The first thing Caleb learned about the Corrupted Realm was that the sky never changed. It bled crimson and violet in slow, lazy pulses like a living wound that refused to close. The clouds didn't move—they hovered, twisted like scorched silk, always watching.
He walked for what felt like days.
His feet bled. His knuckles were scraped raw from climbing jagged stone ridges. Food didn't exist here—not the kind he recognized. The air tasted like iron and regret.
The land whispered.
Sometimes it laughed.
But the Riftenergy... it was thick, constant, and alive. It shimmered faintly around his skin, tugging on him like a child with sticky fingers, curious and chaotic.
He hadn't seen another person.
Not until the third—or maybe the thirtieth—sunless cycle.
Caleb stumbled into a clearing choked with bone-thick vines and crooked, ash-colored trees. The wind stilled. Something was off.
The moment his boot touched the mossy ground, the trees groaned and split open, revealing flesh-like cracks in the bark—and out stepped something humanoid.
It looked like a man at first. Then not. Its arms were too long. Eyes where the mouth should be. Jaw split sideways. It wore a Union uniform, half-eaten by corruption, the insignia barely visible.
"Human," it said in a wet, slurred voice. "Too young. Too whole."
Caleb froze. "You're—"
"I was a Riftborn too," the creature rasped. "Got pulled in. Like you."
Caleb swallowed. "What happened to you?"
"It changed me," it said with a sick grin, its skin bubbling. "And you? You'll change too. They all do. The Rift eats slowly."
"I'm not staying," Caleb said, backing away.
The thing hissed. "You think the exit is up to you?"
It lunged.
Caleb rolled, narrowly dodging, and scrambled to his feet. His hands sparked—instinctively summoning a short blade of Riftenergy. He wasn't good with it yet, but it was better than nothing.
They clashed.
It was messy.
Caleb's strikes were clumsy. His blade wavered and fizzed. The corrupted Riftborn's movements were jagged and unnatural, like it wasn't used to its body anymore. Every time it touched Caleb's blade, it screamed—not in pain, but in laughter.
"You'll be me soon, boy!"
"I'd rather be dead!" Caleb yelled, forcing his energy into the blade until it hummed violently.
He slashed low, ducked under a claw, and drove his weapon into the creature's stomach. It shrieked and exploded into a shower of black smoke and bile.
Caleb dropped to his knees, panting hard, vision tunneling.
His blade dissolved. The Riftenergy around him stilled, like it was watching.
And then a voice—different this time. Not corrupted.
"Not bad," it said. "For someone who swings like a drunk tourist."
Caleb jerked up, fists raised. A figure stood on a low ridge nearby, cloaked in a dirty, tattered coat with a blade strapped across his back and wild, grey hair.
"Who are you?" Caleb demanded.
The man grinned. "Survivor. Wanderer. Teacher, if you ask nicely."
Caleb didn't relax. "You Riftborn?"
"Born, broken, reforged. Like you're about to be."
"How long have you been here?"
The man chuckled. "Long enough to forget how steak tastes. Short enough to still dream about it."
Caleb blinked. "That's... oddly poetic."
"Thanks. I was a writer before all this Rift nonsense."
Silence passed.
Caleb let his hands fall. "I'm looking for a way out."
The man's grin faded. "Aren't we all."
"Will you help me?"
"That depends." He slid down the slope effortlessly, eyes sharp. "You gonna keep rushing into fights like an idiot, or are you ready to learn how to survive this hell?"
Caleb sighed, wincing as he sat down on a nearby rock. "Honestly, I'll take whatever help I can get."
The man nodded, dropping his cloak. Underneath, his body was laced with glowing marks—veins of controlled Riftenergy.
"Name's Gorrin."
"Caleb."
"Alright, Caleb. First lesson—never trust a tree that smells sweet. Second lesson…" He tossed Caleb a cracked flask filled with thick, glowing water. "You'll need to strengthen your soul core. You've got power, but no roots."
Caleb raised the flask. "This isn't poison, right?"
"If it is, at least it'll kill you fancy."
He drank.
It burned going down. But it felt like it lit something in his chest.
The days ahead wouldn't be easy. But for the first time since the Rift took him, Caleb didn't feel entirely alone.
And the Corrupted Realm, it seemed, wasn't done with him yet.