The guild's outpost stood like a squat, armored beast at the edge of the treeline—steel walls ringed with barbed wire, camo tarps pulled taut over the upper levels, antennae jutting skyward like spines. A morning fog clung to the dirt lot, softening the hard lines of the waiting transport trucks, the buzz of activity low but urgent.
Yoon Taesung stood by the eastern entrance, the collar of his jacket raised against the chill. His breath fogged the air as he scanned the outpost grounds, eyes catching on every movement with a predator's calm. He was used to the solitude of streets and shadows, not this—noise, personnel, orders shouted, boots crunching gravel.
This was a pack.
A group of hunters in dark tactical gear moved across the lot. Among them, Nam Doohyuk led with a straight spine, flanked by three others: a tall woman with sharp eyes and a long rifle case slung over her back, a heavyset man adjusting the strap of his equipment bag, and a short-haired scout with lean muscle and quiet steps. They stopped a few paces away.
Doohyuk's eyes narrowed.
"So you're the new blood." His voice wasn't hostile, just blunt—like steel unsheathed. "Name?"
"Yoon Taesung," he said.
Doohyuk gave him a once-over. "You don't look like much."
Taesung didn't answer.
The scout stepped forward with a quiet smile. "Ignore him. He's always like that." She stuck out a hand. "Jung Hyejin. Scout."
Taesung took it, firm and brief.
"Kim Yerim," said the tall woman, tossing her rifle case to the ground beside her and offering a half-wave. "Marksman. I like new guys. They make mistakes. Fun to watch."
Han Gilsoo, the last of them, said nothing. He just nodded, mouth occupied with chewing gum, and turned his focus back to tightening the straps on his pack.
"Alright," Doohyuk said, checking his watch. "We move in ten. Gear up, then briefing inside."
The outpost interior was colder than outside—bare concrete walls, overhead LEDs humming faintly. Inside a repurposed command room, the mission parameters scrolled across a wall-mounted screen.
"Class C Rift. Manifested yesterday outside the Seojin district. Initial drone sweeps show ruins of an urban zone—likely a distorted copy of a nearby town. No core readings yet." Doohyuk's tone was crisp. "Guild wants it cleared or locked down before anything spills out."
"What's the terrain like?" asked Hyejin.
"Fogged. Visibility's low. Expect close-quarters."
"Mob types?" Yerim asked, already cracking her knuckles.
"Unconfirmed. Too distorted for proper scans. Assume corrupted mammals—standard fare. But," Doohyuk's eyes flicked to the last line of the report, "drone signal was lost thirty minutes in. Something took it out."
A beat of silence passed.
Gilsoo popped his gum. "So… play it safe, stick to formation?"
Doohyuk nodded. "Hyejin leads. Yerim covers rear. Gilsoo keeps us healed and buffed. I'll direct. New guy—"
"Taesung," he corrected calmly.
Doohyuk's jaw ticked. "Right. You stick middle. Don't break formation unless told."
Taesung gave a silent nod.
Back outside, armored transports rumbled to life. The team loaded in, rifles and blades resting against steel benches. Taesung sat with his hands on his knees, eyes half-lidded. Yerim leaned over.
"So what's your specialty?" she asked, eyes gleaming. "Can't tell if you're a blade guy or a fist guy."
"Neither," Taesung said.
Her grin widened. "Ominous. I like it."
Doohyuk just snorted.
By the time they arrived at the Rift's perimeter, the fog had thickened into a gauze of pale gray, swirling between gutted buildings and power lines that stretched like skeletal arms across the sky. The portal shimmered between two decaying traffic signs, rippling like heat over asphalt.
"Move out," Doohyuk ordered.
They stepped through.
—
The air shifted instantly. Damp. Heavy. The sky overhead was a slate void, smeared with dull red light. Ruins stretched in every direction—collapsed houses, flickering streetlamps, vines twisting through cracks in concrete. A broken playground stood nearby, half-swallowed by moss.
"This zone's too quiet," Hyejin murmured.
Gilsoo muttered, "Could be they're waiting."
"Let's move," Doohyuk said. "East sector first. Sweep and clear."
They moved in formation—Hyejin low and silent, eyes always scanning; Yerim walking backwards, rifle at the ready; Gilsoo murmuring quiet support buffs that shimmered around their limbs. Taesung moved with the group, body loose, steps soundless.
It was too easy.
Too still.
Until it wasn't.
The first sound came like a wet pop. Then a screech tore the silence—a thing bounding through fog, twisted legs thudding against stone. It leapt—six limbs, bone exposed, mouth too wide. It should've landed on Gilsoo.
But it didn't.
Taesung's hand was already there—fingers wrapped around its malformed throat. A twist, a wrench—its spine cracked like kindling. The thing collapsed without a cry.
The others froze.
Taesung dropped the corpse with a quiet thud.
"...Fast," Yerim muttered.
Doohyuk recovered first. "Two more coming from the left!"
Hyejin blurred forward, blades flashing. Yerim fired—three shots, precise, each one burying itself in flesh with a burst of corrupted gore. Gilsoo raised a hand, a pulse of green light surging across the field, weaving through them.
Taesung moved like water—ducking a swipe, sliding beneath another, his palm driving up into a beast's jaw. Something inside snapped. The creature convulsed and dropped.
Doohyuk took down the last one with a heavy cleave of his blade.
Then silence.
Everyone panted—except Taesung.
Gilsoo stared. "You've fought these before."
Taesung looked at the broken bodies. "Worse."
Doohyuk approached, eyes hard. "You broke formation."
"I eliminated the threat," Taesung replied.
"That's not the point."
Yerim stepped between them with a laugh. "Come on. The new guy just saved Gilsoo's life."
"I don't need saving," Gilsoo muttered, but didn't push it.
"Enough." Doohyuk turned away. "We're not here to argue. Keep moving. Deeper this time."
They advanced, tension humming between them.
As they entered a wider plaza filled with shattered statues and overturned buses, a new sound rolled through the fog.
A roar.
Not animal.
Not natural.
It echoed low and deep, shaking the ground under their feet.
"...What the hell was that?" Yerim whispered.
"No way that's a Class C." Hyejin's voice was tight.
The fog parted just enough to reveal movement—something large dragging itself across the far end of the street. Hulking. Twisted. Horned.
"Fall back," Doohyuk ordered at once. "Defensive formation—now."
Taesung didn't move.
His eyes were fixed on the silhouette ahead, shadowed and massive.
Something was watching them.
Something old.
Something hungry.