The university library had settled into an uneasy calm, the adrenaline of their first victory over the rift anchor now replaced by a quiet determination. Angelus sat at a worn wooden table, a map of New Haven sprawled out before him, its edges curling slightly from use. Marcus lounged in a chair beside him, one leg kicked up on a stack of books, while Tara paced nearby, her baseball bat tapping rhythmically against her thigh. Red circles dotted the map, marking spots where rift energy pulsed strongest, and Angelus’s finger hovered over one near the docks.
“Rift Sense says the second anchor’s here,” he said, his voice steady despite the flicker of unease in his chest. The docks were a sprawling mess of warehouses, shipping containers, and narrow alleys—a perfect place for things to go wrong.
Marcus tilted his head, peering at the map. “Fantastic. A rusty jungle full of hiding spots for monsters. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Tara smirked, pausing her pacing. “With a Legion Master, a sticky-fingered goblin, and a troll who can barely walk straight? We’re basically unstoppable.”
From a nearby shelf, Sticky the goblin let out a high-pitched giggle, his tiny claws clicking against a stapler he’d pilfered from a librarian’s desk. Mr. Smashypants, the hulking troll, snored in the corner, his massive frame slumped against a bookcase, the vibrations of his breathing rattling the spines. Sparky the rift hound lay at Angelus’s feet, his glowing tail thumping softly against the floor, a comforting rhythm amidst the tension.
Angelus’s gaze shifted to Lily, his younger sister, who was across the room helping Mia, their shy healer, sort through a pile of bandages and ointments. He stood, crossing to her. “Lil, I need you to stay here again. The docks are too dangerous.”
Her face fell, disappointment flashing in her eyes, but she nodded. “I get it. Just… promise you’ll come back, okay?”
“Always,” he said, pulling her into a quick, tight hug. She squeezed him back, then stepped away, her trust in him shining through despite the worry creasing her brow.
The group gathered their gear: backpacks stuffed with water bottles, granola bars, and a handful of glowing potions Angelus had looted from defeated monsters. Sticky, ever the opportunist, tried to pocket a fistful of paperclips, but Angelus caught his wrist. “Sticky, no. We’re not raiding the stationery closet.”
The goblin huffed, dropping the clips with a dramatic clatter, his pout earning a laugh from Marcus.
The docks stretched out before them like a silent, skeletal city, the usual hum of cranes and shouting dockworkers replaced by an oppressive stillness. Shipping containers towered overhead, their faded paint peeling in the salty air, casting long shadows in the late afternoon sun. The distant crash of waves against the pier was the only sound, punctuated by the occasional groan of shifting metal. Angelus led the way, his trusty pipe gripped in one hand, his senses sharp as Rift Sense tugged him forward.
Marcus walked beside him, his own pipe slung over his shoulder. “This feels like that time we got lost in the mall parking lot, except, you know, no pretzel stand to save us.”
“At least we’ve got snacks,” Angelus replied, patting his backpack. His eyes scanned the maze of containers, the tingling in his mind growing stronger as they neared a large warehouse at the pier’s end.
They stuck to the shadows, moving cautiously along the edges of the containers. Without warning, a pack of [Rift Rats: 30/30 HP] erupted from a dark gap, their beady eyes glowing with malice, claws skittering across the concrete. “Oh, perfect, giant rats,” Marcus groaned, raising his pipe.
“Legion Command: Attack!” Angelus barked. Sticky leapt into action, his claws slashing wildly; Mr. Smashypants lumbered forward, his club flattening two rats with a single swing; Sparky darted in, snapping at their tails. The fight was over in moments, the surviving rats squealing as they fled. A notification flickered in Angelus’s vision: [You have defeated 5 Rift Rats. Experience gained: 100.]
They pressed on, the warehouse looming closer, its rusted walls streaked with grime. But as they rounded a corner, a larger shadow uncoiled from behind a crate—a [Rift Serpent: 120/120 HP], its scales shimmering with dark, crackling energy. “Heads up!” Tara shouted, swinging her bat as the serpent lunged, its fangs grazing her arm—[Tara: 60/80 HP].
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Angelus reacted fast, channeling mana into his pipe. “Power Strike!” he yelled, slamming it into the serpent’s skull—[Mana: 35/50], [Rift Serpent: 100/120 HP]. Mr. Smashypants roared, grabbing the serpent’s tail and yanking it back, while Sticky scrambled up its body, clawing at its eyes—[Rift Serpent: 90/120 HP]. Marcus landed a solid hit—[Rift Serpent: 80/120 HP]—and with a final, mana-charged swing from Angelus, the creature collapsed—[Rift Serpent: 0/120 HP].
