Chapter 63
Alexa leaned back slightly, eyes reflecting the dim light of the restaurant. "The tower… it's changed," she said softly. "New rifts have manifested, and now access isn't open to just anyone. Many of them are being auctioned off, given only to those who can afford it."
Kaelin raised an eyebrow. "Auctioned? You mean people actually pay to enter a rift?"
Rhea tilted her head, a small frown crossing her face. "Sounds like they're trying to turn a disaster into a business."
Alexa nodded. "Exactly. The idea is to control and securely manage the rifts. The organization that buys access takes responsibility for everything inside, what happens, who goes in, how it's maintained." Her voice grew a little heavier. "It's all to prevent another incident like the Seventh Delta Rift. Back then, civilians, un awakened people, entered the rift and lost their lives. No one wants that happening again."
Magnus, quiet as ever, simply sipped his tea, listening. There was a weight in her words, a combination of pragmatism and unspoken sorrow. Years of experience had taught them that control wasn't just about authority, it was about survival.
Kaelin exhaled slowly. "I suppose that makes sense… though it feels strange to think some rifts are now just… commodities."
Rhea smirked, shaking her head. "Commodities or not, we've seen enough of what happens when things aren't controlled. Maybe it's for the best."
Alexa's gaze drifted to the ceiling, where the dim lights flickered softly. "Best… maybe. But it also means rifts are no longer the wild, untamed things we used to face. Everything's being watched, regulated. And the people who used to survive them… we're the ones who have to guide the rest now."
The four of them sat in silence for a moment, letting the weight of that reality sink in. Outside, the city moved on, oblivious to the silent, invisible wars waged inside rifts. And inside, the survivors, the Awakened, continued to carry the burden of knowledge and experience, even as the world tried to put a price on what they had once faced for free.
The soft hum of the restaurant's background noise barely registered as Alexa leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the small news screen above the bar. The feed showed live footage from the Nexus Communications Tower, now broadcasting the latest rift developments citywide.
Magnus, Kaelin, and Rhea gathered closer, each of them subconsciously adjusting the watches strapped to their wrists. The Time Skip Anomaly still lingered in their minds; every second they saw on the screen felt slightly… off. Five years, five months, five days—they still had to reconcile what had passed and what the world now seemed to be.
The screen shifted to a polished segment. Harrison "Harry" Whitford III and Vanessa Du Pont, heads of the Obsidian Seraphs, stood side by side. They had aged, their faces more refined, their movements effortless. Both were smiling, radiating confidence and status—and Alexa noticed, almost reluctantly, that they were married.
"Look at them," Rhea muttered, leaning back. "Sophisticated… stable. They've really stepped up since the rifts went commercial."
Alexa's jaw tightened slightly. "They're showcasing what their organization just acquired, a high-rank rift. They're bragging, yes, but they've actually earned the right to say it's stable. They know it won't burst open like the older ones did."
Kaelin shook his head, frowning. "All of this… while we were gone, the world didn't just move on. It jumped ahead."
The broadcast shifted again, showing footage of the Vanguard Hunters, led by Damien Cortez. His face looked sharper, more determined than Alexa remembered from their school days. Standing beside him was Claire Baek, now his fiancé, someone who had once been close to Alexa before circumstances and personal choices had driven them apart.
Alexa's lips pressed into a thin line, memories flickering. Damien had been infatuated with her back then, his quiet admiration evident in ways that had gone unnoticed. And Claire… they had once been friends, allies of a sort, until trust and circumstance had torn the bond away. Now the pair were together, leading the Vanguard Hunters with authority and precision.
Rhea broke the silence, sensing Alexa's distraction. "Well, that's… awkward timing, huh?" she said, a teasing edge in her voice. "Old classmates, former friends… and you're just sitting here watching them parade around like everything's normal."
Magnus finally spoke, calm but cutting. "They're living in a world built on titles, contracts, and public image. Experience like ours… that can't be bought or flaunted."
Alexa exhaled slowly, letting her gaze drift back to the screen. "It's just… a lot to take in. So many changes, and none of it waited for us. Whitford and Du Pont, Damien and Claire… all of them moving forward, while we're still… adjusting."
Kaelin nudged her gently. "Adjusting isn't the same as being left behind. We survived anomalies they never even understood. That gives us an edge they'll never have."
