JULLIAN stood frozen in place as the tiny creature beamed up at him with a wide smile.
"What is this strange thing?" he wondered.
Could it be a new breed of monster from the rift? It could talk--but that meant nothing. He'd seen enough horrors inside the Black Rift to know better. There had been tiny, harmless-looking beasts that had slaughtered ten of his comrades in seconds. Creatures that wore human faces as masks, transforming into massive wendigos the moment they were attacked. Even talking monsters that lured Espers into deadly traps with promises of safety. So seeing this miniature human-like being deep within the rift, Jullian had already made up his mind:
It was a monster.
The tiny creature tilted its head, noticing his silence. "Why aren't you saying anything? Oh--I know! You must be mesmerized by my handsome face!" He chattered excitedly, gesturing to his elaborate robes with pride. "I've always been told I have the features of a true royal--sharp jaw, bright eyes, hair as fine as silk-"
His words cut off as he finally looked up at Jullian's face. Jullian's hand had tightened around his pickaxe, knuckles white. When he raised the tool, the creature's eyes went wide with nervousness.
"W-Wait! What are you going to do?"
Jullian said nothing, swinging the pickaxe down in a swift arc. The small being let out a high-pitched squeak and darted aside, barely avoiding the blow.
"Are you trying to kill me?!"
"Of course I am," Jullian growled, his voice cold and menacing. "Isn't it obvious, you fucking monster."
He swung again, but the creature dodged with surprising speed. "Monster?! I'm human! I swear I am!"
Jullian paused mid-swing. "We'll find out for sure once I slice you in half." He channeled his mana into the pickaxe, and flames flickered along its metal head, casting dancing orange light across the cave walls.
But before he could strike, a voice boomed from the cave entrance. "Jullian!"
Leader Hugo stood there, face flushed with frustration. "I've been looking for you for an hour! And here you are--swinging your pick at nothing instead of harvesting energy stones!" He waved his arm sharply. "Get up here now. We're leaving before another rift decides to pop up inside this one!"
"Coming, sir," Jullian called back, turning to face the creature--but it had vanished without a trace. The glowing white lotus was still there, but the tiny being was gone.
With a frustrated grunt, Jullian climbed the stone stairs and joined the other looters as they made their way out of the rift.
...
When Jullian finally returned to his apartment, he tossed his bag onto the table before collapsing onto his bed. The small space smelled of dust and cheap soap--a stark contrast to the rich scents of sandalwood and jasmine that filled the palace he once called home. So much had happened in a single day--all he wanted was to close his eyes and sleep. Instead, he stared at the ceiling for a full minute, the only sound being the distant rumble of passing vehicles outside his window.
"Come out," he ordered in a firm, commanding tone. "I know you followed me."
At first there was silence--then a soft rustle came from his bag. The tiny creature peeked out cautiously, waving a crudely made white flag.
"Please don't attack me. I come in peace!"
When Jullian didn't move, the creature flew forward carefully and perched on the edge of the bed. "And I swear I'm not a monster, I'm human."
"Who are you?" Jullian asked.
"I am Mikhail Aleksandr Sokolov, the first crown prince of the reigning Sokolov line." He puffed out his chest proudly, though his miniature frame made the gesture more endearing than imposing.
A flash of recognition crossed Jullian's face. Mikhail--the son of Duke Fedor Aleksandr Sokolov. The last time he'd seen him, Mikhail was just a small boy clinging to his older brother's hand.
"Mikhail? You're that kid who always followed your brother everywhere?"
Mikhail's eyes lit up with excitement. "You recognize me! I'm so happy--I was worried you'd forgotten! Remember how you'd smack me if you caught me slacking on training? Or how you always took my brother's side when we argued about who got to ride the royal griffin?" He babbled on, listing memories from their childhood.
Jullian cut through the chatter with the question weighing heavy on his mind. "Mikhail... what happened to the Valerius Empire after I entered the Black Rift?"
Mikhail fell silent immediately, his expression shifting to something serious. "The truth is... my memories from the past ten years are blurry, but I remember the first three years after you left." He looked at Jullian with guilt in his eyes before turning away. "That's when my late father stole the throne from yours."
Rage and pain tightened in Jullian's chest, his heart thumping so hard it nearly hurt when the treason came out again.
"When the Black Rift vanished with you and the other Espers inside... every family was in agony, convinced their loved ones were dead. My brother and I were among them--we thought you'd been lost forever."
Jullian's jaw clenched. He could only imagine the devastation of his comrades' families, watching a rift disappear with people they cared about trapped inside. Mikhail floated over to the window, gazing up at the bright moon before continuing.
"And what do you think a grieving people do? They mourn... or they find someone to blame."
