Nyra heard the discharge before she saw it, the familiar hum of her rifle, a pitch that vibrated in the

  bones. The air split with a sonic snap, the Singularity scope’s focus line distorting everything between

  her and the target.

  The round hit.

  The kinetic slug tore into the owl’s eye, not glancing, not grazing, but dead center. The first impact was

  enough to jolt the creature backward, a spray of black ichor and molten gold spilling from the wound.

  Then the relic flared.

  Six echoes burst from the point of impact, one after another, each a different frequency of destruction.

  Two physical reverberations struck first, blunt, concussive waves that slammed deeper into the socket,

  grinding through bone and sinew.

  Then came the Wind, a razor-edged vortex that sliced through the exposed tissue, the sound like tearing

  silk under pressure. Mineral followed, coarse and brutal, grinding the wound wider, pulverizing

  fragments of skull and stone-like cartilage as if the beast’s head were a quarry collapsing inward.

  The Lightning echo came next, a blinding flash that made the feathers shudder and blacken, tendrils of

  energy crawling down the owl’s face. The Fire echo struck last, pure molten heat that roared through

  the already-shattered eye, fusing tissue and bone into glowing slag.

  The entire sequence took less than a second, six layered detonations folding into one another, each

  building on the last until the air shook with resonance.

  The owl’s scream was half sound, half shockwave. It reared back, its massive body convulsing, and

  then toppled from the tree, feathers burning and scattering like ash through the desert wind.

  Her rifle lay on the ground.

  And Bash was gone.

  Two afterimages of him, faint, translucent, flickered through the air, each holding her rifle, firing

  toward the owl’s perch. The shots cracked through the heat, blinding flashes carving across the sky. The

  final afterimage dissolved just as Bash blink-stepped up the path, his sidearm blazing. Each blink left

  new echoes behind him, two ghostly figures mirroring his movement and firing behind him, kinetic

  resonance and relic harmonics overlapping in blinding rhythm.

  The owl screeched as the first volley struck. The kinetic rounds tore through its shoulder and wing,

  spinning it from the tree. The creature crashed into the sand below, blood and sparks scattering across

  the glassed terrain.

  Bash didn’t stop.

  He blink-stepped again, running then blinking again, each blink leaving a luminous double burning in

  the air behind him. The distance between him and the falling owl vanished in flashes of light and

  displacing sand.

  By the time the beast hit the ground, he was already there. Just feet away.

  His sidearm roared, every pull of the trigger a sharp, concussive burst of blue-white light. The kinetic

  rounds slammed into the wounded eye and across the owl’s chest, detonating with rhythmic precision.

  Every second or third shot flared brighter, as the relic linked, amplifying through the weapon.

  The air fractured. Five or Six echoes rippled outward, each one carrying a distinct elemental resonance,

  one to two physical, then Wind, Mineral, Lightning, Fire, each one feeling stronger than the last. The

  ground beneath the owl cracked from the feedback, glassing into molten ridges as the overlapping

  bursts punched through its body.

  The owl convulsed violently, wings thrashing, feathers igniting in gouts of burning essence. Its eyes

  blazed white, light pouring from its beak as the internal resonance collapsed inward. One last scream

  tore through the air, a shriek so sharp it seemed to split the heat haze itself, then silence.

  For a heartbeat, the entire battlefield seemed to hold its breath.

  Then, all at once, the summoned beasts turned. Hundreds of heads snapped toward the dying Owl, fire,

  mineral, wind, and lightning constructs breaking from their assaults as if drawn by an invisible thread.

  Their white eyes pulsed in unison, abandoning the team, bounding and flying toward their collapsing

  master in a frenzied surge of instinct.

  The sudden shift hit like a wave breaking.

  Rixor, half-kneeling and bleeding, blinked once before realizing what was happening. “They’re pulling

  back!”

