Chapter 58: Riftbound
Rifts were dimensional tears that manifested through cracks in space itself. It was impossible to predict or accustom to the environment of a rift, since they tore apart several dimensions, creating access to diversely unique realms with climates and weather conditions never known to humans.
Some possessed uncanny conceptual laws tied to their worlds: dimensions where gravity flowed in spirals, where time moved backward, where thought itself became solid matter.
Of course, the more foreboding thing about rifts was the ranks of monsters that existed within them. They posed a level of uncertainty and danger of the unknown that should make every awakened not want to venture into such realms. However, the rewards were equal compensation for the vicious risks that they experienced.
An awakened, through such hardship, gained more soul essence, gradually progressing through the ranks of their soul core. Of course, the higher they climbed, the harder it became; that was why the highest soul rank of an awakened recorded in this age was Master. Even though there were myths about higher soul core ranks, those ranks had surpassed even the broken limitations of the strongest mortals. It would take unearthly resolve to reach such heights.
Perhaps, at such a point, they became monsters themselves. Because the might of a Master was already dangerous enough, being able to upheave plains with just a stomp of their foot, make earthquakes swim through mountains with just an essence release. Masters were tremendous powerhouses that could never be contained. Very few of them stood at the pinnacle of it all.
Another thing that gave awakeners the courage to venture into rifts, even with the dangers that lurked within, were the varieties of discoverables. Beast crystals, some grimoires found in towers within rifts (though such cases were rare, rifts with towers were believed to be gifts from the Architect), and beast weapons. All of them boosted an awakened’s arsenal by leaps and bounds, gave them more areas to which their talent abilities were applicable, and made it so that even an awakened with a low-class talent was still given a chance to grow.
A world of fairness... of course, that fairness in and of itself was now being bought, manipulated by the upper echelon, leaving the plebeians with nothing but scraps and expecting them to be grateful for it.
Resources cultivated in rifts were tremendously sought after. Those valuables had become raw material for awakened: monster carcasses, minerals, and crystals. These resources, when brought back to their home world, could be sold for hefty amounts of money.
Items were another part of exploring rifts that brought overwhelming achievement and compensation for hardship. When monsters were killed or ruins were explored, the rewards justified the risks.
Even though all these perks were enticing, awakened died like insects every now and then inside rifts. Yes, many more retired at an early age, gave up on the dream of becoming stronger, and treasured the rest of their lives as lower-tier rift hunters, explorers, private tutors, and citadel instructors.****
The passage of time became irrelevant to Alex’s existence—sufferings, plights, unanswered questions, his fears, and never-satisfied hunger.
Alex did not know how time passed; the sky hung stubbornly above his head. Night followed nights; there was neither moon nor sun in this realm. Everything looked the same before his eyes.
The meal he was given was inconvenient. Eating it the first and second time, Alex puked. It seemed like processed meat, but Alex’s guess was that it was not from any beast he recognized.
He didn’t know what it was, but the thing churned his stomach every time he consumed it. Of course, he soon got used to it—which was very frightening to him.
He could have preferred roasted beast meat, something honest in its brutality. At least then he’d know what he was consuming, even if it came from creatures that had tried to kill him.
His hands shook less now than they had after the first arena battle. The trembling had been replaced by a kind of hollow steadiness that worried him more than the physical weakness.
His thoughts wavered, drifting to concerns he’d tried to suppress. What about the other students? The professors who’d been consumed by that rift alongside him? Were Professor Leo and Harold still alive somewhere in this nightmare dimension, trying to keep their charges safe? Was Sarah learning to control her terrifying temporal abilities, or had panic claimed her completely?
The questions circled in his mind like vultures, feeding on his growing isolation. Had he been the only one transported to this particular section of the rift? The arena’s alien architecture suggested this was a specialized facility, designed for entertainment rather than mass imprisonment. Perhaps the others were scattered across different regions, facing their own trials.
’Or they’re all dead, and I’m the last survivor playing gladiator for creatures that see humans as nothing more than exotic animals.’
The thought sent ice through his veins, but Alex pushed it down with practiced control. Despair was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Whatever had happened to his fellow Academy survivors, dwelling on uncertainties wouldn’t help them or him.
His attention shifted inward, monitoring the gradual recovery of his essence structure. The soul core damage had been catastrophic, but the arena’s "Emergency Overdrive" reward was slowly knitting the worst fractures back together. Not healing, exactly, but stabilizing the damage enough to prevent complete collapse.
The process was unlike anything he’d experienced. Instead of the smooth flow of essence he’d grown accustomed to, his channels felt like a complex network of scar tissue and bypass routes. Stronger in some ways, more resilient, but fundamentally changed. Each breath brought subtle alterations as his body adapted to its new limitations.
