Aren learned something important that morning.
His body did not care about emotional breakthroughs.
He dropped to the floor of his room, palms flat against the cold tiles, arms braced. For a second, he just stayed there, breathing steady, mind focused.
One push-up, he thought. Just one.
He lowered himself carefully.
Then tried to push back up.
Nothing happened.
"…Huh."
His arms trembled. His core complained. Gravity won.
Aren collapsed face-first onto the floor with a dull thud.
He stayed there, cheek pressed against tile, staring at the leg of his desk.
"…Okay," he muttered. "That's new."
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. The System screen didn't pop up. No warnings. No mocking notifications.
Just reality.
Tier C, he reminded himself. Not weak. Not strong. Just… unfinished.
He sat up, exhaled, and stretched his arms, feeling the faint soreness already settling in. His strength felt inconsistent. Explosive when it mattered. Useless when it didn't.
Power that only answered under pressure.
"That's not going to work," Aren said quietly.
He stood, grabbed the worn backpack from the corner of his room, and headed out.
The training ground was nothing impressive. A fenced-off concrete lot behind an abandoned municipal building. No cameras. No people. Just cracked pavement and silence.
Perfect.
Aren closed his eyes and focused.
The world sharpened.
His senses aligned. The faint hum beneath reality surfaced. Not loud. Not overwhelming. Just… present.
A transparent screen flickered into view.
[STATUS CHECK]
Tier: C
Stability: Moderate
Growth Path: Incomplete
Aren frowned. "Incomplete how?"
The screen responded.
[NOTICE]
Your power does not scale through repetition alone.
Conventional training yields diminishing returns.
Recommended: High-risk stimulus, controlled pressure, fragment resonance.
He clenched his jaw.
"So I have to almost die again."
The screen paused. Then:
[CLARIFICATION]
Near-death experiences are not required.
However, emotional anchors increase synchronization efficiency.
Aren went still.
"…Emotional anchors?"
No response.
The screen faded.
He stared at the empty air, jaw tight.
His mind betrayed him immediately.
Hina's voice.
Her laugh.
Her shaking hands.
Her words from last night. I'm choosing to stay anyway.
Aren exhaled slowly.
"So that's the cost," he murmured.
He stepped forward, clenched his fists, and threw a punch at the air.
This time, the impact cracked the pavement.
Dust rose.
Aren stared at his hand, heart pounding.
Not stronger.
More focused.
"…Figures," he said.
Somewhere between the rifts, the power, and the girl who refused to stay behind, his life had shifted.
And training was no longer just about getting stronger.
It was about not breaking the things he'd chosen to hold onto.
Aren wiped the dust from his knuckles and steadied his breathing.
The cracked pavement beneath his feet was still settling from the last impact. His pulse hadn't slowed yet. That strange focus was still there, humming just under his skin.
Then the air in front of him distorted.
Not violently. Not dramatically.
Just enough to be wrong.
A translucent screen unfolded itself into existence.
Aren stiffened. "…Now?"
The System didn't bother answering the question.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
Growth stagnation detected.
Current Tier: C
Projected plateau imminent.
Aren frowned. "That was fast."
The screen shifted.
[RIFT QUEST AVAILABLE]
Quest Type: Growth Trial
Environment: Controlled Rift
Threat Level: Mid-Depth
Objective: Eliminate designated elite entity
His eyes narrowed. "Mid-depth again?"
The screen responded immediately.
[CONFIRMATION]
Yes.
Reason: Your previous engagement was incomplete.
Aren's jaw tightened. He already knew what that meant.
"The boss," he muttered. "The one I didn't kill."
Another line appeared.
[BONUS CONDITION]
Clear without external assistance.
He let out a quiet laugh. "You're really trying to get me killed."
[CORRECTION]
Risk of fatality: 12.6%
Risk of severe injury: 38.4%
"…That's not comforting."
The screen pulsed once, then expanded.
[REWARD PREVIEW]
• Tier Progress Acceleration
• Fragment Synchronization Increase
• Access to Advanced Growth Parameters
Aren stared at the words.
This wasn't random.
This wasn't a normal rift either.
This was the System nudging him forward. Forcing his hand.