  Liora didn’t wait. Her twin blades erupted in red and gold arcs, slashing into the backs of the retreating

  summons. “Not a chance!” she yelled, darting forward through the chaos.

  Darik was right behind her, cleaver swinging in a wide arc that sent shards of glass and scorched

  feathers scattering. Nyra opened fire, precision bursts cutting through the midline while Taren’s radiant

  blasts bathed the field in pulsing gold. Her orbs streaked between them, still detonating a healing aura

  on her allies.

  Bash glanced back once, long enough to see his team unleash.

  With the summons redirected, the formation reformed instinctively: Rixor and Liora anchoring the

  front, Darik hammering through stragglers, Nyra and Calen raining down fire from range. Taren’s

  healing storms pulsed outward in steady rhythm, restoring the battered line.

  The field that had been chaos seconds ago was now a storm of retaliation.

  The team surged forward together, coordinated and vicious, each strike feeding off the last. And as the

  owl’s body spasmed and burned in the distance, the tide of lesser creatures crumbled under the sudden,

  united counterattack.

  The creature sagged forward, its massive head half-buried in the sand, molten glass pooling beneath it.

  Bash stood there, chest heaving, the sidearm still humming from overcharge, the air around him alive

  with residual arcs of heat.

  Then the pulse hit.

  A wave of raw energy slammed into Bash, dropping him to one knee.

  The world folded inward, colors bleeding into one another, blue, then red, then gold, before collapsing

  into a single flash of blinding white. His vision fractured.

  His pulse spiked. Every breath came with the taste of static. The force didn’t explode outward; it

  imploded, crashing through him alone, bypassing his defenses, vibrating in the marrow of his bones.

  S-C’s voice cut through the haze. “Tier Three-Alpha pulse detected.”

  Bash gritted his teeth, forcing himself upright. The glow around him faded to embers, and for a fleeting

  second, silence reigned.

  Bash’s breathing came ragged. He looked up, jaw tight. The Owl’s corpse twitched, then exhaled.

  All across the battlefield, the effect was instantaneous.

  The summons dropped where they stood.

  Wings folded mid flight and bodies plummeted from the air, crashing into the sand in dull, heavy thuds.

  Four-legged beasts froze mid-charge, momentum carrying them forward before they collapsed into

  heaps of glass and dust. Elemental constructs shattered apart, flames extinguished, mineral plating

  crumbled, and lightning traces flickered out one by one.

  Within seconds, the cacophony of battle died. The only sound left was the hiss of cooling air and the

  faint ring in Bash’s ears.

  “Detecting secondary resonance signature,” S-C said quickly. “Warning: Reincarnate pattern

  confirmed.”

  The body flared, feathers and essence reforming around its frame. Bash didn’t hesitate. He raised his

  sidearm and opened fire again.

  “Four seconds before feedback reset,” S-C warned, her tone sharp and metallic. “Suit and relic

  amplifiers are cycling down. Maintain aggression or before you lose all elemental feedback.”

  He didn’t answer, just kept firing, kinetic resonance hammering the owl’s half-reformed body. Every

  shot tore deeper, relic echoes stacking in waves until the air itself pulsed like a heartbeat. Knives flew

  in between bursts, embedding deep into the creature’s chest. The T2G blades alone did little against

  something of this scale, mere scratches across its body, but each one carried Razorvein’s bleed, thin

  crimson lines etching across the owl’s body as the effect compounded. Every few the relic echo

  deepened the wounds, layering vibration over corrosion, until even small cuts began to matter. The

  damage stacked, subtle at first, then relentless, a thousand paper-thin ruptures tearing through the

  creature’s essence with every throw.

  Then the light changed.

  The owl’s eyes snapped open, pure white, burning with violent resonance. Its body convulsed, trying to

  lift itself from the ground, torn wings twitching as essence surged through its veins again.

  Around the team, the fallen summons began to stir.

