Out above the broken city, a triplet of Rifts is spreading hundreds of feet above the ground, clouding the skies with utter darkness in their depths. There is only one Hegemon Rift among them, leaving the rest beside it much smaller. They stretch as if someone is pulling them apart in each direction, looking like holes but irregular and utterly dark.

The middle one is much more extensive, stretching upwards more than aside, looking as if someone is trying to bend it in all directions, but it isn't working. Around them, in their edges and a little bit outward, crackling space sizzles. It doesn't look like a cracked mirror. The middle one's edges do resemble it slightly because of its size and mass, but its rough size of around 200 and slowly increasing width, does change the outline into a more chaotic mass.

Hegemon Rift doesn't crack the space all that much, which is strange. They often do not only that, since their priority and strength is utterly savage space control and destruction of common sense. Space influencing of any kind takes a massive toll after all.

This is among the biggest Rifts there could be, homing Darks of Rank 8 in most cases.

It doesn't appear this wild for some reason. Probably because it is intentionally done so for some cause, stabilizing this Hegemon Rift, rather than making it wild to disregard anything in the way of space or physics.

On the building that has been the primary point of stay for a Seer and Trial's interest, Tiberon stands on the edge, overlooking the utter mess that he would never expect to see.

There are few things he could do do, as he watches the already proceeding reality with his own eyes. Whatever it is that is behind him has been proceeding behind his hands until he could no longer do anything else than watch.

His face is stoic and calm, wind flatters his hair and clothes, giving him a wondering feeling as if he is watching a storm. It doesn't concern him, even though he is the only one present that can do something about it.

He stands beside the edge of a building, looming fairly close to the Rifts that poise as the start of the Incursion alone. Which is weird, because it is often worse.

Has the System turned weird? Wrong? It is joking, he feels and fears.

These Rifts seem to be more than he thinks anyway, like any Hegemon Rifts often do, while the Incursion of Rank 8 leaves behind many things. Mainly, he sees and feels only these few Rifts alone, without anything hidden down, in the sky, or around the city. Most Incursions act with dozens of Middle Rifts homing hundreds of Rank 6 Darks or below, or hundreds of Mild Rifts that are for Darks below Rank 4.

The Hegemon Rift holds Rank 8 Darks, which he knows more than well. Nothing but those could create them, and it shows. The aura of their arrival stretches like a sore thumb over the city, trembling the dungeon below, and affecting Walkers and Darks alike.

Why has he appeared here, he wonders. Why is Nox here?!

Behind him is the only remaining personnel that has some acts together.

Well, partially. Agatha looks like she aged a year in a day. She frantically shouts to the device around her ear, hoping to at least connect it to the main butlers, or those affiliated with other organizations that are in this place. Without success, she storms the table with various devices and equipment for communications.

Nothing works.

Interferences of the Incursion are long underway, acting so the Walkers here wouldn't tell what is happening here to those that could help.

This Incursion has a limited area of influence, even as Rank 8. That is one of the most disturbing and suspicious things that Tiberon sees and feels. Some interferences are normal to see even without these Rifts. Strong Darks could even influence the space itself, cease the butlers from warping away, and do other things.

“Fuck us. Screw those Rifts!” Agatha curses, slapping the table after realizing nothing is normal and that everything is turning in an abnormal direction. Too many interferences at the same time means very specific and intentional attacks. These Rifts are clearly here because someone wants some trouble.

And their timing is terrible or clever. Probably both. Such things as those could be done by singular Darks. Not the Incursion of this caliber that acts as a beacon of massive proportions. More Walkers will feel this and come to the rescue. Or the Darks around this district will...

Since the Incursion is here anyway, it means whoever is behind it wants to hide what is happening to the least capabilities available. At least against those in this city, or so Agatha thinks.

The System has already established the full message of what has come, leaving Agatha aghast, and Tiberion frowning.

Both of them have their own thoughts about this, but this area should've been fairly protected against the Incursions and Rifts alike.

Why it happened anyway? That is the sole question in Agatha's mind, while Tiberion looks at it differently. The more... savage way, as he feels the beings hiding behind the veils of those Rifts. They aren't coming out of them, even when the connecting space is no longer cracking in problems. All of these Rifts are in a good place to start a massacre, but for what anyway? There are just a bunch of kids running around.

And on his watch!

Darks wait, or act as basic measures to not act mighty? Or is it against him? He could wipe the floor with any Incursion himself. That, he proved not even once or twice.

Tiberon seems concerned about the origin and what these Rifts mean. They aren't here to wreak havoc. If they would, they would done it already.

“Emblem shivers, System put some vague warnings anyway, while reasons sound like excuses without any validity to their causes. What about effects such as these sounds that good or bad, Agatha?”

“There aren't any sensible things to tell. This city is nothing but a proving ground for the Academy. For Trials too... so this?” She doubts her eyes, but not the reality. “Or they want you?” That seems more plausible, but catching or hunting Rank 8 Walker is easier said than done.

But what if there is enough incentive to strand the Rank 8 Walker behind, weakened, or blackmailed?

This Incursion can kill every child around this place in a few moments. Especially since Agatha already confirmed that Spatial travel is equally useless as communication with her own Emblem.

“But the space and Emblem is shivering more than my hands. And you, Agatha, you can't even take a step through space to secure this place.”

“Can't.” She sighs helplessly, walking beside his side to take a look at those huge Rifts. “Does this take some memories?”

“More like challenges them. Where are we again?”

“Does it matter?” she asks.

“More like where we aren't, is the better question?” Tiberon asks a better question for sure.

Agatha grunts in agreement, angrily stressing her fists until the space cracks around her sizzles. She can't affect the Incursion Curses in her current Rank how she wants to. Just a few cracks and jumps are the least she could do, but nothing more than getting a few miles away. That is already a good accomplishment anyway since she is against the Incrusion of Rank 8.

Without a way out, she doesn't know what to tell him. She could only imagine this is his time to shine. Not hers or anyone else's.

“Since it's starting for a whole 2 minutes, butlers must've long started to work. Scattered but trained enough, I have no doubts they will protect the children. Some may've been intercepted already, coming from the few weird messages I got before the interferences began.”

Tiberon nods without giving her a look.

“Whatever is moving, this is deliberate, Tiberon. Whether it is for you, the Trial itself, or the Academy, this isn't normal. Rank 8s never are, so what is it then? We are in the middle of a place that Principal secured for decades.”

“What reason is you guess?”

“NOX, obviously!”

“But why would he of all Darks make a move? The principal won't take it lightly.”

“Spear me if you care.” Agatha grunts again, unwilling to see through the reason for this mess. “or know... This is out of the line. Out! There is nothing out here. What is here? You? You are just...” she calms as she realizes she is overstepping some boundaries. Anger is getting ahead of herself, but it isn't that surprising. “Sorry. I hope kids are alright.”

“Wanna know if they are? My Intent, Gravity Domain, or more forceful moves are there at your disposal, my lady.” He offers her his smile, chuckling and patting her shoulder.

“Wait until the veils are opened, Nox steps out, or.... if those cracks start to mess with everything aside.” She gives him an order, which comes as a surprise since Tiberon can do whatever he wants.

Not anymore in such a situation, he fears. looking at the Rifts again. The little ones beside the large one are already gushing massive amounts of Dark Fog around the city, flooding the streets and buildings alike.

But for some reason, no Darks are still coming out of them. Very few, deliberately chosen did so as the first cracks appeared without revealing the Rifts. Tiberon knows they stepped out of there, but who, and where? They disappeared as fast as he noticed their movement and power, moving to the unknown.

Unless he lets his power outshine this Incursion, he doubts he could discover these hiding fools.

This poses another wonder. Why is he yet to make a move?

Waiting may be a bad choice, or it may be a good answer depending on what goes inside the Hegemon Rift. It is yet to stabilize to show everyone hiding within, yet the swirling masses of Vectors, various elements, and Dark auras are flooding out of there, revealing figures out of nightmares.

It is an overflowing aura.

They are almost 2,000 feet away from it, so Tiberon doesn't see their details, but feeling their aura is enough for him. As the sole Rank 8 Walker in this place, he feels responsible for crushing this party.

Killing him may be a good merit in any Dark's head, but it is hard. Perhaps as hard as shutting this party...

Something massive is looming before him, glaring its eyes from the unknown side of the Rift, bearings its aure to feel him and curse him. Of course, he shakes that off with a clutch of his fists, figuring it is about time to make a move. Something or someone needs some good spanking, and questioning, while some answers may come out of it.

“Why? How? What for?” He asks the air. “Things that anyone sane wants to ask, yet this is just a poke to nothing. Someone is gonna feel this and it ain't gonna be me,” he smirks as he forces Agatha to a hug. She accepts it not because she wants.

“Kids?” she asks. “Look after them on top of your mind. I will stand around the perimeter, but... it feels like not a sole Rank 8 is here.”

“I will give you a direction when needed. Smashing those Incursion Curses is also up to my benefit. Give me time and effort, and I can crack it apart. Also, give yourself some slack. This isn't a situation that the Academy has ever taken into account. There are boundaries set upon high-class hunts. There are Walkers around the city. Perhaps their communication devices work, so someone will notify the Academy sooner rather than later. The system acknowledges that, but few can afford these consequences. That is why this will end in some nasty repercussions. Not for us. The Academy will hear and decide that. Me included.”

“You can decide that yourself. Right now.”

“True. Getting out is out of the question, but time is ticking away. There are at least 6 butlers present. 1 for every pair of them, while some outskirt Walkers are probably up at arms already, but Incursion may crack their communication anyway. I can't feel its boundary, as it looms over the city like glaring eyes. They should know what to do, so don't think about worrying for nothing,”

“Or someone already got them? I've heard some troubling things before the interferences began.”

“So much for my positivity....” Tiberon sights. “Could be true. I don't feel those good things because of the Rifts. It numbs my feelings.”

“So it is the usual stuff. If you take this into account, do yourself justice and take care of what you should. Kill them, Spiritter.”

Tiberon releases a hug after accepting her words. He swings his arms to everything before his sight, letting his Gravity Domain spread, and power leak.

Hegemon Rift is starting to crack in its final opening, and the crackling does reach dozens of feet, appearing like a shattering mirror, but in strands like tendrils gliding through space. But these Rifts are still above the city, reaching dozens of feet above the nearest building. They don't touch anything, but the ground still trembles because the space itself is trembling.

