The stretcher wheels squeaked faintly as they rolled out of sight into the Rift Tower's medical facility. The air outside hung heavy with shock and whispers, the crowd buzzing with speculation. Andrew and Mella stood in uneasy silence, the sight of Hames and Croen's battered forms seared into their minds.
Mella broke the quiet, her voice tentative. "We're... safe?"
Andrew turned to her, his brow furrowed, then gave a slow nod. "It seems like it. If Hames survives this, it'll probably take months for him to recover—maybe longer."
Mella looked back toward the medical facility, her expression unreadable. "That's assuming he even makes it."
Andrew said nothing. The sight of Hames—cocky, invincible Hames—reduced to a shadow of his former self had left him feeling odd. He was happy he was no longer the threat but the way it just played out well for them was just so strange.
They moved through the bustling streets, putting distance between themselves and the chaos.
Mella glanced at Andrew as they stepped away from the crowd, her rift detector in hand. "I guess we can return to rift fighting since we don't have to worry about him anymore, huh."
Andrew nodded, though his thoughts lingered on the sight of Hames' pale, battered form. "Yeah..."
Mella exhaled, a mix of relief and determination in her expression. "Okay then. Let's head to the nearest rift. It appeared about an hour ago. Should still be fresh."
Andrew raised an eyebrow, before asking, "The rift detector gives that kind information too?"
"Yeah."
They navigated through the city, weaving past vendors and adventurers bustling to their own destinations.
However, when they reached the rift, it was already cleared. A group of rift fighters lounged nearby.
Andrew sighed. *Of course. This close to the city, it's always a race.*
He approached one of the fighters, a wiry man adjusting the straps on his gloves. "Hey," Andrew said. "Do you know anything about the group that came into the city injured? Hames and Croen's group?"
The man squinted at him, then shrugged. "I saw them pass through, yeah. Looked bad. Not sure what hit them."
Andrew frowned, mulling over the vague response. As he turned to leave, the man called after him. "Why are you asking? You friends with them?"
Andrew looked back, his expression neutral. "No. Just curious."
The man tilted his head, unconvinced, but said nothing further. Andrew returned to Mella, his gaze scanning the thinning crowds. He noticed her fiddling with the rift detector, her movements steady despite the earlier tension.
"Guess we're heading out again," Mella said, tucking the device into her pocket. "We'll find a fresh one. No point hanging around here."
Andrew nodded, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "Yeah, let's not waste time. Think you can beat me to the next one?"
Mella raised an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Oh, you're on. Don't blame me if I leave you in the dust."
In the end, they quickly gave up on racing and decided to flag down a carriage. The city's edge blurred into the horizon.
The ride was steady and uneventful at first, the wheels clattering softly on the dirt road. Andrew's thoughts wandered to Hames and Croen. Whatever had taken them down must have been brutal. Was it the rift itself? A mistake in their strategy? Or something else entirely?
Suddenly, a strange sensation tugged at him—an inexplicable urge pulling his attention toward a different direction. It was faint at first, like a whisper, but it grew stronger with each passing moment. It was the same feeling he'd had before when he realized his power had some weird condition behind it. A condition that forced him to keep it secret.
This was the first time it acted like this. There must have been a good reason for it he assumed.
He leaned forward, tapping the driver's shoulder. "Change direction. Go west instead."
The driver frowned. "West? That's not where you asked—"
"Do it," Andrew insisted.
Mella frowned, her arms crossed. "What's this about? Why the sudden change?"
Andrew hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I have a feeling. It's... hard to explain. But I think we need to go that way."
Mella stared at him for a moment, her expression skeptical but curious. "This isn't like you, Andrew. But fine. Let's see where this feeling takes us."
The detour stretched their journey by hours, but eventually, they reached a new rift. It was larger than most, its jagged edges shimmering faintly in the fading sunlight. What struck them both, however, was the sound—low, rumbling vibrations that seemed to emanate from deep within.
Mella's eyes widened as she stared at the rift. "I've never seen—or heard—anything like this. Have you?"
Andrew shook his head. "No. Never. Should we leave it alone?"
She pulled out her rift detector, watching as the compass-like needle wavered erratically. "The energy's weaker than a usual white rift. It shouldn't be too much for us. If this is something new\... we could make a discovery."
Andrew crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the rift. "What if this is what happened to Hames and his group? What if it's dangerous?"
Mella hesitated, then shrugged. "Possible. But we won't know unless we check it out."
The rumbling intensified, vibrating through the ground beneath them. Andrew's unease grew. That pull—the strange feeling—was stronger now, as if urging him toward the rift. Was it guiding him to something important? Or was it leading him into a trap?
Before he could decide, the rift suddenly expanded, a storm of white lightning crackling outward. A bolt struck Andrew squarely in the chest, the impact sending him reeling. Mella grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back, but the energy engulfed them both.
---
The world shifted around them, the chaotic energy of the rift giving way to an entirely new scene. They found themselves standing in a bustling town, its architecture unlike anything they'd seen before. The people were just as strange—humanoid, but with glowing tattoos etched across their skin. The markings pulsed faintly as they moved, their expressions tense and hurried.
"What is this place?" Mella whispered, her voice barely audible over the commotion.
Andrew shook his head, his eyes darting around. He reached out to stop a passerby, a woman with intricate patterns spiraling up her arms. "Hey! Wait—"
She yanked her arm free and darted away, her glowing tattoos flaring briefly as she fled.
Mella's breath hitched. "Andrew, what's going on? What is this?"
Before he could answer, a familiar sensation washed over him, stronger and more vivid than ever. A system notification appeared in his vision, its words glowing faintly in the air before him:
[You're meant for more. You were secretly chosen for more. Every world can't be saved from becoming a monster wasteland, but there can be attempts]
Andrew stared at the message, his heart pounding. The pull he'd felt—the force guiding him—had brought him here for a reason. But what that reason was, he had no idea.