Mobile spotlights lit up the clearing like it was midday. Command tents, comms stations, energy relays, and automated defense turrets were arrayed in a semicircle around the perimeter.
Captain Borin stood at the center of the setup, arms folded, staring at the spatial distortion pulsing two hundred meters ahead. A faint smile played on his lips.
"How much longer?" he asked without turning.
Serin checked her tablet. "Forty-three minutes. Give or take five. The oscillations are getting erratic."
"Perfect."
She glanced up at him. "Captain, are the other companies in position?"
"Clover's covering the east. Jaeger…" He waved a hand vaguely. "Jaeger's doing whatever Jaeger does. Probably sleeping."
"This isn't the time to underestimate—"
"I'm not underestimating anyone," Borin cut in. "I'm stating facts. Mercer accepted my offer. He knows where he fits in this mission."
Serin didn't reply. She'd seen that look on his face before every major Ironveil victory.
"Are the teams ready?" Borin asked.
"All deployed. Twenty-two hunters on the front line, fourteen in support, eight in tactical reserve. Impulse cannons are charged. Barriers are active."
"Good."
He took a few steps forward, closer to the distortion zone. The air hummed with a low, almost organic thrum, like breathing.
"Captain."
The voice came from his left. A massive man, nearly as broad as Borin himself, walked up.
"Draven," Borin acknowledged.
"The guys are tense."
"It's an S-rank rift. They're allowed to be tense."
"No, I mean…" Draven hesitated. "They've heard the rumors. About the classification. Clover's talking about a margin of error. A possible SS."
Borin turned his head. "So?"
"So… if it's true…"
"If it's true, we adapt." Borin clapped a hand on Draven's shoulder. "How long have you known me?"
"Five years."
"How many critical missions?"
"Seventeen."
"How many failures?"
Draven was quiet a moment. "None."
"Exactly." Borin smiled. "Because I never let doubt take root. Because I plan everything. Because I know exactly what my people can handle, and I never ask for more. That rift's going to open, a Boss is going to come out, and we're going to kill it. End of story."
Draven nodded slowly. "Understood, Captain."
He walked off, heading back to his team.
Serin stepped closer to Borin. "You're sure of yourself."
"Always."
"Even if it's an SS?"
Borin met her eyes. "Serin, I spent ten years climbing the ranks. I've killed monsters other hunters wouldn't even look at. I survived three simultaneous A-rank rifts at Redfort. I closed an A+ rift alone. I know what I'm worth. And I know what Ironveil's worth."
He gestured toward the distortion. "Whatever comes out of there, no matter its rank, it falls. Because that's what we do. We don't retreat. We don't negotiate. We kill."
Serin nodded.
The Rift pulsed again.
This time the sound was louder. Deeper.
The spotlights flickered. The generators growled.
"Thirty minutes," Serin announced.
Borin took a deep breath. "Everyone to stations."
A radio signal went out. Across the camp, Ironveil's hunters moved like a single organism. Front-line teams formed a semicircle in front of the distortion. Support units took position behind them, ready to lay down covering fire. Tactical reserves stayed near the command tents, alert.
The impulse cannons trained on the Rift.
Borin took his place at the center of the formation, hands clasped behind his back. He wore heavy black armor. His weapon—a massive war hammer—rested against his shoulder.
"Captain," Serin said in his earpiece. "Clover reports they're in position."
"And Jaeger?"
Silence.
"Jaeger… confirms they're 'somewhere.'"
Borin grunted. "Of course."
He turned to his hunters. "Listen up."
Every eye turned to him.
"Whatever comes out of that Rift will be dangerous. Maybe more dangerous than anything we've faced. But we are Ironveil. We don't bend. We don't break. We hit, and we keep hitting, until the enemy drops."
He raised his hammer. "For anyone doubting: look around. Look at your brothers and sisters in arms. They're here. You're here. And together, we're unbeatable."
A low rumble of approval ran through the ranks.
"Today we show the world what Ironveil can do. Today we close an S-rank rift. And tomorrow, we drink to our victory."
The hunters slammed weapons against shields. The sound echoed through the forest.
Borin smiled.
Twenty minutes.
The distortion had widened. It now formed a vertical tear in the air, ten meters tall and five wide. Black lightning crackled along its edges, licking at the space around it like hungry tongues.
The air had grown heavy. Every breath felt harder, as if reality itself was thickening.
Draven clenched his fists. He could feel ether churning in his veins. His muscles were coiled, ready to unleash.
Beside him, a woman slowly drew her bow.
"You good?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"You're shaking."
"Adrenaline."
She smiled. "Same."
Behind them, Serin watched the control screens. Energy sensors were going wild. Graphs spiked off the charts.
"Serin," Borin called.
"Yes?"
"Don't die."
She looked up. He wasn't watching the screens. He was staring at the Rift.
And he was smiling.
Ten minutes.
The tear ripped open wider, like a gaping wound. A freezing wind poured out, carrying a metallic, rotting stench.
The spotlights flickered again.
The hunters braced.
"Hold positions!" Borin shouted.
Then—silence.
Absolute silence.
Even the generators seemed to hush.
And in that silence, something moved.
A shadow.
Huge.
It shifted inside the Rift, slow, almost lazy. Its shape wasn't clear—just a dark, rippling mass.
"Serin," Borin said calmly. "Energy reading."
She hammered at her tablet. "The sensors… they're…"
"What?"
"They're saturating."
Borin frowned. "Saturating?"
"Yes. Readings are blowing past maximum thresholds. I can't—"
A deafening crack split the air.
The Rift tore wider, edges exploding in a shower of dimensional sparks.
Then it stabilized.
A gateway.
A gateway to another world.
Borin felt his heart pound faster. Not from fear. From excitement.
"Finally," he whispered.
The first wave poured out.
Nemesis. Small, fast, swarming. Dozens spilled from the Rift, claws scraping the ground, shrill cries tearing the air.
"Fire!" Borin ordered.
Impulse cannons roared. Ironveil hunters unleashed their skills. Ether blades, light projectiles, controlled explosions swept the wave away.
The nemesis disintegrated before they even hit the ground.
"Too easy," Draven muttered.
A second wave emerged.
Bigger. Meaner.
C-class nemesis. Bipedal, muscled, plated in chitin. They charged without hesitation.
"Second line, engage!"
The fight heated up. Ironveil hunters advanced, forming a wall.
Borin waded into the fray himself. His hammer crashed down on a nemesis, pulverizing it in one blow. He spun, smashed a second, then a third.
Then the Rift pulsed one final time.
The shockwave was instant.
Pure energy erupted from the Rift, sweeping everything in its path. Spotlights exploded. Generators collapsed. Command tents were ripped from the ground and hurled away like leaves.
Hunters closest to the blast were thrown backward, slamming into trees and rocks.
Serin was flung ten meters, crashing into an ammo crate. She coughed, blood trickling from her mouth.
Borin stayed on his feet.
He drove his hammer into the ground and held on with everything he had. The wave slammed into him, but he didn't budge.
When the wind died, he looked up.
The Rift had stabilized. Bigger. Darker.
And at its center, something emerged.
A figure.
Massive. Two, three times the size of a man. It stepped forward slowly, each footfall shaking the earth.
Its eyes glowed scarlet.
A shiver ran down Borin's spine.
He hefted his hammer onto his shoulder. Around him, the camp lay in ruins. Hunters groaned, wounded. Some didn't move at all.
But Borin was smiling.
"Finally," he said, voice rough. "Prey worthy of me."