Chapter 6.The world Beyond The Rift

The ceiling above him was made of polished wood. Smooth, unbroken, and warm in color nothing like the cold, jagged architecture of Abhokai or the madness of the Rift. There was a faint scent of flowers in the air, carried by a gentle breeze that wafted through the window nearby.

Even the air felt different.

Lighter. Softer. Like this world had never tasted war.

Ethan blinked slowly, his body aching but no longer screaming in pain. He tried to sit up, but a sharp jolt in his ribs made him grunt. As he lay back down, the soft shuffle of feet caught his attention. A maid, young, tanskinned, clad in a simple uniform stood at the corner of the room, folding towels.

Her eyes widened the moment she saw him looking.

"He's awake!" she cried, nearly tripping over herself as she darted out the room.

Moments later, the door opened again this time, heavy footsteps accompanying it. Seven people entered in pairs, with one standing alone near the rear.

Ethan recognized the silver-haired woman immediately.

She looked even more composed now her armor partly unbuckled at the shoulders, revealing the underlayers of her windweave gear. Her silver hair fell in clean strands along her cheeks, tied loosely at the nape of her neck. The soft emerald glow of her eyes hadn't dulled since the battle.

She was the first to speak.

"You're safe. I'm Sylha Veyne, Captain of the Fourth Recon Unit."

"These are my team — we're part of the Cindralan Expeditionary Guard."

She nodded toward the others.

"This is Naera," she gestured to a calm-eyed, honey-blonde woman in her early twenties, sharp but kind-looking.

"And that's Kyren, Grall, Deren, Sol, and Juno."

Each of them gave small waves or nods. A few looked curious. One — the tallest, with dark braids and a broad smirk — gave Ethan a mock salute.

"We were out in the Trinald Forest collecting enzyme samples from local beasts. A medicinal mission."

She took a step closer, lowering her tone.

"Then we saw… you. You fell through a portal. Right out of the sky. It opened and closed in the span of three seconds. Gone like it was never there."

Ethan's breath caught.

"You were unconscious, bleeding. And the beast — that lizard thing — was already hunting you. If we hadn't been nearby…"

She didn't finish the sentence.

"So tell me," she continued, studying his face.

"You're an otherworlder, aren't you?"

Ethan blinked.

"A what?"

"Otherworlder," Sylha repeated. "Someone who came through a rift. Not from this land. Not born of it."

"Wait," Ethan sat up slightly, confusion spreading across his face. "You're saying I'm… not from here? I mean ...obviously, but..."

"For the past three years," Kyren chimed in — a lean man with sharp blue eyes and a quick grin, "these weird rift portals have been popping up all over our world. And every person we've found who came through one... wasn't from here. New mana. New language. New everything."

Ethan stared blankly.

"So what... I'm an alien or something?"

"Could be," Sol chuckled — a short-haired archer leaning against the wall. "If you start growing extra limbs, we'll panic accordingly."

A few of them laughed. Sylha did not.

"You fell through a breach that shouldn't exist," she said softly. "You're not the first. But you're different. The mana around you was… wild. Dense. Ancient."

Ethan's throat tightened.

Naera stepped forward, her voice softer than the others'.

"You don't have to be afraid. We're not here to harm you. But we do need to understand what happened to you."

Sylha's tone returned, not unkind, but sharp.

"Tell us. From the beginning. What happened to you before you fell?"

---

And just like that, the question shattered his stillness.

Images slammed into Ethan's head like a freight train.

Kaelor screaming,

the winged creature's blade plunging through his father's chest,

his mother's eyes as she stood to protect him,

the bleeding skies, the collapse, the throne, the corpse of a god—

"They're all dying," Ethan breathed, clutching his head.

"My family ... my city ...I have to get back ... I can't stay here..."

He tried to stand. His legs trembled. His breathing quickened.

"They'll die! I have to go back! I have to go back—"

"Whoa— hey, easy..." Kyren reached out to steady him.

Ethan shoved his arm away.

"No! You don't understand! That thing— it killed my father— my mother— Abhokai's burning! I need to...I need to..."

"Kid!" Grall barked, moving forward — tall, deep-voiced, calm. "If we had any way to send you back, we would. We don't even know where your from yet. We're not that advanced enough to trace the gates. Calm the hell down."

"He's telling the truth," Sylha added, stepping forward, voice lowered. "This world... it's not like where you're from. We don't have dimensional gates. We don't even know where these rifts lead."