He clenched his fists, then relaxed them.
Hina's face flashed through his mind again. Her voice. Her stubborn resolve. Her stupid joke about stealing his hoodie.
"…Weeks," he murmured. "I told her there might be weeks."
The screen waited.
No countdown. No pressure.
Just expectation.
Aren took a slow breath.
"Alright," he said quietly. "I get it."
The screen responded immediately.
[QUEST ACCEPTED]
The air behind him folded inward, space tearing open like fabric under strain. A familiar pressure washed over him. Heavy. Cold. Unforgiving.
A Rift.
But this one felt… deliberate.
Aren rolled his shoulders, eyes sharpening as the boundary stabilized.
"Mid-depth elite," he muttered. "No overextension. No backup."
He stepped toward the opening.
"Guess I'm doing this the hard way."
As the Rift swallowed him whole, the screen delivered one final message.
[NOTICE]
Growth requires sacrifice.
Do not hesitate.
The Rift sealed shut behind him.
And somewhere far away, the balance he was trying so hard to maintain quietly tilted again.
The Rift sealed behind Aren with a dull, hollow thud.
No shockwave.
No resistance.
Just silence.
Too quiet.
Aren straightened slowly, boots crunching against ash-gray Riftstone. The space around him wasn't warped like before. It was… orderly. Flat platforms arranged in concentric circles, floating at different heights, all centered around a vast empty pit.
Then the pit breathed.
A low, wet inhale echoed upward.
Aren's fragment reacted immediately. Not alarm. Disgust.
"…That's not good."
Something pulled itself up from the pit.
It wasn't armored.
It wasn't massive.
It was wrong.
The creature's body was long and thin, its limbs stretched far beyond human proportion. Its skin looked translucent, like fog barely pretending to be flesh. Inside it, veins of dull violet light pulsed irregularly, as if its insides were constantly rearranging.
Its head tilted sideways.
Too far.
Then its mouth opened.
Not wide.
Deep.
A sound came out. Not a roar. Not a scream.
A whisper.
The Rift trembled.
A translucent screen snapped open in Aren's vision.
[RIFT ENTITY IDENTIFIED]
Designation: Murmurborn Executor
Classification: Mid-Depth Elite (Cognitive-Type)
Threat Profile: Perception Disruption / Authority Drain
Aren swallowed.
"…You mess with minds."
The Murmurborn took a step forward.
Nothing happened.
Then Aren staggered.
His vision doubled. The platforms shifted slightly out of sync, like the world was lagging behind itself. His heartbeat sounded wrong. Too loud. Too close.
He clenched his jaw. "Focus."
The fragment pulsed, grounding him just enough to stay upright.
The creature's head twitched, like it was curious.
Another step.
Aren's thoughts slipped.
For half a second, he forgot where he was.
Not panic. Not fear.
Blank.
He shook his head violently. "No. Nope. Not doing that."
He tore a shard of Riftstone free and hurled it.
The shard missed.
Not because his aim was bad.
Because the Murmurborn wasn't where his eyes said it was.
The shard passed straight through afterimage and shattered against a platform behind it.
Aren's breath hitched. "So you're not bending space."
The creature leaned closer.
"You're bending me."
The whispering grew louder. Not words. Fragments of thoughts. Echoes of doubts that weren't his, but still felt familiar.
You're not strong enough.
You'll lose her.
You don't belong here.
Aren's fingers dug into his palm until pain grounded him.
"Shut up."
He forced his breathing steady and stopped relying on sight. Instead, he followed the fragment's pull. The subtle resistance in the air where the creature truly existed.
He moved first.
Not attacking.
Closing distance.
The Murmurborn recoiled for the first time.
Aren slammed a shard downward, not at the creature, but into the platform beneath it. The impact sent a shock through the Rift's structure.
The whisper cracked.
The Murmurborn screeched. Not loudly. Sharply.
Aren grinned despite the sweat rolling down his neck. "Found you."
But the fragment pulsed again. Warning.
This thing wasn't built to overpower him.
It was built to wear him down.
And deep in the Rift, Aren could feel it.
This was only the opening test.
The whisper didn't grow louder.
It grew clearer.
