They stepped into the chamber of the Rift.
The air was thick and wet, like breathing through soaked cloth. Every breath tasted of iron and ozone. The chamber opened before them with unsettling grandeur—an immense, circular space that defied logic. The walls stretched high into darkness, tapering into what might've been a ceiling but felt more like an endless void. Cracks pulsed with Riftlight, veins of gold and violet coiling and uncoiling like breathing lungs. The light came from nowhere yet touched everything.
Massive columns of dark stone twisted upward, ribbed and bone-like, seemingly grown instead of built. Between them hung chains of fractured glass, each shard glowing faintly and humming with corrupted resonance. They swung with no wind, moving to a rhythm that no one else could hear.
The floor beneath their feet wasn't just reflective—it was a living memory. Mirror-like but warped, rippling beneath each step as though made of liquid glass. Every motion stirred reflections not of the present, but of what could be: future failures, lost moments, deaths that hadn't happened yet.
With each step, it showed warped memories—Ari lying dead in a corridor, Elias consumed by his own corrosion, Lucian standing over Rowan's body, hand drenched in blood.
Rowan paused, trembling. "This place… it's made of echoes."
"Echoes of what?" Juno asked.
"Us," Quinn murmured. "Or what we could become."
---
The entity emerged in silence—but the kind of silence that presses against your ears like a scream you haven't heard yet.
The mirrored floor at the center of the chamber rippled, like something massive had shifted beneath it. Then it cracked—not loudly, but with a sound that slid under the skin, like fingernails tapping the inside of your skull.
Black ichor bled upward in reverse, pooling into a vertical spire. It writhed, twisted, then split open like a cocoon. From within stepped a figure—not born, but pieced together, flickering in and out of phase.
It wore Rowan's face.
But the eyes were wrong.
One burned gold. The other, a sickly violet. And when it smiled, the expression was all teeth and emptiness.
"Lucian," it said.
The voice fractured.
Lucian's name echoed again—but this time as a scream, a whisper, a sob.
Rowan collapsed to one knee, clutching his chest. Inside his mind, there was noise—static and overlapping voices. He heard Lucian scream his name. He heard himself. He saw flashes of memories that weren't his—lives unlived, futures broken, moments twisted by corruption.
He was walking through a hallway. No—he was crawling. His hands were soaked in Lucian's blood. Then he was smiling. But it wasn't him. It was something wearing his smile.
"I saw it," Rowan whispered, his voice shaking with strain and disbelief. "It's in me. Or… it came from me."
The entity stepped forward, dragging a warped mirror of Rowan's guiding energy behind it like a mantle. "Too many echoes," it said. "Too many broken minds. Too many bonds burned through."
"Rowan, don't listen," Lucian growled, pulling him behind.
But the entity raised its hand—and the walls began to scream.
---
The fight began in a breath.
The entity surged forward—three of them now—warped Rowans with bones protruding like jagged spears from their forearms. One launched itself at a B-class Esper, impaling her through the abdomen. Her scream turned to a blood gargle as the creature twisted its arm, spraying crimson across the mirrored floor.
Juno let out a war cry, fire erupting from both her palms in twisting arcs of orange and blue. Her flames weren't raw—they were sculpted, honed. They curled into flaming spears that spun in mid-air before launching with pinpoint precision. Each strike was like an elegant dance, painting streaks of incandescent light across the chamber.
She moved in tight pirouettes, throwing discs of white-hot plasma that exploded on contact. The searing heat rippled through the mirrored floor, cracking illusions as she moved like wildfire personified. She scorched through one clone, cutting it clean in half with a whip of fire that lashed from her wrist to the far wall.
But the top half kept crawling, dragging itself across the warped floor with exposed ribs and twitching fingers. Juno didn't flinch. She stepped forward, planting her boot on its back, and ignited her flame directly into its spine.
"You stay down," she hissed.
Elias moved in beside her as backup, his corrosion spreading in a wide mist that consumed the creature's remains, reducing flesh and bone to steaming ruin.
On the opposite flank, Alexander's shield shimmered under the pressure of two clones hammering against him. He planted his feet, braced like a wall, and with a shout, expanded the barrier outward in a concussive wave that hurled the attackers back.