  Rixor was slumped against a half-melted boulder, chest rising in ragged heaves, his hammer buried in

  the ground just to keep himself upright. Liora and Darik knelt beside him, both bloodied, their weapons

  resting limply at their sides as they tried to catch their breath. Taren’s hands trembled, the glow from

  her sidearms fading as she struggled to keep her balance, every last drop of resonance burned through

  to hold them together.

  Nyra and Calen, both crouched low, eyes glassy and unfocused. The field was littered with the

  remnants of the fight, burning feathers, cracked stone, half-dissolved constructs, and the air itself

  seemed to hum with fatigue.

  Then the sound came.

  Bodies that had gone still moments before now shuddered, limbs twitching, claws scraping against the

  glassed earth. One by one, their white eyes reignited, faint at first, then growing brighter, like a field of

  cold stars burning back to life. The whisper of motion became a collective rasp as the mass of revived

  beasts began to rise, hundreds of forms dragging themselves upright once again.

  “Two seconds,” S-C said.

  The Owl convulsed again, rising halfway, massive, burning, its eyes fixed on him.

  Then another pulse hit.

  It slammed into him like a tidal wave, lifting him off his feet. His body shook violently as he hit the

  ground. Before he could even recover, a second pulse followed, sharper, deeper, threading through his

  core. Everything went dark.

  When Bash opened his eyes, the sound of boots on glass filled the air. The team was running toward

  him, shapes blurred by dust and heat.

  Rixor was first. “You’re alive,” he said, relief bleeding into the words. “What the hell happened?”

  Taren knelt beside him, hands already glowing. “You collapsed. I thought...”

  “I’m fine,” Bash muttered, sitting up slowly. “Just... overextended my resonance output with the new

  gear. Sidearm draws heavier than I expected.”

  It was the story S-C had already whispered in his head seconds before they arrived, neat, plausible, and

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  entirely believable.

  Her voice return.

  “You received two Tier-Three-Apex Summoner pulses. Upon the second death, you absorbed a

  Reincarnate Essence signature. No unlock detected.”

  No unlock…

  The words stung more than the impact had. But he nodded once, pushing himself to his feet. “I just

  burned too hot, that’s all.”

  The others accepted it without question, exhaustion overriding doubt.

  Nyra broke from the group first, her cloak brushing the sand as she knelt beside Bash. The concealment

  shimmer had faded, leaving her pale beneath the harsh light.

  “Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked, her voice quieter than the wind. She rested a hand lightly on

  his arm, eyes searching his face for signs of strain.

  Bash gave a small, steady nod. “Yeah. Just pushed too hard.”

  She didn’t move right away, just lingered, gaze flicking briefly to the faint scorch lines still glowing

  across his armor. “You really need to stop taking on entire beasts by yourself,” she murmured, halfchiding, half-concerned.

  “It comes with the job,” he said with a faint grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

  From a few steps away, Calen scoffed under his breath. “He’s fine. The rest of us were getting shredded

  while he took a nap.”

  Nyra’s eyes flicked toward him, the softness gone in an instant. “At least he was doing something that

  mattered,” she shot back. “Maybe if you’d chosen gear that didn’t make you a walking liability, Rixor

  wouldn’t have nearly died. You were soaking half of Taren’s heals just trying to stay upright while

  everyone else was bleeding.”

  She rose to her feet, voice cold now, the exhaustion giving her words a hard edge. “You’re supposed to

  fight with us, not against the healer.”

  Calen’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer.

  The tension between them crackled like leftover static, unspoken but felt by everyone nearby. Bash

  exhaled slowly, pushing himself up, pretending not to notice the way both of them still glared past him.

  They began to gather near the fallen Owl. Its body was massive up close, charred feathers, half-melted

  talons, the faint shimmer of fading essence still leaking from its wounds.

  Rixor glanced around. “So what the hell was that all about?”

  Bash exhaled. “If I had to guess, Reincarnate secondary aspect. Explains why all the summons

  dropped, then started moving again.”

