Marcus stood on the precipice, staring into the swirling abyss before him. The air was thick with the crackling energy of the rift, and he could feel its pull—a magnetic force that gnawed at his very being. The rift was no longer just an anomaly; it had become a living, breathing entity, its presence suffocating, its power overwhelming.
The shadows around him seemed to ripple and writhe, twisting like snakes hungry for their next victim. The system's warnings had become increasingly urgent, but despite it all, Marcus remained resolute. He had been thrust into this world of unknowns, forced to become something he hadn't asked to be. But now, facing this unrelenting darkness, he could feel something deep within him stir—a purpose, a duty he could not ignore.
"Marcus, be careful," Elara's voice came softly from behind him, breaking the silence. "We don't know what we're dealing with here. This place… it's like it's alive."
