The dawn was not a gentle thing in the city of Cynug. It arrived as a bruised, violet smear across the horizon, filtered through the shimmering mana-shields that protected the urban core. For Cephas, however, the day had begun long before the sun.
By 05:00 AM, he was perched on the narrow stone ledge of the dormitory window, his back against the cold glass. Below him, the Scrap District lay in a hum of early morning industry, but his eyes were fixed on a specific coordinate.
The holographic map from the previous day's lecture was burned into his memory. The flickering rift near the industrial sector was still there, its mana signature wobbling like a dying pulse.
It's unguarded, Cephas thought, his brow furrowed. A spontaneous F-Rank fracture in a high-density civilian zone, and the Kingdom hasn't sent a single containment squad?
It didn't make sense.
The Department of Rift Management was notoriously bureaucratic, but they weren't incompetent. If a rift was on the map, it was known. To leave it open was either an oversight or an invitation.
He was deep into calculating the distance—estimating he could slip past the perimeter fence and trigger his "Lethal Gambler" trait before the morning patrols began—when he saw them. Two figures were moving through the shadows of the quad, walking with a rhythmic, heavy stride that didn't belong to students. They carried long, brass bells that glinted in the dim light.
Cephas sighed, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. Change of plans.
He hopped down from the ledge, the soles of his boots hitting the floor with a dull thud. He didn't want to be the one to deal with five cranky, startled roommates if those bells were the first thing they heard.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
"Up," Cephas said, his voice a low, commanding rasp. "The welcoming committee is thirty seconds from the door. If you want to look like RiftWalkers and not startled rabbits, get on your feet."
Toby scrambled out of his sheets, his hair a bird's nest of nervous energy. He adjusted his glasses and looked at Cephas with wide, bloodshot eyes. "Cephas? Where... where were you? We left the door unlocked. I thought maybe you'd gone to the training center and... stayed."
"I visited somewhere," Cephas replied shortly. He began pulling on his tactical boots, cinching the laces tight. He felt Toby's gaze lingering on him—a mix of reverence and confusion. He realized his response was a bit too cold for someone who had just pledged their loyalty. "Thanks, Toby. For leaving the door open."
Toby beamed, a small, fragile thing in the dim light. "No problem. We're a team, right?"
Before Cephas could answer, a thunderous BANG rattled the door on its hinges.
"OUT! ALL FRESHMEN TO THE FRONT OF THE OMEGA DORM! FIVE MINUTES OR YOU'RE MARKED FOR DISCIPLINARY LABOR!"
The hallway erupted into chaos. Doors slammed, feet pounded against the stone, and the air was filled with the frantic whispers of teenagers who had expected a quiet Saturday morning of sleep and recovery.
Outside, the air was crisp and biting. The freshmen of the Omega Dorm gathered in a ragged semi-circle, shivering in their thin training fatigues. The Year Two students were there as well, clustered in a separate group. Their faces were twisted in deep scowls, their arms crossed. They looked offended, as if being woken up alongside the "fresh meat" was a personal insult to their seniority.
Standing on the raised stone dais were the two men with the bells. They looked young—perhaps twenty or twenty-one—but they possessed a lean, hungry energy that set them apart from the instructors. They wore high-grade leather armor reinforced with mana-fiber, and their weapons were well-worn, showing the nicks and scratches of real combat.
The Year Two students whispered among themselves, trying to place the faces. But there was no recognition.
"Listen up, you lot!" the taller one shouted. He had a shock of blonde hair and a jagged scar across his chin. "My name is Hansel. This is Randall. Three years ago, we were sitting in those same shitty bunks you just crawled out of."
A ripple went through the crowd. Graduates.
"We didn't end up in the scrap heaps or the sewers," Randall added, his voice smoother but no less sharp. "We made it out. We're currently independent contractors for the Austrie Border Guard. We've closed more rifts than you've had hot meals."
The Year Two students looked slightly less annoyed, but Hansel quickly wiped the smirks off their faces.
"Year Twos, you're dismissed," Hansel barked. "We didn't come here for you. We just wanted you to see what success looks like so you stop whining about your breakfast portions. Get back to your holes."
The older students stood stunned for a moment before turning back toward the dorms, muttering curses under their breaths. Hansel and Randall watched them go with mocking grins, waiting until the heavy doors clicked shut before turning their full attention back to the freshmen.
Cephas stood at the back of the group, his hands in his pockets. He watched the way Hansel shifted his weight—always ready to draw his blade. They weren't here for a friendly visit.
"Now," Randall said, his grin widening into something predatory. "Today is Saturday. The day you thought you'd be spending your credits on sweets in the city. Change of plans. The Academy thinks you're getting soft after one day of lectures. They want to see if your 'Talents' actually work when there's a monster breathing down your neck."
Panic began to ripple through the lines. Toby's breath hitched beside Cephas.
"We aren't going to the city," Hansel announced, his voice dropping into a serious, gravelly tone. "We're going on an excursion. A live, field-grade observation."
He paused for effect, letting the silence hang over the shivering students.
"Pack your basic gear. In twenty minutes, we're boarding the transport. We're heading to the outskirts of the Jagged Barrens. You're going to visit an actual, active F-Rank Rift."
The silence shattered.
"A rift? Today?!" a girl in the front row cried out, her voice cracking. "We haven't even had combat training!"
"We don't even have weapons yet!" another boy shouted.
"You have your talents, don't you?" Randall countered, his eyes flashing. "The rifts don't wait for you to graduate. They don't wait for you to feel 'ready.' They open, and they kill. Today, you're going to see one up close. You're going to smell the mana-rot. And if you're lucky, you'll see what happens to people who hesitate."
Cephas watched his classmates. Almost all of them had gone pale. Some were visibly shaking, their knees knocking together. The bravado from the training center the day before had vanished, replaced by the raw, primal fear of the unknown.
For seventy-four years, the Rifts had been the monsters under the bed. Now, the bed was being pulled away.
Toby looked like he was about to faint. "Cephas... an F-Rank? I... I haven't even practiced my gravity manipulation on anything bigger than a pebble. What if it fails?"
Cephas didn't look at him. His gaze was fixed on Hansel and Randall. He realized now why the flickering rift in the Scrap District had been left unguarded. It wasn't an oversight. It was part of the "curriculum." These excursions were designed to weed out the weak-willed before the Kingdom wasted another cent on their training.
But while the others felt dread, Cephas felt a cold, electric thrill.
He wouldn't be able to sneak off to his private rift, but the System didn't care where the kill happened. Whether it was in a secret alleyway or in front of the entire freshman class, a 100% drop rate was a 100% drop rate. And a 10x multiplier…
He looked at his hands, his heart rate beginning to climb.
An F-Rank Rift, he thought. The perfect stage.
"You heard the men!" Cephas said, loud enough for his roommates to hear. "Move. If you're still standing here when the transport arrives, you've already failed."
He turned and headed back toward the dorm to grab his bag. He had no sword, no armor, and no ranking. To the rest of the world, he was the most vulnerable student in the group.
But as he walked, a blood-red notification flickered in his vision, sensing the proximity of the rift-energy that Hansel and Randall had brought with them on their gear.
[New Quest: Baptism of Blood]
[Objective: Surrender 95% of your Health during the Excursion.]
[Reward: First-Tier Loot Crate (10x Multiplier Eligible).]
Cephas felt his pulse thrumming in his ears. The others were terrified of dying. He was terrified of staying healthy.
"Let's see if the house is ready to pay," he whispered.
Twenty minutes later, the roar of a heavy armored transport echoed through the quad. The "Excursion" had begun, and for the third generation of Cynug, the apocalypse was finally becoming real.