Rhea leaned back, a grin tugging at her lips. "Besides, we don't need a high-rank rift or fancy titles to prove we've earned our place. We're still here. We still see what's really happening. That counts for more than their little displays."
Magnus nodded silently, his gaze calm, measuring. Outside, the city buzzed with new rift activity, commercial ventures, and public broadcasts, but inside the quiet restaurant, four survivors of the impossible had already recalibrated their timeline. They didn't just watch the world change, they understood it, quietly, and with the patience that came from having stared down chaos itself.
For now, the screens told stories of power and acquisition, of status and stability. But Magnus, Alexa, Kaelin, and Rhea knew that real mastery wasn't shown on live feeds, it was earned in silence, in survival, and in the subtle knowledge of the rifts' true nature.
The soft chime of the Nexus feed was interrupted by a new alert: a few high-risk rift had manifested on the outskirts of the city today and the Divinity quickly auctioned it to the biggest bidder . The map flashed crimson, pulsating in the corner of the screen.
Alexa straightened, her eyes narrowing. "That's not a standard anomaly. Look at the readings, energy fluctuations are off the charts. This isn't something the Obsidian Seraphs, or anyone else, can handle casually."
Magnus, ever still, set his cup down and tilted his head slightly. Without a word, he extended his focus, calling telepathically. Deng Mei-ling. Within moments, her calm voice echoed in his mind.
Deng Mei-ling: Yes my lord it has been a while, what can t his humble servant help with with?
Magnus (telepathically):I'll be visiting the stronghold city in China in a few days. Prepare intel accordingly.
Deng Mei-ling: Understood my lord .
On the screen, a live reporter connected to the Obsidian Seraphs' feed appeared. Harrison Whitford III, impeccably dressed, smiled broadly as he spoke. "This rift? We acquired it as soon as it manifested. Our organization spent millions at the Divinity auction, the body above the Agency Association, to secure it. Stability is guaranteed. Unlike other, less… careful teams, we know how to handle these safely."
Vanessa Du Pont joined in, her voice calm and precise. "We've ensured containment protocols are in place. There's no risk of civilians accidentally entering, our team has the expertise and the resources. Safety first, profit second."
Rhea curled an eyebrow, whispering to Kaelin, "Safety first? Sounds like a press release, not an actual rift."
Kaelin exhaled slowly, his hand tapping his watch. "Among the 55, only ten remain active as cleaners. Everyone else either retired or moved on. Those ten… they're the ones still teaching, still supervising. Most are smart enough not to chase headlines or brag about 'stable rifts.'"
Alexa sipped her coffee, eyes locked on the screen. "That's the difference. Experience doesn't come with a price tag. You can buy access, buy containment, even buy publicity… but you can't buy the knowledge we earned inside the rifts themselves."
Magnus' eyes, dark and unreadable, remained fixed on the glowing map. "These so-called stable rifts… are nothing more than curated illusions of control," he said quietly. "Give them a real anomaly, and most of these polished teams would crumble."
Rhea glanced at him. "And we'd just walk in and handle it without headlines, right?"
Magnus didn't answer aloud. A slight smirk crossed his lips, enough to let them know he was thinking exactly that.
Alexa leaned back, crossing her arms. "I wonder how long it'll take them to realize the rift doesn't care about money or auctions. It only obeys the people who understand it, those who survived it before."
Kaelin nodded. "Exactly. And among all those who survived the Seventh Delta Rift… most are quietly watching from the sidelines, teaching the next generation, and ensuring the mistakes of the past aren't repeated. Only ten remain in active cleaning duty. The rest? They live in the lives they've earned."
The screen continued to broadcast the Obsidian Seraphs, handsomely dressed, detailing protocols and acquisitions, while the crimson map of the high-risk rift flickered urgently in the corner. Outside, the city pulsed with oblivious life. Inside, four survivors, Magnus, Alexa, Kaelin, and Rheacalibrated their timeline, silently assessing the danger with a depth that money, status, and publicity could never purchase.
And somewhere deep in the city, the rift waited, indifferent to the polished presentations, waiting for the ones who truly understood what it demanded.
The restaurant's muted hum faded into the background as the four of them gathered their things, their eyes still flicking to the live rift feeds and the crimson alert on the screen. Every second seemed to remind them of the time they had missed, the changes in the world, the rise of organizations, the polished veneer of the Obsidian Seraphs and Vanguard Hunters.
