The tension in the air was palpable.
Asher had propped himself against the console, arms crossed, watching Valen with a wary kind of bemusement.
So, I'm marked, dangerous, and, apparently, on someone's kill list." And this has led you to send me on a mission?"
Valen smiled, unfazed. "I thought you liked danger."
Asher laughed, but his hands twitched at his side. He wasn't stupid. This was not simply a mission.
It was a test.
The Guild didn't trust him. They wanted to know how much the Rift had altered him — and whether he was a threat.
Seraphine shifted slightly. She wasn't facing him, but he could tell she was stiff.
There was something about this mission that bothered her.
"Alright," Asher said. "I'll bite. What's the job?"
Valen tapped a control panel. A holographic display sparked to life over the table, revealing a blacked-out Rift site.
Location: Uncharted Zone 47
Classification: Ghost Rift
Asher frowned. "Ghost Rift?"
Seraphine finally spoke. "It's a Rift that acts differently than normal Rifts. No monsters spill out. No clear anomalies. It just… sits there. Silent. Waiting."
Valen nodded. "We call them Ghost Rifts because most Hunters that enter…"
He turned to face Asher.
"Never come back."
Asher exhaled. "Lovely."
Valen continued. "Lately we noticed some movement inside. Something is active. And we think it's linked with the mark you bear."
Asher's fingers traced the faint scar on his arm — the wound from when he had battled the hooded stranger.
It still felt cold.
"You want me to go in," Asher said.
"Alone."
Seraphine stiffened. "That wasn't the agreement."
Asher raised an eyebrow. Agreement?
Valen glanced at her. "The situation has changed."
Seraphine closed her jaw, but she didn't argue.
That told Asher everything.
She was fighting to keep him out of this.
Interesting.
Valen turned back to Asher. "The mission is simple. Enter the Rift. Find out what's inside."
"And if I don't come back?" Asher asked dryly.
Valen smiled. "Then we'll have our answer."
But hours later, Asher found himself in the outskirts of Zone 47.
The Ghost Rift loomed in front of him, a roiling ball of gray mist, unlike any Rite he had ever seen. It wasn't unstable.
It was calm.
Like it was waiting.
Seraphine stood next to him, arms crossed. "This is a bad idea."
"Probably," Asher admitted. "But when have I ever had good ones?"
She didn't laugh. Instead, she opened her coat and took out a silver ring.
"Take this," she said.
Asher frowned. "Sentimental gift?"
"It's a marker. In case of an emergency, trigger it, and we'll attempt to bring you back."
Asher studied her. "You are really worried about me."
Seraphine exhaled. "I've watched too many persons get lost in Ghost Rifts. And you…" She hesitated. "You're different, Vale. So if something is calling you in there, I don't think it's for a good reason."
Asher spun the ring against his fingers. "Noted."
Then, without saying another word — he moved in.
And into the unknown.
Asher's vision blurred.
This transition was unlike regular Rifts. No nausea, no sudden force dragging him through.
It was… smooth.
Almost too smooth.
And then—he was inside.
The world as it stood was wrong around him.
He was standing in what seemed like a vast cathedral, its walls climbing endlessly toward the sky. The architecture was old, ancient, but time had not marred it.
There was no sound.
No wind.
No movement.
Just… silence.
Then—
Footsteps.
Slow. Deliberate. From the far end of the cathedral.
Asher tightened his grip on the knife as a figure stepped out.
A man in black robes with a hood pulled low over his face.
Like the one before The Rift.
Asher's pulse quickened. "You again."
The man in the hood stopped inches away. Then—
He removed his hood.
And Asher froze.
Because the man in front of him…
Was himself.
Asher gazed at his own face, a strange reflection of himself — apart from the look-alike's eyes, which were jet black and empty.
"You're late," the copy read, his voice unsettlingly steady.
Asher breathed out, regaining his composure. "I was not aware I had an appointment."
The doppelgänger thinned his lips and tilted his head. "You don't get it, do you?"
"Not really, no."
A flicker of something — amusement? —intersected the expression of the copy.
'You were never supposed to come here,' he said. "Not yet."
Asher frowned. "Then why do I feel like something in this Rift has been waiting for me?"
The copy smiled. And it was the most disconcerting thing Asher had ever seen.
"Because it has."
Then, in a blur of movement—
The other Asher attacked.
Fighting Himself
Asher had little time to respond.
His copy moved like a shadow, the attacks echoing Asher's own style — but quicker. Sharper.
The sounds echoed through the empty cathedral, their knives clashing.
Asher turned, avoiding a blow to his ribs. He answered — only for his strike to be neatly parried.
It felt like wrestling a version of himself who already knew all his weaknesses.
The black eyes on his copy glittered.
"You are still not there," he said softly. "Still holding on to who you were."
He stepped in, too fast to avoid—
And struck Asher's chest with his palm.
Pain exploded through him.
Not a physical pain — something worse.
Like his entire being was unspooling.
Everything around him went dark, as mumbling voices filled his mind.
"Wake up, Asher."
"This is not your world."
"Not yet."
Asher choked, fighting against the power that was dragging him down. His copy loomed behind him, eyes shining like black stars.
"Do not resist," the double said. "The truth is coming."
And then—
Everything shattered.
Asher woke up gasping, falling down to the floor.
He was outside the Rift.
Seraphine knelt beside him, clutching his shoulder. "Vale!"
Asher's breath was ragged. His head pounded. His body felt torn and sewn back together.
He was back.
But something had changed.
Seraphine appeared relieved, but also … scared.
"Asher," she said carefully. "Your eyes—"
Asher blinked.
And for a moment, in the glare of a nearby screen —
He saw them.
His own eyes.
But not silver.
Just for a second, they were black — and then they weren't.
Just like the other Asher's.