"Alert! F-Grade Rift Detected. All civilians, please enter your nearest bunker."
The words echoed faintly through the house, tinny through the ceiling speakers. I closed the laptop and stood.
For a second, my body hesitated, caught between the reflexes of my past and the memories of this version of me.
Downstairs, a door opened.
My mother was already in the hallway, phone in hand, keys clipped between her fingers. She looked at me once, quick and assessing, then nodded toward the door.
"Shoes," she said. "We're moving."
Outside, the street was already packed. Doors opened one after the other.
People stepped out with a polite urgency, some carrying bags, others just phones and wallets. There was no shouting or panic, though. This wasn't new to them.
The bunker was three blocks away. I knew that without thinking. The route unfolded in my head as naturally as my own address, something I would need to get used to.
We walked.
But halfway there, the pressure changed.
My mother noticed. She followed my gaze down the street, toward the source of the sensation.
"That's close," she said.
I nodded.
Way closer than it should have been.
My mother stopped just inside the doorway.
"I'll be back," I said.
She reached out and squeezed my arm once. "W-what?" Her mind went through a series of possibilities, but this was truly odd.
But I didn't answer. I stepped back out into the street.
The presence was drawing near, and there was no one around to fight.
Ahead, I could see the distortion now. The air folded in on itself near the mouth of an alley, light bending unnaturally.
A rift.
It pulsed irregularly, like a wound trying to close.
Something moved inside the distortion.
The creature came through low to the ground, wrong-limbed and fast. It didn't fully separate from the rift at first, dragging a thread of crookedness with it as it lunged.
Its skin was a milky silver, monstrous in appearance. Humanoid, but disgusting nonetheless.
I stepped back, found space, and focused inward.
The Archive responded immediately, pressure rising in my head as Narrative Essence was drawn out. Blood leaked out of my nose.
'Summon Script: Baki Hanma.'
The summoning hit much harder this time. My vision dimmed for a split second before stabilizing, my mind throbbing with great intensity. I was really pushing the limits here.
The air in front of me compressed, and Baki was there, already in motion.
He didn't hesitate. Scripts were completely loyal by design.
He crossed the distance in a straight line, footfalls sharp and controlled.
The creature turned toward him too late. Baki struck low, a compact motion that looked weak until the impact landed.
The thing's front limbs buckled, its body slamming sideways into the pavement.
Baki followed through. He struck again, once, then twice, forcing the creature away from the crowd and back toward the alley wall. Each hit was placed carefully, with expert precision.
What followed was a wet crunch.
[x1 F-Tier: Creature–Ghoul | Obtained]
Another shape began to push through the rift.
My head throbbed strongly.
I felt the drain spike as Baki shifted position, intercepting the second creature just long enough to shove it back into the distortion. The rift rippled violently in response.
The creature staggered, confused, then was slammed into the ground with a sickening crack.
[x1 F-Tier: Creature–Ghoul | Obtained]
Sirens rose at last.
I dismissed the script.
The Archivers had arrived. The rift began to stabilize under coordinated pressure. Someone grabbed my shoulder.
"Hey," a voice said. "You—stop. Don't move."
I turned slowly. The responder's eyes flicked over me, assessing. A device in his hand chimed softly.
"Unlicensed," he muttered. Then, after a pause, "What quality? White, Gray, or Black?"
"Gray," I responded
He looked at me again, this time properly.
"Name?"
"Elias Johnson," I said. My head was really pounding now, and each heartbeat forced a dull thud behind my eyes.
He nodded once. "Go home. We'll follow up."
I didn't argue.
By the time I reached the bunker, the worst of the noise had faded.
My mother found me immediately. She didn't ask questions. She just pulled me into a tight hug and let go just as quickly.
Only after did she look at my face.
"Your nose," she said, already reaching into her bag. She pressed a tissue into my hand before I could say anything. "Sit. Don't move."
I did as told.
Around us, people were still filing in, some whispering, some on their phones. The bunker lights buzzed softly overhead. A few children were crying.
My head felt like it had been wrapped in cotton and struck from the inside.
I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. The pressure didn't get worse, but it didn't fade either.
Narrative Essence exhaustion.
I'd pushed too far, too fast.
My mother knelt in front of me, her voice lower now. "What did you do?"
I opened my eyes. "Nothing," I said reflexively.
She studied me for a moment longer, then sighed and stood.
After a while, the alert sounded again.
"F-Grade Rift contained. Civilians may resume normal activity."
The tension in the space eased immediately. The people stood, and some even laughed, though quietly.
The doors opened.
Outside, the street looked almost normal again. The alley was blocked off, with yellow barriers already in place.
A few official vehicles remained, their lights still on, but most of the crowd had begun to disperse.
We walked home in silence.
By the time we reached the house, my head had settled into a constant ache, manageable but persistent.
I drank water, washed the dried blood from my face, and went back upstairs without saying much.
My room looked unchanged.
I sat on the bed and opened my Archive.
<> — — — <> — — — <>
——Elias' Archive——
Archive Rank: Unranked.
Scripts: (F | Gray) [Baki Hanma].
Scriptmaking Material: (F) (Creature – Ghoul) x2.
<>———<>———<>
Two new entries.
I stared at them for a while.
I hadn't gone out there thinking about materials. I hadn't even been sure I'd survive the summoning cleanly.
The Riftborn were close; there were no Archivists nearby, so I did my thing. Should I have just let the creatures come to us and risk breaking into the bunker?
Now that I thought about it, maybe I acted a bit too rashly. Consequences of exhaustion I guess.
I closed the Archive and leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
I'd acted without permission. Without a license or preparation.
And they'd logged my name.
The academy application deadline was also still three days away.
I exhaled slowly and let my eyes close.
'Jeez, just what have I gotten myself into…'