Alexa rubbed her temples lightly, taking a slow sip of her coffee. "I… I can't believe how much has shifted. In just a short time… everything feels different."
Kaelin leaned back, adjusting his jacket, a frown tugging at his lips. "Confusing… but we've survived worse. Guess this is one of those things you can't fight, you can only accept."
Rhea glanced at Magnus. "And you? You're quiet, as usual. What are you thinking?"
Magnus didn't answer with words. Instead, he gave a deep, measured sign, a subtle tilt of the head, a long, deliberate exhale, the kind that carried weight beyond comprehension. His eyes, dark and unreadable, hinted at the burden of thought beneath the calm exterior. He knew what needed to be done: he had to speak with his sister. The time skip, the rift anomalies, the shifting world, it all demanded clarity between them.
Alexa noticed the unspoken tension and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Whatever it is… we'll face it together. But yeah, some of this… even I can't fully grasp it yet."
Rhea chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Welcome to our post-rift lives. Confused, a little bewildered… but still alive. That counts for something."
Kaelin nodded, though his gaze flickered to the city outside. "We've missed a lot. People, alliances… the world kept moving, and we weren't here to watch. But now we are. And it's time to see it all, fully."
Meanwhile, miles away in Chengdu, China, Perpetua, moving under her human guise as Priscilla, strolled through the bustling streets, the scent of Sichuan spices and sizzling street food filling the air. She had spent the day hopping between famous restaurants, sampling everything from mapo tofu to hotpot and the delicate flavors of dan dan noodles, savoring the culinary tapestry of the city.
Yet even amidst the rich aromas and vibrant chatter of diners, a chill ran down her spine, unnatural, insistent. She paused outside a lantern-lit restaurant, pulling her coat tighter, her senses prickling as though the very air carried a warning. Something was shifting, not just in the rifts, but in the flow of time, in the balance of power. Even in her hidden form, the pulse of anomalies reached her, whispering that Magnus and the others were on the move. The changes they had missed… were far more significant than anyone could predict.
Back at her table, she lifted a steaming bowl of noodles, yet her attention was elsewhere. She could feel it—the subtle annoyance, the deep, measured weight of her twin, Magnus, observing the world and calculating every possibility. Even separated by thousands of miles, his awareness brushed against her consciousness, a quiet reminder that the game had already begun.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away from Chengdu, Magnus finally stood at their table in the city he called home, lifting his gaze toward the lights of the streets outside. His sign, the silent weight of awareness, was a signal to Alexa, Rhea, and Kaelin. "It's happening now," he said quietly, voice low but steady. "We see what we missed. And we adjust. Together."
Alexa, Rhea, and Kaelin nodded in unison, the gravity of the moment sinking in. Outside, the city glimmered, alive with commerce, chaos, and the hum of newly stabilized rifts. For the four survivors, the hum was a call to action, a reminder that while the world had moved on without them, they still possessed the eyes, knowledge, and experience to navigate what no one else could.
And somewhere in the bustling streets of Chengdu, as Perpetua took another cautious bite of her noodles, the chill along her spine lingered. The Earth itself seemed to whisper that her twin was watching, and that his subtle annoyance was a signal she could neither ignore nor dismiss.
Priscilla sat at a small, bustling eatery in Chengdu, the rich aroma of chili and Sichuan peppercorns filling her senses. She picked at a plate of kung pao chicken, but her mind wasn't on the food. Even through the comforting veil of her human form, she felt it, the subtle tension, the mild irritation emanating from Magnus.
It wasn't anger, exactly. More like… a barely restrained exhale of frustration, filtered through the lens of observation and calculation. Magnus had always been calm, almost impossibly so, but now there was a faint ripple in that calm. Priscilla understood immediately: it wasn't the anomalies themselves that irked him. He didn't mind if he wasn't personally affected. It was the human element, the emotional dissonance, that was testing his newfound capacity to process feelings on a deeper, more accurate level.
Across the globe, many of the 55 surviving Awakened had encountered the same strange effects of the Time Skip Anomaly. Rifts manifested worldwide, each with its own challenges, but none so disruptive as the seven calamity-rank rifts. Most of these rifts had missions lasting a mere two days, a manageable span. But the rift Magnus and the others had entered, the Seventh Rift, had trapped them for five days inside, a span that felt like five Earth years once they returned.
