I Have a Military Shop Tab in Fantasy World-Chapter 104: This Time The Rift

The next morning came with a sharp chill in the air.

Elandra stirred slowly beneath the gray dawn, clouds hanging low over the rooftops like a heavy blanket. Inigo stood by the outer gates of the Guild, checking the straps on his gear. His longcoat was cinched tight, weapons holstered, and a fresh utility belt hung at his side. He wasn’t nervous. Not exactly. But there was something about a rift appearing this close to home that unsettled him more than Hollowmere ever did.

Lyra joined him shortly after, tightening her bowstring while chewing on a bit of dried jerky.

"You ready?" she asked, eyes flicking briefly to the west where the cliffs waited.

"As I’ll ever be." He gave a glance toward the Guild. "They’re coming."

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Arienne arrived, coat buttoned up and eyes sharp. No trace of fatigue remained from the night before. She adjusted the strap on her satchel and gave a curt nod.

"Thorne packed us supplies. Antitoxin, burst stones, and another beacon."

And then Korrik appeared, stomping up the steps with a greatsword slung across his back and a full loaf of bread in one hand.

"I’m here, I’m armed, and I’m fed," he said around a mouthful. "Let’s go kill some nightmares."

They left through the western gate just as the bells of morning rang out across the city.

The journey to Windspire was short. Too short. Normally, their missions took them days out, far beyond the civilized lands. But this? This was practically in their backyard.

As they walked, no one said much. The wind was sharper now, and the clouds above churned in slow, ominous spirals. Birds avoided the cliffs. No distant calls. No sounds of grazing herds. Just the wind and their footsteps.

By the time they reached the base of the cliffs, the sun had barely risen past the ridgeline. The broken tower loomed once again as they approached it from the eastern trail. They climbed up for a final survey before breaching.

The rift was still there—stable, pulsing, humming low like a deep-throated growl from beneath the earth.

"Same as yesterday," Inigo said, lowering his scope. "It hasn’t spread."

Arienne knelt, drawing a rune in the dust beside her foot. "No distortion yet, but the pressure in the air... it’s similar to Hollowmere, but denser. Like something’s pushing from the other side."

"Trying to come through," Lyra added.

Korrik unsheathed his sword. "Then let’s not keep it waiting."

They descended to the base of the cliffs and stood before the rift.

It wasn’t like a door—more like a wound in the world. The stone around it had warped slightly, edges cracked and glowing faintly. Violet energy swirled in the center, slow and deliberate, like it was alive.

Arienne raised the beacon stone. "I’ll plant it here. If we don’t come back in six hours, they’ll know something’s wrong."

"Let’s make sure we don’t need it," Inigo said.

Together, they stepped into the rift.

The sensation was always the same—like cold water rushing over skin, followed by a brief moment of weightlessness, and then solid ground again.

They landed on dark stone.

The sky above them wasn’t a sky. It was a swirling void of red and black, clouds moving far too quickly, as if time didn’t behave properly here. They stood on a jagged platform of blackened rock, surrounded by towering cliffs of crimson crystal.

A faint wind howled through the chasms, but there was no source. No sun. No moon. Just the faint glow of volcanic fissures and red mist.

Korrik turned in a slow circle. "This... is definitely the Demon Realm."

"Yeah, just as described by Elise to me before," Inigo replied.

Inigo walked toward the only visible path forward—a narrow bridge of cracked stone that connected their platform to a much larger landmass further ahead.

On that larger ground stood something unnatural.

A tower.

Twisted. Black. Pulsing.

It looked grown, not built—like it had been summoned up from the bowels of the world and molded by some cruel hand. At its peak was a flare of violet energy, stretching toward the void above like a beacon.

"That’s our target," Arienne said quietly.

"You think the Demon King’s in there?" Lyra asked.

"No," Inigo said. "But whatever’s inside... it’s meant to prepare the way."

They began crossing the bridge, weapons ready, senses on edge.

Halfway across, the wind changed.

It wasn’t real wind. Not air. Not pressure.

It was whispering.

Inigo stopped. So did the others.

The whispers weren’t loud. Just... present. Like the voice of something ancient brushing against their ears. No words. Just intent.

Hostility.

Lyra’s grip tightened on her bow. "This place doesn’t want us here."

Korrik stepped forward. "Good. I’ve been waiting to make something regret that."

They reached the other side and found themselves at the edge of a wide, flat expanse that led to the base of the black tower. Nothing stirred. No movement. No creatures. Just the oppressive air and a long, broken pathway of scorched stone leading straight to the entrance.

Then, a rumble.

Low.

Like thunder... but below them.

Inigo looked down.

The ground cracked.

From the fissure burst a creature—not a demon like the ones they fought before. This one was larger. Leaner. Covered in plated bone with glowing purple eyes. It shrieked as it landed on all fours, its head shaped like a twisted helm of jagged blades.

More shrieks followed. Three. Then five. Then a dozen.

Creatures burst from the ground like insects.

"Contact!" Inigo shouted. "Circle up!"

Arienne threw a burst stone at the first creature, blinding it momentarily. Korrik rushed in, greatsword swinging in an arc that cut deep into bone. Lyra’s arrows sang through the air, pinning two to the ground with perfect precision.

Inigo fired his sidearm, bullets glowing faintly from the enchantments Arienne had laced them with the night before. Each impact tore through the creatures’ outer plating—but not without cost.

One of them barreled past and rammed him straight in the chest, sending him sprawling.

Lyra loosed another arrow and dropped the beast before it could pounce again.

"Get up!" she yelled.

"I’m up," he grunted, scrambling to his feet. "Arienne!"

"Rift magic is saturating the field!" she shouted back, ducking as a claw swiped over her head. "They’re stronger the closer we get to the tower!"

"Then we don’t give them the chance!"

Korrik roared as he slammed his blade down, bisecting two more. "Just keep pushing!"

One by one, they dropped the beasts, until the last of them fell with a gurgled shriek, fading into mist.

Panting, weapons drawn, the four stood in a ring, backs to each other, waiting for more.

Nothing came.

Just silence.

And the looming tower ahead.

"This was just the welcoming party," Lyra said, breath still short.

"We breach that tower," Inigo said. "Find out what’s causing this. And if it’s summoning more..."

"We shut it down," Arienne finished.

They moved forward again, slower now.

The path led them to the base of the tower where a gate—no, a maw—yawned open, breathing out violet mist. There were symbols etched along the walls, glowing dimly. Some of them pulsed with each heartbeat.

Inigo reached the threshold.

No turning back now.

He looked over his shoulder once. His team stood with him.

Then he stepped through.

And the tower swallowed them whole.

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