Dispatcher:
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Oh my God, I don’t know what’s going on, but the power went out—it’s the whole block! Wait—hold on, there’s something outside! It’s moving—oh no—” [line disconnects]
Dispatcher:
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Help! Help! There’s a fire! The buildings—mother of god!, the buildings are crumbling! People are running everywhere, please—” [screams and chaotic noise in the background]
Dispatcher:
“911, state your emergency.
“My son! My son is trapped in the house! There’s smoke everywhere! Please, I can’t get to him—”
Dispatcher:
“911, what's the issue?”
“There’s a huge freakin’ tornado! It’s destroying the park! Oh God, the trees, the cars—it’s not normal, it’s moving weird—wait, what are those black—” [line cuts off]
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“There are black chains in the sky! They’re twisting and spreading—everything’s breaking apart! The lights—oh hell, the lights—they’re flickering again!”
“911, what—
“People are fucking getting pulled or sucked down the street!…. toward….—I don’t know—send help Holy shit! Maria! Maria I’m coming— [line cuts off]
[Multiple incoming calls flood the line, reporting blackouts, fires, and strange phenomena like towering tornadoes and surreal black chains unraveling the skies.]
Dispatcher:
“We’re receiving a high volume of calls. Please remain calm. Emergency services are en route. Stay indoors and away from windows if possible. We’re doing everything we can.”
——
Incident Report
Subject: Rift-Rebound Catastrophe - Red Hollow Park
Duration: 35 Minutes
Classification: Level Alpha Event
Date: [7/13/2045]
Report ID: SC-0131999
Overview
An unprecedented rift-rebound event occurred across California, Nevada, Arizona, and Oregon, with Red Hollow Park identified as the epicenter. Initial reports indicate catastrophic destruction across a multi-mile radius, leaving widespread property and environmental damage. The rebound registered on transcendent energy scales beyond prior benchmarks.
Primary Response
At the time of the initial event, Red Gale (A-Rank Operative) was on-site and engaged with the emerging threat. Red Gale deployed two Supreme Skills, delaying the immediate threat but causing significant collateral damage. The unknown entity exhibited mastery of summoned chains and Black Magic, leading to speculation regarding its classification (Monster, Demurge, or Ghoul).
White Bullseye (S-Rank Operative) was dispatched for reinforcement but encountered a herd of Demurges en route to the site. She successfully neutralized the threat and prevented further escalation. Upon arrival at the epicenter, White Bullseye secured an individual later identified as Zoey Bail, a civilian whose transformation into a Veythari appears to have directly caused the rift-rebound.
Threat Neutralization
White Bullseye engaged the unidentified entity in a decisive confrontation, resulting in its neutralization. The creature’s body has been transported to Echo-9 Research Facility for analysis. Zoey Bail, in a critical but stable condition, has been relocated to Arrow-13 for observation and eventual placement within Unit V-35 (Veythari Integration Corps) once cleared by a Seer evaluator.
Current Status
?Red Gale: Suffering severe backlash due to overexertion of a Desire. Currently undergoing treatment at Echo-9 Medical Wing. Pending debriefing upon stabilization and consciousness.
?Zoey Bail: Unconscious, pending evaluation.
?Entity Remains: Secured at Echo-9. Investigation into origin and classification underway.
White Bullseye Report
Detailed engagement report from White Bullseye (S-Rank Operative) is attached as supplementary documentation. All findings, including the confirmed use of unknown constructs, have been forwarded to the Emergency Response Organization (E.R.O) for analysis.
Immediate Actions:
1.Deployed containment teams to Red Hollow Park and surrounding areas to mitigate residual rift energy and slight monster activity.
2.Prioritize analysis of the rifts phenomena and potential large-scale repercussions.
3.Veythari Integration protocols under E.R.O for Zoey Bail once she awakens.
4.Allocate additional resources to the A.A.A.P (American Anti Anomaly Project) to address the backlash from the rift-rebound.
Report End
Filed By: [Jason Foyer]
Designation: Southern Command Intelligence Division
Date: [7/25/2045]
Sent to: Battalion Reverend Southern Commander Elesa Wyvern.
