It was night; nothing stirred within the Lumian Forest except the drifting wind and a hollow, lingering silence.
A group of officials had assembled before a distortion in space.
They were the crisis containment unit of Fortcliff, and standing among them was their superior.
The man was over two meters tall, but his face carried an almost disconcerting youthfulness, belying the fact that he was already in his late thirties. His imposing stature was one of his defining traits, enough to instill fear into the heart of his enemies.
Even at rest, he gave the impression of pressure bearing down on his surroundings.
A faint cloyingly sweet fragrance lingered in the air, sharp enough to prick at the senses of his subordinates like deadly needles. His shoulder-length blond hair had been dyed a deep platinum-black, and he wore a long black coat that reached his knees over a neatly buttoned white shirt and dark trousers. Poisonous earrings hung on his ears and silver rings adorned each of his fingers.
A man like him, with such an overwhelming presence and eccentric appearance, could easily be mistaken for a gangster at first glance.
"So this is the Fissure from the monitoring team's report, yes?"
"Yes, sir."
"When did it appear, and how long have you been observing it?"
"It first manifested two weeks ago. We've been monitoring it since then. However, it only began showing signs of activity this evening."
"Recently, you say… how suspicious. Either way, I suppose this qualifies as hidden." He tilted his head slightly, as though testing the weight of the phenomenon with his stare alone. "Not that I'm complaining… but why a forest? And more importantly, why this forest?"
Dante Fanghelli glared at the floating cluster of fractured darkness, resembling shattered mirror shards suspended in midair.
Some would call it a 'Gate to the Other Side.'
Formally, they were called a Fissure or Fracture.
Fissures were an unscientific phenomenon that had the tendency to appear almost anywhere. Sometimes in deserts, sometimes in oceans, and occasionally within densely populated cities without warning.
There was no consistent pattern.
Despite their randomness, every recorded case shared one unsettling similarity: once a Fissure stabilized, something always came out of it.
But that wasn't the problem.
The real issue was the distortion that had appeared near Fortcliff.
This was something Dante Fanghelli could not ignore.
He was the Bastion of Fortcliff City, and the Chief Commander of its frontier fortress. As Bastion, he held special authority that could suppress Dimensional Gates within the city's perimeter; an area spanning roughly one-third the size of Tokyo.
Of course, this was hardly a natural ability.
By sacrificing his own Soul Ability and integrating a network of terminals installed throughout the city, he had constructed an artificial domain that could interfere with and suppress dimensional anomalies within its range.
A man-made barrier against the unknown.
However, even such a system had limits.
"Report. What have you lots observed so far?"
One of the technicians spoke up carefully, adjusting the device strapped to his wrist,
"Sir, the Fissure has been in a dormant state for the past two weeks. No outward activity, no spatial leakage, nothing that would normally trigger an alert."
"And now?" he asked.
The technician hesitated.
"…Now it's awake."
A second passed.
"Explain."
The man swallowed.
"The internal readings are fluctuating. It's not behaving like a standard Fissure stabilization cycle. It's… oscillating between states. As if something inside is forcing it open and closed repeatedly."
"So, it is unstable."
"Yes, sir. But not in a natural sense. It feels… controlled."
"Are you saying that there was an external factor?"
" Um... it's a possibility, sir."
"Tsk. And this decided to happen on the night of the Festival. Coincidence much. If that isn't suspicious, then I don't know what is."
The cigarette wriggled irritably within Dante's mouth. It suddenly seemed to have lost its favour.
"…Increase the perimeter," Dante said after a thought.
A few of the officials stiffened.
"Sir? That would push us into the Inner sectors of the forest. Visibility is already compromised—"
"I don't care. Do it. If this thing ruptures, I don't want civilians anywhere near the fallout zone."
"Yes, sir!"
Orders were relayed instantly.
Barrier units were deployed, faint lines of light threading through the trees as containment protocols expanded in a widening radius, weaving an invisible cage around the anomaly.
Lingering only briefly, Dante stepped away from the front line and approached a nearby official. His gaze didn't shift from the Fissure as he spoke.
"Set up a Gateway. I want a stable link established to headquarters within the next ten minutes. After that, contact the Manager of the Raven Guild. I believe the current Manager is that peculiar woman. What was her name again?"
"It's Saint Ryōshi, sir."
"Oh? Ryōshi... It has been a long while," Dante pondered about some old time memories then shook his head. "Well, it doesn't matter. Contact them and tell her to dispatch a small investigation unit."
The official straightened. "Yes, sir. What are their priorities?"
"Mapping and verification. I want a full spatial layout of the Fissure's interior structure; depth, curvature, fluctuation intervals. If it has layers, I want each one identified."
He paused, then added,
"And tell them not to go too deep. This isn't a conquest request, it's reconnaissance. For that matter, they don't have to be strong. Three Slayer-class Hunters led by a Lancer would suffice."
"Yes, sir."
Dante finally turned his head slightly, his sharp eyes settling on the man.
"Also, prepare the following."
The official instinctively raised his tablet.
"High-frequency resonance scanners. I want continuous readings on oscillation patterns."
"Gravitational distortion meters, set them to maximum sensitivity. If space is being forced into alignment, there will be minute shifts."
"Mana density analyzers, both ambient and concentrated sampling. Separate the data streams. I don't want mixed readings."
"Thermal deviation sensors. Even if the temperature doesn't change, I want confirmation of that."
"Cognitive interference monitors.
The official faltered at that last one, but quickly recovered.
"…Understood."
Dante's gaze drifted back to the Fissure.
"And one more thing," he added quietly. "Prepare an emergency severance protocol for the Gateway. If anything crosses through unexpectedly, I want the connection cut immediately."
"…Yes, sir."
The official hurried off, relaying orders to the rest of the team.
Dante remained where he stood, unmoving and silent.
His eyes traced the edges of the Fissure, watching the subtle distortions, the unnatural stillness that now replaced its previous instability.
Too clean, he thought.
Fissures weren't supposed to behave like this.
They were chaotic by nature as one would expect from a tear within space. Even when these fractures stabilized, there was always some sort of noise like leakage or residual turbulence.
But this felt like someone had taken the concept of a Fissure and refined it half-heartedly.
Dante's expression darkened.
Only one group of annoying individuals entered his mind.
'Damn Cultivators!'