“We are usually observers to a Trial, but another kind of a Trial comes at a Seer? This feels a bit weird, don't you think?” He asks.

Agatha forces a smile. “You are an Overseer, huh? Can't see that in you even now.”

“Well, Overseer is many things. I will seer that Rift then.” He chuckles, cracks his hands and neck, and stretches his legs. “I've hardly gotten the chance to try to close a Hegemon Rift before. This is the first kind of ordeal, but I am not that petty to refuse a gift of some Trial or Hunt. Nox can fuck off, in fact. System, initiate the report. Code 1.”

Tiberon, a Rank 8 Walker with the title of a Spiritter can overcome many boundaries that others can't even fathom. His System is rich, fully normalized, and improved by many means of his growth, hunts, and personal power. It grew with him for many decades, not leaving him even once as the System is part of the Emblems.

His improvements do carry a certain merit, allowing him to overrun some interferences, but it requires some physical methods to make it possible. Brutal power does that very often. If he works alongside his System, he may reach some understanding of how to stop these interferences.

Getting children out would help him a lot since he has to be careful to not crash this whole city to pieces. But if those Darks hiding inside that Rifts will do it first, he has no choice but to act.

Depending on the System gives an edge that comes in certain prices.

He doesn't like being dependent on it more than he should. It is still the reason for everyone's success, that much is true, but pride and power come with costs. Being Rank 8 is a heavy price in itself, as it puts someone beyond most living beings in this world.

At high enough Ranks, things start to get weird or everything starts to stir too much sense. Secrets stinks, power ruins things and beings, and the apocalypse has no bounds.

Tiberon decides to act for his Rank, and if this ends up as a massive disappointment or a disaster, he shall take it against those Rifts. Thin mist starts to convulse out of his skin, bringing in a dense aura of Gravity that is dense in white fog. Around him, it revolves like clothes, but so thinly, that he is like a smoke machine instead. The little of what he lets around him starts to crack the space all so slightly, going against the authority of this Incursion.

Agatha backs away from him. “Be quick, you hear me?”

“Too late. The show is starting.”

Another tremor shakes the whole city, and deep crevices emerge out of the Hegemon Rift, pushing down to the city and cleaving it in half, creating a deep crevice. It is almost a hundred feet wide, causing no explosion but utter devastation. It pushes the buildings around, creating depth that stretches for many miles.

“At last. Something normal.” Tiberon says.

This is an expected occurrence from Hegemon Rift, although the insane ones would leave hundreds of such cracks around the earth, going for dozens of miles and leaving utter devastation behind.

The Hegemon Rift opens up completely.

And System puts forth its full messages, leaving the previous Warnings rather barebone, albeit Tiberon and Agatha have it different than some rookies. Now, it is informing every Walker present what has just started, but those at higher Rank already got their fair share of words because their Systems are better.

Now, it is coming to anyone regarding the Rank, while the timer is already up and running anyway.

***

Far away, at a corner of the city, in an underground facility that used to belong to the sewer system, light isn't an issue thanks to a shiny sword that a young Walker holds.

Kiryu and Onga both make a good team, relative to their own uniqueness, and rather notable indifference between them. They act well enough as they should, thanks to their experiences, and living because everything about Walkers is set to their bones and minds.

They are a team even without much speaking.

But those tremors that have been happening for a while, changing their minds and causing some shocks.

Kiryu seems as if he can't be more disinterested in this Trial. He is lazily holding an already full Extractor, holding a shining katana in the other hand, and visibly shudders his sword against every tremor. Onga does pretty much all the work, leaving Kiryu's katana clean with few kills under his belt.

They have no problems with this. Kiryi knows that the job of protecting the Vials is essential. He does his work, while Onga does his. All Walker teams do the same thing, so unlike Sharie, Kiryu has no issues with the lack of actions.

But if it is persistent for a whole day, even he is starting to get bored.

Sturdy, Onga's body is like a mountain as his unique physique-based Vector Type shatters all Darks on sight. A thick pillar-like gem nests its way from the collarbone all the way to the last rib on his chest.

His Primary Mold is a huge thick staff, but it resembles a pillar instead.

Moldable and squishy under his green-looking Vectors, it is a weapon that feels like part of his body. It is natural, as far as he prefers, easy and extensive however he wants.

They are in their set of dungeon, but both of them feel the tremors that shake the city. Their dungeon no longer matters, even if they are yet to fight the final tasks.

Why?

The flickering screens of their System are enough to halt their steps, while the slowly increasing tremors almost echo around the surrounding walls, close to their heads. By some miracle or luck, it doesn't crash around them. A miracle, William would say, after figuring out this sewer system's age. Alas, it is a dungeon for the Darks, so whatever Dark elements it holds protects it well enough.

“What is that?” Kiryu asks, half bothered and half lazy.

“Something nasty is happening above,” Onga says in a deep English voice that seems to carry a great degree of weird accent.

“You don't say. We are over our purpose already, so how about something more? An Incursion 8, huh? Seems Academy can't even secure this place.” Kiryu yawns and swings his blade to a Hellgar that jumps at his face. He cuts it in half before he kicks both halves away. “Oy! It is time to move on.” He points to some dark corner with his sword.

Onga keeps his lookout on his System, opting to ignore Kiryu as that guy is way too cold in most of his acts. This team is temporary anyway while being too aggressive is not his idea.

But Kiryu's actions have some validity. Aggression is good, allowing his sword to seek through the darkness. From the dark corner, a person appears out of thin air.

A butler in a neat suit stands there, wearing an ashen face that looks at his System. The interferences still allow someone like him to form some rudimentary space techniques. Things like folding the space over them are easy to create. Their invisibility thus still works, along with many other techniques.

Personal power isn't something problematic. Incursion Curses are acting against too problematic powers that are bother to stop. Affecting something outer like teleporting others or space across vast distances are completely different matters.

“We move away, you hear me? Both of you! Thank god we are at the outer perimeter of this city.” The man in his 30s says, ordering them without hiding his fear. Rank 8 Incursion carries a different meaning to him than these kids from who knows where.

Though, both of these youngsters are peak talents from where they come from, so they know what is there on the surface. They are here as students for an exchange program from the Onga Tribe and Japan.

A butler knows his stuff, albeit this one is scared of what lies above. The Academy is their home, so he doesn't question his knowledge, but he can theirs.

Kiryu sighs, figuring to go along with butler's suggestions, while Onga seems to think the same thing.

***

At the last corner, in a building that has gone through some trashing well before the Incursion, Stark and Louise have a good time, even though the Incursion is already shoving its might. Unlike Kiryu and Onga, they have a much clearer sight of the entire situation.

Both of them are looking at the huge Rifts from 3 miles away. A huge open window of some hotel in pieces is enough for that, even though Stark suggests going to the roof.

The internal or external structure of the whole hotel is in shambles, making a bunch of floors appear like one large space. All Darks in this Dungeon are dead, and all over the floors as this pair slaughtered them a while ago. Behind them, a butler stands.

This old man has long revealed himself after noticing the Incursion's effects before they even started. He has his priorities set straight, as he works for Prime Hunter, rather than the Academy.

Ranked at 7, he is one of the most prominent Space Walkers, making him a good protector, similar to Agatha. He felt the slowly shifting interferences from the device provided by Agatha, while his Emblem could still shift the currents of space. He knows the worst has already started as he notices the crackling space.

He can briefly overrule the Incursion Curses, but Rank 8 Incursion is a huge deal even for him. He doesn't know where to leave, as their current location is fairly close to the Rifts. If he leaves with them, is it even safe outside? If he reaches other butlers and reaches the save point in that library, escaping via long-term formation teleport could be possible. Overwriting them with their Emblems and Vials should allow them to get away, albeit not to the Academy.

He is half sure it is the best option, even though it has a questionable possibility of its validity. What is outside isn't normal, and the incoming Dark Fog is dense like most horrible corrosive smoke. And that smack of the Hegemon Rift's opening—that crashes the city— is still in his mind. It has missed them, thankfully.

When he feels the unnerving amount of dangerous aura coming from the Rifts, devastating his mind, he acts as a bodyguard for this pair of talents, rather than a fool who hopes to play heroes.

Unlike his frightened heart, the youths are looking out of the window, talking to one another about how massive the middle Rift looks.

I swear. Let the space free. Please. Damned Darks! Damned Incursion! The man curses and weeps a tear.

***

3 corners have their respective butlers, which leaves the pair of girls alone. But they aren't alone for long, or they aren't alone to begin with.

A spatial fight has been an ongoing problem around their location for quite a few minutes because the reason for the Incursion has some specific points of interest that only the beings in the Hegemon Rifts know.

One of them is there, glaring at the shattered pieces of the space itself without knowing what she is watching.

The other interest has a vast amount of Dream Fog surging to the sky, right beyond the Rifts that Tiberon and a pair of boys are watching. But that place is a different kind of problem, much to the Incursion that starts bearing its weight all over the city.

Tiberon knows a problem where he sees one, so he lets Agatha go on her own mission, while he has more official troubles ahead. He sees and feels things unlike her or anyone below. Lurching shadows of the figures inside of the Hegemon Rift loom into the light, Dark Fog, and utter darkness, making their appearances kind of dull and hideous.

It is a nasty picture that he feels with his Gravity Domain. It feels like he is touching and enduring the weights of hundreds of Darks of various Ranks all over these Rifts, flapping their limbs, and opening the nasty jaws that look like shadows. Most aren't willing to get out of there, even though there are no stops for them.

Well, there is only one being that is stopping them. An unsurprising one for Tiberon, as he feels his aura straight away.

Nox is there, hiding amongst them but clear in his aura.

A Dark that is part of the Originals. The ones who have started this whole apocalypse all those years ago.

Tiberon lets his aura shine against him, activating his Emblem at full capacity because he has no choice. It acts like pushing against the whole Incursion that Nox has started, or is part of.

Even if Tiberon wouldn't be alone, he would still choose this action before any Incursion of this kind. The mist around him thickens and subverts its mass, amassing the Gravity over his body and seeping it all over his flesh. It grows dense as if it is part of him. Which it is, as he is a toucher of gravity and a potent master over what it means. Then he steps beyond the building, pointing his clutched fist onwards and letting the full power of Gravity Domain press all over the Rifts.