——
Jason sighed as he sent out the report. He was a young man barely out of college. Messy brown hair and eyes that have been up late more times then he could count. He wore a iron suit and wrinkly purple tie. Adding to his appearance was his bewilderment as he scanned the area. No traces, no clues, no rift signatures. A complete waste of time.
This whole thing felt off.
He started pacing around the small patches of dirt that still littered the ground. The park had been destroyed, but as always, life clawed its way back. Even now, fragile sprouts of green pushed through the cracks, stubborn and unyielding.
It would take years before this place didn’t look like a nuclear fallout zone.
The official explanation? Some freak fire hit natural gas pockets, igniting an explosion. A neat, clean lie wrapped in just enough realism to keep the public from asking too many questions. Though it wasn’t the best lie and many questions obviously arose because of it.
He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. He was getting sidetracked. That was A.A.A.P.’s problem—keeping the civilians calm, controlling the narrative. His job was making sure that narrative stayed true.
But this wasn’t adding up.
The area of focus had been shrinking every day as first-aid corps and construction crews flooded in to rebuild. If they missed something now, it could be months, maybe years before they got another shot at investigating. And the biggest issue?
No rift had appeared here.
None. Not a trace. Not a signature. Nothing. Yet, every sensor, every reading, everything indicated a rift rebound. So where the hell did that creature come from?
And more importantly…
What was Red Gale doing that she didn’t notice?
Savannah Clyark wasn’t some half-rate operative—she was competent… most of the time, forgetting supplies, skipping reports, and treating protocol like a suggestion, besides that a powerful rising star. He’d met the crude, sharp-mouthed girl a few times himself.
So how the hell did something like this happen right under her nose?
Jason exhaled sharply, shoving his hands into his pockets as his boots crunched over patches of dirt. A miracle she was even alive. A Desire that heavy, two Supreme Skills stacked on top of each other, and she still fought a creature beyond her rank? But he couldn’t afford to focus on her right now. When she woke up—if—then they could talk.
Then there was the creature.
Besides its attacks, they hadn’t seen a single aura signature. No energy readings. No presence. Like it just didn’t exist. White-Bullseye’s report had confirmed it—if she hadn’t been looking at it, she wouldn’t have even known it was there.
How the hell was that possible?
No rift. No breach. Yet a Veythari was born.
And then there was the thing itself. Not a Demurge, yet using Demurge abilities. It wasn’t a Ghoul—they’d checked that immediately. No DNA to compare, nothing that matched any existing rift-infected humanoid. Vampires, werewolves, any of those? All out. And if there was no rift, then it couldn’t be a Monster.
Which left… nothing.
Jason clenched his jaw, muttering a curse under his breath.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Those so-called scientists at Echo-9 were wasting their damn time. They had the creature right in front of them, and all they could come up with were inconclusive results? How?
Jason exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he sent out a final wave of aura, letting it ripple through the area like an unseen current. It spread outward, weaving through the ruins, past the shattered pavement and skeletal remains of trees, touching the operatives scattered across the site. Some were engaged in cleanup efforts—hauling debris, cataloging damage—while others dealt with the supernatural elements, using detection techniques and scanning devices to search for anything unusual.
His energy spun and flew, seeking out the faintest trace of lingering Mani, any residual presence that could tell him something—anything—they hadn’t already figured out. But there was nothing.
No resistance. No interference.
Jason frowned, pulling out his phone as he reeled his aura back in, letting it coil into his core like a retracting net. His thumb hovered over the screen for a second before he dialed a number. As the call rang, he turned to the nearby crew, watching them move with the kind of precision that only came from trained operatives used to working under insane conditions.
“Pack it up,” he called out, voice cutting through the hum of activity. A few heads turned in surprise, but no one questioned him. “We’re done here.
The call clicked as a woman picked up. Jason brought the phone to his ear, gaze still sweeping over the site.
“Yeah. We’re wasting our time here. It’s time to change tactics.”
