a city in flames, a figure shrouded in light, a great beast with eyes of molten gold, and a massive wave crashing down, engulfing everything in its path.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the dream ended. I jolted awake, my heart pounding, my body drenched in sweat.
I gasped for air as I woke, my chest heaving as if I had been drowning. The world around me was stark and cold, the bright white lights above blinding after the darkness of the dream. I blinked, trying to clear my vision, but the lights only grew harsher, stabbing into my skull like needles.
"Where… am I?" My voice was barely a croak, dry and raspy. I tried to move, but my limbs felt like lead, heavy and unresponsive.
As my eyes adjusted, I realized I was lying in a bed, surrounded by unfamiliar machinery. The steady beep of a heart monitor echoed in the sterile room, and I could feel the scratch of an IV in my arm. The smell of antiseptic filled the air, sharp and clinical, a stark contrast to the dream's sensory overload.
Panic set in as I tried to piece together how I had gotten here. The last thing I remembered was the Rift, the battle with the Naga, and the strange creatures that had carried us out. But now… now I was alone, with no sign of my friends, no sign of the Rift, nothing but the sterile white walls of this room.
I forced myself to sit up, wincing as pain shot through my body. My muscles ached, and I felt an overwhelming sense of fatigue, like I had run a marathon and then some. But the pain was secondary to the gnawing confusion and fear that churned in my gut.
Where were Vallen, Lilith, and Nico? Had they made it out of the Rift? Were they safe?
I tried to get out of bed, but my legs buckled beneath me, and I had to catch myself on the edge of the mattress. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves, but the room felt like it was closing in on me. I needed to find someone, anyone, who could tell me what had happened.
"Hello?" My voice was louder now, though still shaky. I strained to hear any sound of movement outside the room, but there was nothing. The silence was suffocating.
I stumbled to the door, each step a struggle, and pushed it open with trembling hands. The hallway beyond was just as stark and empty, stretching on in both directions with no sign of life. I swallowed hard, the cold, sterile air stinging my throat.
Where was everyone? Was I alone here?
The questions spun in my mind, each one more unsettling than the last. But the most pressing question of all was the one that echoed from my dream:
What was I?
I took a few tentative steps down the hallway, my bare feet cold against the tiled floor. The emptiness of the place gnawed at me, amplifying my anxiety. I needed to find my friends, to know they were safe. But just as I was about to call out again, a figure appeared at the far end of the hallway.
She walked with a confidence that immediately drew my attention, her long red hair cascading down her back like flames. The soft, warm light from the windows illuminated her silhouette, revealing the intricate patterns of her black lace dress that clung to her curves. Her presence commanded respect, and the air around her seemed to hum with authority.
As she approached, her expression remained calm and composed, but there was a fire in her amber eyes—a fire that promised both wisdom and power. She stopped a few feet away from me, her gaze unwavering as she took in my disheveled state.
"Lucian," she said, her voice smooth yet firm. "You're awake. That's good. You've been through quite an ordeal."
I stared at her, my mind racing to piece together who she was and where I was. "Who are you? Where am I? And... my friends—Vallen, Lilith, Nico—are they okay?"
She regarded me with a mix of sympathy and restraint before speaking. "I am Amara Azura Ignia, the Don of the Vermillion Pheasant Syndicate. You were brought here after your battle in the Rift. As for your friends, they are being cared for, though Vallen is in a more critical condition. He's receiving the best care we can provide."
Relief and dread washed over me simultaneously. Vallen was alive, but how bad was it? The uncertainty gnawed at me, but I knew Amara wasn't here to give me false hope.
"I don't understand," I murmured, running a hand through my hair. "The last thing I remember was the Rift... the Naga... and those creatures that carried us out. What happened? How did we get here?"
Amara's gaze softened, but there was an undercurrent of urgency in her tone. "That is what we need to discuss. When our scouts returned to the Rift after detecting your presence, they found it completely altered. It was no longer the Yellow Rift it once was. There were no signs of the phantasm bodies, and the environment had transformed into something vibrant, almost alive. The Rift had downgraded to a Green level, something we've never seen before."
I stared at her in disbelief. "How is that possible? We fought... I barely survived. That place was a nightmare, filled with void energy and chaos. How could it just... change?"
