The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the hallway as Shiro sprinted along the upper floor.
The staircase was too far.
Shiro grabbed the mahogany handrail and vaulted over the edge of the upper floor, plunging into the open air of the grand foyer below.
Mid-descent, his outstretched hand snagged the heavy iron frame of the central chandelier. The massive fixture swung violently, groaning under his weight as Shiro swung from its base, using the momentum to propel himself toward the staircase below.
He barely had time to land.
A figure clad in a tattered mantle launched from the opposite railing, kicking off the wall with fluid agility. Mid-air, a crackling blade formed in its grip.
The weapon came down in a vicious, descending chop.
Shiro raised his arm to defend himself, but the blade cut straight through his guard.
Blood sprayed from his chest, splattering into the air.
Shiro couldn't comprehend what was happening.
He tried to reach for the silhouette before him, but his arm refused to move.
Then darkness claimed him once again.
Shiro's eyes snapped open to a flood of morning light. The glare was so intense that he quickly shut them again. He waited a beat, then slowly cracked his eyelids, letting them adjust to the harsh light.
Chirp... Chirp...
The familiar warble of birdsong filled his ears.
Shiro froze, rooted to the spot. He didn't move a muscle, merely watching the scene replay itself frame by frame. The same merchants shouting from roadside stalls. The same group of children laughing as they chased each other through the bustling, sunlit street. The exact same bird launching from the identical rooftop.
Did I have a precognitive dream?
He raised a hand to rub his temples, trying to physically shake the chilling sensation away, but the unease stubbornly clung to his skin.
Everything around him was far too vivid, too tactile, to be a mere dream. He had seen this. He was entirely certain of it.
Then he spotted them.
Elara, Daren, and Casia standing in their exact previous positions, performing the exact same movements, uttering the exact same words.
He was back.
This was the second loop.
Shiro eyed them. They were reciting lines, replicating movements. Their reactions were identical to his first arrival.
Is this an illusionary rift? Did someone break it? Shiro pondered, his mind racing. He couldn't wrap his head around why the others remained oblivious to the loop when the illusion had shattered, or this was simply the rift's innate design at play.
They didn't remember.
His gaze drifted to Daren, who was studying the town with the exact same calculated, detached expression as before.
Daren was the Overseer, a seasoned soldier of these operations.
As a raid leader, he should possess intimate knowledge of the assigned rift, or at the very least brief the group on the rift's properties. Yet, the more Shiro thought about it, the more it dawned on him that he had barged in on the group. By then, Daren had likely already been briefed on the rift's rules and hidden dangers long before they ever stepped inside.
Daren lowered his hand, his thumb brushing against the cold obsidian ring on his index finger. A violent burst of dark crimson energy surged from it, condensing into a jagged sword. His eyes swept across the crowded street, appraising the townsfolk as obstacles rather than people.
"If the anomaly is hiding among them, we have no way of knowing which one is responsible. We need to force it to reveal itself before it gets another chance to strike."
He tightened his grip on the weapon.
"We cut down the ones closest to us and drive the rest away. If the anomaly is among them, it'll have no choice but to react."
Shiro's expression darkened. He stepped forward, grabbing Daren's wrist before he could raise the newly formed sword.
"What are you doing?"
"Don't worry, kid. I've been doing this for quite a while. All anomalies are the same, just trust me on this, nothing will go wrong."
Shiro's eyes narrowed. "Did you completely ignore the dangers of the Rift? Or are you trying to get us killed?"
"Alright, that's enough. Last I remember, you're just a—"
Sensing the argument about to spiral out of control, Elara moved between them without hesitation, cutting off the confrontation before another word could turn it into something worse.
"Hey, calm down. Let's do this like civilized people." She flashed a placating smile, though her eyes remained calculating.
"We have far bigger problems to deal with than your childish squabble. The others are missing, and we still don't know if the anomaly is even here yet. So I say we split up into two groups, one takes the east, the other the west. Is that okay?"
"Fine."
Tsk. Daren shoved Shiro's hand off. The condensed blade dissipated back into his ring with a harsh hiss. He turned away, following the others as they dispersed, leaving Shiro standing alone in the square.
All anomalies are the same.
Shiro had spent most of his life as a rift raider, and this was the first time he had ever heard a group leader group anomalies together like that. Implying that mutant-class and parasitic-class were the same. Anyone with actual field experience knew the differences by heart.
Something doesn't quite add up.
The town continued its vibrant, unheeding routine around him, completely oblivious to the turbulent thoughts inside his head.
"There is still no sign of it. It is as if it knows we're here, watching us."
Shiro had scouted the west side, utilizing the layout from his previous loop to finish much faster. His eyes then fell over a bundle wrapped in green fabric.
He remembered seeing Casia purchasing herbs earlier and had asked what they were for. She explained they slowed down injuries, and she had specifically bought one to combat fatigue after noticing the dark circles under Shiro's eyes.
Do things in rifts actually work? Shiro had been rather skeptical about this, but he couldn't refuse her kindness. He knew from his original world that rifts were invariably apocalyptic dead zones with nothing useful to offer.
He thought of his actions earlier. They weren't driven by desperation or spoken purely in anger, but from frustration.
Just as he grew closer, he saw Casia. He wanted to ask her how to apply the herbs, but what caught his eye made his jaw tighten instantly.
He had seen this before.
Back in his original world, when they were trapped in rifts, the other soldiers would sometimes take their frustration out on the weakest among them. The ones who couldn't fight back had no choice but to obey and give themselves over to abuse by their comrades.
It was not strategy. It was not discipline.
It was cruelty disguised as a necessity for survival.
Daren's hand shot out, clamping around Casia's wrist with brutal force. He gripped her so tightly that the bone beneath her skin groaned in protest, a sickening, dull click echoing in the tense air as Casia let out a sharp gasp of pain.
Shiro stepped forward.
"Enough."
Daren turned, his eyes narrowing. "What did you say?"
"I said enough." Shiro's voice was quiet, but it carried weight. "She's not a tool. She's a person."
Daren scoffed, his grip tightening further before he finally shoved her aside. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Maybe not." Shiro met his gaze. "But I know what it looks like when people take their anger out on someone who can't fight back. I've seen it before. And I won't stand by and watch it happen."
Daren's hand moved to his weapon. "You're making a mistake."
"Maybe." Shiro didn't flinch. "But it's my mistake to make."
Casia stared at him, her eyes wide and unreadable.
Daren stood his ground, glaring daggers at Shiro. For a moment, the tension spiked to a breaking point, and Shiro braced for an attack.
Then Daren scoffed.
"Fine," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "She's your problem now."
He turned and walked away into the shadows.
Casia looked up at him, her voice barely a whisper.
"Why...?"
Shiro didn't answer right away. Instead, he extended his hand toward Casia.
"Come. Let's get out of this, if you truly want to see your family again."
Family...
In this crowded world, she had always been alone. She had people around her, but never anyone she could truly call family.
Casia stared at the young man in front of her before hesitantly reaching out and placing her hand in Shiro's.