In a breath the world around Asher broke and remade. It filled his senses, blaring in his surroundings, bending him in half as he unleashed the untamed power of the Rift. It wasn't merely power—it was ultimate control of the very weave of this world, its laws, its limits.
He could feel the rhythm of the Rift in his heart, as if it was a living thing. It coursed through him, swallowing him up, a pulse he couldn't ignore. The Keeper's final words rang in his ears.
"You are the bridge."
The choice had been his. And now, feeling the energy of the Rift slither around him, he knew what that was. This world, the dungeons, the Rifts, all part of the same chaos, the same whole. He hadn't been brought here just to survive, but to reshape it all.
The Keeper's form started to flicker around the edges of his vision, its figure fading into the void. Its voice, steady and soothing, addressed him one last time.
"You have accepted the power. Now you get to choose how to use it."
Asher's heart beat faster — from excitement, not fear. It was from anticipation. He could feel the energy inside him building, expanding. He could feel it running through his veins under his skin, hot liquids of the most molten power—an energy both then familiar as well as unknown. An old magic, a new force of nature that he now controlled.
The Watcher had told he was the key. The key to the Rift. The secret to escaping the cycle. But the only way to escape the cycle was to break the rules — the rules that governed this world, and the rules that even the gods themselves couldn't disregard.
And Asher didn't want to be another piece in their game.
A New Power
As the Keeper's form disappeared, the luminous core in the center of the chamber throbbed with illumination. It was from it that the wellspring of power flooding Asher's being came, and he could feel its will—its desire either to absorb him or to drive him past the limits of this world. The energy that gave shape to the core was crude, untempered, but he could feel the tendrils of it joining him to the Rift—to the very seat of all.
Breathless, eyes closed, feeling the energy inside. He felt the power of the core, its chaotic, shifting substance. It felt like a force that he had never experienced. It was not magic — not the kind of magic of the spells he had once cast. It was something more primal, more primordial. Now it had become a force of existence itself, the energy that bound this world together.
He reached, the mind and soul extending into the energy of the core, and with a deep, steady breath, he claimed it.
The world around him rippled. The space shifted. And Asher sensed his whole existence stretching, overflowing the room with a dizzying power.
The Rift's Collapse
He looked, and the world in front of him fell still. His very core's energy had dissipated into his body, and with it had trembled the entirety of the Rift. The walls, the ground, the air—all of it started to warp, twisting and bending around him like a living thing. The dungeon itself was reacting to his declaration.
But the dungeon wasn't the only thing.
The Rift—the very anomaly that had drawn him here, the power that had seen fit to craft this world—was splitting apart, as if the foundations of its very claim were rattling. Power surged over Asher once more, stronger than before. It felt like the weight of the world was being pulled closer to him.
"No," a voice said at the same time, but it was too late. The Rift was collapsing around him.
This time with anger, this time with regret; the Keeper's voice echoed in his mind once more. "You can't control what you don't understand."
But Asher didn't listen.
He had broken the rules. He had come to accept the power of the Rift. And now, with the dungeon collapsing around him, he knew one thing:
He was released from this world's limitations.
The world shook, and know that the dungeon core which had become completely absorbed pulsed with energy that belonged to him. The soil under his feet split, as a searing light burst upwards from the Rift, incinerating everything it touched.
At the center of the hall was Asher, standing tall, bright intensity radiating from his eyes in time to the energy coursing through him. His body is no longer merely a vessel — he is the one who murders, he is the one with the strength, he is the master of the Rift. The world around him shifted, contorting to his will.
And then it all went quiet.
The Birth of a New World
When the light enveloped him, Asher was suddenly alone in the middle of what had been the dungeon. The Rift, the very flaw that had spotted the doorway and pulled him through it, had collapsed—destroyed from the inside. But the world wasn't gone. It had changed.
It was as if the air had changed — fresher, lighter. The darkness that had suffocated the space was no more. And in its place, a new sense of balance, like the power of the Rift had settled.
Asher squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a shaky breath.
He had done it. He possessed the Rift in his control. He had taken back the power that once belonged to the worlds beyond this one.
And now, it was his to shape.
Yet as the sound of the fractured Rift reverberated about him, a dawning awareness spread over him.
The world had changed; he had, too. He was no longer simply a Freelancer, a wretched wanderer from another place. He had become the Master of the Rift—the bridge between dimensions, a being with the ability to mold the very forces of reality.
And that authority would not go unrecognized."
Asher was standing tall, chest filling with a slow, deliberate breath. He had entered this world in search of answers, but now…
He would make his own path.
The world was his to remake.
And those who dared to oppose him would soon learn what it was like to face the Master of the Rift.