Rift Part 1

Back to one day ago.

One hour before Zealot Mackerel went inside the rift.

> Private Chat.

[Zealot Mackerel: Lord Seraph, forgive me for disturbing your time. But… may we ask for your blessing, for Us the one who bears the faith of your wings?]

William, in the middle of work, blinked once as the notification pinged across his vision. Reading it, he raised an eyebrow.

[Seraph: What happened?]

[Zealot Mackerel: Nothing is wrong my Lord, it's just me and the other believer already decided to conquer a Rift in your name.]

William had no immediate comment. Most of the time, he didn't care what his followers did. As long as they understood that every action has consequences, he had no intention of restricting them.

[Seraph: Hmm… Give me sacrifice then. I will bless you with Mystic points you can freely use.]

[Zealot Mackerel: Thank You My Lord! We will prepare for the sacrifice right away!]

William was about to return to his work, waiting for the Faith Network to pulse with offering when a thought crossed his mind.

[Seraph: …Wait, I have a question.]

[Zealot Mackerel: Yes, Lord?]

[Seraph: Are 'You' still there? The Earth version of yourself?]

The question lingered, heavy with implication and William has many reasons to ask. 

This 'Zealot Mackerel', a player summoned at the same time as him, had become almost indistinguishable from his role. Through the Faith Network, William had observed his sincerity and fanaticism. He wasn't sure if the man was still acting... or if he had already become someone else entirely.

Silence followed.

Then a reply came.

[Zealot Mackerel: …Yes. I'm still here. It's just… Most of my behavior has been influenced by the class. But I'm still here.]

William paused, expression unreadable.

In the end, he said nothing more. Their paths were different. William was split between several selves, each crafted from his broken mind. Mackerel, on the other hand, was simply sinking deeper into one.

It's not the same.

[Seraph: I see. Well then, good luck with your endeavors.]

[Zealot Mackerel: Thank You My Lord.]

…

Zealot Mackerel closed the chat window and stood in silence, in front of him the sea paved each time his ship crashed into it.

He sighed, knowing that someone that summoned from his batch had already become a god and answered prayers like a real deity, was a blow to his understanding of this world. And yet, Seraph had not mocked him. Had not demanded much worship. He had simply accepted the offering and answered.

Unlike the superstitious Earth's gods, who surrounded themselves with laws, restrictions, and silence, but didn't have any power to speak off, Seraph listened and gave something back.

'Though to be fair… the first week hasn't even ended yet,' he thought.

Still, the difference was stark.

He exhaled slowly, steadying the excitement, and the madness boiling within his chest.

Then he turned to face the cultists on the deck, eyes alight with fervor.

"Prepare the sacrifice. Our Lord is waiting for us to show our devotion."

"Yes, Lord Herald!" a chorus of voices replied, echoing like thunder across the sea.

The deck of the ship came alive with motion. The believers moved quickly, almost feverishly. Ever since Seraph accepted their first offering and pulled them into his Faith Network, they had changed. No longer mere survivors. Now they were something more, something chosen.

Backed by a true God.

And with each moment that passed, the atmosphere aboard the vessel thickened, warped by belief, tainted by awe, and sharpened by obsession.

When the ritual was ready, twentyish cultists stood in a circle above the deck. In the middle, a glowing ritual circle had been drawn on the floorboards. At its center was a large barrel filled with monster blood and flesh, sacrifices they had prepared earlier.

This was the offering.

Zealot Mackerel stepped into the middle, raising his arms high. His sleeves slid down, revealing arms covered in strange writing, marks of devotion he had carved or inked himself. His eyes were wide with purpose.

He began to speak, his voice calm but powerful.

"Oh Winged Sovereign of the Sky,

Your Flesh protects the sea from corruption.

Your Will shine through the dark waters.

Hear us, O Winged Sovereign!

We offer the blood and flesh of our enemies.

Please bless us with your power!"

As he finished, the cultists stood in silence. The ritual circle dimmed, the sacrifices gone from the barrel and everything went still. The ship creaked quietly under their feet. Even the waves seemed to wait.

Then, the circle lit up again, bright in gold radiance.

A wave of warm light spread across the deck. It moved over their feet, their robes, their bodies, their weapons. Each cultist felt something inside them shift. The light felt clean. Peaceful and powerful.

Their minds felt clearer, beliefs stronger. The connection to their god had deepened.

At the center, Mackerel glowed more brightly than the others. The light wrapped around him like a cloak. He dropped to one knee as a message appeared in his vision.

[System Notice]

[Myth 'Seraph' has Blessed You]

[Usable Mystic: +2]

[Remark: Be free. Just don't do anything stupid.]

Mackerel smiled. The blessing was real, his god had heard them.