Jullian shot up from the bed, realization dawning on him. Fury boiled in his veins. "Are you saying your father took advantage of their pain to overthrow my father?"
"More or less," Mikhail answered. "But it wasn't that simple. Father searched for any flaw in Emperor Baldwin first, but found nothing. So he dug deeper until he found an angle to exploit. He rallied his troops and convinced the people to stand with him against the Hildebrand name."
"The people of Valerius would never betray my father--not when their crown prince had joined the expedition himself!"
"You're right," Mikhail agreed quietly. "Except... Father revealed that Emperor Baldwin was the reason the rifts existed in the first place."
"That's nonsense!" Jullian shouted. "My father would never do anything to harm this empire!"
"I didn't say he created the rifts," Mikhail shot back. "Just that he was blamed for their creation."
Confusion washed over Jullian. Why would Fedor accuse his father of being responsible for the rifts? What could he have possibly discovered? He asked Mikhail for details but the tiny prince only shook his head.
"I can't remember that part. It's like there's a fog over those memories."
Jullian sank back onto the bed, his mind racing. So much had changed while he was gone--and there was clearly more to the story of his family's downfall than he'd ever imagined.
His thoughts were cut short when Mikhail suddenly shouted.
"Oh! I have an idea! Let's find the answers ourselves!" the tiny prince suggested with enthusiasm. "To do that, we'll enter the highest-ranked rifts we can--the stronger the better!"
Jullian stared at the excited tiny prince for a long moment.
"I don't want to," Jullian said flatly.
"Yes! Let's--WHAT?!" Mikhail's excitement turned to shock.
Jullian repeated himself as he pulled off his shirt to change, revealing terrible scars crisscrossing his chest and back--souvenirs from countless battles against monsters. Mikhail bombarded him with questions: What? Why not? But Jullian only shrugged.
"I'm retired from being an Esper. I'm just an F-rank looter now... nothing more."
With that, he wished Mikhail goodnight and rolled over to sleep, leaving the tiny prince staring at him in stunned silence.
But Jullian was far from asleep. His eyes stayed wide open, staring into nothing. Fury, betrayal, and confusion roared within him, a storm he could not calm. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms. Tears slipped unheeded down his face, but he bit down on his sobs, swallowing them raw.
The betrayal cut deeper than any wound he bore on his body—and he didn't know if he'd survive it without breaking
...
On the rooftop of a towering skyscraper, Avgust stood at the edge, hands in his pockets--his left hand still feeling the familiar weight of his gun even though it was stored away--gazing down at the busy streets below. Without warning, his secretary materialized behind him.
"Master Avgust, I have something to report."
[ ZION BRUCE
TITLE: Traveler
POSITION: Avgust's Secretary
ABILITIES: Teleportation
RANK: B+ ]
"Report," Avgust ordered, not turning around or flinching at Zion's sudden appearance.
"A red rift has appeared in the South. It's predicted to house A-rank monsters. The Thrive Guild is bidding for expedition rights, but the Clarkston Guild is also competing for them."
Since the early days of guild expansion, conflicts between factions had led to widespread violence. To put an end to the bloodshed, the current Emperor established a formal bidding system. Smaller guilds were at a clear disadvantage--however, powerful factions like Thrive and Clarkston held all the advantage in reputation, influence... and wealth.
"Anything else?" Avgust asked, his tone disinterested.
"The shareholders have called a meeting for tomorrow afternoon. They want to discuss the unusual red rift that formed inside the yellow one earlier today."
Avgust let out a quiet sigh. Though he said nothing, Zion understood the gesture. "I'll see you then, Master Avgust." With that, he vanished as quickly as he'd appeared.
Avgust returned to watching the city below, closing his eyes for a moment. But he snapped them open almost instantly--the name "Jullian" had flashed through his mind, bringing with it a blurred memory: a young boy smiling down at him while holding his hand.
He pressed his palm to his broad chest, where a dog tag was hidden inside his suit--the necklace Jullian gave to him before he entered the Black Rift, with a promise of returning.
...
On a silent street, the sound of someone drinking echoed through a narrow alley. A striking red glowed beneath the lamp post, casting the shadow of a figure gnawing at a piece of flesh.
When the old man finally leaned back, satisfied, he wiped the blood from his lips, streaking his cheeks with crimson.
He let out a low, contented sigh as his gaze fell on the body of a man in an Esper uniform, his stomach torn open—a meal, yet somehow, not enough.
"Ha… not enough," he muttered, voice low and cold, echoing off the alley walls. With slow, measured steps, he disappeared into the darkness, leaving the alley bathed in red and the stench of death behind.