———
Three states away from California, in Colorado, a man lounged atop a high-rise hotel roof, his Timberlands dangling over the edge as he observed the scene through his winged sentinel.
He was an African American man with shoulder-length locks, neatly maintained but slightly tousled in a way that made it seem effortless. A white bandage wrapped around his eyes, covering them completely, but it was clear he saw everything—perhaps more than most. He sat there with the relaxed posture of someone who had no reason to be worried, his designer track suit pristine, paired with diamond earrings that caught the city lights with every movement.
His grin widened as he “watched” Jason and his crew move below, his winged eyeball monster feeding him every bit of information, bypassing barriers, distance, and even the natural limits of sight. The creature didn’t just see—it perceived. It processed sound as visual information, allowing its master to observe conversations just as easily as movements.
“Tch. Ain’t that somethin’.” His voice was smooth, amused, dripping with lazy confidence. He leaned back on his hands, tilting his head slightly as if mulling something over.
Next to Seyvon was a tall Russian man with a scar running down his face. He wore a monk-style robe, his glowing red eyes surveying the scene with a cold intensity. Standing at about 6’2, his imposing figure was a sharp contrast to the girl sprawled on the ground beside him.
She lay with her body spread out lazily, her jet-black hair tied into a messy bun, stray strands framing her striking features. She wore a cropped pink Nike sweatshirt and black shorts, the long straps tied at her waist hanging loose. A piercing on her navel gleamed faintly, complemented by a choker and rings that glittered under the light. Tattoos marked her exposed skin, small and deliberate designs. Beside her, a sheathed blade rested within arm’s reach, the intricate details of its hilt hinting at its significance.
Her half-lidded gaze remained fixed on the cloudy sky, humming a lazy tune as if entirely bored by the situation.
The Russian man looked down at Seyvon. “What did they say?”
Seyvon sighed. “Same thing they said last time. They’ve got nothing. Now they’re calling off the search. At least for Red Hollow—or what’s left of it.”
The girl groaned, her voice dripping with disdain. “So, you wasted our time again, Seyvon?” The underlying poison in her words wasn’t hard to miss.
“I didn’t waste anything,” Seyvon shot back. “I did what y’all asked. Not my fault the results are the same.”
The Russian man sighed heavily, the weight of his accent adding gravity to his words. “Quiet, Ashara. Did they say where they are moving their search?”
Seyvon sighed, running a hand through his locks as he leaned back on the railing. “Nope. But they did mention that the Veythari from the incident had some complications. Besides that, I agree with them—no rift showed up there.” He glanced at the tall Russian man, his tone shifting slightly. “All that aside, doesn’t look like any other cults had a hand in this. The Lords haven’t moved. So maybe it’s a new player?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Can’t tell.”
The Russian man,Vasiliev The Abyssal Hand, crossed his arms, his glowing red eyes narrowing slightly. “New person? That’s unlikely,” he muttered, the deep rumble of his voice laced with skepticism. “But not impossible. Keep talking.”
Seyvon shrugged again. “That’s all I’ve got. No signs of the usual suspects—no Judicators, no Apostles, no Lords acting weird. Just… nothing.”
On the ground, Ashara groaned loudly, throwing her arms over her face in dramatic frustration. “I’m so tired of this!” she whined, squirming against the roof like a restless child. “It’s always the same boring dead ends. This sucks.”
Vasiliev shot her a sharp look, his tone cold and commanding. “Compose yourself, Ashara.”
Ashara peeked out from under her arm, pouting slightly before flopping back down. “I do as I please. God, I wanna cut something.” Her blade, still lying beside her, reflected the light as she pushed it away with a lazy flick of her wrist.
Vasiliev’s gaze didn’t waver as he asked, “And the creature? What’s the status? Surely your sources uncovered something.”
Seyvon leaned casually against the railing, his grin sharp and irritatingly relaxed. “Oh, that? E.R.O. still has it. It’s probably dead honestly. Word is, they’ve locked it down tight in one of their high-security labs.”
