A pat landed gently on his shoulder.
Jaemin flinched.
He hadn't heard the footsteps.
"Don't worry, hyung!"
Taeha said, grinning.
"I'll be there by your side."
Jaemin blinked at him — the boy's expression was open, earnest. That kind of sincerity was hard to fake. Even harder to hold onto in a world like this.
A faint, almost reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Jaemin's lips.
"He really is passionate, he thought. Stupidly so… but maybe that's what makes him better than most."
"...Aren't you younger than me?"
Jaemin muttered, voice dry but soft.
"Shouldn't I be the one saying that?"
Taeha scratched his head with a sheepish laugh.
"True, but— I mean, you've got that gloomy aura thing going on, so I figured I'd cheer you up."
Jaemin rolled his eyes and turned away slightly, but the smile didn't leave his face. It was faint, but it stayed.
"I'm not gloomy."
"Sure, hyung."
Taeha grinned, trailing behind him as they stepped away from the rift corridor.
"And I'm not rich either, like everyone is gossiping."
"Your shoes cost more than my entire rent."
"Exactly! I'm poor in spirit."
That earned him a light scoff, and for a second, the weight Jaemin had been carrying eased.
Doyun's voice boomed behind them.
"Form up!"
It wasn't even a real yell—his voice just sounded like that. The kind that could cut through gunfire and chaos without effort. Everyone shuffled into place more out of instinct than coordination. There was no strategy discussed, no formation laid out. Just a few sharp words and motions.
Before Jaemin could even process it, the Rift opened like a gaping wound in the air. And just like that… they stepped through.
No briefing. No plan. No hesitation.
Taeha practically skipped in, his Flux aura buzzing faintly with excitement.
"This is wild."
He whispered, eyes darting in every direction.
"I finally get to see it up close."
Jaemin held back, one foot lingering at the edge of the threshold.
Something's wrong.
Everything about this was off. The pacing. The entry. The silence from the Coreborns around him—as if they were used to diving in blind.
He exhaled and stepped through last.
No one here seems to care. Just charging into a Rift without knowing a thing? How are any of them still alive?
And yet… Taeha was smiling like this was the best day of his life.
****
The air twisted as they crossed over.
One second they were on solid ground, the next they were standing inside a warped structure—walls that curved like a labyrinth but with dungeon-like decay. Stone bricks warped and bent, corners stretched in unnatural ways, as if the Rift couldn't decide what it wanted to be. A failed imitation of two things mashed together.
"A hybrid?"
Someone muttered, looking around.
The corridor flickered with faint, sickly green light. No source. No flame. Just the Rift's own unnatural pulse.
Despite that, the group moved forward casually—some even laughing.
Footsteps echoed alongside carefree voices as the team chatted.
"Bro, you think this is Tier 3 or Tier 2? This vibe is way more cursed than last time—"
"Bet you a snack it's Tier 3. Easy."
Jaemin walked behind them, silent. Observing. Processing.
His thoughts drifted.
"My last team would've been dead silent by now. Focused. Tensed."
He could still remember the way they moved, eyes sharp, weapons ready, every sound considered a threat.
And yet here…
"Hyung, check that out! It's like a hallway but slanted, right? Like the dungeon's drunk or something!"
Taeha chuckled, pointing ahead.
Jaemin didn't respond.
Why is no one taking this seriously?
None of them looked seasoned. No old scars. No caution in their eyes. And yet they moved like this was just a field trip.
Have they never lost anyone?
He clenched his fist briefly. His senses screamed something was wrong. But no one else seemed to hear it.
A low hiss sliced through the corridor.
The air shifted.
Like instinct, every member of the team flared their aura—matchstick bursts of light and color flickering into existence around them. Sparks of blue, red, emerald—each aura reflecting a different type, casting eerie shadows across the warped walls.
Jaemin paused mid-step, caught off guard. His eyes flicked to each member. For all their joking earlier, they moved with precision now. Controlled breathing. Correct stance. Focused eyes.
I was wrong,They're prepared. More than I thought.
The hiss came again. Closer.
From the shadows, something slithered into view—wrong in every way.
It was long. Coiled. A false mockery of a snake, or worse—an anaconda—but stitched together by something far more cruel than nature. Its body shimmered dark and oily like tar, segmented in crooked patterns. And its eyes… dark crimson slits glowing with malice.
At the end of its tail was a jagged barb—black, cracked, and glinting faintly with residual light.
"Abyssal BarbTail."
someone whispered.
Jaemin's heart dropped.
It moved with that inhuman smoothness—no hesitation, no threat display—just a predator that knew its prey was already marked.
"They don't use poison."
Jaemin muttered, recalling.
"They use paralysis."
Kim Doyun gave him a side glance but didn't interrupt.
That tail—barbed and sharp—wasn't just a weapon. It was a Core fragment. Dead core energy pulsed within it, corrupted, twisted.
Like the one that stabbed the Unholy Maiden's skull…
A chill ran down Jaemin's spine.
That means it's not just Abyssal… it's adaptive.
The BarbTail didn't lunge.