Aren steadied his breathing, forcing himself not to react. Panic was what it wanted. Emotional spikes. That much was obvious now.
The Murmurborn Executor stood still, head tilted, as if waiting for him to break.
"…You're not attacking," Aren muttered. "You're fishing."
The creature took a slow step sideways.
The world shifted with it.
Aren's vision dragged, like his eyes were half a second behind reality. He clenched his jaw and focused on the fragment, feeling for the resistance in the air.
Something clicked.
"You don't move space," he said quietly. "You move perception."
The whisper pulsed, irritated.
Aren tested it.
He picked up a shard of Riftstone and dropped it straight down.
It hit the platform exactly where expected.
No distortion.
Then he threw another shard at the Murmurborn.
It missed again.
Aren nodded to himself. "You're only interfering when I acknowledge you."
The creature leaned forward.
Wrong move.
Aren stopped looking at it.
Not figuratively.
Literally.
He closed his eyes.
The whisper surged instantly, flooding in, louder now without his sight anchoring him.
Good, he thought. That confirms it.
He extended his senses inward instead, following the fragment's pull. The faint pressure point where the Rift resisted him. Where authority pressed back instead of sliding away.
There.
Aren stomped hard.
The shock traveled through the platform, not toward the illusion in front of him, but toward the true anchor beneath the space it occupied.
The Murmurborn shrieked.
Its form jittered violently, multiple outlines collapsing into one.
Aren opened his eyes.
The creature was suddenly closer.
Real.
"You're not everywhere," he said, breathing hard. "You're anchored to one cognitive node. You just stretch around it."
The Murmurborn recoiled for the first time, limbs spasming as the Rift's whispers broke rhythm.
Aren didn't give it time to adapt.
He ripped multiple shards free, but didn't throw them.
Instead, he slammed them into the platform in a rough circle.
Anchor points.
The fragment pulsed in response, recognizing the pattern.
The air inside the circle stiffened.
The Murmurborn stepped back—and stopped.
Its body trembled, whispers distorting into static.
"Yeah," Aren said grimly. "You can mess with my head… but you still have to exist somewhere."
He tightened his focus, not forcing power, but locking it.
The circle contracted.
The Murmurborn screamed, its form collapsing inward as its perception field shattered. Illusions peeled away like fog under sunlight.
Now it was fully there.
Vulnerable.
Aren raised a shard, hands shaking from mental strain.
"I'm not winning because I'm stronger," he said. "I'm winning because you made me think."
He drove the shard forward.
The Murmurborn Executor ruptured, dissolving into fading violet motes that screamed once… then went silent.
The Rift exhaled.
Aren staggered back, dropping the shard, vision swimming.
"…That was annoying," he muttered.
Only then did the fragment pulse sharply.
Not warning.
Acknowledgment.
And somewhere deeper in the Rift, something noticed.
The violet motes drifted lazily through the air, fading one by one like dying embers.
Aren stood there for a second longer than necessary, just to make sure the Murmurborn Executor was actually gone.
"…You're not going to get back up, right?" he asked the empty space.
Nothing answered.
He let out a breath and immediately regretted it.
His legs gave out and he dropped onto the Riftstone platform, landing flat on his back.
"Wow," he muttered, staring up at the warped ceiling. "Mental warfare is way more exhausting than getting stabbed."
The fragment in his chest pulsed faintly, like it was offended.
"Don't look at me like that," Aren added. "You're the one that let it talk."
As if on cue, something clinked softly nearby.
Aren turned his head.
Where the Murmurborn had collapsed, a shard of condensed violet light hovered just above the ground. It wasn't large, but it was dense, edges sharp and unstable, pulsing with a quiet, deliberate rhythm.
"…No way," Aren said, sitting up slowly. "You dropped loot?"
The shard drifted closer on its own, reacting to the fragment in his chest.
A screen flickered into existence, slightly delayed, like the system itself was catching its breath.
[RIFT REMNANT DETECTED]
Item Type: Fragment (Cognitive-Type)
Origin: Murmurborn Executor
Status: Unbound
Warning: High mental strain upon integration
Aren squinted at it. "So after all that whispering, you leave me a piece of your brain?"
The fragment pulsed.
The shard pulsed back.