  The others murmured agreement, a mix of awe and fatigue. Darik and Liora moved to secure the

  perimeter, checking for movement. Nyra watched through her scope, eyes scanning the horizon for new

  heat signatures.

  S-C spoke again, her tone softer this time, almost reflective.

  “I know what you’re thinking, why was a Tier-Three-Apex in a Grey portal,” she said. “It’s not an

  error. Portal strength isn’t fixed,” she said. “It fluctuates with how often it’s harvested. The color

  system just reflects the average expected state, Grey-class portals are usually stable because they’re

  culled regularly.”

  She paused a moment, as if reviewing data. “But this one… it’s been left alone for sixty-seven full

  cycles. No recorded incursions. That’s decades of unchecked growth.”

  Bash’s brow furrowed. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning it didn’t stay Grey,” S-C replied. “Every beast inside kept feeding on the ones below it.

  Layer after layer, until something broke past the limit. What you fought wasn’t misplaced, it was the

  natural evolution of neglect.”

  Bash exhaled slowly, eyes still on the scorched horizon. “So it evolved on its own.”

  “Exactly,” S-C said. “Natural selection with a little extra violence.”

  Bash frowned, eyes still on the corpse. Sixty-seven?

  “What’s the average?” he whispered under his breath.

  “Fifteen to twenty cycles,” she replied. “This one is anomalous.”

  He relayed it to the team. Rixor swore softly. “Let’s not step into another ‘anomaly’ like this again.

  Ever.”

  Bash gave a faint grin. “The Nexus will likely flag it,” he said. “Probably run a full investigation into

  other portals like it once we’re back and they are aware of the situation.”

  In his head, S-C confirmed it: Once sync completes, data will trigger bounty protocols. Verification

  missions will follow.

  He thought for a moment, then asked silently, What about the first Summoner portal?

  “Forty-six cycles dormant before re-entry,” she answered.

  Bash huffed a quiet laugh. “Two data points. Guess that’s proof enough.”

  The group went still again, exhaustion setting in as the adrenaline ebbed away.

  “Alright,” Bash said finally. “Let’s collect what’s left and get out.”

  They gathered the Beast Fragments from the battlefield, the remains of the summons scattered across

  the terrain. Each fragment pulsed with faint resonance, orange and violet hues blending across the sand.

  Bash knelt near the Owl, prying free a massive talon. It shimmered once before shrinking into a crystal

  trinket.

  The silence stretched. Then Calen broke it.

  “Did you see me drop those three fliers with one volley?” he said, a grin spreading across his face.

  “That last one didn’t even touch the ground before I hit the next.”

  Rixor froze mid-stride. Slowly, he turned, his expression dark. “You’re bragging?”

  Calen blinked. “I’m just saying...”

  “You’re saying what?” Rixor growled. “That you almost got me killed? You soaked up half of Taren’s

  heals because you were too busy showing off!”

  Calen’s smirk faded. “Not my fault if you can’t take a hit.”

  Rixor’s hand twitched. “Say that again.”

  “Guys!” Bash started, but Rixor was already moving.

  He lunged, grabbing Calen by the front of his armor and slamming him back against the rock wall. The

  impact echoed. Calen swung back, catching Rixor across the jaw.

  Rixor barely flinched. He hit him twice, heavy, controlled blows, and Calen dropped to the ground,

  gasping. Rixor stood over him, ready to swing again.

  Bash stepped between them, voice hard. “Enough.”

  Rixor glared. “Move.”

  “No,” Bash said flatly. “He’s not worth it.”

  For a long moment, the two locked eyes, Rixor breathing hard, rage simmering. Then he exhaled,

  turning away.

  “I’m done,” he said. “If he’s on the next team run, I’m not.”

  No one commented. The silence that followed said more than any words could.

  “Let’s just get the fragments back to the Ark,” Bash said quietly. “We’ll talk there.”