"Juno! I've got your left—don't stop moving!" he barked.
"Wouldn't dream of it!" she called back, pivoting smoothly and sending another stream of fire to support his push.
They fought like a seasoned pair—Juno fast and aggressive, Alexander immovable and methodical. One was the storm. The other, the fortress.
Lucian pivoted, flinging a monster into the wall with Psychic Control. It shattered against the Riftglass, but the shards embedded themselves in a nearby A-class's chest. He fell, choking, blood pouring from his mouth as his energy flickered out.
A mirror clone descended from above, snapping its arms like bladed whips. Alexander raised a shield, bracing his entire frame behind the glowing barrier. The glass edge caught him across the cheek and shoulder regardless, slicing through flesh with a wet hiss. He didn't flinch. With a guttural roar, he reinforced the shield and shoved it forward like a battering ram, slamming the clone into a Rift pillar with enough force to splinter the stone.
Quinn knelt beside a dying B-class, his Mental Block flickering as he cradled the boy's head. "You're okay—look at me," he murmured, even as the light faded from the boy's eyes.
"Quinn, MOVE!" Alexander shouted, his shield slamming forward as he held a line between the clone and Quinn.
He turned just in time to block a spear from a fractured clone. His eyes flared, and he released a sharp Resonance Spike—a compressed burst of guiding energy projected like a psychic blade. It wasn't something Guides were meant to use offensively, but Quinn's control made it lethal. The spike drilled into the creature's skull, scrambling its corrupted neural pathways in an instant. The creature collapsed, spasming as black ichor poured from its ears.
Blood slicked the floor. The scent of scorched flesh and ozone clung to every breath. Still, the entity split again—five, seven, ten distorted shapes now, circling them like vultures.
Lucian roared, eyes glowing with fury as he surged toward the largest form.
Elias dropped corrosive mist across the left flank, melting two mirrored fragments. Quinn covered the fallen bodies, aura flaring with Mental Block, trying to protect the remaining B-class units.
"Stay in formation!" Quinn shouted. "It can't split if we isolate it!"
---
Rowan cried out again.
Lucian turned—Rowan's veins glowed with resonance, overcharged and unstable. His hands were shaking. "I—I can't guide through this," he said. "It's using me to replicate."
"Then don't guide," Lucian said, eyes wild. "Just hold on. To me."
He knelt beside Rowan, grabbing his hand. The bond flared, a line of light erupting from their joined palms.
The entity screamed.
It staggered back, form flickering—but not breaking.
"It's not dying," Juno yelled, already singed and bleeding. "This thing—this is just a fragment!"
"It's tied to the Rift itself," Elias said grimly. "This is only a piece."
The walls trembled. The ceilingless void roared. The floor cracked.
And the entity began to change again—its limbs stretching, its shape unraveling into something much larger.
Lucian stepped in front of Rowan, eyes glowing. "We finish this—before it finishes us."
The entity responded with a low, guttural laugh—like broken glass dragged across rusted steel. It began to shift, its form unraveling like threads of light and shadow twisted together. The copies of Rowan it had split into collapsed inward, merging with the central figure until its body stretched and expanded, limbs elongating into jagged, blade-like tendrils. Its face rippled, distorting between Rowan's features and something far older, more alien.
The chamber warped in response. Riftglass along the walls shattered outward, sending deadly fragments across the field. Juno raised her flames instinctively, forming a blazing shield to protect Alexander, even as shards slashed across her back and legs. She gritted her teeth and kept moving.
A pillar of the chamber cracked, and the floor lurched. The entity roared—a sound that wasn't a voice but a resonance wave, meant to unravel minds. Several B-class Espers clutched their heads, staggering back, bleeding from ears and noses before collapsing in spasms.
"Stay together!" Quinn shouted, reinforcing the survivors with a blast of Mental Block. The shimmer of his barrier wrapped around the remaining units, though cracks formed instantly under the strain.