They did not look friendly about it.
Aren sighed. "I swear, if this gives me a voice in my head, I'm throwing it back."
He reached out carefully.
The moment his fingers touched the shard, his vision flashed white.
Not pain.
Information.
Disjointed thoughts slammed into his mind. Echoes of distorted perception. Layers of awareness folding over one another. How the Murmurborn bent attention, not space. How it fed on hesitation. How it anchored itself to belief.
Aren yelped and pulled his hand back. "Okay! Nope! Too much, too fast!
The shard stabilized, hovering calmly again, as if mildly embarrassed.
Another screen appeared.
[PARTIAL COMPATIBILITY CONFIRMED]
Option Available:
– Store Fragment (Deferred Integration)
– Attempt Sync (Risk: Severe Cognitive Fatigue)
Aren rubbed his temples. "Why is it always 'severe' with you?"
The fragment in his chest pulsed, unmistakably smug.
"…Fine," he said. "We'll talk later."
The shard condensed, shrinking into a smaller, crystal-like fragment before sinking into his chest, settling beside the original fragment without merging.
Nothing exploded.
Aren waited.
"…Huh," he said. "That went better than expected."
The Rift shifted subtly around him.
Not hostile.
Not welcoming.
Aware.
Aren pushed himself to his feet, rolling his shoulders despite the lingering headache.
"So," he muttered, looking into the deeper darkness ahead, "mid-depth Rift, mental elites, surprise fragments…"
He cracked a tired smile.
"Next time, can I just fight something that punches?"
The Rift did not answer.
Which somehow felt like a threat.
Aren took two steps forward—
—and the screen popped up again.
He stopped immediately.
"…Oh come on."
The translucent blue interface hovered in front of his face, perfectly centered, like it was very proud of itself.
[SYSTEM UPDATE]
Cognitive Fragment: Stored Successfully
Mental Stability: Within Acceptable Parameters
Performance Evaluation: Satisfactory
Aren stared at it.
"Satisfactory?" he repeated. "I almost had my brain microwaved."
The screen didn't care.
It lingered for exactly three seconds.
Then it faded out.
And right where it had been—
👍
Just that.
Floating. Bright. Cheerfully approving.
Aren blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"…Did you just give me a thumbs up?"
👍
The Rift was silent. The fragment in his chest pulsed faintly, like it was trying very hard not to laugh.
Aren rubbed his face. "Unbelievable. You nearly kill me, steal a monster's brain shard, and then you go 'good job, buddy.'"
The thumbs up vanished.
Aren exhaled slowly and shook his head.
"…I'm surrounded by lunatics," he muttered, then straightened and looked deeper into the Rift.
Whatever was watching him now?
At least it approved. 👍
Aren glanced around the warped platform. Shadows flickered across the edges of the Rift—small, lesser Murmurborn, nowhere near the Elites or the Boss. Perfect practice targets.
He stretched his arms. "Alright… let's see what you've got, brain shard."
The fragment pulsed in his chest, warm and insistent, like it was cheering him on. Aren smirked. "Yeah, yeah. We'll do this your way… kinda."
He focused on a cluster of the smaller monsters, their elongated limbs twitching nervously. First, he lifted them off the ground with telekinesis, careful not to crush them. They hovered, suspended like marionettes in invisible strings, clawing at the air uselessly.
Then he let the cognitive fragment influence the floating Riftstone shards around him. The shards shimmered, orbiting in tighter, faster patterns than before.
Aren tilted his head. "Okay… now combo time."
With a flick of his wrist, the shards swirled around the telekinetically suspended monsters, slamming into them from multiple directions. One monster spun helplessly, wings of Rift energy sparking as shards ricocheted. Another tried to escape, only to be blocked mid-air by a shard forming a makeshift cage.
Aren chuckled, feeling the thrill of control. "Huh. Not bad. You little brain piece, you might actually make a good sparring partner."
He refined the movement, combining telekinesis to hold a monster midair while controlling three shards in independent orbits, each striking with precision. The smaller Murmurborn shrieked and thrashed, but couldn't land a hit, their attacks bouncing off the floating shards.
The fragment pulsed in response, approving. "I see you're learning the rhythm," it seemed to whisper faintly in his mind.
