⟟ Vault Seeker IX ⟟
Sahir supported Rowan with an arm slung around his shoulder, his steps heavy but determined. Rowan pointed ahead, breath shallow, pain pulsing in his side.
"Straight… then left… straight again… then right."
They followed the winding paths of the mall's second floor—half-collapsed stores flanked them on both sides, floors strewn with shards of glass, broken tiles, and burnt plastic. The flicker of overhead lights offered glimpses of the ruin—metal shutters twisted open like wounded jaws, mannequins lying in pools of grime. Graffiti scarred the walls, some fresh, others faded to whispers of an old panic.
They reached the car park.
The reek of oil and rust lingered thick in the air. Abandoned vehicles slumped against one another like forgotten bones. Mist clung to the concrete floor like it didn't want to leave. The group slowed as they stepped inside. This was the spot.
As they began to talk about a rescue plan, Serah stepped forward—calm, composed, her silver eyes narrowed.
"I'll lead," she said.
No one objected. She wasn't the oldest, nor the loudest. But when Serah spoke, the silence that followed always sounded like agreement.
Excluding Rowan, none of them knew much about him—yet no one doubted her authority.
Rovan pulled out a small glass vial with a colorless liquid inside. He tossed it to Rowan.
"Drink this. It'll help."
Rowan caught it, hesitating. What does it taste like? Sour? Burnt metal?
He swallowed thickly and downed it.
No flavor. But a soft bitterness lingered, like a memory you couldn't name. Almost immediately, the pain dulled—he could breathe easier.
"That accelerates healing," Lirael said. "Rovan brews them. No, we don't know what's in it either."
She gave him a ghost of a smile, then turned to the others.
"I'm Lirael," she said. "Energy manipulator."
"Sahir," the man with the urumi nodded. "Hits make it stronger. Try not to get in my way."
"Morien," the man in the skull mask muttered. "I like the dark. It likes me back."
"Rovan," the sniper added, adjusting the lens over his eye. "I see far. Sometimes too far."
Serah glanced at Rowan, then quietly stepped beside him. "Serah. That's my name."
He blinked, then nodded. "Rowan."
Serah clapped her hands once. "Here's the plan. We'll bait the Ruinborn's dimension trap on purpose. Let ourselves get caught."
Lirael raised a brow. "You want us to lose?"
"No. I want us to win inside."
A pause.
Then Morien chuckled. "Now that's madness I can get behind."
Everyone agreed. It was crazy. But it was her. So they followed.
Everyone else stayed behind. Rowan, Serah, and Morein walked forward—slowly, steadily. In their hands were handheld mirrors, scavenged from the ruins of nearby vehicles. Rowan held his just under his chin, angling it carefully.
Serah whispered, "Use the reflection. Don't look directly at them."
Dozens of E-rank Ruinborns stood frozen between the cars. Human-sized. Still.
If looked at, they froze. If ignored, they'd kill.
They waited long enough. And then—the first Ruinborn moved. The trap had been triggered.
It ran. They all ran.
The air screamed with stomping feet and teeth grinding like wood against stone.
"Hold!" Serah commanded.
Rowan stabbed one that got too close, Serah kicked another through the windscreen of a van, and Morein covered them with precise shots that rang like whispers.
Then black mist enveloped them.
It wasn't like falling.
It was like being removed.
They tumbled silently into the new world.
They landed on soft, grey grass. The sky above was starless. Trees loomed in every direction, their bark an unsettling shade of slate. Grey mist drifted across the ground like sighs.
A dimension—not just an illusion.
"We're in," Serah whispered.
"How's this helping?" Rowan asked, glancing at Morien.
Serah answered. "The dimension is completely dark. The longer we wait, the stronger Morien becomes."
"And how long's long enough?" Rowan said.
Morien smirked faintly. "To destroy a space this big? A while. It's the size of a city."
"A city!?" Rowan's eyes widened. "You can destroy an entire city?!"
"Not in the real world," Morien said. "But here? In this shadowy nest? Yes."
They searched for Alina through fog and root. They found her slumped near a broken tree, unconscious, pale from exhaustion.
Serah knelt beside her. "We're lucky we got here."
Rowan glanced around. "What is it?"
A deep, guttural rumble shook the forest. Trees trembled. Grey leaves rained.
"Get ready," Serah ordered. "Protect Alina. Protect Morien."
A massive snake-like Ruinborn—easily mid-C rank—slithered between the trees. Its grey scales shimmered with dull reflections. It surged.
Rowan pushed Alina behind a thick root while Serah protected Morein. The Ruinborn lunged—Rowan stabbed deep with his keris, and the beast howled, lifting him off the ground.
Serah dashed in, slashing its side. Morein crashed into a tree with a grunt.
The creature retreated—then charged in a blur, circling them in a tight loop.
Rowan stood, a leaf stuck to his battered hat. He swept it off.
Serah gestured. "Follow me."
They waited. Then attacked—stabbing as the serpent moved, using its speed against it.
It recoiled.
Then rammed forward. Again. And again. Each time, Rowan and Serah dodged perfectly.
Morien , meanwhile, pulled Alina farther to safety.
Serah leaned in. "Now—tangle it."
They darted between its coils, slashing. Baiting. Confusing it. It lunged—Serah slid under, Rowan climbed the loop.
With a yell, he plunged his keris into its skull.
The Ruinborn trembled.
Collapsed.
Rowan fell beside it, panting. Serah stood tall—without a single drop of sweat.
"I'm ready," Morein called out.
Then—the B-rank appeared.
A pale grey humanoid. Wooden texture. Multiple white eyes. It hovered. Then fired a blinding beam.
Serah blocked it with a barrier of shimmering aether, then charged. She slashed its arm—deep, crippling. Then shouted:
"Now!"
Morein lunged. Drove his scythe
into the Ruinborn's chest—and ripped.
The world shattered like glass.
Light tore through the sky.
And they were back—in the car park.
The rest of the group rushed in.
They were safe.
Soldiers arrived soon after. Armed. Alert. The military had been called.
Two soldiers stepped forward, eyeing Rowan and Alina.
"These two aren't listed."
Serah stepped in front of them. "They're under my authority. Consider it pardoned."
The soldiers looked at each other. Then nodded.
Alina lay in a tent, bandaged. The medic smiled.
"She'll recover. Just exhausted."
Later that night, at the campfire, the team sat in silence. Except for the crackle of flame.
Lirael sipped her tea. "Do you think fire ever dreams?"
Sahir leaned back, staring at the stars. "If it does, it's dreaming of rope."
Rovan chuckled. "Or bullets."
Morien didn't speak for a while. Then said, "Darkness doesn't dream. It remembers."
Rowan watched them. A strange comfort filled him. Like he didn't belong—but he wasn't unwelcome either.
Soon after, he and Alina were escorted home.
Days later, the ruins were sealed off. Steel fences. Soldiers. No entry.
Back at camp, Serah stood alone, holding a phone.
A voice on the other end spoke. "We checked everything. No school records. No birth certificates. No medical files. Nothing."
She exhaled slowly. "Thanks."
The call ended.
She stared into the dark.
Then whispered:
"Who are you?"