"Thank you, Lord Seraph," he said, bowing his head.

The light faded.

He stood and faced his followers, "It's time. Let's enter the Rift."

They nodded. With Seraph's blessing still lingering in their bodies, they moved toward the Rift, a glowing tear in space just ahead of their ship.

As they stepped through, none of them knew that the ripple of mystic energy was spreading from the ship, strong enough to knock a passing vessel off course, confused by the mystic energy they detected.

… … …

Next Day, Inside the Rift…

Close to a big island in the open ocean, dozens of ships floated in formation, and on the largest among them, an alliance was forming.

SargoTheCaptain, Red Knight, and over a hundred players had agreed to join forces to conquer the Rift. But this alliance wasn't just between players, many natives had joined too. 

Sargo alone brought ten native fighters, each with a mixed single-lined class. Red Knight added twenty-three more, including two level-two Extraordinary with the class of [Flame Knight], which can be said to be a powerhouse in the Sea of Beginning.

And those were just two leaders among many.

With how dangerous this Rift was, none of them had a choice. If they wanted to survive, they had to band together.

The ship's cabin door swung open.

"Sargo, how's the sea defense holding?" Red Knight asked as she stepped inside, clad in heavy red armor, her voice as brisk as ever.

Sargo looked up, sighed, and shook his head. He was used to her barging in without warning.

"All stable," he replied, "The breach from last night's attack has been sealed. And we've planned to move more personnel to reinforce the perimeter."

But as he looked down at the map spread across the table, his brows furrowed, "Even so, we're stretched thin. Without more high-end combatants, I doubt we'll finish the main quest."

He exhaled, the weight of command pressing on his shoulders.

Then, a new voice joined the conversation.

"We won't die if we fail, but the point loss will hurt."

Artelia, usually called Arte, Red Knight's younger sister stepped in from behind her. Though smaller and less imposing, her sharp tongue was familiar.

Sargo glanced at her and shook his head again, "It's not just the failure I'm worried about… I fear the System might increase the difficulty just because we're here."

"You mean the players?" Red Knight asked.

He nodded, "Too many of us are here. Even with our meager power, The System might think we're ready for more."

There was a pause.

"Tonight's the seventh night, isn't it?" she added.

"Yes," Sargo replied, and she echoed it under her breath.

"Seventh night…"

They all knew what that meant.

Shaking off the moment, Sargo shifted the topic.

"How is the city defense going?"

"There is no problem for now. My captain already takes leadership of city defense, but the npc traitors are hiding too deep, it's very hard to search for them without the right classes. And the quest clue hardly gives any pointer."

Red Knight spoke with resignation.

…

[Rift Main Quest!]

> Protect Fallan Island from undead attack.

> Search and kill the traitors.

Clue:

> From the northwest area, the undead energy is pulsing in the ocean.

> The Cultists were doing something on the island.

Reward:

> A Big amount of Sp, Double Lined Classes, Rare Grade Materials, Rare Grade Weapon, Skill Card, Blank Card, Etc. 

> Note: Final Reward Value Depends On Overall Contribution And Performance.

…

"Maybe we should consider releasing Zealot Mackerel and his cultists," Arte suddenly suggested.

Red Knight raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

"Don't you think using cultists to capture other cultists is feasible? …I mean, they insisted they were Seraph followers and claimed they would conquer the Rift in his name." Arte shrugged, scratching her nose as she talked, "So, using this as base, I think we can say they were allies for now."

Sargo frowned, thoughtful after hearing the suggestion. While Red Knight stayed quiet, weighing the idea. After a few moments, Sargo gave a slow nod.

"Well, you two can talk to your captain about that," He said, "I'm not in a position to argue with a level two Extraordinary, and my job supervising the sea defense has already tied my hand."

He raised both hands in surrender.

"Hah… fine. I'll speak with the captain," Red Knight muttered, turning toward the exit. But just as she stepped away, she paused.

"Oh right, do you think the Seraph guy might show up?"

"Because of his followers?" Sargo asked.

Red Knight nodded, "Hmm, but not only that. As a number one player, he should be strong enough to lighten some of our burden, right?"

Sargo nodded, then shook his head, "I don't know how strong he is compared to you, but even if he could hold his ground, unfortunately he can't help us. I already talked with him before, his position is just too far away from the Rift."

"Ugh… Alright then," Red Knight muttered, visibly disappointed, "I'm heading out."

"Yeah, yeah, go already. If all you wanted was to talk, you could've just used the System chat. No need to barge here in person," Sargo said, waving her off.

Red Knight didn't reply. She walked out the door without looking back, leaving her sister behind.

"Well actually…" Arte leaned in, smiling with a crooked grin, "Sister is running away from the captain."

