He opened the door to his dorm, not expecting much—maybe the quiet hum of Manny's tiny snores, maybe a cold room, maybe just empty silence.
But then, she was there.
Seren.
Standing in the center of the room like she belonged there, like nothing had changed, like she hadn't been ripped from him by a stupid deal and a stupid fight and a stupid weakness he couldn't hide.
Kai froze. His eyes widened. His lips parted—but no words came out. His throat felt tight, and something hot stung behind his eyes.
But he didn't cry.
I'm sorry.
He didn't say it, he thought it. And maybe, somehow, she heard it anyway.
"It's alright," she said, voice light like wind through leaves. "At least you're still alive."
She said it like a joke. But she knew. She understood everything behind those words. The pain, the fight, the loss.
Kai's fists trembled. Then he stepped forward.
"Let me tell you this," he said, voice low, but steady. "I'll bring you back. I'll promise it—I'll bring you back. No matter what it takes. I'll bring you back!"
His voice cracked at the end, not from weakness, but from something deeper. Determination that ran through marrow and memory and parasite-coded evolution.
Seren looked at him.
Then, slowly, she smiled.
And she walked to him, not rushed, not shy—just sure.
"It's alright, Kai," she whispered. "I'll always know. That you're important to me…"
Then she wrapped her arms around him.
She hugged him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And Kai stood there, arms awkward, face flushed, completely overwhelmed. His heart raced. He didn't know what to do with his hands, or his breath, or his thoughts. But he didn't move away.
Because in that moment—warm and quiet and unexplainable—
He felt like something lost had finally returned.
"Alright," she said softly, standing at the edge of the door now, her fingers brushing against the frame like she didn't really want to leave. "Unfortunately, I can't ever talk to you while we're in school… and we can't even be seen in public again."
Kai's eyes darkened, his chest tightening again—but he nodded. He understood. That was the price of losing. The price of being weak. The price of letting her go, even if it was just temporary.
"But," he asked, voice careful, not quite calm, "tell me… is he—Alric—a good guy? Did he do anything to you in any way?"
Seren looked down, like she was searching for the right words between the floorboards.
"No… actually, he was… a bit kind," she admitted. "He protected me. I won't lie about that."
Then she looked back up at Kai, her gaze firm.
"But I can say there's still something wrong with him. I don't know what, but it's there. He's hiding something."
Kai nodded. That was enough. He could work with that. His fists clenched lightly at his sides—not out of rage, but out of drive.
"Hey," he said, voice lifting now with energy, with fire, with a quiet vow etched into every syllable, "I'll finish three rifts in a single week. I'll devour, I'll evolve, I'll learn everything I need to. I'll work hard… and I'll get you back."
Seren smiled, the corners of her lips trembling ever so slightly. "I'll leave now," she whispered, turning toward the door.
But just before stepping out, she turned back for one last glance.
"Be careful, Kai."
Then she tiptoed away, soft steps swallowed by the hall. Kai stood there in the quiet dorm, alone once again.
He smiled faintly, then leaned back into his chair and flicked open his old, beaten-up laptop. The screen flickered twice—cheap wiring—but it worked.
That was all that mattered. His fingers hovered for a second, then tapped into Footbook, the campus social network no one really liked but everyone still used.
He searched her name. Akari Tsukikage. She had an account now. Of course she did. It had been weeks since she showed up—plenty of time to settle in.
Her profile was simple: a blurry photo, one cryptic quote in Japanese, and a banner of the academy's Riftseal emblem.
He didn't hesitate. He typed.
"I won't join it tonight, maybe tomorrow, alright? But, should we enter a rift together? I found a rift nearby. An E- rift."
A soft ding hit almost instantly.
"Alright, where should we meet? By the way, what should I call you?"
He paused a bit. Then typed back.
"Let's meet in the Heiligenstadt Subway. Also, you can call me Otto, Kai, or Ottokai, or even a nickname you create."
She sent a laughing emoji.
"Alright, I'll call you Kai. You reminded me of someone."
He stared at the message for a second longer than he should have.
When will I even tell her I was that Kai?
With a sigh, he closed the laptop and started packing—half-broken field gloves, his scratched geneplate interface, a spare parasite canister, and a few rations.
He slung the battered bag over his shoulder and left the dorm without looking back.
The air outside was crisp and damp. Rain had passed recently. The streets shimmered under the faint glow of the bio-lamps, and the city still hummed with late-night stragglers and patrolling drones.
He descended into the Heiligenstadt Subway, where flickering lights buzzed overhead and old rust clung to everything like it had its own vendetta.
And then—there she was.
Black hair, sharp bangs, serpent coiled lazily around her shoulders like a living scarf. She wore a dark coat this time, long enough to billow slightly when she turned. Akari was waiting by the shattered metro sign, calm and almost smiling.
"Hey…" Kai said, catching his breath, shoulders still tense from the last few days.
She glanced at him, then tossed a small red candy into her mouth.
"You're late," she said, eyes glittering. "Good. I don't trust people who show up early to a Rift."