Ethan's legs gave out.

He dropped to his knees. Hands shaking. Tears welling beneath clenched eyes.

"Why… why me?" he whispered.

Sylha crouched beside him, her windcloak pooling gently at her knees. Her voice, for once, lost all its steel.

"I don't know. But you're here now. And if what you say is true… then something far worse may be coming behind you."

She placed a hand on his shoulder — not to hold him down, but to ground him.

"And we're not going to let that happen."

Perfect — everything stays in Chapter 6. I'll continue it right from where we left off:

---

Night fell gently. The wind was cool and silent through the cracks of the wooden walls. Ethan sat by the window for a long time after they left him alone, staring at nothing. His chest still felt too tight. His thoughts circled endlessly ,the winged beast, the dying screams, Emilia's final cry as he vanished through the portal.

He barely remembered slipping into the bed again.

When sleep came, it wasn't restful.

---

He woke to sunlight.

Soft gold spilled through sheer curtains. The warmth on his face was almost foreign the Rift hadn't had sunlight. Only red skies and death.

Ethan blinked slowly, rising with effort. His body ached less now. The bruises had faded, and his mana had settled. The stripes on his skin were dormant, faint beneath the surface.

He swung his feet off the bed and stood, stretching his arms.

No alarms. No chaos. No blood.

He crossed the small room to the door and pushed it open.

And then paused.

" Whoa"

Before him stretched a vista he could barely process.

Rolling green cliffs layered in tiers, decorated with glowing blue flowers that shimmered in the wind. Great floating stone spires rose from deep ravines, bound together by long, rope-like bridges and metal conduits humming with mana flow. Massive windmills turned lazily in the distance, anchored to silver towers that glinted in the sun.

Above it all, the sky was a tranquil pale cyan, dotted with birds unlike any he'd seen feathered and scaled, with glowing wings that trailed mist.

The world felt… clean. Alive.

Nothing like Abhokai.

Nothing like the Rift.

He took a step forward, then another. Dirt crunched softly beneath his bare feet as he followed the stone path leading from the house.

"You're up early."

The voice came from the right , smooth, deep.

Ethan turned.

It was Grall.

The man leaned casually against a carved post near the garden edge, arms folded across his broad chest. His hair was jet black, braided tightly down his back, and a clean streak of gray cut along the right temple. His sleeveless armor left his scarred arms exposed, each mark telling its own quiet story.

"Didn't peg you as the morning type," Grall said, pushing off the post and walking over.

"But then again… not exactly a normal day, huh?"

Ethan offered a tired smile.

"I couldn't stay in bed."

Grall nodded once, then jerked his thumb toward the trail behind him.

"C'mon. Walk with me. You look like you need some fresh air. And I figure you've got about a million questions no one answered yesterday."

Ethan hesitated, but followed.

They walked side by side along the sloped path. The world opened up around them streams of clean water trickling down glassy rocks, wind-chimes made of mana-thread spinning silently on poles, terraces where floating green pods hung like fruit from steel-laced trees.

"This place is insane," Ethan muttered under his breath.

Grall smirked.

"You should see it at night. Half those cliffs glow from within. I'm not even exaggerating."

They walked in silence for a bit.

Then Grall glanced over at him.

"So… how're you holding up, kid?"

Ethan didn't answer right away.

His gaze lowered.

"They're probably all dead. I don't even know where I am. And there's nothing I can do."

Grall nodded slowly.

"Yeah. That tracks."

No false comfort. No empty promises. Just honesty.

"Look," Grall continued, "I'm not gonna pretend I get what you're feeling. You lost your whole world. That's a lot."

He pointed toward the horizon, where a distant set of glass-like towers shimmered in the sun.

"But you're not the only one who's lost something. This world? We've been struggling too,just slower. Different kind of pain."

"Then why are you helping me?" Ethan asked, voice quiet. "You don't even know me."

Grall shrugged.

"Because Sylha trusts you. And Sylha's not stupid."

He shot Ethan a sideways glance.

"Also, you punched a Serath Lizard into a tree with raw mana. That was… pretty badass."

Ethan couldn't help the breath of laughter that escaped.

Grall smiled and clapped him on the back.

"C'mon. I'll show you the rest of the outpost. Maybe introduce you to the cook. If you don't pass out from the stew, you might just live another day."

And for the first time since Abhokai fell, Ethan followed — not out of panic, but out of choice.