Zarek.

Jumping across the ruins of shattered buildings, their surfaces tangled in vines with a crystalline sheen, a young figure weaved between them with frantic agility. Sweat traced down his forehead, rolling along his sharp jawline—normally hidden beneath his mask, but he'd lost that in all the chaos.

"Almost there!"

He kept repeating it like a mantra, forcing himself to focus on the finish line—the exit from the Ethereal Rift he had so stupidly walked into. That was all that mattered. Not the thunderous footsteps closing in behind him. Not the crunching of glass beneath inhuman paws. And definitely not the guttural, bone-chilling barks echoing from creatures that had no business existing in this world or any other.

Nope. No reason to panic. He was absolutely not being hunted by a dozen nightmare hounds—beasts with bodies of shifting rainbow crystal and skulls twisted into grotesque imitations of canine heads.

And he had totally not pissed himself just a little.

All for what? Looting some dead explorer who thought he could make it out alive? Seriously, Zarek, you absolute dumbass.

He gritted his teeth and kept sliding along the iridescent vines that reflected the neon glow of his suit. The exit was so close—

"Don't look back. Don't look back."

Crashing through a half-glass, half-plant window, he landed inside a ruined office space. Broken desks were piled in heaps, likely shoved there by the people who had fled in terror when the Rift first swallowed this place.

Cutting through here would buy him a few precious seconds. These hellhounds weren't exactly smart when it came to maneuvering obstacles. But that didn't make them any less lethal.

A fact that became painfully obvious when one of the beasts didn't even try to dodge—just smashed straight through the glass wall, charging after Zarek and flattening every desk in its way.

Silver lining? That recklessness slowed the rest of the pack down.

Wasting no time, Zarek leapt out another shattered window, grabbing onto a vine that swayed dangerously in the wind. He swung forward, the gusts tossing his white hair in every direction.

For a brief, glorious second, he thought he'd lost them. Then—

That god-awful howling.

A glance over his shoulder, just a quick check. Huge mistake.

They were still coming. All of them. Leaping, bounding, climbing—gnashing rainbow-fanged jaws as they closed the distance from below.

"Come on, Zarek," he muttered, forcing his muscles to move faster. "If you die here, Rose is on her own. And worse… I'll die without ever had a girlfriend!"

With what might have been the most motivating thought he'd ever had, he tightened his grip on the vines. His brown climbing gloves protected his hands as he pulled himself higher, faster. Just one more section of this twisted jungle, one more jump, and he'd be out of the Rift for good.

Of course, life wasn't that easy.

One of the hounds had clearly had enough of this chase. While running, it twisted its skeletal tail at an unnatural angle—then fired a glob of black, mineralized pus straight at him.

It should have blown his skull apart.

It would have, if not for sheer, dumb luck. Right as the shot was fired, the vine beneath him snapped, sending him plummeting onto the gnarled branch of a rotting green tree.

For a moment, Zarek just lay there, dazed. Half of him wanted to cry in terror. The other half wanted to kiss this ugly-ass tree for saving his life.

But he didn't have time for either.

Scrambling back to his feet, he kept running, but the panic was sinking its claws deep. He was out of options. They were going to catch him.

He was going to die. Just like that. Because of his own stupid greed.

Zarek clenched his jaw, fury bubbling up alongside the fear. If he had just been happy with the other corpses he looted, none of this would be happening.

Idiot, idiot, idiot!

Jumping from branch to branch, he could barely see past the frustration and the tears burning at the edges of his vision—

And then he saw it.

His salvation.

A corpse, tangled in the swampy vines just ahead.

If he could reach it…

Ducking just in time to avoid another hail of crystal thorns, Zarek lunged forward. His hands gripped the vines like they were an extension of his own body, swinging toward the rotting skeleton of some poor bastard who hadn't been as lucky as him.

With one swift, desperate motion—he ripped the corpse free and flung it toward the hounds.

The beasts immediately stopped their chase, tearing into the meal without hesitation.

Zarek didn't wait around to celebrate. He bolted, running faster than he ever had in his goddamn life, straight toward the exit.