It acts as a test first, rather than a means of destroying.

And when he arrives there a single step, arriving high in the air, hovering in nothing but an air of his aura, he stands alone against the entire Rank 8 Incursion.

Around him, he taps his fingers, and tides of mist sway around him for hundreds of feet, affecting himself, foreign pressing aura on him, but it mainly touches the Rifts. Right now, it is his separate battlefield, but anything out of here can reach the city down below and destroy a big chunk of it as it already did.

This is his line. Not for him, but if someone steps inside, one shouldn't even walk or fly away. If they will step in or out of it and survive, he will hunt them without mercy.

His eyes turn left and right, and his face bolsters seriousness like watching bleeding Agatha. He seems to read the System's messages that he demanded a minute ago. It gives him some ideas and measures, and taking them in their picturesque appearances of a screen gives at least some ideas, rather than poor choices. Well, it is often confusing, but nothing that he doesn't know.

They are good for him for now because his order has some validity over the System. For a Rank 8 to be a slave to it isn't right.

“So it is like that...” Tiberon mumbles, cracks his fingers again, and looks in one direction: to Hegemon Rifts which is just a couple of dozen feet away. “Here I thought we wouldn't be correct, but nothing is changing when I see it close. Nothing. Came here for a bargain?” He speaks as if someone is right beside him.

Surprisingly, someone talks back, voicing their desires in a human manner and voice.

“Spiritter, move this topic aside.” a male voice said, sounding too good to be this smooth. It sounds a lot devilish and fake as if the one speaking jokes or forces this voice in this way.

It doesn't sound right, or does it sound too perfect? Is this what humans do so well for those Darks? Fueling growth, their intellect, their amassing hunger, madness, and desires for more? It is their given purpose, as it is the rightful truth of their instincts.

They are made for that. It is all they need. This whole apocalypse is for them! A whole set of endless meals, albeit for limited ages.

“No will do.” Tiberon refuses. “I will crack my knuckles soon enough if you keep this up. Move or I will make you lose something more than what you want from a bunch of children. Or is it me? Do you want to give me your guesses? Wonders? Quizzes?”

“This isn't about some snacks!” A thunderous female voice spreads from the same Rift, but clearly from someone else. This Dark is harder to point, as this voice is as inhuman as it could get: raspy as if the speaker is partly a beast that couldn't speak that well.

Nox coughs, noting that some of his subjects are loosely resembling morons. “It is an interest. Nothing more.”

“Interest in what? Trying me? Toying with Academy? This place is off limits, as it doesn't provide you anything anyway.”

“But it is a training ground for your younglings. You leave the small fries here, acting like dogs for your dogs to train them. If it isn't a token of interest, what is it?”

“Don't care to listen to this,” Tiberon argues like an unmoving mountain, leaving his Domain firm and even a bit tense as he is already testing the effectiveness of what he could influence and push over these Rifts.

Hegemon Rift feels like a tough nut to crack even for him and his Gravity. But it isn't impossible to crack. It will just take time. No more than 10 minutes, he reckons, but first, he needs to know what is Nox even about.

And he seems to talk and stall to come up with some understanding.

“Very well, Spiritter.” Nox already figures out his obvious sides and plans, and what he is already doing won't disappear just because of a single human.

Perhaps he is wasting time for a reason by talking to Tiberon. Convincing Rank 8 Walkers to bend a knee and let some kids disappear doesn't sound like a good bargain from his human side.

Nox has many cards up his sleeve, so he lets the Darks he keeps around his Rifts do their job, leaving Tiberon in his blissful unawareness that he isn't sure he knows. Both of them are uncertain how they know each other's secret, but Nox is here for a reason. Tiberon will be the sole taker of this gift of an Incursion, as Rank 8 Walker is still a big deal amongst the human population that has been lacking in numbers for decades.

Hundreds of kinds of Darks jump, fly, or pounce from the Rifts, ushering in their madness, voices, and forms that are straight from nightmares.

Tiberon has seen this kind of picture many times; nothing less would give him any sweat. He lets his Gravity Domain shine, ushering its might like squeezing his hands. His tightly-knit imaginations, perfect fantasies, and amassing might of his Emblem make this job easier. He snaps his fingers around him, facing the hundreds of Darks that could eat him whole.

He cracks his Gravity Domain like snapping a bowstring, stretching and twisting it across the skies, enveloping and literary crushing any Dark below Ran 6 to pieces, while leaving Rank 7 grievously injured.

Nox shouts some mess, but Tiberon can't hear him because of blood and gore exploding around him, leaving him breathless. He even crashes Nox's dark aura around him, seemingly countering it, which isn't a wrong thing to do.

Nox is yet to come out of the Rift itself, so his power and aura have its limits.

Gore and mess smear the already bad city, and the next time Tiberion moves, he stands even closer to the Hegemon Rift, no longer obscured by noises of those Darks exploding.

“Sorry, what have you said?” Tiberon shakes his head. “Couldn't hear you.”

Glancing forward, in at least a hundred-foot-wide madness, he sees the silhouette of Nox himself. He has a small figure, slender, and is visibly human. Surrounded by shadows of some other Darks that are yet to come out of this Rift, he is yet to send proper tools forward. Obviously, the aura radiating from there is massive and dangerous, unlike the first wave that Nox gladly pays with the blood of cannon fodder.

Tiberion refuses his silence with even more power. He crushes his fists aside, bursting every speck of Gravity Crack around him, influencing the space, and pushing fissures of space everywhere. They twist around his fists the most, coming and flying around his motions and flesh. This is enough power that he could muster to kill the rest of Rank 7 Darks around. It also restrains Rift's cracks around the edges in his tries to see their defenses.

It is a good test. He can crack them more if he wants, but not before the Nox reveals his goal, or what his fools hiding around him want. This tough process of Gravity Molding is stressful as he twists Gravity so dense outside of his reach, that his System puts a warning to his mind. But he doesn't care, because something within the Hegemon Rift changes.

Tiberon's body is visibly straining, making his veins, body, muscles, and Emblem, crack in pain.

Why does he go to this level against a bunch of Rank 6s and 7s?

He doesn't.

Nox lets his single dark arm out of the Rift's madness, manifesting a much deeper aura and clearly visible lines of darkness. It is an old shivered finger, not made of Vectors but dull colorless flesh. This single finger shakes the Rifts, leaving the Dark Fog shaking and fluttering in a dense storm.

Tiberon acts against this. He couldn't care less about the fools around.

He shakes his arms, folding and flexing his fingers in twists and turns of his folding Gravity Cracks. He sent whitish fissures of crashing Gravity Cracks against Nox's authority in a snap of his fingers.

At that moment, the sky around the already broken city shakes apart, sending buildings below into tatters as if made of cards. The Dark Fog lingering around also shudders, but most of it is under Nox's authority anyway, so it loses against this clutch of Gravity Cracks and the strengths of the Original.

Dozens of clashes of very dangerous properties go around the dark sky, and even the Rifts beside the Hegemon Rift wince at their edges, turning slimmer all so slightly.

Nox's power feels like the pressure of a mountain range and thousands of razor cuts.

Tiberon must say that he hasn't felt this sort of pressure in a long time. Not as if he looks forward to that. He would be insane if he would.

“So... it seems we've reached a statement,” Tiberion says, offering nothing but more of his aura, crackling fissures of Gravity and space, and his fingers that are ready to snap again. He knows that his cards aren't nearly lacking any significant values, but this Nox must have a more dangerous one.

Very few Originals have ever been killed.

And there are dozens of them.

Nox has him in his palm, as he couldn't put more pressure against these Rifts and his power at the same time. It isn't as if Tiberon can't make him bleed, however. He just has to put his power to greater use, push his limits, and work around where Nox won't.

“You won't move away?” Nox asks this damned Walker that is an expected pain in the ass to every single Original.

“Been in this war for ages. Minding words is a rare sight against a Dark. You die. Move on. Just disappear, how about it? This won't fare well for you anyway. Academy will hunt every resemblance of this act. The principal will rejoice, I bet.”

“Not for long,” Nox says smugly. “You think I am alone in this act? That I would dare to act this? Well, I could even if it wouldn't be for others. Our interests are deep. Certain gears begin to shift. It is time to change some ways. And you are in my way.”

“So it is a choice between an utter abomination and children that hasn't seen the world yet. I refuse to move, as you answer me your desire. You want them, right? The future that could be a threat, or is it something else? I certainly feel the tension around these youngsters, but it is hard to say what bunch of monsters feels.” Tiberon snaps his finger as Nox grunts and sents more Darks from the Rifts.

They crack apart under Tiberon's stressful Domain, twisting turns of fissures running for hundreds of feet, becoming sparks of red fluid in the middle of the night.

Tiberon feels that every snap is cracking one part of his hand. He can keep going, however.

For as long as it takes.

“Incursion isn't for an individual to decide.” Nox says. “but some flow is there where there should've been nothing. Is there... What are the Dreams doing here?!” Nox suddenly shouts, noticing something behind the Rifts that goes upward, visibly going against his power, authority, and flow of the Incursion.

“Dreams?” Tiberon chuckles, figuring that the undamaged and clear Dream Fog further behind the Rifts isn't part of this Incursion after all. Someone else is, or something.

“Too bad for you, Nox. Seems you've wasted this much for nothing but to give others some chances.”

Tiberon eases his fingers for the first time and presses his authority over every speck of mist of his Gravity around him. He establishes a much deeper connection to his Emblem, connecting the power over his composed Emblem aspects to create a special piece of move.

He flares up his Gravity on top of his single palm for a couple of seconds, shaking the ground, space, and Dark Fog around. The pair of stressed fingers are the catalyst of them, waiting for the release like a drawn bowstring.

Then he snaps his fingers, sending crisp sounds and letting countless little flowing fissures fly to every corner of the Rifts. The sky boils in an unending wavy storm that is partly dark and whitish grey. He notices straight away how every Rift is in one piece, how their structure holds Nox's authority, but some of their aspects are looser than others.

Nox seems to get unnaturally angry for some reason and lets his attention slip. “Dreams... Dreams! You are letting this all go?! How long? How long is this happening?”