It waited. Observed.
Smart.
But the team stood ready, all eyes locked on it.
"Hold formation." Doyun said, voice even.
Then the ground beneath them cracked.
The BarbTail slithered forward only slightly—then raised its tail high.
It shook.
Not a rattle. There was no sound.
Just a slow, mechanical vibration as the dead Core fragment on its tail lit up—an ugly, blood-red glow that pulsed once… then again.
Then the wave hit them.
A ripple of red energy expanded outward, threading through the air like a net of malice. It wasn't an attack. Not in the traditional sense. But every Coreborn there felt it deep in their bones.
Jaemin's breath hitched.
His fists clenched—unintentionally.
His instincts screamed at him to move, to strike, to kill—but there was no target. No trigger. Just rising bloodlust with nowhere to go.
"What the hell…"
Taeha whispered beside him, eyes wide.
"It's mimicking a Bastion taunt."
Jaemin muttered under his breath.
That skill—usually reserved for defenders—was designed to draw aggression, to channel enemy fury toward a single point so the team could move freely. Bastions could even amplify their team's drive to kill, a battle-high that came with calm control.
This was not that.
There was no buff.
No coordination.
Just the raw, primal instinct to kill.
It wasn't empowering. It was humiliating.
This Abyssal was smart—too smart. Smarter than a RiftHowler, even those that lurked in Tier 3. It had studied its prey, mimicked them.
And now it was mocking them—broadcasting a twisted version of a team-wide buff… not to invite combat, but to say: even if you strike with all your strength, I will endure. I will survive.
The red aura clung to them, thick like smoke.
Doyun stepped forward slowly, his own aura simmering now—a faint silver shimmer. His jaw was tense.
"Tch," he muttered. "It's toying with us."
Jaemin's eyes narrowed.
The tension snapped taut like a wire pulled to its limit.
Then the BarbTail coiled.
And lunged.
"Bastion Core: Bastion Blade!"
Doyun's voice was calm—but resolute.
Twin swords ignited in a flash of red energy, crackling along their edges like flame forged from fury. He didn't hesitate. He launched forward, a blur of red slicing through the corridor as he collided directly with the BarbTail's dense scales.
CLANG!
The impact rang out like steel meeting stone.
The serpent reeled, its body jerking back, but not from pain—more like curiosity. Its glowing red eyes narrowed… then widened.
A chilling hiss escaped its maw.
Then it opened its jaws.
Fwwwoooom—!
A gust of pale, translucent mist exploded from its mouth. It wasn't just foul—it carried the stench of paralyzing death. Aether-imbued neurotoxin designed to seep into skin and bloodstream, corrupting a Coreborn's flow from within.
Jaemin flinched instinctively, but—
"Bastion Core: LION'S MANE!
Auxiliary Core: Guardian's Domain!"
Two voices. Two flares.
Doyun flared his aura—casting out a brilliant fiery dome, like the mane of a roaring lion. The mist hit the barrier and sizzled, burning out into harmless vapor.
And from behind that, a cool azure field spread outward—soft, precise, surgical. The Guardian's Domain neutralized what little remained, catching trace particles that tried to sneak past the shield.
Jaemin's eyes widened.
They weren't just reckless.
They were a real team.
They had timing. Roles. Coordination.
For a moment, the red fog lifted—and Jaemin saw it clearly. The glowing tail. The coiled body. The abyss-red eyes, narrowed and calculating.
The BarbTail wasn't deterred.
If anything… it looked amused.
The BarbTail's core pulsed again—a deep, malicious crimson.
It coiled its thick tail and slammed it sideways like a battering ram.
CRASH!
The Lion's Mane barrier shattered like glass.
The air trembled with the force. This serpent wasn't just dangerous—it was overwhelming.
From the shadows, more figures slinked forth.
Rifthounds. Smaller, faster, but still deadly.
"Split!"
Doyun barked—not yelled, just loud by nature.
The three DPS scattered.
Two Velocity Coreborn darted toward the incoming rifthounds, weapons slicing arcs through the dim light. One Precision Core moved to Doyun's flank, daggers at the ready.
Taeha charged forward, his indigo aura flaring bright.
With a loud yell, he brought his blade down on a rifthound, nearly stumbling with the force. The creature yelped—and fell.
"Nice one, chump!"
one of the Velocity Coreborn grinned.
Taeha just beamed.
"Heh."
His first kill as a Coreborn.
But no time to celebrate.
The serpent's mouth opened wide again—and unleashed a stream of green fire. Not toxin. Not mist. Fire.
"MOVE!"
Doyun roared.
Everyone scattered. Lion's Mane wouldn't hold up against that.
Jaemin watched from the back, eyes narrowed. No one had asked for his help—not that he blamed them.
The remaining Precision Core threw a charged dagger right into the serpent's jaw—an explosion of thunder lit up the chamber. The dagger carried the status effect: Paralysis.
The serpent jerked—but didn't fall.
"Auxiliary Core: Dynamic Overdrive!"
