Chapter Seven - Dimensional Crisis: The Gate of Paris
The streets of Paris, once alive with color and sunshine, were now plunged into unnatural darkness. The radiant sunlight faded like ink dripping into water, replaced by ominous storm clouds that did not belong to Earth. The bustling sound of traffic vanished into eerie silence as reality itself began to fracture.
On the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, a white fissure split the air like glass being slowly shattered. It was thin at first, almost unnoticeable, but it pulsed with power—electronic voltage surged and danced like wild lightning around it. The space distorted violently, bending the air, collapsing sound, and pulling heat from the surroundings.
Drivers slammed their brakes. A man behind the wheel of a silver Mercedes looked to his right, panic creeping into his voice.
"Do you see that? What is that?!"
His passenger, a woman in her thirties, unbuckled her seatbelt in trembling silence. "Turn around... we need to leave. Now."
But it was too late.
From behind them, horns blared in protest. Other vehicles began to stop. Confused drivers emerged, some shouting, others frozen in awe or terror.
"Hey! What's the hold-up up front? Move your damn car!"
But then came the scream.
A shrill, human scream of such fear and primal panic that it sent a chill down every spine.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
People turned toward the gate just as its surface rippled and cracked wider. The white slit widened to reveal an elliptical portal with an iris-shaped ring of flowing black, spinning inward like a mechanical eye.
Then came the ROAR. A roar that wasn't heard with the ears, but felt in the bones and soul. Something ancient and wrong had opened its eye.
---
PARIS MILITARY BASEMENT COMMAND - 12 MINUTES EARLIER
Sir Alexander stood tall, a seasoned veteran in a pristine commander's uniform adorned with medals. His grey-blue eyes remained fixed on the screen, where surveillance drones zoomed in on the fissure.
"Status update," he commanded without turning.
An officer in a dark uniform approached with urgency.
"Sir. Another gateway has appeared 500 meters north of the first. Our scans show both emitting identical dimensional frequencies."
"Two connected gates?"
"Yes, sir. We dispatched thirty Silver F-rank hunters and three Gold F-rank hybrids in two teams. They're positioned and awaiting orders."
Alexander sighed. "And the hybrids?"
"Both Gold-ranked, sir. But... initial readings suggest both gates lead into the same dimensional plane—a shared reality or merged existence."
Before Alexander could respond, one of the analysts shouted:
"The gate is opening!"
On the screen, the white fissure twisted, reshaping into an open void with vortex-like darkness in the center. Its spinning slowed, locking into an unmoving gaze.
"Deploy all units. Form strike pairs. Hunters lead; hybrids provide rear support," Alexander ordered. "And send out the priority request. Contact Africa—immediately."
---
GATE ONE - 500 METERS SOUTH - 16 SOLDIERS ON THE FIELD
The air was dead still.
In Paris, the city of elegance had fallen unnaturally silent. The once-busy boulevard in the heart of the 15th arrondissement was abandoned. No cars moved. No pedestrians strolled. The early afternoon light had dimmed unnaturally as a dark, slow swirl in the sky seemed to drain color from the world.
A jagged crack shimmered in mid-air, hanging above the center of the avenue like a wound in space itself. It pulsed with ghostly white light, surrounded by flickering static arcs that struck lampposts and disintegrated asphalt beneath. The gate had formed—an irregular ellipse with edges like broken glass suspended in nothingness.
Sixteen figures clad in tactical armor approached cautiously. Among them were fifteen Silver F-Rank hunters and one Gold F-Rank hybrid, their visors scanning the dimensional field as if bracing for death.
"So this is the gate?" one muttered. "It's bigger than the reports."
"Yeah. They said it would open soon based on the dimensional electronic readings." Another replied, adjusting his gloves, his fingers shaking slightly.
"Group B was deployed to the northern perimeter, five hundred meters out," added another. "Same gate readings. Two rifts... like twins."
Some of the younger hunters sat on the roadside curbs, casually trying to keep their nerves in check. Conversations were hushed.
Then the gate pulsed.
FWOOOOMM!
Everyone stood instantly.
"The gate is opening! Prepare to raid!"
The leader of the unit stepped forward, his boots crunching shattered pavement. "Alright boys, let's move o—"
SPLAT!
He never finished.
A massive, hair-covered hand—long, distorted, inhuman—shot from the gate. With a guttural squelch, it tore through his armor and chest, lifting him like a doll. Blood sprayed the others, the crimson mist splattering helmets and visors.
Gasps turned to screams.
"Ahhhhhhh!!!"
"COMMAND! Come in! What's happening out here?!"