Sargo raised an eyebrow.

Arte chuckled, "He's way too strict for us. Always going on about knightly codes and discipline. And his training? Pure hell. I swear he treats drills like divine commandments."

Sargo smirked but didn't comment.

"Anyway, good luck with your plan," Arte said, brushing her bangs aside, "And there's still a few hours before nightfall. Aren't you tempted to explore a bit?"

Sargo shook his head.

"I've already sent my explorer team out earlier. Besides, my ship's already level four. I can't upgrade it further without someone in production-class, and I haven't found one that hasn't been flooded with requests from others. So for now, I will just focus on progressing my classes."

"Fair enough." Arte nodded, "Well, I'll get going too."

"Sure," Sargo replied simply.

"Sis! Wait up!" Arte called out as she jogged out the door after her sister, her voice fading into the distance.

Watching them go, Sargo could only shake his head. In a way, he felt relieved, grateful that these two could still smile, joke, and hold on to themselves, unlike so many other Earth Chosen who'd broken under the weight of transmigration or have unlucky fate out there.

…

Outside…

The sun was lower now, its golden light spilling across the sand. Side by side, the sisters walked on the beach, patrolling the edge of Fallan Island.

"Sis, do you think Seraph is really a Myth? Like what the cultists say?" Arte asked, kicking a stone as they strolled.

Red Knight exhaled slowly and shook her head.

"I don't know. The Captain said that becoming a Myth isn't something people like us can do."

"Even with the System?" Arte pressed.

Her sister frowned, "The System… might help. But again, I don't know. The Captain has said that, our [System], while a little bit different from what he knew, still held many traces of [Mythical Being] power and influence. A familiar structure when someone gets their own system later."

It was true, and can be seen from the player being called [Earth Chosen], and the way they can use sp to exchange it with [Gold Shells], a coin tied to ancient Myth.

Regarding [Earth Chosen], their Captain said that there was an Old Myth that famously called [Earth Mother] just beyond this sea. And it can be said, this area was still within her influence. So, being called [Earth Chosen] has a very heavy implication toward this.

When the two hear about this, they don't know what to think. It may be just a coincidence as their planets have the same name right, but is it?

Captain doesn't believe in coincidence at all.

"Anyway, if our number one player is a true Mythical Being, it would be good for us," Red Knight said as she stretched, "At least, us Players, will have more backers in this sea filled madness."

Arte nodded, remembering all the lectures from their Captain and veteran knights, the warnings about the ocean, the rifts, and the ancient things lurking beneath the waves.

"Come on, we should go meet with Zealot Mackerel and the Captain," Red Knight said, her pace quickening.

Arte Chuckled, "They're lucky they're still alive after crossing paths with our Captain."

Red Knight gave her a sideways look, "Lucky? I'd say the opposite. Because of the Rift quest, anyone with [Cultist] class is a suspect. If it weren't for that golden energy and our direct interference, the Captain would have succeeded in executing them on the spot."

Arte winced, "Yeah… true."

… … …

Time passed quietly inside the Rift.

Even beyond its barrier, the sun had dipped below the horizon.

And elsewhere, far from this place, a young Myth sat cross-legged on a remote island, preparing for his own battle. Alone, with only the wind and the sea as companions, he stilled his thoughts and centered his breath.

Back within the Rift, tension brewed.

Both players and natives stood ready.

Dozens of magical ships floated in formation, ranging from ordinary level-twos to rare-grade level-five vessels owned by Red Knight's group. They surrounded Fallan Island from four key positions, each anchoring a crucial defensive node that supported the island's protective barrier. If even one of these nodes fell, the shield would collapse… and chaos would follow.

And that also means, their quest has a high chance of failure when that happens.

The good news was that most of them had already earned decent rewards after surviving here for four days. The bad news? That earning meant they couldn't back out now. They had to see it through.

Failing the quest wouldn't mean instant death. But it wouldn't spare them from danger either.

As for the northwest quadrant, where undead energy pulsed heavily beneath the ocean's surface, they hadn't dared to approach. No one had the strength to face it. Even if they gathered every Level Two Extraordinary present in the Rift, the odds of killing the Undead King were almost nonexistent.

The low-level undead surrounding it were too numerous, too relentless. The moment they stepped in, they'd be swarmed. If they fail, that means, this undead force will pour out to the sea out there, becoming a scourge that is able to threaten the surrounding island and the like.

Anyway, luckily several new vessels are stranded here, adding some additional force for the defense tonight.

One in particular stood out, a ship that had arrived just hours ago, carrying twenty-five girls with [Devotee] as their main class. They had drifted in unexpectedly, their course thrown off by the burst of Mystic energy released during Zealot Mackerel's earlier ritual.

