Andrew scanned the row of worn but sturdy buildings. Their exteriors suggested years of wear, though there was a certain charm to the craftsmanship. He turned to Mella, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Which one's the cheapest?" he asked. His gaze shifted toward the smallest building, assuming it would naturally cost less.
Mella raised a brow. "Not always the smallest one, you know. It depends on who owns it. But before you pick, hold on—"
A voice interrupted, calm but firm. "Hey!"
Andrew turned, spotting a man approaching. His attire was striking—a blend of modern and medieval. Clean-cut trousers and a tailored jacket with subtle silver stitching met sturdy, scuffed boots. A grey ID badge hung from his chest, embossed with a storm symbol that caught the light as he moved.
The man stopped a few feet away, giving Andrew a once-over. "You're new in town, right?"
Andrew frowned. "Yeah, what about it?"
"I'm Hames," the man said, tapping his badge. "Rift fighter, like you—or at least, like you're supposed to be. Heard there was a newcomer. Thought I'd stop by, see if you're interested in joining my team. We're heading out tomorrow to diffuse a rift a good distance from the city." He nodded toward Mella. "She's already with us."
Andrew glanced at her, hoping for some insight, but her expression was strangely tight. Something was off. He looked back at Hames. "What's the deal?"
Hames' tone remained friendly, his smile easy. "Small group, efficient. We've got space, and honestly, it's not every day we recruit someone new. Meet us at the tower steps at daybreak if you're interested."
Andrew hesitated, his instincts cautioning him, but he eventually nodded. "Sure."
"Great. Don't be late." Hames gave a quick wave and strode off, disappearing into the busy streets.
As the man vanished, Andrew turned to Mella. Her posture was tense, and her gaze was fixed on the ground again. "Alright," Andrew said slowly. "What's going on with you?"
Mella blinked and looked up, forcing a weak smile. "What do you mean?"
"Is he bad news or something?" Andrew asked
"What? No!" she said quickly.
"It seemed like you were afraid of him."
She hesitated, then sighed. "I was supposed to go with them today—to a different rift, closer to the city. I backed out last minute, and I thought he was coming to yell at me about it." She shrugged, looking away. "Guess I was wrong."
Andrew frowned. Her explanation didn't entirely sit right, but he let it slide for now. "Okay. If you say so."
Mella glanced at the row of buildings again, clearly eager to change the subject. "Anyway, second smallest one. If I remember right, the renters live on the first floor. You'll want to knock there if you're interested."
"Got it," Andrew said, studying her for a moment longer before deciding to let it go. "See you around, then."
"Yeah, see you." Mella gave him a quick nod and walked off, disappearing into the winding streets.
He rapped on the wooden door, and after a few moments, a middle-aged woman with graying hair opened it.
"Hi, I would like to rent one of your apartments." Andrew smiled.
The woman eyed Andrew skeptically, her gaze narrowing as she listened to his accent. "You don't sound like you're from around here," she said, her tone dripping with suspicion. "Where you from, boy?"
Andrew kept his voice steady, trying not to react. "Just passing through. Looking for work."
She snorted, her lips twisting into a frown. "Passing through, huh? Don't expect any trouble here. We don't take kindly to strangers causing problems."
"No trouble," Andrew assured, though his jaw tightened. After a brief negotiation and some haggling, he finally handed over the coins, the woman's frown never quite leaving her face.
She took the money, counting it slowly before handing over the key. "A week's rent," she said sharply. "And don't think about staying longer without paying up."
Andrew parted with nearly all the money he'd earned earlier that day, his coin pouch significantly lighter.
"Don't break anything," the woman muttered as she handed over the key, her eyes still narrowed. "And don't bring your kind of mess in here, got it?"
Andrew gave a curt nod, resisting the urge to snap back. He just wanted a place to rest, not deal with a moron.
As soon as she closed the door, he grumbled under his breath, "What a piece of shit."
Once inside the apartment, Andrew surveyed his temporary home. It was surprisingly clean, with polished wood floors and modest furnishings—a small table, a single chair, and a bed that looked more comfortable than he'd expected
He found spare sheets in the closet and promptly swapped out the old ones on the bed. He glanced around, double-checking the windows and locking the door securely before finally shrugging off his armor with a relieved sigh.
Each piece hit the floor with a dull thud. He rubbed his sore shoulders, his muscles aching with each movement as if they were on the verge of cramping.
Andrew sank into the bed's mattress, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His body practically melted into the mattress.
His sleep was dreamless, a heavy darkness that felt all too short. Before dawn, Andrew awoke suddenly, instincts kicking in before the first light crept through the curtains.
He sat up, immediately alert, listening for any unusual noises. Only silence. He exhaled, allowing himself to relax, even if just a little.
He donned his armor methodically. As he strapped on the final piece, he let his gaze linger on the locked door, a frown crossing his face. He couldn't shake the feeling that things were going to get worse before they got better.