“Touching what already transpired isn't fine. Especially those Dreams. They are nasty. Don't like them you see. Sleeping is for pussies too.” Tiberon makes an excuse, even if he wishes it from time to time. Even if he wants to, touching anything Wiliam-related in this current pace isn't up to his side. There is a bond for his Seer status, however, but against this Incrusion, he is more like a guarding dog than an Overseer.

He shan't affect anything more than he could, his System says.

But Incursion cracks it to another level, changing the things that shouldn't have been touched. Nox is responsible for it too, albeit a little bit.

The arrival of these Rifts is as odd as Nox himself, who is another side hustle Tiberon couldn't bear to witness.

“Why are you here anyway?” Tiberon retracts his Gravity, reconnecting his fingers to another Gravity Snap of much higher power. It is literary cracking the smaller Rifts into noticeably parting sides. It takes its toll, but Tiberon can do this at least 20 times if he wants. Time is essential, so he gives Agatha a strand of his gravity as he notices Nox's questionable changes.

It is time to stall, but it is also time to push some boundaries away.

“Curse you!” Nox shouts.

“Won't do. I have a weird thing before my eyes that only I can see. And let's not forget the mess that grows in my flesh and blood, covering the mind and everything under... what exactly? Hmmm. There are also those Incursion Curses, albeit those have relatively small effects on me.”

“You don't understand this!” Nox seems to turn to some topic he doesn't want to speak about. But he has to confirm his desires as if the insanity of his madness is hard to tame. His mind turns a bit frantic as if insanity over his plan cracks apart or his logic or reasons turn to unknown desires. “There are things that have been awaited! Expected. A deal of the last century. We need it. We need them all!”

“Children? I have taken your kin for all sorts of stuff. Murderhobos, shitholes, talking trash, a pile of shit, but never for someone who would act like a grandpa who needs some children to feed. Or are you that angry for fresh blood? Nah... That is literally impossible.” He mocks him, even if it isn't right.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Darks are all twisted beings, Originals or not.

Tiberon sees and realizes something strange at the end of the vague wordings that System often says. What Nox acts like, speaks like, and how his actions speak around others, all gift him further context. Nox wants something here, while his System barely provides the rightful answers. They are mostly guesses, as the truth of what matters about the System is weirdly individualistic. It often doesn't touch other Walkers at all.

Something that Nox deeply desires is a bad idea, so stopping him for any reason is more than sensible. So of course he will crush his dream if he is still in front of him. Because water it is, it means nothing bad for humanity.

“I won't repeat myself,” Nox says filled with anger, his finger threatens and acts in dense fluaction of aura and dense mist that is thinner than fog. “We aren't alone.” He repeats, threatens, and flares his finger as if threatening a child.

“Then act like you want. I do it all the time. It is often regretful, but weirdly blissful.”

“You act like us in many ways.”

“In sleep, perhaps.”

Nox turns to silent contestations because some factors have changed. Dream Fog is an unexpected factor, as it isn't with his plans whatsoever.

It is straight up against his desires, so if Tiberon won't act against them, why hasn't he done so? Nox figures that Tiberon can't act for a reason, so if he won't, he will.

“Reaping what one's sow. Get him out of my face.” Nox grunts an order, letting the shadowy figures behind him finally act. Most Rank 7s, and even a single Rank 8 Dark all fly out of the Hegemon Rift, bearing a massive surge of dangers at Tiberon, who shall take them with his explosion and mass.

He would knock himself unconscious over his decision so far, but in a place that is already under Incursion, he has no breaks. He let it go away. Everything. All of them at once, since Nox is no longer caring either. Hopefully, the city and children around will be safe, but since his Domain expands far, he is half-certain they will be.

“Breakstop, activate,” Tiberon mumbles to his System, and something in his Emblem snaps. His torso explodes in tides of flogging gleams that overtake the Gravity. A bunch of misty hands manifests out of his back, each wide and tall as his body, and each carrying his will to act. Those could be Snaps, Cracks, or any Phantom-like attack he could imagine or cry out.

Tiberon begins his all-out war above the city, taking everything that Nox has to offer, apart from himself.

For Originals to act, that is a rare sight. Using lackeys is already stretching some boundaries, as most Rank 8s Darks aren't even Originals.

Palm strikes, fists, or smacks, Tiberon's hands move like his own pair of hands. He can fight dozens of enemies that all possess different traits and different messes, but every Snap or Crack does cost him some wounds and hits. They flood him like flies, and many hits do reach his flesh. His Domain can't contain them all, as they are fairly strong in their own rights. Especially one of them...

Every single Dark before him looks like a demon, as they are the rightful army of the Nox, appearing very human-like with long and thin limbs, but robust feet and hands, while their torso and head are large. Most of them are well over 4 meters in height, so their appearance in dozens is savage enough to cloud his point of view.

Some have flesh made of Dark Vectors, others are shadowy like a mash of phantoms, but each is a Dark that Nox has created. The weirdest, Rank 8, is unlike that, as it is smaller, smooth like butter, and not one bit resembling regular Darks.

It looks like a figurine by all rights. A female one, with a crazy smile and curves that don't make some sense. Its every kick, punch, or headbutt is met with an unnatural force that Tiberon sees for himself.

He has trouble amassing enough attention over his special Skill that has limited activations since it is affecting his stamina a lot. His eyes keep a lookout for Nox, System, and a bunch of Darks around him like flies, but he isn't sure how well he can keep this mess together.

He goes all out, so that is the only reason he isn't overwhelmed like a fool.

And just in time, because his System has cut into the potential Breach.

“Deactive the spatial interference!” Tiberon orders his System out loud, but even if he does, he knows things have to come to a proper stop and not an order. He has to create an opportunity to crack these interferences aside, which are essentially these Rifts.

So he goes straight at it, making a huge blunder, nasty cut into his time, or stamina, and who knows what else. His Gravity, Skills, and Phantoms are all strong, so he decides to put some use on his imagination to put their numbers aside.

Putting his left hand up, he manifests the Phantom shreds of the strongest Dark he had the privilege to survive and fight.

Darmi, The Flood. An epitome that means to be hunted at this or the past age.

His impression of that Dark is lacking substantial touch because of his Gravity and imagination, but the mere touch and sweep of this idea thrash half of the pestering Rank 7 Darks around his side. It is a half-baked impression of a large silhouette with countless arms that snap around like teeth and sharp claws. It all explodes from him, allowing him to deal fatal wounds to many Rank 7s afterward.

This Darmi Phantom has a good shock value, while his many manifesting arms deal the final touch. Snaps of storming fissures of bending Gravity cause death and divide Vectors and dark flesh.

Most of his current Skills are different in their priorities, glaring issues and powerful stress over the mind and body are other issues. The final hits require the power over his flesh, so when it all acts at once, it truly cuts into his pain tolerance.

Tiberon wishes to cry right now, but he has to act. He punches a small hole with Snap into the fark figurine, moving it aside as he makes his move for the smaller Rifts, hoping to cut them in half with the power he has.

It is a good idea, but he hasn't noticed one peculiar notion. Nox is gone, albeit his aura lingers, and his finger is missing. Tiberon has no time to think of every detail when he needs to shut the Incursion closer to the limits.

He can force it.

The time is slowly passing to the facts.

25 minutes and 20 seconds remain until the Rifts will automatically shut, but Tiberon sees it differently with each passing idea and working of his System and his acts.

What Tiberon is doing is speeding the closure by influencing the Incursion in truths that he doesn't even know. But if it speeds it up, he doesn't question it. It isn't stupid when one has the power that bend these rules for what they are.

He fights for the time, bears, and cracks the city a bit more in every Snap, while the Dark Demons all flare their fangs at him from every side.

***

In the corner of the cracked space that looks like a shattered mirror, Celeste and Sharier are still waiting for a rescue.

Sharie looks more and more nervous, looking at the System that keeps showing her the timer and all of the warnings in unsteady flickering manners.

Celleste is the same, but she prevails through this ordeal by sitting down, hugging her greatsword, and acting as if everything is fine by looking at the cracked mirror.

It isn't fine.

She knows it.

Tremors and fights outside keep rebounding to the entire city, giving them both a huge headache as a bunch of noises and trembles shatter more of the building. They are still fine, mainly because the cracked mirror acts as a weird shield that protects them from outside troubles.

Sharie can't seem to sit and calm herself down, even when she finds the intact Extractor at the corner. “Been 5 minutes. Interferences are still up and going. What... to do?”

She is simply impatience since the tremblings never stop and keep intensifying. Some are also weirdly close, notable by the ground's vibrations and shakes of the building, but she can't see herself going out to investigate a thing. From her memory and common sense, one shouldn't act recklessly in the middle of the Incrusion.

Well, it is more normal for Walkers to act like that since normal humans should seek shelter or escape the Incursions at all costs. Walkers have it differently, as their status can change. That is the truth of everything, but in the current circumstances that aren't normal, finding a way out isn't fine. There is no common sense for her to consider, so she acts like a normal human would.

There is no way she can do anything that she's learned, so she looks at Celleste to her left. Huggin her shimmering and trembling Sword Echo that is both shadowy and white, it does seem it doesn't have to recede to her Emblem, similar to her own Scarf.

“Why not take a rest?” Sharie asks her. “I think your Emblem deserves it after what you've done to that Dark.”

Celleste winces in her hug, unwilling to rest as the insanity over this situation bears on her mind. Be it the Incursion, Rifts, or the Darks she can hunt at last, she has very little care for anything else. Rugged, she scoffs at her. “I can keep going whatever I can. What about you? You don't need rest? Took that Darks bunch yourself.”

Sharie pauses hesitantly before more shakes ground her mind in half. Both of them are sitting close to the shattered mirror-like wall. “Not wrong... What are your suggestions? 5 minutes passed, and what are we to do? Run? Keep hiding/ What about those explosions and everything? It grinds my nerves.”

“You don't look like someone who would want to hear my opinions.” Celleste mumbles and returns to hugging her sword. “I wanted this.”

“Try me!” Sharie says firmly, hoping to think of something else than the harsh reality.

“I am hearing things.” Celleste keeps mumbling, but her voice is loud enough for Sharie to hear. “Whispers, noises, and things I keep in mind. The fights and grinding noises of those mirrors are annoying me, but do you want some sense? We can't do a thing, right?”

