The rift twitched.

  Just once.

  A tiny flicker—barely noticeable to the screaming plaza.

  Rina wiped blood from her lip and steadied herself, still breathing hard from the collapse underground.

  A.R.E.S. officers moved in, surrounding the portal with weapons pointed forward.

  “Stay alert! The dungeon still hasn’t closed!”

  “Ready mana cannons!”

  “Where’s Division 2 support?!”

  And then—

  Something wet slapped against the pavement.

  A torso.

  An orc torso.

  Only the upper half.

  It hit the ground with a wet, heavy crack, sliding to the barricade like discarded meat. The lower half was simply… gone. Torn off. The severed flesh was charred, as if lightning had been chewing.

  Rina staggered back a step.

  “…that’s the orc from inside. The father.”

  A.A.R.E.S. scientist screamed, “THIS SHOULDN’T BE POSSIBLE! The dungeon expelled it? Why—why is it burned—?!”

  Before anyone could answer—

  RRRRAAAAAAAAGHHHHH—

  A guttural roar exploded from within the rift, shaking the plaza down to its foundations.

  Hunters dropped their weapons.

  Civilians clamped hands over their ears.

  The livestream drone over Rina glitched violently.

  One hunter fell to his knees, eyes wide in terror.

  “T-That… that wasn’t an orc.”

  “That wasn’t ANY dungeon monster—what the hell is inside?!”

  The portal began to stretch, mana crackling violently around its edges.

  Something enormous pushed against it from the other side.

  The crowd screamed.

  “Something’s coming through!”

  “Everybody BACK UP!”

  “DROP THE BARRICADE—NOW!”

  The air split.

  The rift tore open wider, like an ancient giant clawed it apart.

  A massive arm forced its way out.

  Fur—

  Scars—

  Missing patches of skin—

  Lightning crawling across mangled flesh like dying fireflies.

  The limb flexed—

  —and crushed one of the A.R.E.S. barricades with a sound like breaking bones.

  People fled in every direction.

  A scientist shouted into his comm:

  “THERE IS NO DATA FOR THIS! NOTHING OF THIS MASS EXISTS IN ANY ARCHIVE—NOTHING—”

  Another screamed, “LEVEL OF MANA SURGE DETECTED—THIS IS A CITY-KILLER—EVACUATE THE DISTRICT!”

  The creature stepped through fully.

  And every living being in the plaza went silent.

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  A titan.

  A hulking monstrosity with horns cracked from age, scars carved across its whole body, every breath wheezing through broken ribs. Its eyes were pale, clouded, streaked with two glowing tear-lines that ran down its face as if it had cried lightning for centuries.

  It looked half-dead—

  but moved like death itself.

  Hunters began shaking uncontrollably.

  One wet his pants, dropped his sword, turned, and ran.

  “I-I’m sorry! I CAN’T FIGHT THAT! NOBODY CAN!”

  Another shouted:

  “WHAT RANK IS THAT?!”

  “SS?! SSS?!”

  “NO—NO—NO—WHAT IS THAT THING?!”

  The creature swung its arm lazily.

  Just one arm.

  The shockwave obliterated half the plaza.

  Hunters went flying—

  Some smashing into walls—

  Others torn apart midair—

  Others simply vanished in a burst of dust and blood.

  Rina barely dodged by diving behind an overturned metal booth. The creature’s attack carved a crater deeper than a city bus.

  “Move! MOVE!” she screamed at the remaining hunters. “Scatter! Don’t bunch up!”

  A.R.E.S. fired everything.

  Mana cannons.

  Shock rounds.

  Binding spells.

  Barrier chains.

  All of it bounced off the creature’s hide or cracked uselessly on its scars.

  It didn’t even look at them.

  It stumbled forward, sniffing the air.

  Searching.

  Wandering.

  As if it had forgotten how to exist.

  Rina ducked behind cover again.

  Her breath trembled.

  (…It’s not attacking us. It’s… looking for something.)

  She didn’t say it out loud.

  She didn’t have to.

  Sitting on a bench beside the vending machine, Azhareth wiped his hands with a napkin, mildly annoyed his soda had spilled.

  He watched the giant creature with a neutral expression.

  “…that’s a big one.”

  Dust and screams filled the air.

  Hunters died.

  A.R.E.S. screamed orders.

  Rina sprinted, barely evading another earth-shattering step.

  Azhareth tilted his head.

  The creature wasn’t rampaging.

  It was wandering,

  lost,

  confused,

  hurt.

  He narrowed his eyes.

  “…why does this feel… familiar?”

  A shard of a memory flickered:

  Lightning skies.

  A huge shadow kneeling.

  A spear of white thunder striking the ground.

  A deep voice obeying him.

  But the memory vanished before he could catch it.

  The creature suddenly inhaled deeply—

  —and lightning crackled along its spine.

  Azhareth froze.

  That lightning—

  That rhythm.

  That breathing pattern.

  That aura.

  Recognition slammed into him like a hammer.

  “…no. It can’t be.”

  The creature roared—

  FZZZZZ-BOOOOOOM—

  Lightning exploded in a line across the plaza.

  A lightning technique.

  A very, very specific lightning technique.

  One only a single creature in all 666 past lives had ever possessed.

  Azhareth whispered:

  “…you…”

  His heart pounded.

  The creature turned, sniffing, its blind eyes glowing faintly.

  As if hearing him.

  As if sensing him.

  That was when a voice whispered into Azhareth’s mind.

  Soft.

  Warm.

  Old.

  Broken.

  “My friend…

  After all this time…

  You’re still alive.”

  Azhareth stood up slowly from the bench, breath caught in his throat.

  “…Flercher?”

  The past-life voice echoed again, gentle and aching:

  “Forgive him…

  He waited for us…

  for centuries…”

  Finally, Azhareth said the monster’s true name—

  quietly,

  shaken,

  unbelieving:

  “…Gorvath.”

  The creature stopped moving.

  Its head turned toward him.

  Lightning tears glowing.

  The entire plaza froze.