A surge of warmth flooded through him: [You have reached Level 8.]
[New Skill Unlocked: Legion’s Wrath – Temporarily increases the attack power of your summons by 30% for 20 seconds. Mana cost: 20.]
“Level up and a new skill,” Angelus said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Not bad.”
The warehouse doors creaked as they pushed inside, the air thick with dust and the electric hum of rift energy. Stacks of crates and rusted machinery loomed in the dim light, shadows twisting into menacing shapes. The anchor’s pull was unmistakable now, a steady pulse guiding them deeper into the maze. They moved carefully, checking corners, when Sticky—true to form—stepped on a hidden pressure plate. A net sprang up, ensnaring Mr. Smashypants in a tangle of ropes.
“Seriously?!” Angelus groaned, rushing to cut the troll free with Marcus’s help. Mr. Smashypants flailed, nearly toppling a crate, until the net fell away.
Sticky, unbothered, waved a shiny bolt he’d snatched from the floor. “Sticky, you’re a walking disaster,” Marcus said, shaking his head, though a grin tugged at his lips.
They continued, the hum growing louder, until they emerged into a cleared space. There it was: the second anchor, a jagged crystal twice the size of the first, its surface pulsing with violet light, tendrils of rift energy coiling around it. But before they could approach, the air shimmered, and a [Rift Wraith: 150/150 HP] materialized—its form a shifting mass of smoke, its eyes twin orbs of purple fire.
“This one’s trouble,” Tara warned, tightening her grip on her bat.
“Legion Command: Surround it!” Angelus ordered. His summons obeyed, fanning out, but the wraith phased through Sparky’s snapping jaws, retaliating with a blast of energy—[Sparky: 50/60 HP]. Angelus swung his pipe, but it sliced through the wraith’s form, barely scratching it—[Rift Wraith: 145/150 HP].
“Physical attacks aren’t working!” Marcus shouted, dodging a tendril of energy.
Angelus’s mind raced. He’d noticed a faint glow in the wraith’s chest—a core. “Legion’s Wrath!” he called, burning mana—[Mana: 15/50]—and his summons glowed with enhanced power. “Hit the core!” Mr. Smashypants smashed his club into it—[Rift Wraith: 120/150 HP]—and Sparky lunged, teeth sinking in—[Rift Wraith: 100/150 HP]. Then, out of nowhere, Sticky hurled his stolen bolt, and by some miracle, it struck the core dead-on—[Rift Wraith: 90/150 HP].
“Sticky, you little genius!” Angelus cheered. They pressed the attack, dodging the wraith’s wild energy bursts, until a final strike shattered its core. The wraith dissolved into mist—[Rift Wraith: 0/150 HP]—and a notification appeared: [You have defeated the Rift Wraith. Experience gained: 300.]
The anchor pulsed ominously, its energy crackling like a storm. Angelus raised his pipe, then paused. “Hold on—let’s be smart about this.” He focused, using Rift Sense to probe the crystal. A faint crack shimmered in its side. “There’s a weak point,” he said, pointing. “Hit it together.”
Marcus and Tara nodded, and with a coordinated strike—pipe, bat, and a borrowed club from Mr. Smashypants—the crystal shattered, its energy exploding outward before fading into nothing. Notifications flashed: [You have destroyed 2 rift anchors. Progress: 2/3. Reward: 600 XP.]
[You have reached Level 9.]
[New Skill Unlocked: Summoner’s Rally – Heals all summons for 20% of their health. Mana cost: 25.]
“Two levels in one day,” Angelus said, exhaling. “We’re getting somewhere.”
The trek back to the library was quiet, the weight of their mission settling over them like the evening fog rolling in from the harbor. When they arrived, Lily was waiting, her face lighting up as she ran to hug Angelus. “Two down, one to go,” she said, her voice bright with hope.
“Yeah,” he replied, ruffling her hair. “But it’s not getting easier.”
Mia patched up Tara’s arm, while Marcus handed out granola bars from his pack. The library hummed with a soft energy—exhaustion mingled with pride. Later, as the others slept, Angelus sat by a window, staring at the stars. Sticky curled up beside him, for once not pilfering, just resting. Mr. Smashypants’s snores echoed faintly, and Sparky sprawled at his feet.
Marcus joined him, offering half a granola bar. “You’re doing good, man. We’ll finish this.”
Angelus took the snack, nodding. “Yeah, we will.”
But as he chewed, his thoughts drifted to the final anchor. Two were gone, but the rift still loomed, and whatever guarded the last one would be worse. He’d face it, though—with his friends, his summons, and whatever luck they could muster.