  They walked in silence for almost two hours, the sun dipping low behind the mountains. When they

  finally stepped through the portal, the world folded, and they were back in the Ark, sterile light and

  smooth metal replacing sand and blood.

  S-C handled the debrief, slipping between truths and omissions effortlessly. The Nexus bought the

  story, overextension, resonance fatigue, standard hazard. The T3A fragment was claimed for research,

  but they were rewarded with two hundred fifty extra T2G fragments for identifying a Summoner-class

  anomaly.

  Each member received sixty-three T2G and forty-one T2C fragments. The reward meant little; the

  silence weighed more.

  In the cafeteria later, the air was thick. Rixor and Calen sat at opposite ends of the table, no one

  speaking until Bash finally did.

  “Calen,” he said. “We know you are a damage, but you need to invest in healing aid. Life steal,

  absorption, something to keep you from burning through Taren’s focus.”

  Calen leaned back. “Not my problem. Healing’s her job. Maybe she needs better gear.”

  The table erupted, shouts, disbelief, fury all directed at Calen.

  “Enough!” Bash barked, slamming his palm down. The sound cut through the noise.

  He leaned forward. “We’re a team. You took so much damage that others almost died. This isn’t just

  about you.”

  Calen met his gaze, defiant. “Sounds like they don’t have the gear for the job. You said it before, I’m

  damage.”

  More shouting. Bash silenced them again. “Yes, you’re damage. But we’re a team.”

  He and Taren both offered their recently earned fragments, setting them gently on the table between

  them. Even Nyra leaned forward, her voice low but edged with disbelief. “Calen, listen, none of us

  would have this gear if we hadn’t done it together. The gear after the first White portal, the ones we

  risked everything for, that’s what built the foundation for all of this.”

  She motioned toward the shimmering plates of armor and the weapons stacked beside them. “That win

  gave us access to better gear, and all of fragments that paid for everything we’re using now. If you’d

  gone in alone, you’d still be stuck with training-tier equipment.”

  Calen’s jaw tightened. “I don’t need your charity,” he shot back, sneering. “I’d have gotten this gear

  with or without you.”

  Taren’s expression hardened, her tone cutting sharper than her sidearms ever could. “No, you wouldn’t

  have. You’d have bled out on your first run.”

  Nyra slammed her palm on the table, startling him into silence. “We’re not saying this to insult you.

  We’re saying it because you owe the team. Every one of us risked something so we could all come out

  stronger, and you’re acting like you did it alone.”

  Calen’s lip curled, eyes narrowing. “Maybe I should’ve.”

  The words hung in the air like smoke. Rixor’s fists clenched, the tendons in his forearm standing out

  like cables as his chair scraped against the floor.

  Rixor started to rise, but Bash caught his shoulder, holding him back.

  Finally, Bash straightened, his voice calm but firm. “Then we’ll vote as a team. Either you take the gear

  we agree benefits the team, and we help with the cost...”

  Calen pushed his chair back hard enough for it to screech against the floor. “No need to vote,” he

  snapped, cutting him off. “I’m out.”

  The words hit harder than they should have. For a long moment, no one moved.

  He slung his pack over his shoulder, not meeting a single pair of eyes, and started for the exit. The

  sound of his boots on the polished floor echoed through the cafeteria, sharp and hollow, fading with

  each step until the doors slid shut behind him.

  Silence settled like dust.

  Rixor stared at the table, jaw working, one hand flexing unconsciously over a fresh scar on his

  knuckles. Liora leaned back in her chair, exhaling slow, the tension leaving her shoulders in visible

  waves. Taren looked down at the fragments still sitting in the center of the table.

  Even Nyra, usually the first to break tension, said nothing. She just crossed her arms, gaze fixed on the

  doorway Calen had disappeared through.

  Bash finally spoke, quieter now. “We’ll move forward without him.”

  No one argued.