"That's what we're trying to understand," Amara replied, her voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "When our people entered, they found nothing of what you described. No phantasms, no sign of the battle you fought. It was as if the Rift had been purified without any trace of what transpired. And then there are the creatures you mentioned—the ones that carried you out. They vanished into some watery ripple in the air, leaving no trace."
My mind reeled, struggling to make sense of the impossible. "And you have no idea what those creatures were?"
Amara shook her head. "None. They were unlike anything we've encountered before. But they saved you and your friends. That's something, at least."
Her words offered little comfort as the weight of what happened pressed down on me. My memory of the battle was fragmented, filled with gaps that left me feeling hollow and uncertain. I had fought, bled, and nearly died in that Rift. But what exactly had we faced? And why was the Rift altered so drastically?
I took a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. "I need to see Vallen. I need to know he's okay."
Amara stepped closer, placing a gentle yet firm hand on my shoulder. "He's being treated with the best care, Lucian. Right now, you need to rest and recover. You're no use to him or your friends if you push yourself too hard."
"But I—" I started, only for her to cut me off with a look that brooked no argument.
"You've done enough," she said, her tone leaving no room for debate. "Rest, gather your strength. We'll continue this discussion when you're ready."
I wanted to protest, to demand answers, but the exhaustion weighing down on me was too great. I nodded reluctantly, allowing Amara to guide me back toward the infirmary.
As we walked, I couldn't shake the feeling that something far more significant was at play. The dream, the Rift, the mysterious creatures—they were all connected, pieces of a puzzle that I had yet to fully comprehend. And until I did, there would be no rest for me, no matter how much my body demanded it.
Amara led me to the cafeteria, where a vast buffet of food awaited. My stomach growled loudly, a reminder of just how drained I was. The cafeteria was spacious, with rows of tables and a long buffet filled with every kind of dish imaginable.
"Take your time," Amara said, motioning toward the buffet. "Eat as much as you need. I'll be right here."
I hesitated for a moment, still wary of the situation, but the hunger won out. I walked over to the buffet, grabbing plate after plate of food. The first bites were almost euphoric, the flavors washing over my tongue as I devoured everything in sight. My body felt like it was running on empty, and the food was the fuel I desperately needed. I cleared forty plates before I finally slowed down, each one filled with a variety of foods—fruits, meats, breads, and desserts.
As I ate, I could feel my body beginning to mend. The warmth spread through my limbs, and the tingling sensation of healing became more pronounced. My muscles, bones, and joints—damaged from the battle in the Rift—were knitting themselves back together. I could almost hear the soft crackle of energy as my Aether worked its way through me, repairing the damage.
Amara watched in silence as I ate, her amber eyes sharp, taking in every detail. I could sense her intrigue, though she didn't say anything. Instead, she waited until I had finished, letting me gather my strength and thoughts.
Once I was done, I set down the last plate and leaned back in my chair, finally feeling like myself again. The healing process was almost complete, the last of my injuries knitting together as I took a deep breath.
Amara leaned forward slightly, her gaze never leaving mine. "You've recovered quickly. That's... impressive."
I shrugged, wiping my mouth with a napkin. "I've always had a fast metabolism."
She smiled faintly at my evasive answer but didn't press the issue. Instead, she shifted the conversation, her tone casual, almost conversational. "Lucian, you're aware of the anomaly we encountered in that Rift. It's not every day a Yellow Rift downgrades to Green and essentially purifies itself. We've never seen anything like it. You can understand why we're curious."
I met her gaze, noting the subtle undertones in her voice. She was fishing for information, trying to pry out details without directly asking. I knew this was a test, a probe into how much I knew and how much I was willing to reveal. And I wasn't about to give her anything easily.
"I'm as confused as you are," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "One moment, we were fighting for our lives, and the next… those creatures showed up. They carried us out, and now the Rift is somehow transformed. It doesn't make sense to me either."
Amara raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "And you have no idea what those creatures were? No theories, no insights? They saved you, after all."
I shook my head, maintaining my calm facade. "I'd never seen anything like them before. They were... otherworldly, I guess. Beyond anything we've encountered in the field."
She leaned back, studying me with a gaze that felt like it could peel away layers of skin. "It's unusual, you have to admit. For someone with your experience, to be this... perplexed. The Rift anomalies, those creatures—none of it adds up. And yet, here you are, recovered in record time, seemingly none the worse for wear."
