The D.I.S. truck arrived in Grayridge that afternoon.
It wasn't an armored convoy like the periodic rift-frequency inspections, nor an ambulance like after the early morning mine explosion. Just an old gray 4x4 truck, the D.I.S. logo faded on the door, transporting goods and people from the city to remote mining villages.
The engine's rumble on the dirt road made the children playing in the square stop. A few dogs barked, then slunk under the porches. Ethan stood in front of the library, still holding his father's journal, not yet having put it away.
The truck stopped in front of the square, brakes screeching. The cab door opened.
A man jumped down, dust rising from his boots.
Liam Gray had the wiry, work-hardened build of someone accustomed to labor, shoulders sloped as if always carrying weight. His skin was sun-darkened; his ash-gray hair was streaked with silver and cut neatly. When he turned toward the crowd, Ethan caught a faint smell—disinfectant and something metallic, like the air after lightning strikes.
His eyes were different. Deep gray, quiet and watchful, with a hazy layer—the look of someone who'd seen too many things that shouldn't exist. His face was hardened, with a stubbled jaw and a faint scar on his left cheek. His clothes were simple and worn, but Liam radiated a sense of quiet solidity. He wore a thick gray D.I.S. jacket with "Field Trainee" embroidered on the shoulder, his left arm wrapped in white bandages from wrist to near the elbow.
On his right wrist, a military-grade EC bracelet displayed a number that made Ethan squint: [EC 8 | FIELD-READY].
Ethan had read about Evolution Class in the restricted books. EC 8 meant Liam had crossed the threshold—stepped beyond ordinary human limits into something else. His body had adapted to the world's anomalies. He could survive places that would kill normal people, confront phenomena most could only watch from a distance. Less than one percent of Realm 6's population ever reached that level.
Then Liam saw Ethan.
"Little brother!" His voice rang out, a touch warmer, but still carrying a hint of stiffness.
Ethan ran across the road, nearly tripping over a rock. Liam spread his arms to catch him, but when Liam embraced him, he slightly avoided his left side—that bandaged arm no longer moved naturally.
"You've grown," Liam said, squeezing Ethan's shoulder. "Shot up... what, a couple inches?"
"More than that," Ethan protested. "You're terrible at guessing."
Liam laughed—a short, forced laugh. "My eyes have sensors now. Might be more accurate than eyeballing it."
Ethan looked at his eyes more closely. There was definitely something different. When Liam glanced to the side, the afternoon light caught them, and in the irises were thin blue streaks running through—traces of someone who had lived too close to rifts for too long.
"Were you exposed to an anomaly?" Ethan asked, unable to hide his concern.
"Just a little," Liam shrugged. "Nothing to worry about. D.I.S. tested me already. I'm actually stronger than a normal person now."
Mother Maria ran out from the house, hands still dusted with flour, her apron fluttering in the wind. When she saw Liam, she stopped in the middle of the road, her whole body trembling.
"Liam..."
He walked over and hugged her tightly. Maria hugged back but felt his body was different—harder, colder, as if too much metal had been mixed into flesh and bone.
"My son," she said, her voice choking. "You finally came home."
"I only got three days' leave," Liam replied, releasing her gently. "I wanted to handle things properly before the rift opens."
"Rift?" Maria started. "There's no new rift here. Except for this morning's explosion, but D.I.S. already handled it."
Liam and Ethan looked at each other. Both knew what D.I.S. "handling" meant: seal the scene, collect samples, write reports, then stamp it classified.
"Let's go home," Liam said. "I'm hungry. And there's a lot I want to tell you."
Their two-story wooden house was on the village edge, closer to the library than the mine. A quiet area where you could only hear the wind from the forest and occasionally the bell from the small church.
Inside, everything remained the same. The wooden table and chairs in the center of the room, two of their father's thick coats hanging on the wall—Maria never took them down. The kitchen corner had a small stove, beside it a simple dish rack.
But there was something new: a black metal box Liam placed on the table. About the size of a shoebox, with a combination lock, a small blue light blinking on the front.
"What's that?" Ethan asked, curious.
"Anomalous frequency detector," Liam unlocked it and took out a palm-sized device. The small screen displayed waveforms and data. "A special model D.I.S. issues to its field trainees."
Liam turned the device on. Immediately, numbers jumped up:
[LOCATION: GRAYRIDGE SECTOR]
[BACKGROUND FREQ: 6.3 FZ]
[STABILITY: 89%]
[ANOMALY DETECTED: MINOR (F-CLASS)]
"89%?" Ethan stared at the screen. "This morning it was 91%."
Liam nodded. "The mine explosion dropped it another 2 points. If it falls below 85%, D.I.S. will have to raise Grayridge to red-alert status."
"Then what?" Mother Maria asked, beginning to ladle soup into bowls.
"Then they'll... observe more," Liam answered, not meeting his mother's eyes. "Maybe provide more equipment. Maybe send in a special task force. Or..."
"Or?" Ethan pressed.
"Or turn this place into an experiment," Liam said, his voice flat. "Like Ardent Hollow last year."
Maria dropped her spoon, her hand trembling. "Ardent Hollow... that village lost everyone."
"Not lost," Liam corrected. "D.I.S. called it 'Emergency evacuation due to Class C rift.' But I know the truth: they let the rift stay open, measured the reactions, then closed it. One hundred and twenty confirmed dead. Three hundred unaccounted for."
The words landed between them, final and cold.
The wall clock ticked. Outside, wind whistled through the window cracks.
Dinner was quieter—or at least they tried to make it so.
Maria cooked stewed potatoes, smoked meat, bread—the dishes Liam liked. They sat around the table, oil lamp light flickering. Liam talked about the city: tall buildings, magnetic trains running on blue rails, large advertising screens showing images of monster-hunting teams and rift-handling squads.
"In the city, you see anomalies on the evening news," Liam said. "People get used to it gradually. If a rift opens on the street, they avoid it and wait for D.I.S. to clean up."
"Aren't they afraid?" Ethan asked.
"Afraid, yes. But less afraid than losing their jobs, losing their homes," Liam replied. "In the city, the closer to the center, the safer. The farther out—like Grayridge—the more dangerous."
"Then why not relocate everyone to the city?" Maria asked.
Liam stopped eating and looked at her. "Because who would mine the crystals? Who would be in the 'buffer zones' so monsters don't flood into the cities?"
"We're... just a shield," Ethan said, voice hoarse.
Liam nodded. "Sorry you have to know that. But I don't want you living in the dark anymore."
Maria stood up abruptly, chair scraping back. "You two keep talking. I'll wash the dishes."
She went into the kitchen, water running loudly. Ethan and Liam sat back down, the air between them pulled tight.
"Did you come back because you're worried about everyone in the village?" Ethan asked directly.
"That's right," Liam said. "I requested leave because I saw on the anomalous frequency distribution map... Grayridge has a growing red spot. And I didn't want Mom and you to be alone when it opens."
Ethan swallowed. "Do you think... there'll be a major rift here?"
"I don't think—I know." Liam took a folded stack of papers from his backpack. It was a thermal map of the Grayridge area, full of red streaks underground. "This is data D.I.S. hasn't released. Four F-class rift points are converging. If they merge..."
"They become Class D," Ethan continued, remembering lessons from books. "Or C."
"Or worse," Liam folded the map back up. "Because under Grayridge there isn't just an anomalous-frequency vein. There's something else. Something our father once found."
Ethan looked down at his now-cold bowl of soup. His head was full of questions—about this world, about what was happening, about why everything was like this.
"Brother..." he asked, voice gentle. "I want to understand. About everything."