What is a Rift Hunter?
'Someone who is brave, right?'
'Someone who's strong.'
'Someone smart and quick.'
'Someone who never gives up.'
He had asked himself that question a thousand times, and every time, the answer seemed to point somewhere else. To him, all his comrades were exactly that. Strong. Brave. Clever and fast. They just seemed… perfect. And that made sense, because they were Enlightened. They were the peak of what a human could be, people touched by something greater, their potential unlocked in ways he could never understand.
He was just an ordinary person. And if he was being honest, he was a coward. But he was alive. Coming back to reality, he knew he was in no shape to fight. The best he could do was hide and pray that backup would come, which was a pretty stupid hope considering he'd been left behind in the middle of the disaster they were supposed to stop.
Lucid was a Rift Hunter, and he was pretty terrible at it. First, he wasn't Enlightened, which was the main thing that separated a real hunter from a regular person. Second, he wasn't good in groups. He struggled with teamwork. And third, right now, he was dying. Looking at the situation, if he ran into another one of those Fallen creatures, it would be the end. He had to be very careful.
He could hear people screaming somewhere nearby, the sounds muffled by broken walls. He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. A sharp feeling of guilt cut through him. He could have saved them. Maybe.
'I'm sorry,' he thought. 'I tried. I really did.'
'But I'm not like them. I can't do what they do. I'm not an Enlightened.'
'I'm just so tired. And I'm hurt.'
Even after fighting so hard, even after being told he had practically no talent, after being pushed to the side, his path had still led him here. It had been a long and difficult journey, and it had led him straight into a nightmare. So if you asked him whether he would do it all over again, the answer was easy.
He dragged himself out from under a pile of purple-blooded corpses, his body screaming in protest. This mess just proved what he had always secretly believed.
'I would never do it again. It wasn't worth it.'
But he didn't have time to think about that now. He had to get ready for whatever came after death, because things looked really bad. Or he had to get ready to fight until he had nothing left. In his group, he always had to work twice as hard just to be somewhat ready for the next disaster. With a shaky hand, he reached for the radio tucked under his long, torn coat. He was surprised it was still in one piece after the violent fight with the horde. He lifted it to his face, his fingers leaving smears of dark red on the plastic.
"Copy. I am retreating," he said, his voice rough. "There are too many Fallens and I am in bad shape. I can no longer fight."
There was only quiet on the other end. The empty static from the radio hung in the air as he waited for a reply. None came.
"Can anyone hear me? Over."
Then, a terrible noise sounded a block away from where he stood. It was the guttural snarling and scraping of a horde of Fallen creatures. They were moving closer, a wave of claws and teeth ready to tear apart anything in their path. And Lucid happened to be the thing directly in front of them.
He limped away as fast as he could manage, his bad leg dragging, feeling desperation and fear clawing at his insides like a living thing.
"Damn it," he muttered. Then louder, "Damn it! Damn it!"
He used his bloody arm to shove a heavy metal door closed behind him, his last hope for some safety. On the other side, he could hear the monsters throwing their bodies against it. The bangs were so loud he thought the door would splinter apart any second. He turned quickly, shoved open another door down the hallway, and threw himself inside a room, slamming it shut behind him. He immediately started barricading it, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He pushed a heavy table, a large dresser, and an overturned vending machine against the door to make it stronger.
His breathing was rough and uneven. The adrenaline that had been keeping him going was starting to fade, leaving behind a deep, aching exhaustion. But the fight wasn't over.
'Not yet,' he told himself firmly.
Lucid ran down the hallway, his lungs burning, his legs aching with every single step. The air smelled like smoke and blood and something else, something sour and wrong. The grimy walls became a blur as he ran. He didn't know if it was because he was moving so fast or because of the hot tears welling up in his eyes.
They were just up ahead. He could hear their voices. The team. His so-called friends. Just a little further.
"There!"
A door at the end of the hall was slightly open, a faint, warm light coming from behind it. It looked like a way out. Like safety. Like a second chance. Lucid reached for it, putting every last bit of his strength into getting to that light, his fingers stretching out.