Lucian surged forward again, his aura flaring with violet energy that shimmered like an oil slick. His Psychic Control lashed out with precise, invisible threads—grabbing limbs, twisting them, snapping bone and membrane with brutal efficiency. Mental Dissonance followed, a ripple in the air like broken frequencies that caused lesser clones to convulse and glitch in place.
But the entity didn't falter.
Snarling, Lucian's energy flared to a new pitch.
Reality bent.
Not like a ripple. Like a scream.
The air around him fractured—lines of distorted space spiraled outward from his body as if the Rift itself recoiled. Walls twisted violently, pillars curved in unnatural arcs, and shadows moved against the light. The very laws of physics trembled under his will.
He stepped forward—and the world bent with him. One moment he was visible, the next he was a blur, three Lucians flickering through fractured moments in space and time.
With a snap of his arm, his Telekinetic Construct ability activated—and the weapon formed, coalescing out of raw mental pressure and Rift-fed psychic force. It didn't simply appear—it erupted, blade-first, from the ground like a chained demon finally unleashed.
A scythe.
Its shaft was twisted metal and resonance-threaded bone, humming with unstable psychic force. The blade curved like a crescent moon, obsidian black with a molten core that pulsed down its center like a living vein. Runes—glowing in eerie violet and gold—rippled across the weapon's spine, shifting with Lucian's thoughts.
He gripped it in both hands, and the air howled.
Lucian dove into the fray, scythe spinning in wide arcs. Each swing distorted space—the blade didn't just cut matter; it sliced possibility. Reality shuddered where it passed. A tendril lunged—he blinked behind it. A clone screamed—its head severed in silence, the wound cauterized in Riftlight.
The entity shrieked, its form unraveling under the weight of the impossible.
The Rift trembled. Cracks split the mirrored floor, the walls convulsed, and the ceilingless void above pulsed with violent, strobing light.
Lucian dropped to one knee, the scythe flickering in and out of existence in his grip. His hands trembled, skin feverish and raw, veins blackened with the edge of corruption. His pupils were blown wide, his breath ragged.
He swayed.
Then Rowan was there, crawling the last few feet with what strength he had left. He dropped beside Lucian and wrapped his arms around him.
Lucian trembled violently, body twitching from the overload.
He pulsed a weak, flickering resonance—raw, unfiltered. Not perfect guiding. Just connection.
Lucian gasped. His eyes flickered. The scythe evaporated.
The Rift groaned.
Silence fell.
Alexander limped forward, dragging his shield as a crutch. Juno stumbled beside him, smoke curling from her scorched coat. Blood ran freely down her arm.
All of a sudden, the entity reeled back, shrieking, gaining in size, engulfing its surroundings.
Lucian's breath came ragged. His skin began to steam. He was burning through his mind.
The creature screamed and retaliated, launching a whip-like appendage that struck Lucian square in the ribs, hurling him across the chamber and into a column. The stone cracked. Lucian coughed blood and forced himself to stand.
"Lucian!" Rowan cried, trying to rise, but his limbs shook from the resonance backlash still coursing through him.
Alexander stepped forward, placing himself between Rowan and the entity. He extended his shield wide, anchoring it in the floor with a glowing mark. "You're not getting past me," he growled.
Juno took his flank, fire burning from every fingertip. "I'll cover you. Let's burn this bastard down."
They advanced as a unit—Juno hurling gouts of fire that seared the creature's outer form, Alexander shielding the flank from retaliatory lashes. The entity shrieked and split again—this time into something far worse: silhouettes of the dead.
Mirrored images of fallen allies stepped from the Riftglass—copies of the B-class Espers who had just died. One reached for Juno with a pleading hand, its jaw unhinging to reveal a void of teeth.
She didn't hesitate. Her fire surged, engulfing the illusion.
"It's trying to break us," she shouted. "Don't look at their faces!"
Another dead silhouette lunged at Alexander, but the shield held. He grunted, planting his boots deep, then pushed the illusion back into the Riftlight with a shield bash so powerful the ground cracked beneath him.
Lucian returned to the fight with a burst of speed, psychic blades reforming. He aimed for the entity's core—Rowan's twisted face flickering with a maddening grin.
"You can't have him," Lucian snarled.
And struck.