Priscilla sipped her tea, noting the subtle ways Magnus' mind now struggled with Alexa's confusion. She felt it ripple outward: her twin's irritation was as much about temporal anomalies as it was about his inability to immediately soothe or guide the people he cared for. Alexa's struggle to reconcile five years compressed into days, the sudden leaps in the world she had missed, the growing complexity of stabilized rifts, it affected him, even though logically, it shouldn't.
Magnus' presence always carried weight, but now there was an emotional resonance she hadn't fully sensed before. He was processing confusion, surprise, and even subtle fear in a way that mimicked human empathy. And it was her awareness of his subtle irritation, and of the stakes involved for the survivors worldwide, that made the chill along her spine deepen.
"Five years compressed into five days…" Priscilla murmured to herself, more in thought than speech. "No wonder he's… bothered. It's not the rift itself. It's us, the humans still struggling to catch up."
Somewhere far away, Magnus leaned back, silently observing the feeds, the stabilized rifts, and the world moving forward. He didn't need to speak, but his subtle signs, the tilt of a head, a measured exhale, a hand tightening ever so slightly around his cup, broadcasted the same message Priscilla could feel from miles away: he wasn't angry, not exactly. He was learning to navigate emotion, and the chaos of human confusion was the first real test.
Priscilla set her chopsticks down, her eyes scanning the streets of Chengdu through the lantern-lit haze. She felt the pull again, the faint tug of Magnus' mind, the quiet insistence that he was preparing to step into a world that had moved on without him. And she knew that when he did, she would follow, even if only silently, sensing every ripple, every subtle shift in the currents of time, emotion, and rift energy.
Because for Magnus, for Alexa, and for the others, understanding the anomaly was only half the battle. The other half… was understanding the human heart.
The quiet of the restaurant seemed almost surreal after hours spent watching rift feeds, news reports, and recalibrating their sense of time. The crimson alert for the high-risk rift had faded into the background, replaced by the city's normal hum. Magnus, Alexa, Kaelin, and Rhea finally rose from the table, stretching and gathering their belongings.
"We should probably get going," Kaelin said, voice low but steady, eyes scanning the restaurant's dim corners. "City's still moving, and so are the rifts."
Rhea adjusted her coat, a small grin tugging at her lips. "Yeah, and I've got a feeling the world won't wait for us to catch up."
Magnus remained silent, hands in pockets, calm as always, but his gaze lingered on Alexa for a moment, subtle and deliberate. The weight of unspoken words passed between them, a mix of acknowledgment, concern, and quiet reassurance.
Before they stepped outside, Alexa hesitated, pulling her phone from her bag. "Wait," she said softly, her voice carrying a mix of urgency and warmth. "I… I want to make sure we can reach each other. We didn't get the chance before, all the testing, interviews, everything after the anomaly… it kept us apart."
Kaelin raised an eyebrow but smiled faintly. "Yeah, the last three days were… intense. Reassessments, evaluations… I was wondering if I'd ever get to see a friendly face again without paperwork attached."
Rhea laughed lightly. "Friendly face and bureaucracy, sounds like our life now, huh?"
Alexa tapped their numbers into her phone, her fingers deliberate. "There. That way, no matter what changes, we won't lose contact again." She glanced at Magnus. "You too… if you want. I know you usually don't share numbers."
Magnus offered a small, almost imperceptible nod, pulling his phone from his pocket. "I'll take it," he said simply, his voice calm, but carrying the same quiet gravity he always did. It wasn't casual, it was deliberate.
With the exchange complete, the four of them moved toward the door. Outside, the city of lights, sounds, and shadows stretched before them, vibrant and indifferent to the lives of the Awakened who navigated its hidden chaos. They went their separate ways, each stepping into the rhythm of the world they had missed, carrying with them the knowledge, experience, and subtle connections that only those who had survived the anomalies could understand.
As they walked away, Alexa glanced at her phone one last time, feeling a small sense of relief. No matter how much the world had shifted in their absence, no matter how much time had twisted and changed the people around them, they still had a tether, a line of contact, a lifeline connecting those who understood what had truly happened.
And as Magnus and Alexa disappeared into the crowd, silent and unreadable, Kaelin, and Rhea felt it too: a quiet reassurance that despite the upheaval, the world still had space for them, and that their paths would cross again, inevitably, when the life demanded it.