Vasiliev’s expression hardened, his red eyes narrowing. “ And no details? Nothing leaked… that’s odd?”
“Not a peep,” Seyvon replied, shrugging. “Which isn’t that shocking. Whatever that thing was, it didn’t behave like any Demurge, monster, or ghoul we’ve seen before. Hell, it didn’t even give off a proper energy signature. They’re gonna be poking it for a while.”
Vasiliev rubbed his chin, his voice growing colder. “And you’re certain they still have it?”
“As sure as I can be without sneaking into their labs myself,” Seyvon quipped. “My source says they’ve gone full blackout on it, though. So I have to wait on that. But whatever they’re doing with it—dissecting it, studying it, weaponizing it—you can bet it’s locked behind some crazy restricted security.”
Vasiliev’s tone turned sharp. “The Veythari then? Where is the E.R.O. holding them?”
Seyvon’s grin widened, taking on a more predatory edge. “Now that’s premium intel. And as I said before, premium comes with a higher price tag. I know you understand.”
Vasiliev’s frustration briefly flickered before he masked it. “How much extra?”
Seyvon shrugged. “Depends on how fast you want it. Quick answers cost more. And just so you know, if someone else gets to me first and pays extra to keep the info closed, you’re out of luck. That’s the way it works.”
Vasiliev let out a slow, measured breath, his knuckles whitening as his fists clenched. “How much more?”
Seyvon tilted his head, thinking for a moment before throwing out a number that made even Vasiliev’s stoic demeanor falter.
“…We’ll get back to you,” Vasiliev said at last, his tone clipped.
Seyvon gave him a mock salute, his grin as smug as ever. “You know where to find me. But don’t take too long. Someone else might decide they’re feeling generous.”
Ashara shot her hand up from where she lay sprawled on the ground, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. “I have an idea!” she announced.
Vasiliev’s expression darkened immediately. “No.”
“But you didn’t even—”
“No.”
Ashara sat up, her expression turning from playful to indignant. “You’re not even going to hear me out? Typical! Every time I—”
“Enough!” Vasiliev snapped, his booming voice echoing through the air. He took a step toward her, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. His red eyes glowed menacingly as he looked down at her. “You will stay quiet, Ashara. This isn’t one of your games.”
Ashara scoffed, crossing her arms defiantly. “Oh, come on! You don’t even know what I was going to say. Maybe I have the solution to everything!”
Vasiliev tilted his head slightly, his tone growing colder. “Your solutions usually involve fire, death, or breaking things we cannot afford to break.”
Ashara stood up, squaring her shoulders as she glared at him. “Yeah? And when have those solutions not worked?”
“Every. Single. Time,” Vasiliev said through gritted teeth, his hand twitching as though he was seconds away from snapping. His voice dropped into an ominous calm. “This situation is far too delicate to let you play with matches. Leave it to the Den Mother. This is her call, not yours.”
Ashara raised an eyebrow, stepping closer to him, the tension flaring. “You’re really just gonna keep running back to her, huh? What’s she gonna do? We’re out here doing the hard work, and she just—”
Vasiliev’s aura flared suddenly, blood-red aura crackling like a storm around him. “Silence!” he barked, his voice heavy with authority. “This is not up for debate, Ashara. You will stay in your lane. End of —
In one swift, seamless motion, Ashara drew her blade, the edge slicing through the air with deadly precision. Vasiliev’s head separated cleanly from his shoulders, his mouth still forming the last syllable of his reprimand as it soared high into the air. Blood sprayed in an arc, painting the ground crimson as his body staggered forward a few steps before collapsing to its knees in front of her, lifeless.
Ashara tilted her head, her lips curving into a sultry, satisfied smile. As Vasiliev’s head fell, she extended her blade, letting the steel pierce straight through his jaw and out the top of his skull. The sickening crunch of bone on metal resonated through the air. She held the grisly trophy aloft.
A soft, seductive purr escaped her lips. “Aww, that feels better,” she said, her voice dripping as she admired her work.
Blood continued to drip from the blade as she twisted it slightly, as if to savor the moment. The body before her slumped completely to the ground, the red pool beneath it spreading like a dark halo.