At first, there was excitement. Many of the [Devotee] thought they were following the new Myth going inside the Rift. But when it became clear who they truly pursued, there was a mix of frustration and disbelief.

Still, no one could really blame them.

After all, Zealot Mackerel had been the first to believe, and their ship bore the unmistakable golden traces of a divine blessing.

As time moves on, the already tense atmosphere becomes more suffocating.

On the Island, Red Knight Captain, the newly released cultists of Seraph followers and the [Devotee] stranded here are checking every corner of the city. Searching for the traitor the main quest telling them about.

While above the water, several ships are breaking off their formation and making a new one. The Sargo team, Red Knight team, and several other ships intended to strike the undead force first. Trying to chip away a small part of the ghost ship legion and baiting them somewhere.

…

Beneath the eerie hue of the Moon, a fleet of ships moved quietly across the dark waves. At the front, Sargo's vessel cut silently through the water, its reinforced ship shimmering faintly from the activated defensive runes.

Behind him, Red Knight's flagship and a handful of other agile vessels followed closely, their crews tense and ready. Each player and native stood by their station, hearts pounding in anticipation, eyes fixed on the horizon.

"Visual confirmed," said a native scout aboard Sargo's ship, voice low but steady, "Ghost ships sighted, northwest bearing. They haven't noticed us yet."

Sargo nodded, stepping forward and gripping the railing firmly, "Prepare cannons. Load spirit-infused rounds, no need for regular ammo. And remember, don't waste energy on sinking them. We're here to disrupt and lure."

"Aye, Captain!"

His crew scattered efficiently. Below deck, crews loaded enchanted cannonballs glowing with faint silvery-blue light. Weapons hummed softly with spiritual power.

Just a few hundred meters ahead, a line of ghostly ships drifted silently, spectral forms illuminated by dim, ghostly lanterns. Rotten sails fluttered in an unseen breeze, and skeletal crews stood at attention, their hollow eyes staring lifelessly into the night.

Red Knight's voice crackled through the system chat:

[Red Knight: All advancing ships, prepare to engage on my signal. Target their sails and rigging to limit their movement.]

Arte glanced nervously at her sister, gripping the hilt of her sword tightly, "Sis, this many undead…"

Red Knight placed a comforting hand on Arte's shoulder, expression steady, "We'll hold. Just stay close."

"Three...two...one…" Red Knight counted calmly, and then.

"Fire!"

Cannons roared, their sound tearing apart the still night. Glowing projectiles soared across the sea, streaking trails of spiritual energy as they ripped through the ghostly fleet's rigging and sails. Torn canvas fluttered like scraps of fading dreams, as ethereal shouts and groans echoed through the darkness.

The undead responded immediately.

A bone-chilling chorus rang out from the ghost ships as they lurched forward with unnatural speed, cutting through waves without disturbing them. Their cannons fired back, hurling spectral flames toward the living vessels.

"Brace!" Sargo shouted, shielding himself behind a reinforced railing.

Impact shook the ships, spectral fire briefly engulfing the hulls. Crew members shouted orders amidst splashes of seawater and bursts of spiritual light. Fortunately, the carefully prepared defenses held firm, their runes flaring brightly to disperse the ghostly flames.

"Keep moving! Kite them!" Red Knight ordered.

Their ships smoothly maneuvered, baiting the undead fleet away from the main formation guarding Fallan Island. The ghost ships pursued hungrily, following closely, drawn to living prey like moths to a flame.

One undead ship surged ahead of the others, its skeletal captain raising a rusted blade glowing faintly with corrupted energy.

"Special ship incoming!" Sargo called, turning to his crew, "Ready defensive formation!"

He signaled to Arte's vessel. Arte nodded back, swiftly ordering her crew into formation. She drew her sword and raised it high.

"[Blessing of Courage]!" Her voice resonated clearly, and a gentle golden aura surrounded the crews of nearby ships. Fear faded, replaced by sharpened focus.

The skeletal ship crashed through the waves and fired a volley of dark energy projectiles. Arte's vessel trembled but remained stable. Immediately after, Sargo's cannons retaliated, the spirit-infused rounds tearing through the enemy ship's spectral core.

The skeletal captain shrieked in rage, its form wavering violently. As if sensing their leader's distress, other ghost ships momentarily hesitate.

"That's our chance!" Red Knight shouted through the communication channel, "Fall back now! Draw them deeper!"

With well-practiced precision, the baiting ships broke formation and sped away, leaving the ghostly fleet in confused pursuit.

Their distraction had worked perfectly, the undead legion's cohesion disrupted, leaving gaps in their formation.

But the night was still young, and the ocean was still dark.

No one could guess what else waited beneath those cursed waves.