The fire was still burning low when Gorrin tossed ano nother log into the pit. Morning—or what passed for it in the Corrupted Realm—had come, but the light was faint and sickly. The skies above churned like they were alive, a whirl of violet and grey clouds that never stilled.
Caleb had barely slept. His body still ached from the battle with the Cragfangs, but more than that, his thoughts wouldn't rest. The words Awakened and Blut had taken root in his mind, and now they refused to leave.
Gorrin tossed him a hunk of dried meat.
"Eat. Then listen."
Caleb took the food and leaned forward. "You said yesterday that when we beat the Tyrant of the Gate, we'll unlock the Blut. But you also said there's more. What did you mean?"
Gorrin gave a slow nod and sat cross-legged. His eyes were calm now, more thoughtful than Caleb had seen them before.
"You already know what humans call us back home—Riftborn. Heroes. We're ranked from Class D up to S, based on combat effectiveness and feats. The Hero Union uses that to classify everyone. But what they don't know, what they can't know, is that the Blut doesn't recognize those titles."
He looked Caleb straight in the eye.
"The Blut sees the soul. It has its own system. Its own hierarchy. Awakened. Acolyte. Archon. Archanist. Ascendant."
Caleb frowned. "Sounds like a cult."
Gorrin chuckled. "You're not wrong. In a way, it's the oldest cult there is. The cult of survival. The Blut isn't just a power. It's a forge. It remakes you from the inside out."
Caleb chewed silently, then asked, "What do the ranks mean?"
Gorrin tapped his chin. "Awakened is the first step. It means you've survived a Riftgate and killed its Tyrant. Your soul resonates with the Blut. You start receiving rewards for the lives you take, but not like before. This isn't experience points and level-ups like some game."
He leaned in, voice lowering like he was sharing a secret.
"The Blut gives you insight. Evolution. Kill a weak monster, you might gain a sliver of intuition—your attacks flow better, your senses sharpen. Kill a powerful one, and you might be granted an ability. A technique. Sometimes even visions. The stronger the foe, the greater the echo left in your soul."
Caleb's breath caught. "So if someone kills… let's say… hundreds of strong monsters—"
"They grow into an Acolyte," Gorrin finished. "And that's when things change. An Acolyte can begin crafting their own techniques, shaping Riftenergy on instinct alone. That's where mastery begins. But few ever reach Archon."
"And above that?"
"Archanist is a rarity. Those are the ones whose very presence bends Riftenergy around them. And Ascendant…" Gorrin's voice trailed off, his eyes distant. "Ascendants are myths. Demigods. I've never met one. But I believe they exist."
Caleb let that sink in. His gaze wandered to the Riftbone at his side. Just days ago, he was being crushed by failure, humiliated in public. Now, he sat in a twisted world of shadows and monsters, hearing about secret systems and cosmic forces.
"It's a lot to take in," he said softly.
"I know," Gorrin replied. "And here's the kicker: not everyone has the potential. Even some who survive a Gate and kill a Tyrant never Awaken. The Blut chooses."
Caleb's brow furrowed. "So it might not choose me?"
"It already has," Gorrin said without hesitation.
Caleb looked up.
"You were swallowed into a Rift and didn't die in the first hour. You faced monsters with no training. You survived. And more importantly, you changed. I've seen that Riftenergy dancing around you, even when you sleep. It's choosing you whether you realize it or not."
Caleb lowered his gaze, trying to hide the flush of heat in his cheeks. It wasn't just pride—there was something else stirring in him. Hope? Determination?
Or maybe… destiny.
Gorrin stretched and stood up. "Come. The day's wasting, and I won't let you sit around playing philosopher. We'll start working on your shaping again. You've got potential, but you're still sloppy."
Caleb groaned, pushing himself up. "What is it with you and early training?"
"Discipline," Gorrin grunted. "You'll thank me when we face that Tyrant."
As they walked deeper into the wilderness together, Caleb's thoughts raced. He was beginning to understand that the world of the Rift was more than a deathtrap—it was a crucible.
And inside that crucible… something was being born.