Fall back! Form lines! Get the hybrid up here!"
But it was too late.
The thing behind the claw emerged slowly: a monstrous humanoid figure resembling that of a handing cow or goat at least 7 meters tall, covered in pulsing symbols and hair covered skin. Its face was blank—literally blank, no features—just a mask of pale flesh with a single slit across where its eyes should be.
"W-W-What IS THAT?!"
It opened its mouth—not the slit, but from its chest—releasing a scream so powerful that buildings shook and clouds above parted.
The hybrid stepped forward, eyes glowing gold.
"Falling back isn't an option anymore. Get behind me."
She raised her hand. A golden rune pulsed, forming a spear of crystallized time-energy. She hurled it.
The spear struck the monster's chest.
Silence.
Then the monster laughed. It LAUGHED.
The spear dissolved, and with a single step, it erased five hunters from existence—not with impact, but with presence. They simply... vanished.
Static. The line went dead.
BACK AT THE COMMAND CENTER
"Communication with Team One lost, sir. No vitals."
"Same with Team Two. We have an unidentifiable interference field warping all quantum frequencies."
Alexander slammed his fist into the desk. "Any updates from Africa yet?!"
"Still waiting, sir."
---
Meanwhile in Nigeria...
In a luxurious Lagos hotel, Room 225 glowed with LED lights and the sound of a flat-screen TV. Favour, a striking young Nigerian with white hair and shimmering blue eyes, lounged on the floor, legs crossed, gamepad in hand. The brilliant reds and blacks of his custom school uniform contrasted with the soft carpet beneath.
"Sir, urgent message from Paris," said a man in a black suit and sunglasses. "Two rifts opened, mirrored in signature. They are requesting backup."
Favour didn't even blink. "Let them handle their own mess."
"But Sir—"
"Come sit and play. Let's run some COD." He gestured casually.
The agent blinked. "Call of Duty...?"
Favour sighed, eyes glowing faintly as he turned to look at him. "You playing or not?"
Suddenly, the door burst open. A high-ranking Nigerian military officer stormed in with two guards.
"Favour," the man growled. "Diplomatic ties are at stake. You know what that means."
Favour dropped the controller, rising to his feet with unnerving calm. His aura flared blue, lightning-like particles cracking in the air.
"So now even the brass are nagging me," he muttered.
"This is your duty."
"Fine. But if I do this... I want to see my mother."
The man stopped, eyes cold. "Your mother is a traitor. A serpent to this nation. Don't forget that."
Favour's fists clenched. As the door closed behind the officer, he muttered under his breath, eyes glowing again.
"One day... I'll make you eat those words."
---
Japan — HCD Training Grounds
The massive outdoor field was packed like a stadium. Spectators from all across Tokyo—hunters, cultivators, hybrids, and citizens—gathered to watch the dual competition. Rows of seats surrounded the square combat zone below, a black-marble platform carved with ancient glyphs.
Saito sat among the crowd, head down in a book.
"So I can't compete without knowing my origin... But I can still cheer for Sumi."
He flipped a page.
"So far... this 'Hunter System' is fragmented. Ranks and classes..." he murmured.
> F-Rank: Bronze — Enhanced metaphysical control, capable of destroying the narrative framework of smaller metaphysical worlds. Influences reality in minor ways.
> F-Rank: Silver — Able to disrupt causality and the core essence of conceptual worlds. City-level threat minimum.
> F-Rank: Gold — Destroys metaphysical existence itself. Potential for country-level devastation.
"And yet the rest of the ranks aren't even here... this isn't helpful."
Saito kept flipping.
> Three Classes: Dominator, Projector, Devourer
> Dominator — Rewrites logic, math, and structure in the lower world.
> Projector — Imposes internal reality onto outer world, overwriting environment.
> Devourer — Invalid.
"No information on Devourers? Seriously?" he muttered.
Saito looked up, the crowd cheering as fighters walked to the field. He clenched the book in one hand.
"I need answers, Sumi."
---
Meanwhile, deep within the stands...
Sumi, seated casually, glanced at Saito. Her expression was calm, but her mind wasn't. She could feel his doubt, his confusion.
"There's so much he doesn't know yet," she whispered to herself.
Back on the field, the announcement blared:
"HUNTERS VS CULTIVATORS DUAL — BEGIN!"
The ground shook slightly. The first wave of contenders stepped forward—armor gleaming, chi and mana swirling around them like fire.
But even as the battle began, something tugged at Saito's mind—a subtle unease. He stared toward the horizon, sensing the faintest ripple in reality.
Paris. Something there had begun to bleed into this world.
---
To be continued...