Sharie hears her right, but can't seem to understand what she means. “Noises? We are hearing everything. Someone fights out there, working against the incursion while we can't.”

“But we can try.”

“Don't spout nonsense.”

“I killed that human monster though,” Celleste says with a surprising amount of smugness and pride that comes out of her in small doses that Shaier would hardly expect from her. In her eyes, Celleste is cold and someone who prefers her status as cold-blood Walker, who isn't necessarily rare. Having priorities straight is a good idea to have. Sharie has her own goals herself, which makes the current situation even worse because she isn't like her.

“Wants to hear some cheer? Perhaps we should've fled before the Incursion started. but no... we fought. You and I did. So we wait... wait. And for what?” Slowly, the boiling emotional instabilities that Sharie has slowly creeps into her face and heart, coming from her Emblem that hugs her in flames. It provides heat, comfort, and light to her and Celleste alike.

“No... I don't mind waiting... There is nothing here, but those that we can't even touch. Small monsters are either hiding in fright or consumed.” Celleste glances around, up and behind. The cracks of the buildings reveal the Dark Fog in some parts, while the starry sky is like a small reminder that there is a world other than the darkness. Thankfully, they aren't that close to the Rifts, so they don't see them.

“Consume?” Sharie asks.

“Dark Fog eats them, or those Rift monsters do. Haven't seen that? I did, and also heard them too.” she says and every speck of pride leaves her voice. She reminisces about the past, while the present is right there in her grasp. Her emblem is cold and moving in very slow-moving cycles, leaving her glad.

They wait for time to get out. Sharie hopes to get to know her, so she uses every opportunity to talk to her about the past, present, or what to think. Passing time like that isn't that wrong.

This comes to a sudden end when one side of the building completely collapses and shatters to dust as if someone smashed it into millions of pieces.

And there, coming from that direction and close to the pair of girls, comes stumbling figures bathed in layers of invisible fog and moving Dark Fog. It is partly like glossy water ripples, and it is devouring and working in Arcanite principles that go against the Dark that pushes them out.

It all comes fast, and at last, the fight of the Academy butler is there in the proper light. From the stumbling mash that cracks against the mirror, two figures separate as they jump out of there.

One of them is a woman who is surprisingly young-looking. Clothed in a white uniform that seems stylized and neat, her blond hair flaps down her cheeks, while her eyes are yellow like the finest gems. She is another high-ranking butler of the Academy. At Rank 7, Anaz Ray stands her ground against a Rank 7 Dark Demon that is even smaller than her.

Human-looking Demon crawls like a cat not far away from her, bearing a gory sight of swirling fur akin to millions of tiny Vector tendrils all over its skin. The Demon's face looks inhuman, with a cat-like smile with many smaller teeth. Its mass is surprisingly small to amass incredible agility and its long limbs work for its advantages. It is a rather strong Dark after all, but which Rank 7 Darks aren't?

Anaz has been fighting with it since the Incursion started, while the happenings with the Dark Figure aren't even under her care. She fully expected Sharie and Celleste to deal with whatever they could, while the interceptions of a Rank 7 Dark Demon aren't supposed to happen here, similar to the Incursion, of course.

Which is why she is utterly pissed and angry, and the glaring Emblem around her neck, looking like a crown that nestles down her collarbone and shoulders, looks surprisingly large, but relatively slim. It undulates dull white light, while all over her, ripples of space come at her touches as one of the better battle-focused butlers of the Academy. It is her preference, unlike the norm because of their relative rarity.

“You both.” Anaz glances at Sharie and Celleste. “Stay out of this... Go as far...” Dark Demon shuts her mouth, arriving at her in a leap of its fist. Its Dark Vectors swirl in clawing slashes, smashing the space apart, and it does accomplish it, as even the mirror-like wall shudders.

Anaz sees it and her Emblem into a cycling motion, undulating a powerful wave that quickly changes into a revolving saw around the knuckles of her palm. It looks like a razor blade cutter made of Space itself. And it cuts and bents the Demon out of its pounce, but it doesn't happen easily.

Anaz suffers some bleeding injuries herself, while the Demon's attack cracks a chunk of her space powers. She grunts in intensity and forces another Space Saw to cut into the other side of it, pushing it away long enough to crash another wall.

She stumbles in return, bleeding from her chest, legs, and arms, while the Saws winces out of her touch.

She fucked up, but there are no regrets around the Demons, as they are one giant regret to begin with.

Sharie and Celleste look at her in astonishment, but both of them feel the terrifying strength of Demons that both of them know are insane.

Rank 7s. They aren't something that Sharie should know in detail, which she doesn't even through her learning, but that doesn't matter. Everyone knows the norm of the present world through word of mouth, stories of those that should be feared, or things that the present world has to account for. Rank 7s Dark are insane problems, and any one of them is worth cutting down.

“A-are you a butler?” Sharie jolts up from her ass, asking hesitantly, while Celleste keeps sitting and hugging her Sword Echo.

Anez feels the world spinning around her head, but it must be because she overdrafted her Emblem around her neck. Straightening her back, she glares at the girls. “Sit tight... Or I won't see the end of these eternal minutes.”

Dark Demon appears right behind her, bearing its fangs, clutters its teeth, and shrieks like a pissed-off cat. Anez lifts her Space in defense, overflowing her Emblem until it resembles a waterfall of twisting space. This one may be her toughest enemy since it influences and touches the space itself, but since she is working against it for a while, a few more minutes won't hurt her.

Hopefully.

***

In the Dream Fog that preys on the minds of any living, things haven't been going that well for a good while.

Bleeding and rough, all present Walkers aren't in good shape. Even if Old Mike takes his mission seriously and the youths behind him are at least no idiots, the Incursion is a massive limitation and disaster.

Rozzante is barely standing because of the bleeding wounds around his back and left arm, and even his Emblem is approaching the limits of its current potential, similar to his body. His Mutant type has significant limits, unlike Elementalists, whose Emblems are more dynamic.

Vectors have similar problems to them too, because of the cycling, but how long it can last depends on many factors besides the internal flow of the Vectors. It is an outer way of handling Walker's powers that do make the most difference. If someone isn't overly intense, the Emblem does flow much better. Mutant-type Walkers are way too influenced by the changes between the Emblem and the body. That is their difference and significant weakness in lower Ranks.

Surrounded by the Dream Fog, why are they like this? What has been happening to them?

Since the Incursion is starting its influence over the Darks, while touching System and Walkers in a wide range, it is like a prison that they feel for quite a few minutes. Even the Dream Fog has changed its rules, and no longer seems so wild and dangerous.

For a good while, the Blobs around the cave are opening one way or another, sending waves of Darks that are under Incursion's influence. Normally, they wouldn't open up, as the sleeping Darks aren't supposed to go out yet.

Someone forces it to this length, and it works flawlessly against these Walkers.

Old Mike knows that, so all he can do is curse the Incursion and deal with it. He takes his work seriously, even if the situation is worse than he thinks because his System is vague, interferences are happening, and he can't even know what is happening outside.

At least thanks to William, Dream Fog doesn't affect either of them, which makes Old Mike's job easier. But that doesn't really matter when the Darks hunt them in frenzy and insanity, flooding them with numbers that shouldn't be coming at them, to begin with.

Rank 8 Incursion puts rage into any Dark that comes their way, and floods their vitality and growth. Attacking them in hopes of eating them whole, they are numerous; not qualitative in their Rank.

Old Mike is protecting the youths by taking most Darks on himself. But killing their big numbers costs time and some effort in a rush. He has an advantage because no Nox's lackey makes its way through the Dream Fog, and no Dark is close to his Rank. These facts protect them, albeit it could kill them too, because numbers are one thing that Dark excels at.

There is almost no good way in or out of the cave, which leaves William in a new light since his Emblem seems to help against the Dream Fog. HE can walk out of here. Old Mike considered leaving since he revealed himself, but he is questioning the situation on the surface and the existence of the Dream Fog itself.

The fact that no high-rank Darks are coming from those Blobs is an easy answer enough that there weren't any unkept things left behind. The birth or evolution of Darks above Rank 4s is carefully monitored around this town. Academy spends a lot of attention on training new recruits, so having steady and monitored locations works better than unkept Outside which is more or less, unmonitored.

No one should be sure what could be around the corner unless a high-rank Walker wants to act like a caretaker.

From these Blobs are coming rage-infused floods that can overwhelm Old Mike if he is not careful. His flesh and blood can still bleed, while he is no longer that young. The time is taking its toll. He is old and not even that battle-focused to make up for the age. Ranked at 6 and with the Dream Fog around, the tremblings traveling around the underground put him through wonders and doubts.

William handles his Vector Claw, feeling the hotness, blood, and pain all around his body. He is bleeding as well because the floods of Darks have been too much for him in almost all regards. His Emblem doesn't change it. He uses his Claw as he can, but it has some limitations as well, even though not that long has passed. William guesses that whatever happened in that Dream Fog is leaving his Emblem tired.

Which is no wonder because he needs it too; his body and mind are reaching their limits.

“You both, are you fine on your feet?” Old Mike asks as revolving space marbles flow around his hands, sending crisp sounds around, while every flick of his finger makes a hole into a few or many Darks by sending these marbles away like bullets.

Rozzante wheezes in agreement, while William feels the past 5 minutes like hours. He keeps his Claw in a defensive position.

Time isn't on their side in almost all ways, and Old Mike isn't that thrilled over this protective mission. He is more of a proper butler who focuses on his teleportations and work around the space. He can leave whenever he can even with both youths included. Of course, what awaits around the surface of the city is another thing, and whatever lurks around the Incursion, he knows that making stupid or quick decisions leads to problems.

So staying and securing the current position is the idea he goes with, even though Dream Fog is still around, while the Dark Dungeon has more Blobs than usual. They keep coming at them like an endless hungry hoard of monsters that has no power over their thirst, hunger, or insanity.

Then, it stops.

The trembling around the walls intensifies, and even the Dream Fog suddenly flickers as if a storm arrives. Dark Fog is nowhere around as Dream Fog devours that too, but not the Darks that overcome it in the frenzy of their hunts. Without the Incursion, Dream Fog would devour them too, as most Blobs are out of William's surroundings, hiding in the foggy matter of dreams.

Old Mike suddenly shouts as he feels something insane change the entire cave. Even Darks stops coming and hides in quivering fears. Dream Fogs quivers and turns motionless like the sea before the storm.

