PASSAGE 5: ANOMALY

Stepping through the shimmering portal, we braced ourselves for the usual rift fare – a cavern teeming with goblins and bat-winged monstrosities, perhaps an abandoned castle crawling with low-tier undead, or even a scorching desert teeming with colossal sand serpents. Every rift held a different world, a different challenge.

This time, however, the challenge was… confusing, to say the least. The familiar disorientation faded, replaced by a scene so bizarre it made my head spin. Gone were the expected caverns or desolate wastelands. Instead, we found ourselves in… a bustling city?

But not just any city. This one moved. Not in the way a city filled with bustling people would move, but in an unnerving, fast-forwarded way. Buildings rose and crumbled in seconds, entire civilizations seemingly blossoming and decaying before our very eyes. We were like flies caught in a time traveler's experiment, witnessing the rise and fall of a world on hyperdrive.

Shock momentarily replaced our usual camaraderie. What kind of twisted rift was this? The murmurs started almost immediately. "What in the world…?" "Is this some kind of illusion?" "Hey, Ms. Selena, what's going on here?!"

As the ground literally shifted beneath our feet, a sense of urgency replaced confusion. We were in a rift, yes, but a rift unlike any we'd encountered before. This was uncharted territory.

Back on Earth, pandemonium erupted where the Baclaran Church once stood. The normally composed Hunter Embassy agents were now a flurry of frantic activity. The rift, which had hummed with a comforting E-Tier energy just moments ago, had undergone a horrifying transformation. Its gentle pulse had morphed into a terrifying thrumming, a monstrous heartbeat pulsating with unimaginable power. The once-serene rift had become a swirling vortex of inky blackness, a storm cloud birthed from the depths of oblivion.

None of the agents had ever witnessed anything like it. This wasn't the familiar hum of an E-Tier rift, nor the ominous thrumming of a higher tier. This was something entirely different, something that sent shivers down the spines of even the most seasoned veterans. Fear and confusion were etched on their faces as they scrambled for answers. "What in the world…?" one muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

Panic truly set in when the rift began to pulsate with an energy so potent it seemed to warp reality itself. The usual protocols for E-Tier emergencies felt useless, inadequate tools against this unknown threat. Every instinct screamed at them to get the raid party out, but how?

Remembering the standard procedure, one agent bellowed, his voice cracking under the pressure, "Backup team! We need to get them out!"

Every raid had a designated backup team – five elite C-Tier hunters stationed for emergencies. But this was no ordinary emergency. As the backup team materialized, clad in their reinforced armor, a collective gasp escaped their lips. The Black Rift, as they would later learn to call it, pulsed with an energy so potent it seemed to defy comprehension.

Undeterred, they charged towards the rift, a beacon of hope against the encroaching darkness. Yet, their valiant attempt was met with a cruel twist. Just meters from the rift's maw, an invisible force violently hurled them back. They landed in a heap, yards away from the horrified onlookers, who documented the entire scene with trembling hands. The C-Tier hunters, once bastions of strength, were now whimpering messes, their bodies scorched by unseen lightning.

Panic surged through the crowd. "Salvators! We need Salvators now!" an agent rasped, his voice laced with desperation.

The Black Rift pulsed once more, its malevolent heart throbbing with a terrifying rhythm. A blinding flash of light erupted, momentarily engulfing the entire area. A primal scream tore from the crowd – "Run! It's going to explode!" The once-curious onlookers transformed into a terrified stampede, fleeing for their lives.

Then, with a final, earth-shattering tremor, the Black Rift… vanished. It simply ceased to exist, leaving behind only a faint residue of anima energy and a lingering scent of ozone. Silence descended, thick and heavy, broken only by the ragged gasps of the crowd.

The agents, faces pale with shock, stared at the empty space where the rift once stood. In a voice barely above a whisper, one agent choked out, "Report… report this to the Chairman…" The enormity of what they had just witnessed hung heavy in the air. This was unlike anything they had ever encountered, a terrifying anomaly that defied explanation.