Then, a sharp push hit his chest, hard and sudden, like a punch from a ghost. It threw him off balance completely. He stumbled and fell, his back slamming against the cold concrete floor. A dull, spreading pain shot through his arms and legs.
"What," he gasped, the air knocked out of him. "What?!"
He looked up at the person standing over him.
It was Aika, someone he had trusted in his group, someone who had bandaged his wounds and shared her food with him before. But that did not seem to be the case now. Her face was empty of any feeling, smooth and calm. Her arms were crossed loosely over her chest. She looked cold and distant.
"This is where it ends, Lucid."
Her voice was calm. Too calm, like she had practiced these words in front of a mirror.
"We can't afford to carry you anymore."
Lucid's breath caught in his throat. He tried to push himself up from the floor, but his arms felt weak and shaky.
"What are you doing?" he croaked. "We're almost there, I can make it, just help me up—"
"You have always hesitated," she said, cutting him off cleanly. "You freeze up when things get difficult. You look for a way to run instead of holding your ground."
Lucid's heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears.
"That's not true," he said, his voice low and strained. "I fight. I'm here, aren't I!?"
"You fight when it's easy, and you run when it counts."
Something in her voice cracked, just a little, like thin ice. But she didn't let it change her expression.
"This," she continued, "this is a mercy."
Lucid opened his mouth to argue, to beg, but a deep, cold pain spread through his arms and legs all at once. It was like his blood had turned to ice. He couldn't move. He was completely paralyzed.
"What," he whispered, panic rising. "What did you do to me?"
"I used Chronos Stasis on you," she answered, her words coming out fast, like she had memorized them. "Poor you. You couldn't have known we were ready for this."
Lucid's mind was spinning. Chronos Stasis was one of her abilities as an Enlightened. Aika was good with spells, not with physical fighting. If he had been faster, if he had seen it coming, he might have been able to get away. But as it was, just an ordinary human, Lucid could never keep track of all the strange powers his group had. He was also exhausted and had lost a lot of blood. He had never, ever thought his own friends would turn on him. What did they have to gain? He wasn't rich. He hadn't done anything to hurt them. And yet, they had stabbed him in the back just like that. Everything had happened so fast, like all the pieces of a plan were falling perfectly into place.
'The day of the Calamity,' he realized. 'Our rushed retreat, the radios going quiet...'
'They planned this.'
'No,' he thought, looking into Aika's empty eyes. 'She planned this.'
"Aika," he asked, his voice breaking. "Why? I've known you since our first year of high school. You gave me medicine when I was hurt. You gave me advice. Why? Kaori, Renji and the others, they'll come back for me. They wouldn't allow this—"
"Renji and Kaori don't know and they never will." she said, finally looking away from him, focusing on a crack in the wall. "She wouldn't have agreed. But the others, they thought it was time."
Lucid stared at her, feeling a hollow emptiness rip through his chest, colder than her spell.
"Is this what I was to you? Just dead weight?"
"You were, to put it simply, a liability."
Her voice shook now, just a little tremor.
"I hated watching you hold back. You always waited for someone else to make the first move. You were useful sometimes, but I grew tired of you. And now, with the world ending, I might as well move things along."
She stopped, and he saw a single tear roll down her face, tracing a clean line through the dust on her cheek. She quickly wiped it away.
"You, you don't even understand," she started, then stopped herself. Her eyes dropped to the floor for a second. She took a deep breath and got control of herself again, her face going blank.
"This is kinder than letting you die screaming later on," she said, her tone flat and cold once more.
She turned toward the door, her hand reaching for the handle.
"No, wait, please," Lucid's voice broke into a sob. He couldn't move his arms to reach for her. "Don't leave me here."
"I'm sorry," he begged, the tears flowing freely now, mixing with the dirt on his face. "Okay? I'm really, really sorry!"
The door clicked shut behind her, a soft, final sound.
Then there was only silence.
Lucid lay there, frozen, the last bit of warmth from her presence fading from the air around him.
'They left me.'
'She left me.'
Even after everything they had been through together.
A new presence filled the room. It wasn't a thing he could see clearly at first, but a deep shadow that made the air feel thick and hard to breathe. It gathered in the corner, a patch of darkness that grew and moved against the walls like spilled oil. Then it began to change, twisting and pulling itself into a solid form. It had no real shape, just a mass of pure blackness, and he could feel its hunger, a wanting that filled the room. This wasn't just a monster. It was the feeling of despair given form. It surged forward.