I gave a nonchalant shrug, doing my best to appear unfazed. "I suppose I got lucky. Whatever those creatures were, they brought us out in one piece. Maybe the Rift's transformation was a side effect."
Amara nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. "Perhaps. But luck only explains so much. You were inside that Rift for longer than any normal raid team would survive, especially against a Wave boss. And from what we could gather, there was no sign of the core being destroyed. Yet, the Rift stabilized. That raises... questions."
She was circling closer, probing my knowledge of what had really happened inside. I could feel the weight of her curiosity, pressing down on me, but I wasn't about to break. I decided to steer the conversation in a different direction, to turn the tables.
"You mentioned the creatures vanished into a watery ripple," I said, folding my arms. "Have you considered that maybe they were connected to the Rift itself? That they were a part of the purification process?"
Amara's eyes narrowed slightly. "You're suggesting the Rift had some kind of self-defense mechanism? That those creatures were there to... cleanse it?"
"Not exactly," I replied, keeping my voice even. "But it's possible they were tied to the Rift's core in some way. When the core wasn't destroyed, maybe they stepped in to stabilize things. But that's just a theory."
"An interesting one," she admitted, though her expression remained skeptical. "But that still doesn't explain how you survived against the Wave boss. Or how you managed to purify the Rift without destroying the core. These are questions we need answers to, Lucian. This is under my jurisdiction, and I'm responsible for understanding what happened here."
I gave her a measured look, deciding to push back slightly. "I understand your position, Don Ignia. But we're just kids who got caught up in something bigger than ourselves. We're not experts in Rift anomalies or mysterious creatures. We did what we had to do to survive, and now we're here. Beyond that, I'm as in the dark as you are."
Amara tilted her head slightly, her gaze sharp as a blade. "Are you? Because you're the only one who's woken up so far, and you seem remarkably composed for someone who just fought a Wave boss and witnessed an unprecedented event. There's more to this than you're letting on, Lucian. And you know it."
I met her gaze evenly, refusing to let her see any cracks in my facade. "Believe what you want. But I'm telling you the truth. Whatever happened in that Rift, it's beyond anything we've seen before. If you want answers, you'll need to find them just like the rest of us."
For a moment, there was silence between us, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Then, Amara's expression softened, though the fire in her eyes remained. "You're a clever one, Lucian. I can see why you've survived this long. But remember, the truth has a way of coming out, whether you want it to or not."
I gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod. "I'm sure it does. But until then, I'm just trying to make sense of it all, just like you."
Amara seemed to consider this for a moment before she nodded in return, a subtle acknowledgment of our unspoken agreement. "Fair enough. But let's take a different approach. How about we spar? A chance for you to stretch out, test your strength—and for me to see what you're really capable of."
I blinked, taken aback by the sudden suggestion. "Spar? I'm still recovering from... whatever happened in there. And aren't we in an infirmary?"
Amara smiled, a hint of challenge in her expression. "Yes, but I think you're more recovered than you let on. You've eaten well, your body is healing rapidly, and I can see the strength returning to you. Besides, a little sparring will do you good. It'll help me gauge what you're really capable of. After all, I need to understand who I'm dealing with, especially after an event like this."
I hesitated, sensing the underlying motive behind her words. She wanted to see my abilities firsthand, to dissect how I had survived that Rift and what I might be hiding. But at the same time, part of me was curious—curious to see how I would fare against someone like Amara, who clearly possessed both power and experience.
"Alright," I said, finally relenting. "But let's make this interesting. You want to understand me, and I want to understand you. Let's see what we can learn from each other."
Amara's smile widened, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "Agreed. But don't hold back, Lucian. I want to see the storm within you."
We moved to an open training room, the kind used for sparring and honing combat skills. The room was spacious, with a high ceiling and padded floors designed to absorb impact. It was stark, devoid of any unnecessary decorations, making it clear that this place was meant for one thing—combat.
Amara stretched her arms, loosening up. "Let's keep it simple—no weapons, just hand-to-hand. I want to see how you move."
I nodded, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension. The room felt cooler than the infirmary, but I welcomed the chill. It helped sharpen my focus, pushing away the lingering fatigue.