’Battle-forged evolution. The damage that nearly killed me is becoming the foundation for something else entirely.’
Heavy footsteps echoed from the corridor, announcing the Arena Warden’s approach. Alex opened his eyes, watching as the massive creature emerged from the shadows with its characteristic deliberate pace. But this time, it wasn’t alone.
Behind the Warden came two guards escorting one of the prisoners. Alex’s enhanced vision activated automatically as he studied him:
**[Shadeborn]**
**[Rank: A-Class]**
**[Primary Ability: Mirror Flesh - UNAVAILABLE]**
This one was the smaller Shadeborn he’d seen before, its translucent skin bearing fresh wounds that leaked something darker than blood. One of its elongated arms hung at an unnatural angle, and its movements spoke of internal injuries that would take time to heal properly.
The creature was deposited in a cell three positions away from Alex’s, close enough for observation but not conversation. As the guards withdrew, Alex caught the injured Shadeborn studying him with those solid black eyes. Not with hostility, but with the careful assessment of someone evaluating potential threats and allies in equal measure.
’Survived its trial, but barely. Either it faced something even more dangerous than my Behemoth, or it’s simply not as capable as the S-ranked specimen.’
The Arena Warden’s burning gaze swept across the occupied cells before settling on Alex. When it spoke, the harsh syllables carried a different tone than before—not just authority, but something approaching respect.
"Kresh-vel thuul vorthani. Nakul-mori zhel keth thurvani."
**[Translation: "Fire-warrior proved worthy in previous match. The Master has special interest now."]**
Alex felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cave’s temperature. Being noticed by whatever entity ran this place couldn’t be good news. Special interest usually meant elevated danger, more complex challenges designed to test capabilities he’d rather keep hidden.
"Mek-thuul zhani kresh?" Alex attempted, trying to ask when the next trial would begin.
**[Translation Attempted: "When next test comes?"]**
The Warden’s expression might have been amusement. "Thuul-kresh mekthari. Vorth nakul zhel-thurvani."
**[Translation: "New trials await the worthy."]**
As the creature departed, leaving Alex alone with his thoughts and the injured Shadeborn’s silent observation, exhaustion finally caught up with him. The adrenaline that had carried him through the battle was gone, replaced by the bone-deep weariness of someone who’d pushed beyond all reasonable limits.
Sleep consumed him gradually, his consciousness fading into darkness filled with memories of flame and pain and the terrible satisfaction of victory****
The next day if such distinctions had meaning in this timeless place the Warden returned with an announcement that made Alex’s blood run cold.
"Kresh-vel thurvani," the creature rumbled, its voice carrying across the arena cells. "Mori-zhel keth vorthak. Thuul-nakul zhel kresh-thurvani."
[Translation: "Warriors all. The Master grows bored. Today brings... variety."]
Alex felt ice settle in his stomach as guards approached multiple cells simultaneously. The injured A-ranked Shadeborn was being extracted from its cell, along with the other two prisoners. But the Warden’s words were deliberately ambiguous "variety" could mean cooperation against a greater threat, or it could mean they’d be forced to kill each other for entertainment.
The uncertainty was probably intentional. Keep the prisoners guessing, let anxiety wear down their resolve before the actual trial began. Psychological warfare as much as physical entertainment.
As the guards approached his cell with those suppression chains, Alex allowed himself one last assessment of his condition. His soul core was more stable than it had been, his essence reserves partially recovered.
The new skill—Emergency Overdrive—had integrated into his system differently than he’d expected. Instead of healing his injuries, it had given him something far more dangerous: the ability to temporarily bypass his soul core’s adept limitations entirely.
Where before he’d burned away pieces of his soul core to access power beyond his level, Emergency Overdrive would let him channel that same devastating force without immediate self-destruction. The cost would come later, but in the moment of activation, he’d have access to power that could rival much higher-ranked opponents.
It was a skill designed for exactly the kind of desperate, impossible situations this arena specialized in creating.
The chain wrapped around his form with familiar weight, cutting off his connection to his essence as they began the march toward whatever fresh horror awaited in the arena above.
As they moved through the corridors, Alex caught glimpses of the other prisoners in his peripheral vision. The injured Shadeborn moved with careful precision despite its wounds. The other S Shadeborn showed varying degrees of wariness and determination.
None of them knew if they’d be fighting together or against each other. That ambiguity would keep them all off-balance until the moment of truth arrived.
Alex felt something approaching cold anticipation. He’d proven he could win alone, burning away pieces of himself to claim victory against impossible odds.
Now he’d discover what he could accomplish when the rules changed completely whether that meant temporary allies or new enemies to overcome.