A thud in the Dream Fog cracks the walls of the cave, causing a chunk of the cave to literally explode as if a jet crushed down. No flames or Dark Fog comes around, but Old Mike feels the aura tensing, and his Emblem and System tremble and put forth their respective intentions in hideous truths of warnings.

Death has come.

Speaking leaves no place in Old Mike's mind. William and Rozzante both know nothing about what is happening. Their Systems are flickering and shutting down in the stress of the situation, while their Emblems and bodies shiver in an unnerving amount of emotions. It comes from their mind too, and there is not stopping that as far as they keep trying. The intuition of their bodies and minds works, albeit not in a way to escape this situation.

There is something out there that none of them knows.

And the unknown is often worth fearing.

Nox comes out of the Dream Fog without any bother, looking like a person surrounded by pitch-black fog around his body. Their every movement creates a tough and rather big-looking cloak that hugs and hides the body underneath.

He isn't that large. 5 feet 11 inches is the most one would give him, but the weight, mass, or height doesn't mean shit for him. He is an Original; they do what they wish to do unless the Walkers stop them.

A pair of looming crimson eyes, hiding behind the thick hood, looks at the Walkers. His face isn't visible yet, and be it Old Mike or the youths who aren't aware of the Originals, every one of them takes a couple of steps back on instinct.

“Dream Fog... Dreams!” Nox mumbles in annoyance, looking at the Dream Fog and speaking in an older voice, unlike when he faced Tiberon. Underneath the cloak, he swings his arm like a phantom, dissolving the Dream Fog that flows forth to touch him. It flows away, visibly thinner and slowly drifting away. It can't touch him.

“Nobody is here... Nothing is here? Doubtful dreams.” He says as his eyes look around. “Just bunch of chicks and Walkers who are bearing for their time. I came personally, as I wanted, but here comes nothing. Nobody?” Nox asks as if he couldn't believe his words. Then he laughs like a maniac, stepping into the area of William's influence and crimson glow.

Old Mike is the closest, but even he couldn't fathom the means to overcome a Nox of all Darks. “What is that? Why? What goes there... A-Academy?” Old Mike mumbles. Fears quiver in his heart, but his experience allows his mouth to move, unlike the youths behind him who could barely move a muscle.

Nox stops his laughter, and thanks to the lights of the crimson claw, the mass of his body is thinly revealed. He is old-looking, made of muscles and flesh that resembles Dark Vectors but in a different way. In a weird way, as if he is water or ice, or glue that froze.

His face is the craziest, as it is a thicket of Dark Fog so pitch black the pair of eyes are there and the mouth is nowhere. The fog is moving, revolving, and dancing in lively matter. His head is only like that, unlike the neck and body underneath that has clear lines of flesh.

“Why, huh? Academy?” Nox keeps walking and lightly chuckles. His voice comes out of his mouth, or is it coming out of that fog that acts for his head? “Nothing. Neither of these questions is something that matters to either of you. For you...” he points at Old Mike. “You have no hope, but you protect. I destroy.”

Old Mike couldn't even feel when, but a chunk of his flesh goes missing before a massive force lurches him aside like a slap of a giant. He feels like a helpless fly, while the layers of his space do come at a thin rescue.

He lives... for now, but is unable to feel or see what goes with Nox who leaves him aside.

Now, only Rank 1s are there for Nox to see.

The youths couldn't even register what had happened to Old Mike. Their eyes are open, however, but their legs tremble and their minds don't feel right.

Rozzante is long on the ground, backing away in fear. William is no better, but at least his right arm is there for him, trembling but flowing on its own before him. It is wincing on its own again, quivering and stressing under the cycles or whatever limits it has. William feels a weird tension rising all over his Emblem, mind, and body. It wants to shut down... but something stops it from happening.

Nox keeps his mood high, before arriving at the youths. He has his priorities set straight. He looks at Rozzante first. “Don't care for you... Mutants are just failures anyway.” He picks his arm to point at him, but after a beat, crimson Vectors stops whatever he plans to do from happening.

William's hands stop Nox's motion to obliterate Rozzante like a fly. William doesn't want to do that, but he wishes he would. He doesn't want Rozzante to die. That is for sure, but every sense in him is telling him that he is as good as dead if he will touch this figure.

There is no redemption here.

“What is this?” Nox points at the stretched Claw between him and Rozzante. “You want to stop me, a child that calls himself a Walker? Crimson suits you, but you are younger than should be too, making this more than insensible when time and work go between our sights... You... your father or mother, everything is subject to change, Annihilator.” He turns to William completely and turns to him as he planned. Rozzante is nowhere in his sight, since the youth collapses onto his back, bleeding and feeling as if dropping unconscious is a favor he can't ask for.

But the Nox's aura prevents that, or the Emblem's tremblings and fear do.

William falls to his ass when Nox arrives at his side. He looks absolutely terrifying when he is so close, and that is happening without any technique in sight. It is an inevitable reality of being an Original. Rank 9 Dark, in fact.

“Have nothing to tell?” Nox asks.

William lost his voice long ago.

Nox sighs, and steps forward to grab his face, which he succeeds with, although the trembling crimson claw does try to revolt against this act by grabbing his arm. Nox sneers, blowing up in Vectors with a single finger, leaving William's fleshly arm fine, because Vectors are extensiion to his arm.

William feels numbing fear, so he doesn't feel anything but uncontrollable emotional distress and something weird going on with his Emblem. It sizzles and revolves like crazy, pushing the limits of what his body can endure. It makes him feel nauseous, hurt, and helpless. He doesn't want any of this.

“Small problem requires long and tough solutions... You are coming with me...” Nox says the facts while feeling and tensing William's head. he could crush in like a worm in any way, but he doesn't want to do that.

William still can't tell what he should think or tell. The deadly grip he feels is like being on the top of his palm... ready to die at any moment. The foreign Emblem is in his left hand, feeling cold but foreign, similar to the medal that he clutches tightly. They don't help calm his head even a little bit.

His Emblem shines and Vectors winces in their neverending flood of flow that tries to reconnect in seconds. The intensity of these acts puts his real right hand through suffering he couldn't even see. Veiny and stressed, be it veins, muscles, or tendons, he feels his right arm is breaking apart.

Nox holds him. There is nothing to stop that. “You are quite something... They are too. Unnerving to let me slide, while the crimson moves on its own.” he says, half impressed and half joking. “Seen worse, seen better, seen everything. This will be interesting. Can't wait for what others might say since they wouldn't make this move.”

William shivers down his spine, as Nox's aura tenses up, creating cracks in the space and ground around him after something shifts around the cave. It is very subtle, but enough for Nox to completely change his perception and aura.

The Dream Fog shivers in waves, and a thinly veiled laughter, along with a thud, shakes the cave.

Nox would frown if he could, so all he does is turn his face and narrow his eyes into lines. He feels that someone is here after all, but it hasn't been there before. It is not Dream-related, thankfully.

From the Dream Fog walks a figure in a suit. A white suit. Shining and bright, the mask on the person who walks forward gleams on its own, giving the Dream Fog a nice look.

It is a man, a butler, or just a Walker? It is hard to say, as there is nothing extraordinary about him apart from his looks. “Oh, I expected you would be there. Worse, in fact, but still alive,” he says, half giggling and half smiling. “Nox is here. Night as the day.”

“Silver...” Nox mumbles in annoyance, looking at the approaching man while holding William. Vectors around him wince in hopeful freedom, but against Nox, they can't do a thing. “Wanna die?” He threatens him by letting thin layers of aura out, shattering the ground around him and shaking the fog around.

Silver isn't impressed. He walks forward without worries, and his silver mask is shiny and smooth, covering his face from the top of his forehead to the bottom of his chin. Not a speck of skin is visible on his face. Ears are visible with a single device around the left ear, looking half-made with some moving metallic parts and Arcanite. His brown hair flutters around his head in chaotic aura around the cave.

“Not leaving, are you?” he asks Nox. “Handling children is really not that good for you. How old are you again?”

“I was waiting for the problems to arrive. The time is set for that. Killing competition, you see. It hasn't been my idea, so why are you here?”

“Nothing much. Just walking still, and hoping to give this town a look. Who knows that there is a Trial going on, Incursion breaks it apart, and Nox picks his fingers down his hole. I could not see myself not getting here.”

William sees the man thinly over the Nox's grip. He doesn't recognize him whatsoever, but he is a human. A help has come?

Weirdly, he doesn't feel any better.

Which isn't wrong since who is touching him?

Silver stops about a dozen feet away from Nox, hands in his pocket, and his silver mask outshines the crimson. “I am going to get rid of this situation now, so leave that child behind or get out on your own.”

“Is Dream behind you?”

“Dream? Why the fuck you would think that?” Silver chuckles and lets one arm out of his pocket. “There are things there that aren't one bit sensible. You are that too.”

Nox releases William, who falls down his back close to Rozzante. His face is ashen and sweaty, relative to the coldness all over the heart and skin. It feels like death. He feels it so much more than anything that he has felt before.

Nox turns and steps between William and Silver. “I think we will have an interesting talk ahead of us...”

“No.” Silver shakes his head, and lets his finger upwards. “There are things out there that are proper. You go out to see them.” A silver ball of amassing energy flickers on top of his point finger, growing exponentially large until it is half as large as the cave.

Nox squints his eyes as low as they can get, while his arms shake in action. “You want to make this this bad? Now? Ruining everything?”

“I always do. We do love it, don't we?” Silver's voice seems calm and slightly amusing. He doesn't care for much anyway, while the revolving mass of energy swirls like a massive storm, pushing the Dream Fog away and trembling the cave to the brink of destruction. Countless cracks start to spread, but he doesn't seem to care for anything but to make a point with his finger. “Catch it... Here and goodbye.” He tosses the mass of his energy right at Nox who stands behind the pair of clueless youths.

“Curse you!” Nox shouts, leans down, and sets his arms forward. The storm arrives in a blink, outshining everything as the light of its power deafens Nox or dreams. It pushes against his hands, and in a moment, the ground shatters and turns unsteady. This simple change causes Nox to lose his footing and the storm flies alongside him to the opposite end of the wall.

But not before Nox forces himself upward, guiding the storm to go up.