Aren nodded. "Yeah, yeah… don't get cocky." He released the telekinetic hold, letting the monsters crash safely to the Riftstone floor. "Gotta save the big stuff for later. Boss level doesn't care about fancy little tricks."
He wiped sweat from his brow and flexed his fingers. "Okay… now we go deeper. Time to see what the real Rift has in store."
The floating shards lingered, orbiting him like a halo, waiting. Aren inhaled, centering himself. The fragment in his chest hummed quietly, steadying him.
"Let's dance," he muttered, stepping toward the darker, deeper layers of the Rift.
Aren paused mid-step, shards hovering obediently around him. He flexed his fingers, letting the warmth of the fragment and the lingering echoes of telekinesis settle.
"…You know," he muttered, "if I'm going to survive deeper Rifts, I should probably… name these things."
He glanced at the floating shards, spinning lazily. "This one," he said, pointing to the shards he controlled with the fragment, "let's call it… Mindsteel."
The name felt right. Precise, hard, unyielding—but flexible enough to adapt. It matched the way the cognitive fragment allowed him to manipulate objects and enemies, bending their movements without brute force.
Then he flexed his other hand, feeling the raw pull of telekinesis, the familiar grip of invisible threads around the world. "…And this one… classic, simple, practical. Gravity Shift. Because, well… I move stuff, and stuff moves for me."
He smirked at his own reflection in the Riftstone shards. "Mindsteel and Gravity Shift. Sounds like I'm the final boss of some cheap RPG."
The fragment pulsed, faintly approving—or maybe just trying not to laugh at his dramatics.
Aren took a deep breath. "Alright, Mindsteel and Gravity Shift… let's see if you two can actually save my butt when things get serious."
He stepped forward. The Rift ahead warped, waiting.
Aren crouched on the jagged Riftstone, eyes scanning the lower-tier Murmurborn scuttling across the warped platforms.
"Alright," he muttered, cracking his knuckles. "Time for a combo test. Mindsteel… Gravity Shift… don't embarrass me in front of the Rift."
The smaller Murmurborn froze mid-step as his hands flicked in the air. Gravity Shift hummed faintly as invisible threads lifted one of the creatures off the ground. It flailed, squeaking like a squeaky toy, spinning slowly above him.
Aren smirked. "Perfect. And now… Mindsteel."
Shards of Riftstone around him shimmered and darted forward, orbiting the flailing Murmurborn. They collided with it gently but firmly, forcing it into a slow, circular dance in midair, as if the Rift itself had decided the monster needed choreography lessons.
"Yep," Aren muttered, stepping back. "Definitely choreographed. Call it… the Murmurborn waltz."
The flailing monster finally toppled into a stack of Riftstone shards harmlessly, while another tried to rush him. Aren flicked his wrist. Gravity Shift lifted it effortlessly, sending it spinning midair toward the first one.
Mindsteel responded, the shards moving faster now, slamming into the spinning monsters and pinning them in place. One even ricocheted off another, creating a perfect, ridiculous chain reaction.
Aren couldn't help it—he laughed. "Okay, okay… not bad. Who knew I could make monsters dance before I kill them?"
The fragment pulsed, warmth radiating into his chest, almost as if it agreed. "Not bad at all, kid," Aren imagined it saying.
He took a deep breath, releasing the smaller monsters safely to the Rift floor. "Alright… that's the warm-up. Let's see what happens when I push these two powers further."
Shards lifted faster, spinning around him in perfect orbits. Gravity Shift pulled multiple Murmurborn at once, letting him manipulate them midair. Mindsteel responded instantly, guiding the shards to intercept attacks, ricochet, and corral the creatures like a living puzzle.
Aren grinned, sweat trickling down his temple. "Yeah… this is going to be fun. Until something bigger shows up, of course. Then all bets are off."
The fragment pulsed again, stronger this time, almost impatient. The Rift ahead warped, darkening in anticipation.
Aren flexed his fingers. "Alright, Mindsteel. Gravity Shift. Let's see if the Rift is ready for a proper show."
And with that, he stepped deeper into the pulsing shadows, ready to see just how far his powers could go.