He then looked at his ID, and thought about how Hames had his. He put it on his left chest plate and was surprised when it stuck like a magnet.
Stepping outside, the air was crisp, the city still waking. He moved quickly, blending into the quiet streets until he reached a nearby stall.
"Morning," Andrew greeted, his voice even.
The vendor, an elderly woman, eyed him briefly, her gaze lingering on his armor. "You one of those fighters, eh?" she asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and disdain.
Andrew nodded. "Just here for a bit. How much for the bread roll?"
The woman picked up a warm bread roll, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Five bronze," she said, her voice flat.
Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Five? Five for that small thing?"
"Prices go up, stranger," she replied, her expression unapologetic. "Take it or leave it."
Andrew sighed, fishing out the coins. "Fine," he muttered, handing them over. She took the coins, her fingers brushing his hand for a moment before quickly withdrawing.
"You'd best be careful out there," she said as she handed over the bread roll. "Rifts been acting strange lately. Don't need any more outsiders making a mess."
Andrew bit into the roll as he turned to leave. "Thanks for the advice," he said, though his tone made it clear he wasn't exactly grateful.
The vendor huffed, muttering something under her breath as she returned to her work. Andrew moved on, making his way to the rift tower.
What's with the civilians in this damn city? First I get shit because I'm an outsider. Then I got shit because I'm a rift fighter? The hell?
The tower loomed above him.
At its base, he spotted Hames and three others waiting. Two men and a woman, all clad in gear that were practically shining. Each bore a grey rift fighter's ID like Hames', the storm symbol glinting faintly in the early light.
Andrew approached. "Morning."
"Hey," Hames said, his grin just as wide as the day before. "Everyone, this is Andrew."
The others offered curt nods, their expressions guarded. Andrew noted their arrogance immediately—straight-backed stances, thinly veiled disdain in their eyes.
Before Andrew could dwell on it, Mella arrived, rushing toward the group. "Sorry, sorry! Lost track of time," she panted.
"Classic," Hames teased, though his tone remained light. "Don't mind these grumps," he said, motioning to the others. "They're just cranky because it's early."
Andrew gave a fake smile.
He watched as armored individuals passed by.
He wondered, If Hames' team was as experienced as they should be, seeing that their ID card was a different color than his, why hadn't they partnered with the more seasoned fighters who came and went from the tower?
The group soon departed the tower, heading toward a nearby transportation station. Andrew looked around, expecting to see carriages lined up. Instead, they approached a wooden platform where a strange, floating bus awaited.
The bus looked it was made out of dark iron.
Andrew's eyes widened, mouth slightly agape when he saw the vehicle hovering effortlessly above the ground.
"Wait, we're taking that?" Andrew asked.
Hames chuckled, giving him a sideways glance. "What, never been on a floating bus before?"
Andrew shook his head, still staring at the bus. "No, I've only ever used carriages. What's wrong with taking one of those?"
One of the other team members, a man with a bored expression, snorted. "Carriages are too slow. This is faster, more efficient. Besides, you'd look like a real amateur showing up in a carriage."
Andrew frowned. "Faster, huh?" He stepped onto the bus, feeling the subtle vibrations beneath his feet.
"Don't worry," Mella said with a small smile. "You'll get used to it. It's not as complicated as it looks."
The ride was smooth but swift, the cityscape blurring into a patchwork of fields and forests.
They were heading in a completely different direction than the permanent rift from yesterday.
Andrew stayed quiet, his eyes darting to the window, taking in the scenery and trying to ignore the occasional glances from the others.
The bus eventually halted near a dense, verdant expanse. They disembarked, the air now heavy with the scent of grass and damp earth. Ahead, Andrew caught sight of their destination: a rift.
The anomaly crackled ominously, arcs of brown energy distorting the air around it. The ground beneath it shimmered unnaturally, as if caught between dimensions.
Andrew frowned. "That's… different."
Mella her face tensed. "Yeah. It's brown."
"I'm guessing another way to tell how powerful a rift is through its color?"
"Yeah, I didn't bother mentioning it since those of the same color can differ in strength. But this is for those with ranks above ours."
"So it's above our capabilities?"
"Don't worry about it," Hames interjected. "We've got this."
Andrew's doubts deepened. "Really?"
"Really."
As they walked closer, Andrew's thoughts raced. The rift seemed more dangerous than Hames let on, and the team's motives were more than a little suspect. They weren't here to steal his gear—it wasn't worth much. But there was something off about the situation.
He considered making a run for it but quickly dismissed the thought. He was surrounded, and each of them was stronger and more experienced than him. Any attempt to escape would likely end badly. For now, his best option was to stay close and wait for an opportunity. An opportunity in the realm.
He stepped within range of the rift's energy field. A sudden arc of brown electricity lashed out, striking them all.