The wall explodes, the cave collapses, and Nox disappears alongside that silver storm, leaving the youths and Silver alone.

He wheezes a laugh, visibly shudders, and stretches his arm. “That has been some exercise... Oy.” He taps the device on his left ear. “Workings are halfway done.”

Nobody talks back.

Silver signs, and turns to the youths who are half sunken to the ground, but the crimson Vectors protect William and Rozzante from the rocks and many falling pieces of the walls.

“Right... Apologies.” Silver hurries towards them and picks them from the ground. Rozzante is half-conscious, which is already a miracle, while William grunts in pain and misery over the last day. “Alive and well... I can't see you, but that is as well for me as it could get. How is Spiritter doing, I wonder?” Silver aims his head out, looking at the entire cave ceiling collapsing and falling on his head.

He grunts and flickers his hand sideways, shattering the space into a thin hole of 2 inches. Around the darkness, the cracklings the size of hair bents the hole further, while Silver punches the hole to make it bigger because it isn't listening to him whatsoever. “Incursion... This is annoying!” He smashes the hole into the space in a second, until it's enough size for him to crawl into. He stuffs William and Rozzante into it first, until the ceiling comes at him.

He disappears into the hole, leaving the Dream Fog alone, alongside the Dream Aspect that is half sunken in the ground, Dungeon Core in a corner, and bloodied Old Mike whom he has no time to care for. He leaves the Extractor behind as well because it is as important to him as good sleep.

The hole disappears, but in another part of this city, or what is left of it, a hole shreds through the Incursion's effect and space itself. Silvar's punches echo until the hole into the eradicated library reveals enough size. He tosses the youths to the floor.

William has a head-splitting headache, while his Emblem keeps sizzling and dancing in Vectors that seems to be eyeing Silver like a skeptical dog. Silver comes out of his hole too, and looks around the building that is surrounded by Dark Fog. It doesn't come that close, thanks to the formation that is still on the ground, albeit the building is nowhere to be found.

“Well, it is good enough for me, so...” Silver says and turns to William who is more than awake. He may be mentally and physically out of his wits, but with the savior before him, he wonders what is happening.

“Name's Silver. You don't have to give me your name. I know it.”

William keeps looking, wondering if he is speaking to him or his Emblem.

Silver seems to catch his doubts. “Anyway, we go out of here before Nox catches up to us. Let's see what others can do first...” He looks around, noticing no one here as he expects. Few would be insane enough to come here when battle above the city shatters everything down.

Thankfully, this building is set out south of the Rifts, and enough distance away to ensure its relative safety against Tiberon who slaughters his way around the Rifts. The silver storm glides through the air in the distance, appearing small, but for how long?

Time is essential, so Silver spreads his palm and causes thin threads of light to make a small ball until it explodes into dozens of maddening ropes. They launch out under a breath, disappearing to the city, but the lines are still there in his palm. Whatever he is trying, it is a continuous line that connects to him at all times.

And it doesn't take that long to work with the authority he has. He catches the lives of the struggling butlers who feel struggles and pain. They are still alive. These threads connect to them, giving them a guiding factor that is like a thin massage that works in the space of their influence. This works in a rather forceful way of mixing what is physical and incompressible spaces.

In the corner where Anez fights for her life, Sharie and Celleste hide in a corner, fearing the Demon and Anez's fight.

Bleeding and crazy, the small Demon has parts of its body missing, sizzling away, while Anez bleeds from the cuts all over her body. Some are healing, while her Emblem trembles and its vision flickers in changing shapes like gears.

The swirling line of the silvery light arrives in a blink, staying a few feet away from her. She notices it but has no clue what that is. It looks like a rope for safety, however, and it bends a space all so slightly. She can go to the other side if she puts forth the right technique.

The Demon catches the line arriving in its eyes, so it pounces at Anez again, who grunts and decides to go along with whatever it can be. Her space is probably most limited out of the present butlers, so having a line to connect to is a nice touch. She pushes as much power out of her Emblem until she has enough Space left just for that line.

Skillless, but tough like an explosion, the pouncing Demon ends up flying away into the wall, disappearing to the unknown, but Anez knows she has not even 3 seconds to act. Stumbling in her step in fatigue, she aims her palm at the pair of girls who have no idea what she is up to.

Some sort of force grabs them and lunches them toward her, but it takes a good second. Anez crawls the rest of her power for the thin veils of teleportation that wrap them up like silk that connects to the line. They disappear right when the Demon trashes some walls to pieces, shrieking like a maddening cat.

Its fight is gone under his paws, right where the deaths should've been under its hopes.

Similar events to this happen in the rest of the corners, but since there are no fights there, their times are much more manageable.

***

Back in the ground of the Teleportation Formation, Silver holds the lines for the Space Walkers to use. It takes some time, but Anez arrives first thanks to the fatigue that pushes her instincts over the edge. She collapses straight away, but Celleste and Sharie both hold her up, unlike the youths who should be glad to be on the ground.

“Oh, hello there.” Silver waves a hand to Anez, who looks at him without care. “No idea...who. Where? Academy?” She mumbles some words.

“Yes. Yes. We go away. Out! Gone! Out of this misery.” Silver cheers them up a little, which works for Sharie alone. Rest are still doubtful or fearful, or so numb, they couldn't care for this cheering. Anez couldn't even grunt.

The space shudders again, and the rest of the teams arrive in a much better light. Onga's group has a fearful-looking butler, while Stark's group has a very impressive one, who stands and notices Silver in all of his light.

“Who are you?” He demands.

“Your ticket out of here,” Silver says and points at the formation. “Can crack it open, if you help.”

“Where is Mike?”

“Oh, left him there. Half sure he is still not cold.”

The man, who has always worked for the Prime Hunter, has no connection to the Academy, but he knows Old Mike. They are buddies. “Where?”

“Where Dreams flow, I suppose.” Silver shrugs his arms and gives him the answer that satisfies him.

The man blinks away under a forceful teleport that takes a chunk of his powers, but leaving injured comrades is a no-go territory to almost any Walker. Be it half dead or already dead, it serves its purpose, which Silver doesn't care about.

“Eh... I suppose we go with what we can? Can you work?” Silver asks Anez, who pushes the girls away and steadies her breaths and footing.

“Never been better.” She lies and points at Sharie, who holds the Extractor. “Got the juice. Let's move... I don't like what is brewing outside, or what is up with you.”

“I said it. A ticket out of here.” Silver says calmly and forces Kiryu to give up his Extractor. The last butler doesn't make any comment, as he hopes to get out of this cursed place first before asking questions later.

And considering the happenings above, or things moving through the Dark Fog, almost all present Walkers wish to get out of here.

Anez takes the Vials from the Extractor alongside a gem from her pocket, before gesturing youths to go inside the formation. “Not sure... what you think.” she says to Silver who does the same thing. “but the Incursion affects this formation too. It is wild, so...”

“No worries. No worries.” Silver chuckles and begins his work. “All it needs is some adjustments and enough space to crack it open. The rules work half-heartedly. Cursed Nox, I suppose.” He begins to override some of the formation bases while Anex can't see why or what he does. But she knows that touching the already established formation teleports like this is a hard ordeal.

She would never try to do this, because a formation of this kind is an expensive and time-consuming creation. She knows from the Academy that teams of many Walkers are required to establish this sort of thing and let's not forget how many resources it holds.

So hearing and seeing how Silvar does it all alone, and relatively quickly, she has her doubts but has no choice but to trust him.

Time ticks without any change in the System that is still trembling across the youth's visions. Tiberon can't crack the Rifts apart fast enough, so Silver takes the matter into his own hands.

In a minute, he changes the base of the formation to the one he desires, so he pours the Vials down. Anez follows suit and puts the gem down her, establishing a link between the blood and space that will soon come.

“Now, we wait...” Silver picks his shimmering lines again, and makes sure to put space road for the butlers he wouldn't mind leaving behind. He needs them to crack this formation open, so he doesn't have a choice but to bear with these moments. It doesn't take that long, thankfully, but the time and every moment of hesitation causes him to think of Nox.

He is out there; he could arrive quickly like a cold wind.

In a shimmering veil, the man carrying Old Mike stumbles to the ground, half sure he just overstepped his boundaries by overworking his status against this Incursion. If it hadn't been for that line, he would never reach this place again.

“G-gratitude...” the man says, noticing that the formation is different but ready to open. He has no time, while Old Mike isn't even conscious. A chunk of his arm is missing, and disastrous wounds are all over his body. He is alive, but in a state that needs immediate attention. He won't help with the formation, but that doesn't matter for Silver. 3 butlers are enough.

“Quickly. We can go with the 3 of you, so pour your heart into this and get in.” Silver demands without any cheering as Dark Fog quivers. Someone is closing. Could be Demons or the lurking Darks that are too afraid to come to this protected formation that makes this a safe space. It works against the Incursion too, but not for truly powerful Darks.

Any Rank 5 or higher would simply step in and slaughter any group of survival, which makes such places limited in value and worth.

Teleportation formations are expensive anyway and require powerful Space Walkers to work. Their use is for traversing the hectic world, giving a connection to far or hard-to-reach places. Academy has them; Federation too. Every proper place with established Walkers has them.

Silver quickly gestures for the Vials to empty. Anez and the rest of the capable butlers have all their respective places.

But someone arrives.

Dark Fog splits, and from there, Agatha arrives in a hurry. “What is going on here!?” She demands, noting a safe group and children, but something is very wrong about it. She notices Silver. She knows him.

“Oh, caught again?” Silver chuckles, snaps his finger that bends the space around, and cracks the formation alongside the aura that strains the butlers who are cutting onto their Emblem's reserves. They act like fuel for the formation anyway, while the one establishing the connection is usually the highest Rank of them. In this circumstance, the man who works for Prime Hunter would do it, or Agatha would. Or Silver, whom they can't help but trust because of the circumstances.

Agatha turns angry and hurries forward. “You! S-stop that! What is that formation? Where are you going?”

Her demands go unnoticed because Silver has enough. Time is not enough, but Agatha is probably saving them all. Silver guides the formation to the start, so Agatha has no way to stop it. “Silver!” She shouts a few steps away from the formation that begins undulating power under his command. Youths inside of it could barely hear what goes outside because of turning space and noises that hadn't been there the last time. They see what is happening outside of the formation.

