It seemed like luck—for once—favoured Iron Judgement.

  The acting commander, Kang Daesang, was actually in the damn HQ when the emergency call came through. That alone was rare. The phone buzzed against his desk, shrill and demanding. He grabbed it on instinct.

  "Yeah? This is Daesang."

  He listened.

  And then, his chair scraped violently against the floor as he stood.

  "WHAT?!! A dysgenesis rift?!"

  He didn't wait for more. He was already halfway to the elevator before the call even ended.

  The drive to the site blurred. The city peeled past the windows like static. Sirens howled behind him—he'd commandeered a patrol escort on the fly—and yet even that felt too slow.

  But when he finally arrived?

  Shit.

  The rift was massive. The kind that seemed to pulse, breathing in waves of crimson and black, anchored to the ground like a heart cut from the wrong kind of god. The energy leaking from it coiled through the air like it was looking for someone to hurt.

  And worse—he felt it in his bones.

  The pressure. The hum. That goddamn frequency only dysgenesis rifts carried—wild, unstable, corrupted. His heart pounded louder the closer he got.

  He didn't even wait for anyone to brief him. He stomped up to the officers already securing the perimeter, coat flapping behind him, eyes hard.

  "Mr. Hanjun!"

  He barked, recognising the squad manager nearby.

  "Did the squad that went in have any strong members?"

  The question drew a few confused stares.

  Why would the commander ask that?

  But then Hanjun nodded slowly.

  "...Yes, sir. There were a few capable ones. But... there were recruits, too. First-timers."

  Kang Daesang exhaled sharply through his nose and pinched the bridge of his nose like he was holding back a scream.

  "Great. Fucking perfect. Consider those recruits, KIA already."

  He turned, eyes locked on the glowing rift.

  "There's no guarantee what this thing will throw out. Dysgenesis types don't follow protocol."

  His palm came up and pressed flat against the swirling mass of energy.

  It didn't ripple.

  Didn't absorb him.

  Didn't react.

  It was like slamming your hand against a concrete wall.

  Solid.

  Sealed.

  "This thing's shut tighter than a high-tier Vault."

  He muttered.

  "Hard seal. No entry, no exit."

  One of the newer agents—face pale, voice shaking—stepped forward.

  "Commander, the Association… they, uh… They said not to engage. Labelled it a standard rift malfunction. Because, um… statistically dysgenesis types are... rare."

  Kang Daesang turned toward them, face unreadable for one long second.

  Then he laughed once, dry, bitter, done.

  "Those sons of bitches."

  He ran a hand through his hair, looking like he wanted to throw something.

  "They've got one job. One fucking job. Monitor Rift irregularities and respond."

  His voice rose.

  "And they pass it off as a malfunction? What kind of blind, desk-hugging bastards are sitting on their asses thinking this is just some data hiccup?!"

  The agents stayed silent.

  No one dared breathe.

  Daesang kept staring at the rift, his fingers twitching near his comm-link. His instincts screamed at him to do something, but the wall… it wasn't just physical. The rift was rejecting outside interference.

  It was alive.

  "Get me a direct line to the Association manager."

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  He growled.

  "And alert the other Covenants in the region. I want to know if anyone else is dealing with red rifts."

  "Understood, sir."

  "And if those kids are alive in there…"

  He muttered under his breath, staring into the blood-colored swirl.

  "They're either gonna come out heroes… or I'm gonna have to dig out bodies."

  "Though, sir… they might come back alive."

  Kang Daesang didn't turn immediately. His eyes were still fixed on the swirling rift, glowing like a wound in the sky.

  He breathed in slowly.

  "I hope they do."

  He finally said.

  "Most of the Coreborns in that squad were trained for Tier 2 incursions. They've seen real fights. This rift shouldn't break them…"

  A pause.

  "…Or at least, I hope it doesn't."

  "Sir."

  Hanjun continued, stepping beside him,

  "Even the recruits might make it back."

  That made Daesang raise an eyebrow.

  "Huh? What are you saying, Hanjun?"

  There was something softer in his voice now. Not quite hope. But maybe the memory of it.

  "There's one Coreborn in that raid party I know personally. He was close to the late Director Gyeongnim. Called him his student. Said he was strong."

  "Is that so?"

  Daesang's brow lifted, tone shifting upward.

  "Then he must be a seasoned Coreborn, no?"

  "Uhh…"

  Hanjun scratched his head, hesitating.

  "I'm not sure about that part. But… he's a Precision Core."

  Daesang's face fell instantly.

  He let out a heavy, dragged-out sigh that sounded like it took half his energy with it. His shoulders sagged.

  "…Their chances of survival just dropped to zero."

  There was silence after that. The kind that settles deep. Like the world itself was holding its breath with them.

  Then Hanjun spoke again.

  "So what do we do now, sir?"

  Daesang didn't answer right away. He watched the rift pulse again—dark and slow, like a warning heartbeat echoing from some other realm.

  Finally, he spoke, quiet and flat. "

  We wait."

  His jaw tightened.

  "And we hope at least one of them makes it out alive."

  He didn't look at Hanjun this time.

  ****

  The rift was unlike anything they'd seen before.

  Even Jaemin, who'd practically been living out of rifts lately like some kind of twisted world tour, had to admit—this was new.

  It matched the descriptions of a dysgenesis rift, sure: expansive, warped, almost like a corrupted realm with its own rules. But standing in it? Feeling it? That was different. That was real.