Looking down at his body, and the blood pooling beneath it, she tilted her head, her voice light and mocking as she tapped his severed head with a fingertip. “Well, looks like I won this argument.”
Glancing at the head impaled on her blade, she let out a theatrical sigh. “You’re no fun, Vas.” She took a step back, admiring her handiwork, her tone turning playful and mocking. “Den Mother this, Den Mother that. Blah, blah, blah…” She rolled her eyes, waving the impaled head slightly as if exaggerating her point. “Maybe next time you’ll learn to keep that head of yours on a little tighter.”
Seyvon watched the entire scene unfold without so much as a flinch. He barely reacted as Vasiliev’s head rolled from Ashara’s blade, her amusement filling the afternoon air.
Ashara turned to him, twirling her sword lazily before resting it on her shoulder. “You can’t even see with all that covering your face!”
Seyvon leaned back, arms draped over the ledge, completely unbothered. “You know I can see… Why did you…?”
She shrugged, grinning. “I was bored, and he raised his voice. Actually, none of that mattered—I was bored.”
With a wicked smirk, she grabbed Vasiliev’s head and made his lifeless mouth move like a grotesque puppet. “‘I’m the Abyssal Hand, fear me,’” she mocked, deepening her voice in a terrible impression before laughing and flinging the head to the side. “So, about this plan of mine.” Ashara chuckled, stretching her arms before shaking off the blood that had splattered on her hand.
“Well, shit, go ahead. It was apparently so important to you.” Seyvon tilted his head slightly. “Seriously though. Aren’t you gonna get in trouble for this? I doubt your Den—”
“Anyway,” she cut him off, stepping forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief, “how much for you to cause an incident?”
Seyvon raised an eyebrow beneath his bandages. “Depends on what kinda incident. If it’s something that’s gonna cost me a lot of work, then the price goes up significantly.”
Ashara grinned, twirling her sword as she leaned forward. “Well, I was thinking… if we need the E.R.O, A.A.A.P, or whoever’s behind this mess to actually show themselves, we should make some waves of our own.”
Seyvon sighed, already expecting where this was going. “And what does that have to do with me?”
She smirked, tapping the tip of her sword against the ground. “We burn a few bushes, make the animals scatter, and watch which ones run for cover.”
Seyvon tilted his head. “So, stir up enough chaos that the real players have no choice but to react.”
“Exactly.” Ashara leaned back, stretching her arms. “You can get the info we need and shake things up with your monsters. Meanwhile, I’ll be setting my own little fires.”
He snickered. “So he was right—your plans are just violence.”
Ashara’s smirk widened. “Obviously, he wasn’t an untruthful man.”
Seyvon shook his head but chuckled. “Fine, why not. But I’ll need half my cut before I do anything. Let’s put all of this at Hundred and forty million.”
She shrugged, completely unbothered by the price. “I’m sure the Den Mother will be more than happy to oblige.”
Seyvon directed his attention to Vasiliev’s lifeless body, sighing. “Whatever you say, Ashara. Anyway, just hit me up when it’s time. I got a few other things to handle first.”
Ashara waved her bloody hand lazily. “Will do.”
Without another word, a shadowy, serpent-like creature slithered up from Seyvon’s feet, coiling around him before swallowing him whole. With a flick of its tail, it darted into the nearest shadow, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
Ashara turned back toward the city, as she wiped Vasiliev’s blood off on her sleeve. She stretched her arms above her head, letting out a contented sigh as she tilted her head to the side, exposing the graceful curve of her neck. Her half-lidded purple eyes gleamed with anticipation, and a sultry smile curled at her lips. She dragged a bloodstained finger along her cheek before pressing it lightly against her lips.
She licked her lips, humming to herself as she stared out at the city, her gaze flickering with hunger. Her free hand ghosted over the handle of her sword, fingers tracing the edge like a lover’s touch.
Then, with a slow, teasing exhale, she purred, “Finally… I’ll get more things to place on the cutting board.”