Anez and the rest can't do a thing because of their acts and Silver guides them like tools. They feel like prisoners that Silver put to good use.

“Think carefully, Agatha,” Silver says to her. “And think or sense your surroundings even more... I am saving them when Academy can't.”

“You can't do this... Where? Where are you going with this?”

Dark Fog splits open. In a moment, the ground shakes as Nox makes his smooth landing. He looks fine, albeit his arms look damaged. And he is pissed off like never before.

“Flew for 3 minutes 12 seconds... That is a time that I will grind onto your souls...” He says coldly, but then... his core and mind shatter as he sees the flickering formation.

He pounces straight at them without wasting time, but Agatha stands in the way. He can cut them all to pieces, stop the formation even if Silver is there as the guiding factor, and solve this brief mess.

Agatha freezes as death has come.

The formation has still a few moments left to go. Silver stands motionless but the flickering power that handles the formation works as fast as it can. It all comes out of his hands; on his part of the formation that bonds the blood and space together. The space begins to bend down too, lowering them to the ground as space cracks spread around the edges of the formations.

Seconds are long...

And Nox is fast.

Agatha feels death rising, but above this place, a figure spreads his arms, crashing to the ground behind Nox.

Tiberon bleeds like a warrior going through the hells of doom. He looks

angry beyond the common means, but he is glad he keeps his Domain up at all times. When he catches Nox's moves, he won't let it slide.

Especially when he does one thing he can't bear to see.

“You don't touch my girl...” He says coldly, sending a massive crackling line of bend gravity to Nox's back, just as he closes on Agatha. The area shivers and the ground breaks, but Silver protects the formation enough to not lose his work. Nox is hit openly, and couldn't help but curse.

“Gratitude,” Silver says cheerfully like a fool that got away with murder. “Didn't think you would come. I would have to step in and waste some blood.”

Tiberon saw and felt Silver for a good while, but because of the Rifts, he couldn't do a thing. Add to that Nox, there is no way out of this. And he surely hadn't seen or heard anything about Silver's appearances.

Nox stumbles and crashes deep into the city because of mighty Tiberon's attack. He won't come here soon, which still leaves Tiberon ice cold. He would do something else right now, but he looks at Silver first. “Using us... You won't like the consequences.”

“Better than slaughtered children,” Silver says and begins the last procedure. The cracks widen and increase in numbers. The formation sinks to the ground faster under Silver's hands. Butlers could only curse as their space comes to an end and blood sizzles away.

Agatha loses her voice and bends her knees to fall to the ground. Tiberon catches her, half sure Silver used her to use him. A clever tactic, he must say.

And it works flawlessly. Tiberon has no choice but to bear with the consequences too. “I will see you... and you don't touch or use my girl. Got it?” He says to Silver as the formation closes and just heads are visible.

Silver chuckles and waves a hand. “Sure. I will see you soon. You are welcome too.”

They disappear to the ground in a blip that leaves a chunk of eart missing. The formation is gone too, leaving Tiberon holding Agatha's arm.

“He got away....” she mumbles. “I died... Right there.”

“No.” Tiberon let go of her hand. “This has been under my watch yet I couldn't see... It is my responsibility to solve this, and you!” He turns sideways to face a split Dark Fog.

Nox steps from there, cursing in his mind and walking slowly. “He got away! Away! Where?”

“I will murder you... slowly.” Tiberon cracks his hand and steps before Agatha.

***

In the Academy islands, the rules of space and safety haven't been going that well for some time either.

Dozens of Rifts are still all over the sky, or relatively closer to the ground. Destruction, shattered buildings and many deaths come out of the Incursion that is happening in a place that hadn't met one in nearly a decade.

It isn't Nox's work. Someone else is behind it.

And it is notable from the biggest quivering Rift that is on the verge of fading away.

There in the sky, holding a limbless Demon that still breathes, the Principal of the Emblem Academy hovers hundreds of feet from the ground. He is relatively young-looking, pretty, yet cold. The whitish Emblem in the middle of his forehead is mesmerizing to the eyes. Right now, his uniform is bloodied and his right arm is inside of Demon's chest, holding the heart.

“Shall I repeat myself again?” Principal asks coldly.

Demon, looking relatively human in the head but wild in the torso that looks like screwed muscles bent like wind, coughs and feels its time is fading as well. Incursion failed as expected.

Obviously. This is a no-go territory for them for a long time. It is under the protection of this man, after all.

Demon spits to his chest. “Can't say you insane...” it mumbles in a rough voice that sounds incoherent.

Principal bends his arm inside of it, causing Demon to wince and scream. “Curse you!”

“They all say it... Then they hope for death to make the suffering fade away. How long should I hold your heart?” He offers with a smile, just when a figure flies upward to the sky to reach his position.

Roman Antler spreads his Annihilation Wings in the green smog of his Vectors. He looks like he went through hell and the surface twice. “Ruben...” he starts as the situation down below is getting better. The Incursion happened around an hour ago and had no time limitations. Instead, it had survival demands that work in numbers, killings, and survival. Which is worse or better depending on Walkers or circumstances.

With enough death on Dark's side, Rifts would close.

It is a true invasion and more or less the core concept of the Incursions.

It is doing exactly that for a good while, but Roman finds this more than insane.

“Little Roman?” Ruben says and turns his head toward him. “There are better things below than here.”

“What is going on? Answer me.” Roman demands something that has been on his mind since the end of the 2nd Trial.

“We lost connection to the Pantown half a day ago. That is that.”

“Half?!” Roman shouts. “Why?”

“Space got locked too, and Darks have been around. I trust Tiberon to handle it.”

The demon laughs straight at his face. “Silly. Oh, so silly.”

Ruben twists his arm again, turning his head down and thinking whether he could kill this Rank 8 Dark Demon or not. “Mind telling how silly it is? I am all ears.”

“Supposing for death to speak... Kill me.”

Ruben figures stalling is meaningless under his hands, so he twists his grip, and retrieves the heart. Demon coughs and falls down, dying like he is meant to do because of the plot of a few Originals, but Nox in particular.

Ruben doesn't even bat an eye to it or the heart. He turns to Roman who knows something is seriously wrong with the situation over the Trials. They don't provide him with information because he isn't part of the Academy anymore. So he goes straight for the source.

“Trials are under a rightful protection,” Ruben says with certainty.

“What if not?”

“Then it changes when it does. Time to move on.” Ruben hovers back to the ground, noticing that the biggest Rift is shutting down. Only a few are left.

Roman curses and knows how insane this is. Incursion in the Academy is unheard of. But it is happening. It is real.

It got nasty from the start because Roman knows the lengths of what Incursions hold, and he and many others have considered flying straight to the Pantown where Trials are happening. Academy all stopped them then.

Spatial travels to that place doesn't work. That much, Roman forced from few butlers since all information about the privately done 3rd Tiral ceased to stop half a day ago. It worries him. When Ruben stops the flow of information and internal work in the Academy about the Trial, it is suspicious.

It is because of Incursion's effects.

Then, the Incursion hit the Academy, ceasing everything to another mess. It has worked as it could, so no immediate help ever came close to Pantown.

Few Walkers care about the Trials that have quite substantial protections, but the means of spatial limits and even all means of communication being lost, are suspicious in Roman's opinion.

A lot of technical problems indeed occur daily, but Trials are happening twice a year. They are important for a good reason. And he is involved in it himself. He is worried about William.

However, Ruben isn't wrong to trust Tiberon and pretty much top-of-the-line butlers who are pivotal in the current society. Alas, he lacks critical information about the happening in the Pantown, but the Academy takes priority.

In the end, excusing everything because of Tiberon's power isn't wrong, but that doesn't mean shit for Roman. He doubts the integrity of the academy, so when Ruben gives him no good answers and flies away, all he can do is curse.

“I swear... I have bad feelings about it.”

There is little he could do when Incursion is right there around him. He can't walk away from this, so he goes back to his hunts.

***

In the twists and turns, and the forceful way of the spatial teleportation, William feels even worse than how he arrived at Pantown. He is going away, however, to the known places that Silver is forcing right under Nox and Academy.

Well, it is all connected in their unique ways, so Silver doesn't care to play his cards well.

In the darkness and sudden slap, William wakes up on the dusty ground, feeling worse than shit. Splitting headache still grinds his nerves, while the Emblem in his hand is surprisingly docile and calm. He can't remember when it has been like this. It feels like days.

Above him, Silver stands with a ready hand. “Wakey, William. I can't wait to slap you again, but it would hurt my hand. Oh, well, not really.”

William grunts and feels the coldness of the foreign Emblem and metal that still clinches to his left hand. He barely cares for them, however, so he lets go of it for the first time, even though a stinging pain travels from his right arm and pinches his head. His Emblem isn't coming out.

Limits have been utterly and completely reached.

“W-what? Where?” William mumbles, lying on the ground flat.

Opening his eyes, he sees a silhouette of a person hiding behind the sun. It is hot... Too hut. And Silver's shiny mask is annoying him too.

Forcing himself to a sitting position works thanks to Silver's hands, but when he looks around after his eyes adjust to the light, he can't fathom what is even happening.

He is in a desert that has half-sunken buildings, roads, rusted vehicles, and many rocks all around him.

He notices everyone, butlers included, is also there, resting on the ground. They got away from the insanity of the Nox's Incursion thanks to SIlver who is also away from that disaster.

He looks optimistic, albeit all it means is by sounds. His face isn't visible, but his voice is nice and soothing.

“Finally awake, but in big numbers, huh? Well...” Silver taps the device on his left ear, figuring that it is working at last! “Got them. We got injuries.”

“E-excuse me...” Anez forces herself up, feeling shit no worse than William. Her fight has been tough on her, albeit the worst of them all is Old Mike for sure.

“Huh?” Silvar turns to her. “Pipe your breath woman. Care of the wounded before asking questions.”

“Where are we?” the man watching over Old Mike says, half certain he knows where which certainly helps in some things. They aren't in any shady place, but it is certainly questionable in many words.

This place is supposed to be shattered and out of bounds for humanity. At least under the current Academy.

The bright sun hides for a moment, revealing the surroundings after William gets on his feet. There is a wide flat surface of deserts to his left, where Silver gestures his right arm.

“Welcome to Area 51,” Silver says.

William believes he is smiling under that mask.

[End of The Trial]