Chapter 4: Echoes of Old Earth
The crimson shimmer of the rift behind them pulsed faintly as the party moved forward through the broken streets. Alex's pack and shield weighed heavily on him, but his focus was sharper than ever. The further they advanced, the more the ruins seemed alive, almost whispering with the echoes of a time long past.
"Keep close," Mara said, scanning the rubble. "These streets… they're unstable, but they're also significant. You should know why."
Alex glanced at her, curiosity piqued. "Significant how?"
She gestured to a collapsed building whose steel frame was twisted like metal vines. "Before the rifts, this city—this world—was called Old Earth. Civilization thrived here, advanced beyond what most imagine. Towers that scraped the clouds, machines that could harness energy from stars, cities interconnected by networks we can barely understand today."
Tavik scoffed, but Alex stayed silent. It was hard to picture bustling streets beneath all the rubble, but Mara's tone carried weight, and the lingering hum of residual rift energy seemed to confirm it.
"But something went wrong," Alex murmured, instinctively adjusting the weight of his pack.
Mara nodded, scanning the air. "Yes. Rifts didn't appear overnight. The collapse began centuries ago, slowly at first. Humanity's experiments—manipulating energy, opening dimensional pathways—triggered a chain reaction. Entire cities were swallowed. Zones fractured. The areas we walk through now—the Contested Ruins, Beast Territories—they're remnants of that chaos."
Kael grunted, moving a chunk of rubble to clear the path. "That's why the Church controls most of the inhabited zones. To prevent people from repeating history, or at least to contain the chaos."
Alex studied the twisted streets, feeling the weight of history pressing down. "So the world we know… it's all just pieces of what came before?"
Mara's gaze softened, almost wistful. "Pieces, yes… but dangerous pieces. Old Earth's energy hasn't fully dissipated. That's why rifts form, why anomalous creatures emerge. Zones here are saturated with residual energy. Some areas remain stable enough for guild missions, but others…" She paused, pointing toward a nearby plaza where the air shimmered faintly. "Those are the true hazards."
Liora moved closer to Alex, her hand brushing against his arm, her voice low. "The Church and the Military have their rules, but even they can't control everything. The remnants of Old Earth… they have their own will. Sometimes they show us new paths, sometimes they swallow everything."
Alex's mind raced. He had delivered supplies through dangerous zones before, faced minor rifts, but nothing like this—a pulse in the air, a whisper in the ruins that made even Tavik uneasy. He felt strangely alive, every instinct screaming that this world had layers of danger and knowledge yet unseen.
Kael broke the silence. "These ruins aren't just empty streets. The walls, the foundations… they're laced with old energy. Some areas are still semi-functional. Old security systems, traps, automated defenses… they survive without warning. One misstep could be fatal."
Alex adjusted his shield, stepping carefully over a cracked street where a faint shimmer indicated unstable ground. The weight of his pack reminded him that survival in these ruins wasn't just about avoiding energy—it was about being prepared, adaptable, and precise.
Mara continued, her voice carrying as they moved forward. "Humans thought they could control everything. Machines, energy, dimensional paths… but the rifts were stronger. The collapse wasn't just natural—it was engineered, in part. We don't know all the reasons. Some blame the Gods, some blame human ambition. All we know is that what remains now is a fractured world. And that's what we live in."
Alex thought of his guild missions, the parcels, the party around him. None of them could predict rifts. None of them could control what emerged. Only preparation, observation, and careful planning kept them alive.
Tavik muttered, "So, all this… all the deliveries, all the danger… we're just cleaning up humanity's mistakes?"
"Not cleaning up," Mara said sharply. "We survive. We learn. We map. We fight. Every rift we see, every anomaly we record, keeps the next generation alive a little longer."
Alex felt the weight of her words. Survival here wasn't heroic—it was calculated, practical, and relentless. Every delivery, every scouting run, every cautious step through unstable streets mattered.
They reached a crumbling plaza, statues toppled, streets cracked, vines of alien flora weaving through broken stone. The air hummed faintly, heavy with residual energy from centuries past. Mara knelt, scanning the ground with her instruments.
"This plaza was once a major hub," she explained. "Energy nodes ran beneath these streets. Supply lines, transportation… entire networks lost to rift activity. Look closely." She pointed to a faint shimmer beneath their feet. "Some old conduits are still semi-active. Dangerous, yes, but valuable. Understanding them helps us predict rift formation."
Alex crouched, examining the shimmer. He had no mana, no blessing—but he noticed patterns others might miss. Subtle shifts in the glow, faint vibrations underfoot, the way dust reacted to invisible currents. Observation became his power here.
Liora's hand lingered lightly on his shoulder again. "Old Earth left us challenges, Alex. Some survive because of blessings. Some because of cunning. And some…" She smiled faintly, unreadable. "Some survive because they notice what others ignore."
Alex nodded, gripping his shield and pack tighter. Even unblessed, he could survive. Even unblessed, he could navigate these ruins better than those who relied solely on magic or blessings.
As they moved deeper into the plaza, Mara continued her low narration. "The Ruins are a warning. They remind us that power—blessed or unblessed—cannot bend reality without consequence. The Church regulates what it can, but beyond their walls… everything belongs to the rifts, the beasts, and the remnants of Old Earth's ambition."
Alex inhaled sharply. Each ruined street, each pulse of residual energy, every faint echo of the old world… it was dangerous, yes, but it also felt alive. Full of secrets, opportunities, and challenges no blessing could prepare one for.
The team paused briefly at the far edge of the plaza, staring at the remains of a collapsed tower, its upper floors twisted like broken metal vines. The wind stirred dust, carrying faint whispers from the centuries past. Alex felt a strange mix of awe and caution.
This was the world he lived in now. Dangerous, fractured, unpredictable. And whether blessed or unblessed, survival depended on sharp eyes, quick thinking, and an unyielding will.
And for Alex, every step forward through the Ruins wasn't just a delivery—it was a lesson in a world that had already learned the cost of ambition… and wasn't willing to forgive mistakes.