The Rift checkpoint was supposed to be routine.

Reiss Kain stood near the Rift entrance, arms crossed, his face unreadable.

His team had arrived late—too late. Instead of a battle, they found the aftermath.

The warband leader’s corpse was still cooling. The surrounding ruins were soaked in blood, slaughtered Ruin Dwellers left where they fell. Their broken weapons lay beside them, rusted edges still slick with fresh crimson.

Reiss crouched beside the warband leader’s body, pressing two fingers against one of the deeper wounds.

"Clean." Too clean for a D-Rank raid.

His team had assumed a group had taken down the boss.

But Reiss knew better.

Only one person had gone in.

And that made no damn sense.

He turned toward one of the checkpoint Hunters, his tone clipped.

“Check the logs. Who entered this Rift?”

The man frowned, swiping at his tablet. "Uh… one name registered. Nathaniel Crane."

Reiss's brow twitched. Fake.

His voice dropped lower. "So no real ID?"

The Hunter hesitated. "Uh, I mean, there’s an ID, but no known records. Probably an alias."

A fake name. Someone covering their tracks.

Which meant whoever was responsible for this massacre didn’t want to be found.

Reiss exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple. “And where is he now?”

The Hunter pointed toward the Rift. “Walking out now.”

Reiss turned.

And there he was.

Aiden was wrecked.

Blood crusted over his jacket. His ribs screamed with every breath. His legs ached, muscles wrung out like overused rubber bands.

But he wasn’t dead.

Which meant, for now, he could walk this off.

He had gotten something out of it. A new ability. A piece of something bigger.

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But he didn’t have time to process that.

Because Reiss was staring at him.

Aiden forced himself to slow his steps, limping slightly but keeping his expression neutral. No unnecessary flinches. No signs of just how much his body was protesting every movement.

Then, his brother spoke.

“You.”

Aiden tilted his head slightly, as if pinpointing his voice. “Me.”

Silence.

Reiss wasn't buying it.

This was the first time Aiden had really looked at his brother.

And now that he could?

He barely recognized him.

Reiss looked older. His build was all lean muscle—faster rather than stronger. His uniform was crisp, expensive, the kind of thing only higher-ranked Hunters could afford. His hair was shorter than Aiden remembered, his face sharper, more worn.

Aiden never noticed before because he never bothered to look.

But now?

He saw everything.

And Reiss didn’t know what he was looking at.

His brother’s eyes flickered across him—taking in the blood, the shredded jacket, the limp.

Then, finally:

“What the hell happened in there?”

Aiden blinked, slow. “What do you mean?”

Reiss gestured toward the Rift. “Who cleared it?”

Aiden, deadpan:

"Me."

Silence.

Reiss's eye twitched.

One of the checkpoint Hunters coughed. “Uh, logs say he was the only one who entered.”

Reiss turned slowly toward him.

“You’re telling me,” he said, voice eerily calm, “that my battered, bloody, F-Rank, blind little brother just soloed a dungeon?”

The Hunter looked increasingly uncomfortable. “T-Technically, yes.”

Reiss inhaled, exhaled, then inhaled again, like he was actively suppressing the urge to start screaming.

“Explain.”

Aiden shifted slightly, like he was getting comfortable. “I walked in.”

“And?”

“I walked out.”

Reiss clenched his jaw. His patience was thinning.

"Aiden."

"Reiss."

"Tell me what actually happened."

"I did. I walked in. And then I walked out."

Reiss closed his eyes for a full second. He looked like he was actively debating whether or not to strangle him.

"The dungeon didn’t clear itself," he said through his teeth.

Aiden shrugged, wincing slightly at the motion. “The monsters probably killed each other.”

Reiss’s expression darkened.

“MONSTERS DON’T JUST KILL EACH OTHER.”

Aiden rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe they had a disagreement.”

"You—"

Reiss’s hands actually curled into fists.

But no matter how much he wanted to deny it… the logs didn’t lie.

This dungeon was cleared by a single Hunter.

And that Hunter was standing right in front of him.

Reiss exhaled, forcing his voice even.

“Fine. We’re leaving. Now.”

Aiden raised an eyebrow. “We?”

“You’re coming with me to the Hunter Association. If something’s wrong—”

Aiden leaned slightly to the side.

Reiss **reached out instantly—**but his hand closed on nothing.

Aiden was already moving.

His body shouldn’t have been able to handle sudden movement. He was injured, battered, barely standing moments ago.

But he slid between two nearby Hunters like water slipping through cracks.

Reiss’s stomach dropped.

No.

He turned, scanning the area.

Nothing.

He turned again.

Aiden was standing twenty feet away.

Reiss actually froze. That wasn’t possible.

His brother was battered. Injured. F-Rank.

And yet, he had just moved like a ghost.

Reiss locked eyes with him.

Aiden tilted his head.

Then raised a hand.

And waved.

The movement was deliberate. Mocking.

Aiden turned, blending into the checkpoint crowd. The second Reiss took a step forward—he was gone.

No sudden burst of speed. No flicker of unnatural power.

Just calculated movement. Every step precise, vanishing in plain sight.

Reiss stared at the empty space where he had stood.

No way.

No. Way.

His hands clenched at his sides.

Aiden was F-Rank.

Aiden was blind.

Aiden shouldn’t be able to do any of that.

His brain rebelled against the logic, but the facts were in front of him.

"What if he really did it?"

And for the first time in years…

Reiss didn’t have an answer.