The internet erupted. Cellphone videos of the bizarre rift incident at Baclaran Church spread like wildfire, igniting a global frenzy. People glued themselves to their televisions, desperate for updates on the rift's disappearance and the fate of the trapped hunters. Among the worried masses were Ricardo and Angela Cruz, Alaric's parents. Their hearts pounded with a relentless rhythm, a silent prayer echoing through their home for their son's safety.

The news cycle transformed into a relentless beast, fixated on the unfolding drama. Finally, a press conference was announced, held outside the imposing edifice of the Hunter's Embassy. The air crackled with a nervous energy as cameras from every major media outlet flashed relentlessly. Emerging from the building was Mr. Diego Rosario, the chairman, his face etched with a strain that betrayed his practiced composure.

"Ladies and gentlemen," boomed the embassy spokesman, his voice barely managing to cut through the storm of questions. "Chairman Rosario will now debrief you on the recent disappearance of the rift and the ongoing search efforts."

A barrage of questions assaulted Mr. Rosario as he stepped up to the lectern. Reporters jostled for position, their voices a cacophony of urgency.

"Mr. Chairman! What caused the rift to vanish?!"

"Sir! Any news about the hunters?!"

"Chairman! Was there negligence on the embassy's part? How could you miss a black rift?!"

The chairman raised a hand, his expression a mask of steely resolve. The room quieted gradually, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. "As of right now," he began, his voice low and firm, "we have no explanation for the rift's sudden disappearance. Regarding potential negligence," he continued, his eyes sweeping the crowd, "let me assure you, the embassy follows strict protocols. We conduct a five-step anima power check before classifying a rift tier. From the moment the hunters entered to the rift's disappearance, a mere three minutes and six seconds elapsed. During that time, our agents acted swiftly, following all established procedures. Even if they had tried to contact us, response time would have been at least forty minutes." Shame flickered across the faces of the embassy agents present, a silent acknowledgement of their helplessness.

"Furthermore," Mr. Rosario pressed on, "we currently have no concrete information about the 'black rift' phenomenon. I've initiated contact with Dr. Vaughn Hugh, seeking his expertise in the matter." He paused, his gaze softening slightly as he addressed the families directly. "To the loved ones of the missing hunters, I understand your anxiety. While I can't offer guarantees, know this – we are throwing every resource at our disposal to find them. We haven't given up hope. We will bring them home."

The chairman bowed his head, a gesture heavy with unspoken emotions. With a slow, measured tread, he retreated back into the imposing edifice of the Philippine Hunter's Bureau, the press conference dissolving into a renewed flurry of questions. Reporters, unsatisfied with the limited information, hounded the retreating figure, their voices a desperate chorus echoing off the building's walls.

Ricardo and Angela Cruz, glued to their television screen miles away, exchanged a worried glance. Mr. Rosario's words offered a sliver of hope, a fragile thread they clung to with all their might. Yet, the weight of uncertainty still pressed down on them, a suffocating cloak that threatened to steal their breath.

As the news report shifted to another story, the image of the empty space where the Baclaran Church once stood lingered on the screen, a stark reminder of the bizarre phenomenon that had unfolded. In the silence of their living room, Ricardo squeezed Angela's hand, a silent promise to stay strong. They wouldn't give up hope. Not until they had their son back in their arms.

Meanwhile, within the Philippine Hunter's Bureau, a tense atmosphere hung heavy. Agents shuffled about, eyes glued to news feeds and hushed conversations crackling with nervous energy. The black rift incident had ripped a hole not just through the fabric of reality, but also through their sense of security. The unknown loomed large, a menacing shadow that cast a long and chilling doubt on their ability to protect the world from the encroaching darkness.

And in the swirling abyss beyond the veil of the black rift, Alaric Cruz, the Untouched bagger, found himself face-to-face with a reality far stranger than anything he could have ever imagined.