Chapter 33 Protocol: behold

The monster lunged, all twelve
horns glinting like obsidian scythes, its serpentine body fracturing the ground beneath it with every slither. Its skin shimmered like broken glass under blood-red light, refracting the warped glow of the rift. Riven was already in motion.

Flash. His body vanished from the beast's strike, reappearing mid-air with a crimson after-image. A kick slammed against the creature’s jaw, sending shards flying from its armored face. It hissed, spinning with a speed that tore the air apart, tail lashing in a wide arc.

Riven dropped, rolled, then activated Multiple.

Three copies of himself burst out in all directions, each one indistinguishable from the real thing. The monster turned, confused — just for a second.

That was all he needed.

One Riven appeared behind it, spinning with a glowing axe-kick that smashed into the base of one of its horns, cracking the surface. Another clone launched himself onto its back, stabbing through the translucent scales with a red-coded blade. The third went for its throat, only to be swallowed in a sudden, violent lash of energy.

The clone evaporated.

The monster roared. A shockwave burst from its mouth, disintegrating the second clone and flinging Riven across the battlefield. He hit the wall of the rift’s crystalline terrain hard, coughing blood, limbs shaking.

Pause.

The world locked.

The monster froze mid-slither, half a second from ramming its coiled body into him.

Riven’s body screamed in protest, but he moved anyway. He blinked ahead, leaving three shadows behind. In five seconds, he had to make them count.

One heartbeat: he was on the monster’s neck.
Second: the third horn — shattered with a crushing blow.
Third: behind its head.
Fourth: he jammed both hands into its fractured skin, red energy glowing violently in his palms.
Fifth: he Flash’d away.

The moment unpaused.

The monster let out a soundless shriek. A second later, it exploded from within — a rain of splintered light cascading across the rift. Horns, bone, and jagged flesh scattered across the field.

Riven stood, panting, soaked in blood that wasn’t his. Steam hissed off his shoulders.

He looked down at his shaking hands.

He hadn’t unlocked anything new. He’d barely made it.

Outside the rift, Lucy's eyes scanned the horizon from a rooftop. "Riven… where the hell are you?"

Kira stood beside her, silent, her hand gripping the hilt of her blade. "He’s still inside. I can feel it."

“Damn it,” Lucy whispered.

Inside the Iron Heart guild’s forward base, the other Executioners were being pulled out of the rift — battered, terrified. Not a single one could speak at first.

When they finally did, the stories came in fragments.

“There was… someone already inside.”

“Black coat… red eyes…”

“He moved faster than anything I’ve ever seen. Killed it. Alone.”

They looked around. He wasn’t with them. He hadn’t come out.

Just like that — the rumor began.

A ghost Executioner.

An unregistered fighter who faced what they couldn’t.

And survived.

The story spread.

Even to the Council.

Deep within the shadows of their chamber, the members of the Shadow Council listened as a scout whispered the story.

“A lone Executioner? No registry, no guild, no records?”

“Then who the hell is he?”

They didn’t know yet.

But the council did.

Riven watched the last of the monster’s ashes vanish in the shifting red light. He turned and walked toward the portal, slipping through before it closed.

Night had already fallen outside.

Lucy was the first to spot him.

“Riven!”

She rushed forward, grabbing him, her eyes wide with relief.

Kira followed a heartbeat later, eyes scanning him for wounds. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s not mine,” he muttered.

But his voice trembled.

They sat on the rooftop in silence as he caught his breath.

“That thing,” Riven said, finally. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He closed his eyes, remembering the size of it. The way it shattered clones with a glance. The way its power coiled like a demon waiting to be unleashed.

“I don’t think… I don’t think we're ready yet. If that’s what’s coming out of these rifts…

Lucy’s hands tightened on his shoulder.

“We’ll get stronger,” she said. “Together.”

Kira didn’t say anything.

But she didn’t let go of his hand.

Below them, the city whispered.

And the tale of the unregistered Executioner — the Ghost of the Rift — spread like fire.

The guilds had begun to rise.

And the shadows were watching.