Behind them, the arcology's blinding white light disappeared, swallowed by the heavy blackness of a Category Yellow Rift. Wet stone met Caelum’s feet as his boots landed, small rocks breaking beneath his weight. Loud echoes came fast—far too sharp against the quiet emptiness of the tunnel. Each footfall made him tense, regret rising before he even finished moving.

  Chills crept into his clothes, slow and sharp. Light from the flashlights did little good—just enough to stir up grit and make the shadows thicker than before. Each inhale scraped the throat, thick with the residue of something long undisturbed. He blinked, held still, refused to let a cough break loose.

  “Stay sharp," Dawson said from up ahead, fingers grasping around his blade. Not as calm as he was in the arcology—there was a shake beneath the words. There was a tiny break in his voice, like thin ice underfoot. Each syllable hit rock walls, then jumped back louder than meant to be, almost calling out into shadows better left undisturbed.

  Somewhere above, low chittering began—a wet, clicking sound that crawled under Caelum’s skin. It was like stones grinding on bone, or teeth gnashing just out of sight. The collapsed tunnels twisted the sound, bouncing it everywhere at once. There was no way to know whether it was directly overhead or a hundred meters away.

  "What is that?" Kifah whispered, gripping her bow so tightly her bandaged knuckles turned white. Her eyes darted through the shadows, searching for the source.

  "Stay focused. Caelum, with me—hold the line," Dawson barked, though tension pulled tight across his shoulders.

  "The acoustics are a nightmare," élo?se muttered, rapier drawn. "No way to track them by sound. Could be ten meters away or a hundred."

  His grip tightened on the resonant-steel spear. He didn't charge it yet; the drills taught him to let energy flow, not hold it. If he stored power now, his nerves would fry and anxiety spike. He forced a breath, dropped his shoulders, let dread wash over—not now.

  A single drop of water hit the stone—loud as fireworks.

  Then the shadows above them moved.

  They dropped from the ceiling in a leathery swarm—massive, twisted bats with four wings, warped by rift ecology, filling the air.

  “Contact!" Dawson shouted. Without waiting, the space near him twisted, alive with the pulsing energy of his plasma railgun charging up.

  “Ceiling—watch it, Dawson!” Caelum yelled, moving ahead, spear lifted toward the shift above.

  Dawson lifted the blade toward the ceiling. From its tip, a burst of purple light exploded forward—swallowing three bats whole before tearing into the roof above, leaving a jagged hole where stone once held firm.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Falling chunks of stone—sharp-edged and cruel—mixed with burning debris from above. Exactly what Caelum said would happen.

  "Cover!" Blancard bellowed, raising his reinforced gauntlets. He barreled into the debris, bulwark resonance absorbing impacts and shielding élo?se and Kifah.

  "I told you to watch your fire!" élo?se yelled. She emerged from behind Blancard, rapier gleaming, and lunged, sending a jet of water into the swarm.

  élo?se hadn't considered the cramped, uneven tunnel. Her pressurised water hit a jagged boulder and burst, drenching everyone in muddy spray. Slick stone coated the ground. His boots slipped, and he barely stayed upright, cursing. Typical.

  Pain shot up his still-healing leg as he fought for balance. Four-winged bats swooped, claws scraping steel and cloth. All their power meant nothing if they couldn’t work together.

  A bat lunged at him. He kept his elbows tight, relying on drilled instincts. Electricity surged from his chest down the spear, arcing into the bat and sending it crashing to the ground.

  "They’re flanking!" Blancard grunted, swinging a heavy fist that crushed the ribs of a bat trying to slip past the rear guard.

  "Kifah, the field!" Caelum shouted over the chaos, spinning his spear to knock aside another diving shadow.

  Kifah froze, staring up at the nightmare above. Her breath came fast—too much dark, too much noise, water and plasma everywhere. Panic hit her. Her bow slipped from her fingers, and she threw out a wide resonance-null zone.

  The null field swept over Unit 7, a wave of suffocating static.

  In an instant, the battlefield noise faded. Dawson's plasma flared and died, his sword suddenly just metal. élo?se's water-jet collapsed mid-air and splashed harmlessly into the mud. The spark in Caelum’s chest vanished, replaced by a dull ache beneath his ribs.

  "What are you doing?!" Dawson roared, voice cracking with indignation as a bat nearly clipped his face. "You’re killing our resonance! Drop the field!"

  "I—I panicked!" Kifah stammered, shrinking into herself as her defensive instinct took over.

  "Don’t drop it, just shrink the zone!" Caelum shouted, stepping in front of her. His spear was just a sharpened stick now, but he jabbed upward at a bat diving for Kifah. "Just cover our flanks—let us fight! Don’t lock up!"

  Without her water affinity, élo?se gripped her rapier tight and shifted into a guarded stance. She parried a set of claws with a desperate, awkward block—her usual poise gone. "Ward’s right! Shrink the field to two meters!" she shouted, her composure cracking.

  Kifah squeezed her eyes shut, shaking. Fists clenched, she forced the null zone back until it shielded just herself and Blancard.

  With the field clear, Dawson’s sword flared with violet plasma. Instead of blasting, he cut a controlled arc, searing through two bats’ wings. He realised raw escalation here would only get them killed.

  Warmth surged in Caelum’s chest. He pushed it down his arms, layering a low charge on his spear. He moved with Dawson, using his reach to funnel the bats into Dawson’s line of fire.

  Behind them, Blancard took position at the edge of Kifah’s null zone. He raised his heavy gauntlets, smashing aside anything that tried to slip past, holding the protective line.

  The chittering noise subsided. The surviving bats realised this prey was too much trouble and fled into the darkness above. The tunnel fell silent except for the cadets' ragged gasps for air.

  Dawson lowered his sword as the plasma died, plunging the tunnel back into darkness. He looked at Kifah without saying a word.

  Caelum leaned against his spear while wiping sweat and mud from his face. They had made it through, but only just.

  He remembered something the RMA officer had said.

  It’s not the size of your body that makes you strong enough to be marked by us. It’s being reliable—so the people who depend on you can succeed.

  Right now, he wasn’t sure they had accomplished either.

  If they could not find a way to work together, the rift would consume all of them.