Lucid's breath locked in his throat. Every part of him screamed to get up, to run, to fight, but his body would not listen. It was still as heavy and still as stone.
The darkness did not strike him. It simply flowed over him. It wrapped around his chest, squeezing the last bit of air from his lungs. Then came a cold, invasive pressure as it pushed right through his skin, as if his body were no more substantial than water. Every defense he had, every last hope, was ripped away as if it were nothing.
'So this is it.'
'This is what I was worth to them.'
As the black mass swallowed him whole, pulling him into nothing, Lucid's mind began to come apart, thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm. The last thing he felt before his thoughts were swept away completely.
Was a deep, bitter regret.
[ You are dead. ]
'Huh?'
A voice reached him, so faint and gentle it was almost not there at all. It seemed to come from inside his own crumbling thoughts.
[ Do you wish to try again? ]
'What is this?' he wondered, his mind struggling to form a question in the empty dark that was left of him.
The voice returned, patient and unwavering.
[ Do you wish to try again? ]
"No," he managed to push the word out into the void. "Just leave me alone. Let me die."
[ Are you sure? ]
His mind flashed back to it all. Aika's cold, empty stare. The paralyzing sting of her magic. The crushing knowledge that he was just an ordinary person, left behind by those with real power.
'It's not fair.'
But since when was the world fair? It was a brutal game where only the strong made it. He had learned that lesson too late.
"Yes," he answered, the word heavy with a final, tired defeat.
[ Beginning termination of one's soul. ]
He gave up then, surrendering completely to the black void that surrounded him. He floated in a strange state, not knowing if this was death or some terrible in-between. One thing was certain, it was agony. A sharp, burning pain erupted from his very core, and he watched, horrified, as his legs began to dissolve into shimmering, geometric blocks of light that drifted away into the dark.
'Perfect,' he thought with a last bit of dark humor. 'I can't even die in peace.'
His memories began to blur and run together like wet paint. He was losing his grip, forgetting who he was, losing all sense of his own body. Faces and names slipped away.
'Is this what dying feels like? Just… forgetting?'
But one thought, sharp and bitter, refused to fade. It dug in and held on.
'Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this?'
The thought pulsed, growing hotter.
'They get to live after what they did?'
It became a rhythm, a heartbeat in the fading dark.
'I never wanted to hurt anyone.'
Beat.
'And I'm the one who ends up like this?'
Beat.
'Because I was too scared?'
Beat.
'Because I wasn't strong enough?'
Beat.
'Just because I didn't get some special power?'
Beat.
'What makes them so great anyway?!' The thought was a sudden, angry snarl. 'What are Enlightened people, really?'
'No.' A new feeling, small but fierce, sparked in the emptiness. 'This can't be how it ends. Not like this.'
He clung to that spark.
'Please,' he thought, throwing the words out into the void with every last shred of his will. 'If anyone is listening, just one more chance. Just one.'
With everything that was left of him, he poured his entire being into a single, desperate cry.
"I want to live!"
The void seemed to shudder.
[ Termination procedure on hold. ]
The voice was clear now.
"Yes," he gasped, the word filled with a newfound, raw resolve. "I want to try again!"
[ Error... ]
A flicker of strange symbols, unseen but felt, crossed his awareness.
[ Request granted by higher authority... ]
[ Required Trial time: Infinity ]
[ Trial Rank: Divine ]
'What,' he thought, confusion cutting through the desperation. 'What is happening to me?'
A strange sensation washed over him, a feeling of pieces being slotted back into place. He could feel his body reconstructing itself, part by part, bone and muscle and sinew, as if he were a model being carefully assembled by an unseen hand. The pain was gone, replaced by a tingling warmth.
[ Beginning transportation ]
His awareness flickered like a guttering candle, and then died, as the comforting, solid darkness swallowed him whole once more.
The last thing that registered was not a voice, but a feeling, accompanied by a strange, broken message that flickered and distorted before fading away.
[ May your journey lead you towards Enlightenment ███████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ]