Tunde avoided more disciples as he retraced his steps toward the beacon of power he now knew to be the rift, keeping the rift finder in hand and pretending to use it. He had no idea if Rhyn and the strange woman were lurking somewhere in the trees, watching. The death of the disciple at Rhyn's hands was still fresh in his mind as he moved closer to the rift, feeling the strange power infuse the plant life and trees around him with Ethra. The realization struck him that, despite how strong he might seem for a disciple, he was nowhere near as powerful as Rhyn, the strange girl, or even Elyria.
A sense of bitterness gnawed at him. Glancing down at the disciples fighting a swarm of crawling insects below, he moved overhead, his mind slowly processing the recent events. Rhyn had moved so quickly and lethally that Tunde had neither seen nor sensed anything. His instincts hadn’t even had time to react. Not that it would have helped—he would’ve ended up like the disciple, dead meat on the ground, his body left to rot, with no one caring enough to bury him.
Tunde glanced at the three void rings now on his fingers, feeling a sense of satisfaction that he had at least gained something from the encounter. A drop of blood had sealed the rings to him, revealing a treasure trove of elixirs, clothes, lumens, and weapons, though he left the weapons untouched. With these resources, he felt more prepared to face whatever lay within the rift. As he pushed deeper into the increasingly sweltering forest, with the sun burning hotter overhead, he came across another set of disciples clashing as they met on the path to the rift.
Partly blaming himself for the encounter—he had turned off his Ethra sight—Tunde found himself in a brief scuffle. Greed lit up in the disciples' eyes as they eyed the four void rings on his hand. Reluctantly, they left him behind when more explosions and screams echoed nearby, no doubt from tier 2 creatures catching some off guard. Tunde reactivated his Ethra sight, tearing his way toward the rift. His relic hummed softly, drinking in the power from the rift, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was pulling him closer.
The rift itself was like a tear in space, a thick line of black and gold energy that continuously leaked into the surrounding area, where dozens of tier 2 creatures now basked. He wasn’t sure what he was looking at, but he could swear the creatures were growing larger by the minute. He watched in horror as a bird-like monster tore out of its own body, growing bigger and roaring at the sky. Yes, they were definitely growing larger. They were still tier 2 creatures, but rapidly approaching the peak. A worrying situation—he couldn’t take them all on, not at once.
His thoughts were interrupted as more disciples appeared. Some rode flying constructs, others were decked out in armor with weapons drawn, and a few commanded bizarre, walking creatures made of metal. The creatures around the rift screamed in response to the assembling disciples. Tunde noted the different crests and colors on their robes—the higher houses of Jade Peak, the disciple houses. He suspected that by the end of this, he’d probably have to leave the Red Blossom House and the few people he had just begun to settle with. That was the harsh reality of this world—the strong left the weak behind.
Shaking off the thought, he continued watching as techniques began to fly through the air—tens of them, in all shapes and sizes. Elemental attacks, imbued weapons blazing with power. Tunde felt oddly vulnerable without a weapon in hand. Even the disciples he had fought earlier had powerful weapons, though they hadn’t saved them from his onslaught. Still, it would be nice to have that extra power. Elder Joran’s words echoed in his mind—about the dangers of over-reliance on weapons. The elder had been trying to teach him that. With a sigh, Tunde leaped from the tree limb he’d been crouching on, his fist cocked as he slammed into a shell-covered creature, cracking its armor. His other hand shot a resonance-imbued stone into the crack, killing the creature in an instant.
The disciple who had been about to face the creature blinked in shock as Tunde shot toward the rift aperture. Alarms rang out as disciples tried to block his way. Frustration flared within him. Why didn’t they just pass through? What was the point of squabbling at the entrance when someone could already be inside, reaping the rewards?
Tunde narrowly dodged a vibrating blade wielded by a bulky, armored disciple whose face was half-covered in cloth. A punch to the disciple’s midsection sent him flying backward, a fist-sized dent left in his armor. Rolling to avoid an explosion of dust and earth from a nearby attack, Tunde activated his Ethra sight to keep track of the incoming blows. It was hard restraining himself from blowing off a few skulls, but he noticed the other disciples also seemed to be holding back—probably because of Rhyn, who had been cutting down anyone who crossed that line.
The rift seemed to inhale and exhale with power, blasting everyone around it away before glowing even brighter. Tunde was on his feet immediately, drawing on every ounce of strength to push through the rift as others did the same. Bodies clashed as they were sucked into the tear in space.
Nausea, dizziness, and weakness hit Tunde all at once, making him retch. He heaved slowly before climbing to his feet, shaking his head as he stared around him. The disciples who had struggled to pass through the rift with him were nowhere to be seen. What first captured his attention was the vast expanse of undulating grass, swaying gently in the breeze like a golden-green sea. The grassland stretched as far as his eyes could see, interrupted only by the remnants of what was once a majestic structure in the distance.
The waist-high grass, vibrant green and rippling in the wind, created a calming melody. Occasionally, clusters of colorful wildflowers added splashes of purple, blue, and gold to the landscape, standing in stark contrast to the surrounding greenery. The air was sweet with the fragrance of blooming blossoms, making the grassland feel like a tranquil oasis in the midst of ruin.
Amid the sea of grass stood a skeletal structure, rising like an ancient sentinel—a testament to a bygone era. Broken walls and crumbling towers told the tale of a once-thriving city, now reduced to remnants of its former glory. Moss-covered stones and ivy-laden archways hinted at the passage of countless seasons.
As Tunde ventured further, he encountered fractured pillars and what might have once been a courtyard, now overgrown with resilient vines reclaiming the space. The skeletal remains of buildings created a maze, filled with hidden chambers and secret passages begging to be uncovered. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the abandoned corridors, a haunting reminder that he might be alone.
The ambiance was a blend of serenity and eeriness, with the lively grassland clashing against the decaying structures to create a hauntingly beautiful scene. Sunlight filtered through gaps in the broken ceilings, casting a warm glow on the grass below, while shadows danced playfully along the crumbling walls. The distant rustle of leaves and the occasional creaking of dilapidated structures were the only sounds, giving the area an atmosphere of both nostalgia and mystery. Shivering reflexively, Tunde moved within the buildings, searching for whatever resources might be hidden.
A few minutes later, the sound of clashing weapons echoed deeper within the broken structure. Tunde quickened his pace, realizing that his relic was continuously drinking in more of the power from the rift. It wasn’t Ethra, but whatever it was, the relic was more active than usual. However, this wasn’t his most immediate concern. Emerging into a large room that resembled the courtyard he had passed earlier, he spotted two disciples desperately fighting a large stone creature.
The creature was wrapped in vines, its green eyes blazing, and its rocky talons slashed at the disciples. The girl fought with a blade and razor-sharp flowers that swirled around her, ineffectively cutting at the vines. Her companion, a male disciple, wielded a large shield and one-handed hammer. His body lit up with a hazy glow as he clashed with the creature, only to be swatted aside like a fly.
Tunde was behind the creature, his fist cocked. He unleashed resonance on its head, and the upper half of the creature exploded into fine powder. This wasn’t a creature he could have held back against—definitely a peak tier 2.
Landing softly, Tunde flicked his hand to relieve the strain and watched as a multicolored core rolled out of the creature’s remaining half. He turned his gaze to the two disciples, who quickly raised their hands.
“You killed it, friend. It belongs to you,” the male disciple said, getting up from where he had crashed.
Tunde ignored the "friend" term, his void ring swallowing the core as he turned to them.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Moss golems, or at least that’s what we think. They’re really resilient creatures,” the girl replied.
“Whatever technique or weapon you used, I doubt you could replicate it again?” the male asked, his tone questioning.
Tunde stayed silent, merely shrugging as he prepared to leave. The girl jabbed her companion, who turned to her, confused.
“Please, forgive my companion—he’s as blunt as his affinity, unfortunately,” she said. “I’m Rela, and this is Oman, both of House Apex,” she finished, staring at Tunde expectantly.
“Tunde,” he replied simply.
“The wastelander?” Oman said, his eyes widening in recognition.
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Tunde was used to the looks of disgust, but what he didn’t expect was the calculating look in Rela’s eyes. She bowed at the waist, catching him completely off guard.
“We greet the student of the great Elder Joran,” she said softly, her voice dropping lower.
Tunde was about to respond when another golem crashed through the broken structure, swinging a large stone ball held by rusted metal chains. Rolling out of the way, Tunde activated his Ethra sight, hoping it would still work in the strange power-infused environment. It did, revealing lines of green energy running through the creature, coalescing in its chest—probably its core.
As the stone ball swung overhead, Oman raised his shield to block the blow from hitting Rela. Tunde took the opportunity, leaping onto the ball and shooting for the creature’s head. This golem was faster than the last, however. Its second limb came out of nowhere, crashing into Tunde and sending him flying into the rubble. The pain was intense, his bones unbroken but aching badly.
Oman fared worse; his metal shield dented from the force of the stone ball. Meanwhile, Rela darted between the creature’s legs, her blade glowing pink as the petals around her exploded, chipping away at the vines and stone. But her attacks barely affected the golem—it was clear they were a bad match for this type of creature. Oman’s shield began to glow red with heat, and he seemed unfazed as it melted in his hands. His hands glowed red as he molded the melted metal into a lance, still red hot, before hurling it toward the creature’s chest.
The creature raised its hand to block the attack, but the lance pierced through and embedded itself in its stone hand. The limb exploded, and the creature reeled backward. Tunde was on his feet, running at full speed. The creature swung the stone ball again, but Tunde dodged, sliding underneath it and driving his fist into its leg. The resonance-imbued punch blew away the knee, sending a sharp pain through Tunde’s hand as the creature fell to its other knee.
Rela was there in an instant, her blade swinging as petals wove around it, glowing pink. The blade sheared through the golem’s skull with a projected attack, decapitating it. The large head crashed to the ground, cracking open. She collapsed to her knees, panting, sweat matting her forehead.
Tunde pulled out a healing elixir, drinking it as the pain in his body eased. Nodding to both of them, he turned and pushed deeper into the corridor without a word. They seemed to attract more of these mold golems, and while he could handle them, he wasn’t willing to take unnecessary risks.
**********************************
Reya froze as Tunde, the wastelander, left, counting a few seconds before relaxing and standing at her full height.
“Well, that was scary,” Oman said.
She shot him a glare.
“He was supposed to be an initiate. How, in the hegemon’s name, did he become a disciple—and such a powerful one at that?” she growled.
“The rumors were true then. He killed Gale,” Oman said.
Reya snorted.
“Good riddance to that filth. One less disciple for Arbor. Besides, if he’s willing to take out the competition for us, then by all means, let him,” she replied.
“Does he even realize he’s heading straight for the thickest zones of the rift? Word is that Thalas headed there as well,” Oman said.
Reya squinted into the distance, where flashes of techniques lit up the sky.
“It’s not our business. He scorned our offer of friendship. If he dies there, the elder will be pleased. This situation with Elder Joran taking a disciple has already caused issues with long-prepared plans,” she replied.
Oman picked up the metal lance he had made, his hands glowing red hot again as he melted it into a ball.
“They left all the herbs and plants from the outer zone. Hopefully, it’s enough to push our cultivation to the peak of disciple rank,” he said softly, eyeing the distance.
Reya glanced from him to the direction he was staring.
“Don’t even think about it,” she warned. “This is just preparation for the surge. Nothing here matters other than scoping out the competition between the houses. Better rewards await us at the surge, and you’d disgrace your house and family by dying here,” she finished.
Oman frowned.
“Who said anything about dying?” he said.
She blinked at him. “Deep within the core zone will undoubtedly be the top ten disciples of the clan. Maybe not all, but a substantial number—Sorin, Thalas, and Rhyn included. You want to fight for resources against them?” she asked.
Oman grunted, turning as another golem seemed to materialize from the broken walls, this one with two heads. Shouldering his hammer, he blazed with heat, his affinity causing his armor to glow.
“They have no use for the resources. Why do they take them?” he growled.
“That’s the way of rankers, and you know it. Now stop complaining, and let’s figure out where these rift-forsaken creatures are coming from before someone else beats us to it,” Reya said.
************************
The next room looked scorched, flames had left soot and ash filling the entire area. Tunde moved carefully, Ethra sight searching for any signs of rift creatures. He found nothing but discarded boxes and what looked like plants torn from their roots, likely by other disciples who had passed through. It also meant he shouldn’t encounter any rift creatures—perhaps a disciple with flame affinity had torched the entire area while fighting.
As if in answer to his thoughts, the scorched and mangled body of a disciple suddenly dropped from above, landing with a splatter. Tunde reeled backwards, gagging as the smell of cooked flesh filled his nostrils. His eyes shot upwards, seeing a slithering shape uncoil itself from the soot-covered ceiling. Baleful yellow eyes glared down at him.
The creature opened its mouth, releasing a torrent of ash. Instincts screaming, Tunde dodged just in time as the ashes ignited into a blaze, engulfing the area in flames. Diving into the large pool of water at the room's center, he glanced around, Ethra sight desperately trying to track the creature within the firestorm. His eyes watered from the heat as he debated calling his relic blade. The amount of Ethra it would consume worried him.
But it wasn’t a life-or-death situation yet—at least not entirely. He held off, watching the serpent twist toward him, its large jaws open, fangs ready to snap him in half. He rolled aside, imbuing his hand with resonance and striking its body. The blast ripped a chunk away, the serpent screaming as it twisted impossibly fast, sinking its fangs deep into his shoulder.
Tunde roared in pain, fury exploding through him as he struck again, pumping resonance into the creature until its head was nothing more than a wet pulp. The serpent's remains slid off his bloodied robes and into the now-blackened water, the flames around him finally dying.