And just like that, they both turned toward the service gate that led into the forgotten tunnels.
The Heiligenstadt Subway was dead quiet at night. No workers, no guards, just the heavy stench of mold, piss, and cheap smoke hanging in the air.
A few homeless men were curled up near the entrance, half-buried in old jackets and cracked thermal blankets. One of them twitched in his sleep but didn't wake.
Kai stepped down from the platform first, boots hitting the steel tracks with a clunk. Akari followed right after and landed with a hop.
"You know," she said, brushing dust off her knees, "if a train shows up now, I'm actually gonna die. Like, there won't even be bones left."
"I doubt any trains run after midnight here. The place's been dead since the Rift bloomed two blocks east."
"Still. I'm keeping an ear out. If I hear 'choo-choo,' I'm gone."
"You'll leave me to die?"
"Obviously."
They moved fast but stayed low, weaving through support pillars and rusted-out maintenance carts.
The deeper they got, the more the electric hum of the Rift began to crawl through the air. It was faint for now—like static at the edge of hearing—but it was there.
"So," Akari said, stepping over an old maintenance wrench, "you always go Rift diving with strangers?"
"You're not a stranger. You gave me candy."
"That's the bar for trust now?"
"Yeah."
Akari chuckled and cracked her knuckles. The serpent around her neck flicked its tongue, then curled tighter like it knew what was coming.
"Hey," she said again, quieter this time, "do you ever wonder what these things really are? The Rifts, I mean."
"All the time."
"And?"
"I think they're not just holes. I think they're things."
"That's messed up."
"Yeah."
They reached a tunnel junction marked with red hazard tape and flickering warning signs in four languages.
Beyond it was a service corridor leading downward, its walls pulsing faintly with a sickly green glow. Dust hung in the air like it was breathing.
Akari stopped at the threshold.
"This is the part where we say something cool before we go in," she said.
Kai nodded. "Alright. You first."
She tapped her chin for a second. "Let's not die."
"Wow, super inspirational."
"You?"
Kai looked at the Rift glow ahead, then back at her. "Let's not die too."
Akari grinned, then took the lead. "Alright."
They stepped into the corridor together. The air shifted—heavier, warmer, wet with the scent of copper and ozone. Something in the walls clicked.
The Rift was close now, so close that it hummed in their bones. They turned the final corner, boots splashing into puddles left from god-knows-what.
And there it was.
It bloomed from the tunnel wall like a wound in the world—pulsing, flickering, veins of color flowing through its surface like blood under skin.
Akari stared at it with her hands in her coat pockets.
Kai cracked his knuckles, then stepped forward. "Ready?"
"Yeah."
And they dove in.
---
The moment they dropped through the Rift, everything flickered—like the world itself hadn't fully decided to exist.
[SYSTEM ALERT: AREA ENTRY DETECTED]
Zone: GRAVECORE
Type: Collapsed Subway Rift – Urban Undernet
Threat Level: E-
Visibility: Low (Flickering emergency lights, dense particulate dust)
Atmosphere: Stale air, electrical residue, high humidity
The HUD faded. And they were inside another subway.
Not just another one. It looked exactly like the Heiligenstadt Station—but wrong. The lights buzzed overhead in slow, broken pulses. The air was wet, thick with grime and that copper scent again, like blood had evaporated into the walls and stayed there.
Kai narrowed his eyes. "A subway again...?"
Akari landed beside him, her serpent hissing softly. "I don't like this."
He stepped forward. The tracks here were cracked and uneven, and twisted cables hung from the ceiling like dried-up vines.
Behind him, Akari stayed close, boots silent.
"Let's be careful," she said.
Something squelched.
A bubbling mass of black sludge poured from the side wall, gliding like melted asphalt with too many teeth inside. A low gurgle echoed as its body reared up, acidic spit dripping from its jagged maw.
Kai didn't hesitate. His left arm shifted with a faint crack—his bone structure reshaping.
His elbow split open, and jagged calcium blades slid out like reverse mantis claws.
He charged in one clean motion and sliced the sludge clean through. The creature screeched, flailed, but collapsed into itself before it could even counter. Steam hissed from its remains.
He devoured the Gene, and it was still common.
[F- Gene Fragment Acquired – "Feeler Reflex Node"]
Akari whistled. "Alright. That was hot."
Kai didn't reply. His eyes were locked on something deeper down the tunnel—just past the crumbled platform edge.
It was a girl.
She couldn't have been older than nine. Her limbs were bound in thick industrial cord, and her mouth was gagged with duct tape.
She hung from a rusted iron beam like a forgotten doll, barely swaying.
"What the hell," Kai muttered.
Akari blinked. "That's a real kid."
"Then why didn't the system flag a civilian?"
"Maybe she's under the system's detection threshold or maybe she's bait."
Kai's pupils dilated. He scanned the space fast. Nothing on radar, nothing in his pheromone zone.
Then, the girl raised her head. She stared directly at him. Tears streamed down her dirty face.
She began to thrash.
And from behind the wall—something else moved.