The rain drizzled steadily, soaking the streets of Haven City in its familiar gloom. Neon signs flickered weakly against the gray, their lights casting distorted reflections in the puddles pooling on the metallic pavement. The city hummed with life—pedestrians moving with mechanical precision, airbikes whirring above, and the faint murmur of distant announcements echoing through the alleys. It was another ordinary day in Haven City, and Riyan hated it.
He adjusted the delivery bag slung over his shoulder, his boots splashing through the shallow water as he trudged along the sidewalk. The cold seeped through his thin jacket, but he hardly noticed. His thoughts were somewhere else, trapped in the past, playing memories he couldn't shake.
His sister's voice came unbidden—a soft laugh that warmed his chest before it twisted into the scream that had haunted him for years. Her outstretched hand reached for him in his mind, pulling him back to that moment. The image blurred and fractured, as it always did, leaving only the ache of guilt behind.
Riyan shook his head, muttering under his breath, "Focus." Dwelling on the past wouldn't change anything, and he had a job to finish.
The package in his bag felt heavier than it should have, as if the weight was pressing into him more with every step. It didn't help that the box itself was strange, marked with a swirling emblem that seemed to shift when the light hit it. He didn't like it, but asking questions wasn't part of his job description. Deliver, get paid, and stay invisible—that was his life now.
He passed a group of workers huddled under a flickering streetlamp, their laughter a sharp contrast to the dull ache in his chest. One of them nudged another, pointing at him.
"Hey, delivery boy!" the man called out, his voice thick with mockery. "Got anything exciting in that bag?"
Riyan ignored him, quickening his pace. They weren't worth the energy.
"You're a ghost, Riyan," he muttered to himself, repeating the words he'd clung to for years. "Stay invisible, and nothing can hurt you."
The delivery location was at the city's edge, where the towering skyscrapers gave way to crumbling buildings and narrow alleys. The air was colder here, sharper, carrying a metallic tang that made him uncomfortable. He stopped outside a weathered door, the swirling emblem on the package glowing faintly as he reached for the buzzer.
Before he could press it, the door creaked open, and an elderly man emerged from the shadows inside. His eyes were sharp, far too piercing for someone his age, and they locked onto Riyan with unnerving intensity.
"You're late," the man said, his voice a dry rasp.
"Didn't realize there was a clock on it," Riyan replied, trying to mask his unease as he handed over the package.
The man took it, his fingers brushing the swirling emblem as it pulsed with faint light. A smirk curled his lips. "You don't know what you carry, do you?"
"Just doing my job."
"Is that what you tell yourself?" The man chuckled, the sound hollow and unsettling. He tapped the box lightly. "The tides are changing, Catalyst. You won't stay hidden forever."
Riyan froze. Catalyst? "Look, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just a—"
"You're more than you think." The man cut him off, stepping back into the shadows. "You'll see soon enough."
The door slammed shut before Riyan could respond, leaving him standing in the rain with a knot tightening in his chest. He looked down at his hands, which were trembling. Catalyst. The word echoed in his mind, heavier than the storm around him.
He turned and began walking back toward the city center, his pace faster than before. The rain blurred the neon lights, turning them into streaks of color that smeared across his vision. His thoughts raced, but no answers came.
And then, everything stopped.
The air grew thick, the hum of the city fading into an unnatural silence. Riyan froze mid-step, his breath catching as the world around him seemed to shift. The buildings warped, their edges rippling as though he was staring through water. The ground beneath him trembled, cracks spidering out from where he stood.
"What…?"
A low hum filled the air, growing louder with every heartbeat. The cracks glowed golden, pulsing with a rhythm that matched his racing pulse. Panic surged through him, but his legs refused to move.
The hum became a roar, and the world shattered.
---
When Riyan opened his eyes, he was lying face-down on cold, jagged ground. The air was sharp and heavy, carrying the metallic scent of blood and ozone. He pushed himself up slowly, every muscle trembling, and blinked against the harsh crimson light that bathed the landscape.
"What… where am I?"
The sky above was fractured, streaked with veins of red light that pulsed like a living thing. Towering spires of jagged rock surrounded him, their surfaces slick with veins of glowing energy. The ground beneath him was uneven, cracked, and littered with fragments of shattered stone.
In the distance, he heard the clash of steel on steel, the echo of battle cries, and something else—a deep, guttural growl that made his skin crawl.
He staggered to his feet, his heart pounding as he took in his surroundings. This wasn't Haven City. It wasn't anywhere he knew.
And then he saw them.
Figures moved like shadows in the distance, too fast to track with his eyes. They clashed violently, their weapons colliding in sparks of light and waves of force that shook the ground. As they came closer, Riyan's breath hitched. Vampires.
He recognized them from the stories—creatures of speed and power, their crimson eyes glowing like embers as they fought with feral intensity. But these weren't the legends he'd grown up hearing. They were faster, stronger, more brutal.
A sudden explosion ripped through the battlefield, and Riyan stumbled, shielding his face from the debris. When he looked up, one of the figures was hurtling toward him.
"Move!"
A hand grabbed his arm and yanked him to the side just as a blade slashed through the air where he'd been standing. He turned to see a woman, her armor scratched and battle-worn, her fiery hair streaked with ash.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" she snapped, her voice sharp but laced with urgency.
"I don't even know where I am!" Riyan stammered, his voice cracking.
She frowned, her gaze flicking over him. "You're not supposed to be here."
Before he could respond, a shadow loomed over them. Riyan turned, and his blood ran cold.
The figure was massive, clad in dark, obsidian-like armor that seemed to drink the light around it. His eyes glowed with an eerie crimson hue, and the battlefield seemed to still as he approached. Even the chaos of the fight seemed to bend around him, his presence commanding the air itself.
"You've arrived, Catalyst," the figure said, his voice a deep rumble that resonated in Riyan's chest.
Riyan stared, his mind reeling. "Catalyst? What are you talking about?"
The figure chuckled, the sound low and menacing. "You'll know soon enough. When the Nexus fractures and the realms crumble, you'll understand what you've unleashed."
The ground trembled beneath them, the veins of red light pulsing brighter, faster. Riyan opened his mouth to speak, but the figure vanished into the smoke, leaving him gasping for air.
The woman grabbed his arm again, pulling him away from the crumbling ground. "We need to move. Now."
"What's happening? What is this place?"
She didn't answer immediately, her focus on navigating the chaos. But her expression was grim, her jaw set tightly. "You're in the Crimson Spire," she said finally. "The Nexus is fracturing, and you're at the center of it."
The Nexus? The word meant nothing to him, but the fear in her voice was unmistakable. As the screams and clashes of battle grew louder, Riyan felt a chill settle in his chest. Whatever this was, it was far bigger than him.
And it was only just beginning.