A support's voice rang out as their aura surged forward, enveloping Doyun in a layer of bright kinetic energy.
Doyun didn't wait.
He charged, twin blades glowing, slamming against the serpent's exposed side.
CLANK!
Scales flew like shrapnel. The serpent hissed, the chamber glowing with sudden bioluminescence across its body. A warning.
Then—
It released steam.
From every pore. Thick. Dense. Cloying.
It covered the entire battlefield.
Jaemin sighed. It was taking too long.
His vision—unnaturally sharpened since awakening—pierced the mist like nothing. He could see the serpent's form clearly.
He dropped his bag to the ground.
And summoned his daggers.
Binary Stars.
Twin, gleaming. radiant with power.
A small smile played at his lips.
Without a word, Jaemin moved.
Quick.
No—unnaturally quick.
The twin daggers shimmered with the Piercing Radiance of Stars—a unique effect that ignored armor and scale entirely.
He blurred past the serpent's side.
SLASH!
One clean slash.
And another.
He didn't stop. Just kept moving, momentum flowing through him like an unbroken tide. In seconds, it was done.
He returned to his position, casually picking up his bag.
As the steam cleared…
Silence.
The serpent was in pieces—neatly sliced, lightly steaming, and very, very dead.
Taeha, driving his blade into a twitching rifthound nearby, turned with pride on his face.
Until he saw the corpse.
His smile froze.
Then his jaw hit the floor.
Literally.
The mist faded completely.
Silence hung in the air.
Everyone just stood there, eyes locked on the neatly severed corpse of the BarbTail.
"…How?"
"Who did this?"
"What the hell…"
Muttered voices buzzed like static—low, confused, bordering disbelief.
Someone stepped closer to the corpse, inspecting the cuts.
Too clean. Too precise.
Doyun squinted at the body.
"LEAVE IT BE!"
He barked.
"PROLLY KILLED ITSELF FROM THE STEAM."
Jaemin almost choked.
Really?
He blinked slowly, keeping his face unreadable.
He was actually starting to believe it—Doyun was strong.
But stupid.
How the hell does steam slice through scale and skin?
Still, Jaemin said nothing.
He just stood at the back of the team, sliding his daggers away.
Quiet.
Like always.
Taeha jogged over, stepping around the still-steaming remains of the serpent, eyes wide with concern.
"Hyung, are you okay??"
He didn't ask what happened, didn't point at the cleanly-sliced corpse, didn't try to piece it together. He just asked if Jaemin was alright. That alone made Jaemin flinch a little inside.
"I'm all good."
Jaemin said, keeping his voice casual. He offered a small smile.
"You popped off with those Rifthound kills."
Taeha blinked, surprised.
"Huh? Oh—right!"
He scratched his cheek, trying to play it off, but his ears turned pink.
"Kinda got lucky, I think. Almost tripped on the first one…"
To Taeha, slashing down two Rifthounds was a big deal. His first real fight. His first real kill. Jaemin could tell — the kid had that jittery pride in his step, the quiet kind that looked for approval without asking for it.
And yet that moment got completely overshadowed by the serpent's corpse lying split on the ground.
Jaemin watched him for a second, then nodded.
"Still counts. You did good."
Taeha beamed.
Jaemin's smile faded, just a little. He remembered his own first kill. A solo Rift. Weak monsters, but no backup.
No one cheering when he landed that final blow. Just the sound of breathing through cracked lips. A moment no one saw… and no one ever remembered.
But Taeha's did. And Jaemin would make sure it stayed that way.
"Oye, let's move on!"
Doyun barked, not waiting for anyone's reply. His voice still carried too loud, like thunder in a narrow cave.
The others followed, slightly more wary now. No one said it out loud, but that serpent had shaken something loose.
There were still a few stray Rifthounds along the path, but they were dispatched without trouble — even Taeha managed to cleanly decapitate one this time, his blade dragging sparks as he spun.
They stepped into a broader chamber, a shift in terrain. The jagged stone walls peeled outward, a ceiling taller than the rest of the labyrinth loomed above.
But it wasn't the size of the room that caught their attention — it was the dense, ashen cloud swirling high overhead like a living thunderstorm.
Jaemin's pace slowed. His eyes narrowed. That silhouette…
"No way."
A low screech echoed. Not loud — but piercing. Almost mournful.
Jaemin's breath caught. He knew that cry. Knew that haze. The shape wasn't fully visible yet, but the twitch of his fingers said it all.
Rifthowler.
It levitated mid-air, eyes hidden behind a veil of shifting mist. Among Tier 3 beasts, it wasn't the strongest physically — but its screech could rupture internal organs, and its sonar ability disabled aura flares, locking Coreborns into silence and blindness alike.
Worst of all, it fed on fear. It didn't attack first. It watched. And waited.
As the last of the ash cloud blew apart under the light of a flickering core lantern, the Rifthowler emerged — wings spread wide, face a mess of jagged teeth and glimmering hollow sockets.
The team scattered. Instinct, not order. No one even shouted a command.
Tch. Of course.
This Rift was more than just undecided. It was bait.