We circled each other, the tension building. I could see Amara assessing me, her eyes sharp and calculating. She was sizing me up, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Amara moved first, her speed catching me off guard. She closed the distance between us in an instant, her fist aimed directly at my chest. I barely had time to react, stepping to the side just as her blow grazed my ribcage.
She was fast—faster than anyone I'd ever fought before. But I wasn't about to back down.
I retaliated with a quick series of punches, testing her defenses. Amara blocked them effortlessly, her movements fluid and precise. Her counterattack was swift—a low kick aimed at my legs, followed by an elbow strike to my jaw. I managed to block the kick, but her elbow connected, sending a jolt of pain through my skull.
I staggered back, trying to shake off the dizziness. Amara didn't let up, pressing her advantage with relentless aggression. She was testing me, pushing me to see how far I could go.
I ducked under a high kick, stepping in close to land a punch to her midsection. She absorbed the blow, barely flinching, before driving her knee into my abdomen. The impact knocked the wind out of me, and I doubled over, gasping for air.
"Don't hold back, Lucian," Amara said, her tone a mix of encouragement and challenge. "I know you're stronger than this."
Her words ignited something within me—a spark of determination that had been smothered by fatigue and confusion. I wasn't just going to survive this fight—I was going to push myself, to see just how far I could go.
I straightened up, my breathing steadying as I focused on her. Amara's eyes gleamed with anticipation, sensing the shift in my resolve.
This time, I attacked with purpose, channeling my Aether into each strike. My movements became more fluid, my attacks more precise. I could feel the energy surging through my body, enhancing my speed and strength.
Amara's expression shifted from one of casual amusement to genuine interest. She met each of my attacks with calculated defense, her eyes locked onto mine, as if searching for the source of my power.
We exchanged blows, the intensity of the fight escalating with each passing moment. Amara was relentless, her attacks calculated and precise, but I could feel myself keeping pace, matching her strike for strike.
In a blur of motion, I managed to land a solid hit on her shoulder, throwing her off balance. She recovered quickly, a small smile playing on her lips. "Not bad, Lucian. Not bad at all."
But I knew she was holding back—testing me, gauging my limits. And I had a feeling she hadn't even begun to show her true strength.
Amara switched tactics, her movements becoming more unpredictable. She darted in and out, her attacks coming from unexpected angles. I struggled to keep up, my mind racing to anticipate her next move.
But she was always one step ahead. In one fluid motion, she feinted a punch to my face, only to drive her knee into my side. The impact sent a shockwave of pain through my ribs, and I dropped to one knee, gasping for breath.
Amara stood over me, her expression one of calm control. "You're holding back," she said, her voice low but firm. "Why?"
I looked up at her, the pain in my side throbbing with each breath. "Because I don't know what you want from me."
Amara's eyes softened, and she extended a hand to help me up. "I want to see your true potential, Lucian. I want to know who you really are—and what you're capable of."
I took her hand, pulling myself to my feet. "And why should I trust you with that?"
Amara's smile returned, this time more genuine. "Because I'm offering you something no one else can. A chance to learn, to grow, to unlock your full potential. You have a gift, Lucian. But it's only a fraction of what you could become."
She paused, studying me with those intense amber eyes. "Train under me after you graduate from the academy. I can help you hone your abilities, teach you things no one else can."
Before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension.
"Lucian."
I turned to see my aunt and uncle standing at the entrance to the training room. Their expressions were calm, almost too calm, considering the circumstances. It was as if they had been expecting this, as if they knew exactly what had transpired in the Rift.
Amara stepped back, allowing them to approach. "Lucian's recovery has been remarkable," she said to them, her tone professional. "But I believe it's time for him to be released."
My aunt nodded, her gaze steady on me. "Thank you, Don Ignia. We appreciate your care, but Lucian needs to come home now."
As they spoke, memories of our last conversation flooded back to me—memories of what they had said before I snuck out for the raid. A sense of dread washed over me, and before anyone could react, I bolted.
I heard my aunt and uncle call after me, their voices tinged with worry, but I didn't stop. I sprinted down the hallway, my heart pounding in my chest.
Amara's orders rang out behind me. "Don't let him out of your sight. Follow him, and protect him if things get rough. I'll handle the rest."
I didn't look back as I raced through the building, the weight of everything crashing down on me. There was no time to think, no time to process what had just happened. All I knew was that I had to get out, to figure out what was going on—before it was too late.