By the time Caleb and Mira reached the Bunker, the sky was a warzone.
They dropped into a cratered metro tunnel, the old tracks twisted like metal vines. The concrete above trembled with the weight of something walking overhead—something heavy. Every step sent dust raining from the ceiling, and Caleb held his breath as they moved in silence, boots echoing in shallow puddles.
Mira led the way, rifle raised. "Don't look back."
"I'm not," Caleb whispered.
But he wanted to. Whatever had fallen from the Rift… it wasn't like the others. It hadn't shrieked or charged. It hadn't attacked.
It had just watched.
Even as he and Mira fled across rooftops, it stood in the distance—like a god in waiting, arms folded behind its back, head cocked slightly, its face a smooth mask of dark crystal.
It had looked straight at Caleb.
And smiled.
They reached a rusted steel door hidden behind a false wall in the side tunnel. Mira banged twice, paused, then hit it again—three short knocks. A click. A hiss. The door groaned open.
The smell hit immediately—sweat, oil, and too many bodies in not enough space.
Inside, the Bunker stretched like a ribcage under the city, built beneath an old bio-research lab. The bones of the world, some called it. Power flickered through cracked glass cables overhead, and dim blue lights lined the floor.
People bustled in tight spaces—scavengers, refugees, and defected Hero trainees. Weapons lined the walls. Maps marked with red X's and blinking dots showed the latest Rift activity. A few children sat in a corner, coloring over old Wanted posters of dead Heroes.
"Glad you're alive," a woman said, stepping out of the shadows.
Her name was Elara. She was in her thirties, wore a patched-up Hero regulator vest, and carried a kinetic blade on her back. Her left eye glowed orange—the mark of a former A-Class.
"Sector 3's gone," Mira said.
"I know," Elara muttered. "Wardens tried to hold the breach. Lost fifty men. The creature that came through… it's not listed in the HeroUnion archives."
Caleb stepped forward. "It saw me."
Elara's eyes sharpened. "What?"
"In the sky. Before the breach hit. I felt it. I heard it. It said my name."
Elara studied him. The orange glow in her eye flickered as she scanned him, looking for signs of corruption—skin decay, Riftburn, distortion in the voice. But Caleb was clean. Still human.
"Maybe it's your turn," she said at last.
He blinked. "What do you mean?"
She motioned for him to follow, leading them past the main camp and into the inner tunnels. They passed cryo pods, dismantled tech, and walls covered in chalk diagrams—some marked with ancient symbols that hurt to look at too long.
At the end of the hall was a sealed vault. Elara keyed in an override code and the door slid open.
Inside, a chamber pulsed—low and rhythmic, like a heartbeat. At the center stood a glass case.
Inside it floated a piece of metal—black, jagged, humming with energy.
"This is a Riftcore," she said. "We found it years ago during the breach of Tokyo-9. It's alien tech. Possibly alive. Every time someone with Hero potential comes near it, it reacts."
Caleb swallowed. "Why are you showing me this?"
Elara turned to him slowly.
"Because it's reacting now."
Caleb's heart thundered. The Riftcore pulsed faster, glowing faintly as if reaching for him.
"I'm not one of them," he whispered. "I've been tested. I'm normal."
"No one's normal anymore, Caleb," Elara said. "Some of us just haven't woken up yet."
A long silence filled the room.
Then the communicator in Caleb's coat sparked—and a voice slithered out.
"…You are Riftborn…"
Elara drew her blade instantly. Mira raised her rifle.
But Caleb stood still.
Because deep in his chest, he felt it—the shift, the crack in something he couldn't name. Like a door creaking open in his soul.
He wasn't just hearing the Rift.
He was beginning to understand it.