  The forest stretched endlessly in both directions, but what struck them wasn't the size.

  It was the divide.

  On one side, lush tropical growth, steaming with heat and humidity so thick it felt like breathing soup. Vines twisted like veins, and the air was loud with insect calls and distant howls.

  On the other—just meters away—snow. A still, pale frost-covered forest, where cold bit through armour and silence pressed against the skin like a threat. And then, a huge cathedral made of ice

  Side by side. No transition. No gradient. Just split clean down the centre.

  Mutated.

  Twisted.

  And dangerous.

  Each side is deadly in its own right. But together? It was a death sentence waiting to be signed.

  "Great."

  One of the team members muttered.

  "Even the rift's gone nuts."

  "Now what, ugh…"

  Another said under their breath, trying to keep their voice steady.

  They were trying to hide it, but panic was seeping in.

  The rift gate had vanished behind them.

  No way out. No contact. No rules.

  "Um… Sir?"

  Ji-yoo stepped forward carefully.

  "Are we in the wrong place? Something bad happened… didn't it?"

  Jaemin let out a quiet sigh.

  They were deep in the tropical half now. The heat was already making some of the team's armour feel unbearable. He sighed slowly.

  "You could say that."

  He replied.

  That's when it hit.

  A sharp whistle through the air, almost silent.

  ?!?

  Jaemin snapped and turned his head.

  No one saw him move.

  Jaemin stayed standing.

  He looked up slowly.

  There—high in the trees— Abyssals. Pale body stretched long, like a skeletal predator.

  One eyes, large and lidless, stared down from a twisted, fleshy socket in its head.

  Its mouth was a mess of crooked teeth. It let out a short, barking laugh.

  "Hyuck."

  PWAK!

  A man screamed—and then fell.

  PLOP.

  He landed face-first, unmoving.

  Twenty barbs protruded his head, chest, limbs—like someone had tried to turn him into a pincushion.

  Silence.

  No one moved.

  They weren't surrounded—but they weren't safe either.

  Jaemin didn't speak.

  He just lowered the caught barb, inspecting it in the dim, filtered light.

  "Abyssals! One-eyed—up top, those trees!"

  The warning shot out from one of the frontline scouts, panicked and raw. But it was already too late for a few. The barbs had stopped falling, but the pressure hadn't lifted. If anything, it grew.

  High above, those single-eyed creatures—warped and spindly—clung to the canopy like spiders with human limbs, heads twisted, faces blank save for that massive, pulsing eye.

  Hwang Seungho and Jaemin both already had their eyes locked on them. Steady. Focused.

  But one of the creatures… it lingered.

  Staring directly at Jaemin.

  Almost too long.

  Not just looking—but understanding.

  Its eye narrowed.

  Jaemin smirked.

  Only slightly.

  Then his gaze shifted—cold, razor-sharp, filled with the quiet fury of someone who'd already seen what the world could do and still chose to stare it down.

  That Abyssal didn't blink. Neither did he.

  "This rift could get us all killed if we're grouped up like this."

  Hwang Seungho's voice boomed suddenly, sharp enough to slice through the heavy air. Everyone turned to him.

  His tone was clipped, no-nonsense. A man already weighing lives.

  "I'll cut to the chase."

  He said, loud and unflinching.

  "Long talk's useless here. Recruits—you—separate from us. There's nothing you or we can do to save each other."

  There was a beat of silence. Then shock.

  Eyes widened across the formation.

  "Wait, what are you saying?"

  One recruit stammered, stepping forward.

  "We're a team—we're supposed to—"

  "Shut up."

  Hwang Seungho shut the boy.

  "I don't care what you think. Now is not the time to be emotional"

  Seungho said

  "Apart from the recruits, my original strike team stays intact. We move separately."

  "But that's—!"

  Someone began.

  "No."

  A girl's voice cut in. Not loud, but firm.

  Everyone turned again.

  She stepped out of line, brushing past the others.

  "I don't like the idea of leaving the recruits alone."

  She said.

  "So I'll go with them."

  "What?"

  Seungho blinked.

  "So will I."

  Another Coreborn added, moving across the line, boots heavy in the mud.

  A few more hesitated. But the divide had started.

  Seungho scoffed and turned away.

  "Suit yourselves. And listen—if we kill the boss of this rift, we all get out. So, unless you want to die stuck in here playing babysitter, stick to your path. We'll stick to ours."

  He didn't look back.

  The air tensed again as the squads began to drift apart, a slow, silent split between the experienced and the young, the trusted and the uncertain.

  That girl—now alongside Jaemin—glanced at him sideways.

  "Don't get me wrong."

  She said flatly.

  "I'm not just here to protect you."

  Jaemin raised a brow.

  "I'm here to be protected too."

  That got his attention.

  "...What?"

  "I saw how you found out that abyssals were lurking before anyone could find them.

  She added.

  "Even Hwang Seungho's stupid enough to not see it coming."

  He scoffed under his breath.

  "You've got sharp eyes."

  "You're just a recruit, right?"

  She asked.

  "But… are you a seasoned Coreborn?"

  Jaemin glanced ahead, eyes scanning the treeline again.

  "Nope."

  He gave her a sideways smirk.

  "I'm just a Precision Coreborn."

  She blinked. A slow second passed.

  Then she laughed. Just once.