Panting heavily, Tunde fumbled for his void rings, gulping down elixirs as fast as he could. He collapsed to his knees, black veins creeping up his arm from the bite, his heart hammering in his ears. Blood clogged his lungs, and his vision blurred. His relic hummed, releasing a strange, foreign energy through his body like a jolt of electricity. Agony coursed through him, burning his Ethra pathways, but it cleared the venom. He coughed up the blood in his lungs, gripping his chest as the band around his wrist pulsed with power.
Slowly, his heart rate calmed, and the strange power in the air began permeating his body, healing him. Each breath felt like it drew in more of that alien energy, restoring him with every inhale. Ethra sight revealed nothing unusual, yet the band on his wrist hummed, feeding on something Tunde couldn't fully comprehend.
He staggered to his feet, changed robes yet again—this time into another set from House Arbor—conscious of how quickly he was burning through clothing. Physically, he felt fine, as though the resonances he used hadn’t drained him at all. He glanced at the corpse of the ash serpent at his feet, now little more than a husk. Curious, he touched it, and the band greedily absorbed the remaining energy within it. The core, dim and lifeless, followed the same fate as the creature’s body.
Tunde wondered if the band had absorbed the core's power as well. He threw the remains into his void ring and turned to the fallen disciple’s body. After some hesitation, he decided against trying to return the void ring to the elder—he couldn’t explain how a mere disciple had killed someone in a rift. He ransacked the ring, transferring any valuables, elixirs, and lumens into his own ring before discarding the evidence.
Satisfied, he leapt upward, marveling at his strength as he passed through a hole in the ceiling, landing in a darkened space. Ethra sight revealed the entire room—it was a treasure horde. The serpent had accumulated a literal heap of items, from strange objects to glowing liquids to books he couldn’t identify. He quickly filled one void ring, grabbed another from the discarded ones below, and filled that as well, clearing the room of its riches.
Tunde considered leaving the rift entirely. He had gained more than enough, and now he understood why rankers were willing to kill each other over rifts. He returned to the ground level, pushing his way out of the room and into another wide-open field. Above him, flying constructs buzzed, heading toward what he assumed was the exit.
Suddenly, a pressure settled over him. He stared into the distance, recognizing the clashing auras of two peak disciples. One of them was Rhyn. Where Rhyn was, Elyria would not be far behind. The sheer power of their auras stunned him. As he pushed through the field, his relic hummed, feeding him more of the strange power that seemed to enhance his strength. He felt as though his raw strength had surged, pushing him toward the peak of disciple rank, though he couldn’t be sure.
Was the relic related to this rift? Or perhaps rifts in general? More questions about the relic and his Ethra affinity swirled in his mind.
Tunde encountered more creatures along the way, but with the strange power coursing through him, he tore through them easily, fists imbuing resonance with each strike, sending explosions ripping through their forms. He stored their remains in his third void ring, barely breaking stride as he pushed forward.
Eventually, he reached the edge of a massive fight. His Ethra sight revealed Rhyn battling a creature made of wisps of smoke and light, humanoid but otherworldly. It wielded a massive, glowing blade, and its power blanketed the entire area for miles. The band on Tunde’s wrist drank deeply from its aura, but Tunde couldn’t move. The creature's domain had locked him in place, his body frozen despite his efforts to break free.
A boulder tore through the air toward him, but it exploded before reaching him. Elyria yanked him to safety, dropping him a distance away as his senses returned.
“What were you thinking?” she growled, glaring at him. He stammered, unsure of what to say.
“You wandered straight into its domain. You were a sitting duck!”
“Elyria!” Rhyn's voice roared in the distance, and she cursed under her breath.
“Get out of here,” she said. “Whatever you’ve gained, it’s enough. Don’t die trying to take more. We need to kill that thing and stop Thalas from getting the rift core.”
Tunde’s blood ran cold.
“Thalas? He’s here?”
Before Elyria could respond, a massive explosion rocked the battlefield. She muttered another curse before racing back to Rhyn's side.
Tunde clenched his fists. Thalas was here—Thalas Verdan, the one he was destined to duel. He had to see what kind of ranker he was up against. Common sense screamed at him to leave, but his curiosity won out. Steeling himself, Tunde began to sneak closer, careful not to fall under the creature’s domain again.
The battle raged on, the creature growing stronger with each passing second. And then his eyes shifted upward—toward the mountain where a column of black and gold light blazed like a beacon in his Ethra sight. Gritting his teeth, he made his decision.
Ignoring the ongoing fight, Tunde began his trek toward the mountain.